The next day, Aunt Irene seemed to regret her moment of openness with Jane. She was sleeker and smoother than ever, purring and hissing at turns, testing Jane's vow to be friends right from the start. Still, Jane had inherited all the Stuart stubbornness and Kennedy will, and refused to give up. No matter what Aunt Irene said or did, she smiled, nodded, and went about her business. She didn't necessarily condone the ill woman's peevishness, but she didn't respond with her former exasperation.
By the next day, Aunt Irene had smoothed out somewhat, and when Cam announced at the end of the week that she was well enough to go home, aunt and niece had reached an unspoken understanding. Aunt Irene was attempting to be slightly less patronizing, and Jane was making much more of an attempt to make her feel a welcome part of the family.
Still, they were both heartily relieved at Cam's pronouncement.
"I'll call Dad," Jane said. "He and Mother will want to come back, now that it's perfectly safe for Mother, and Dad will want to make sure you're settled back home."
"Dear Andrew," Aunt Irene murmured.
Accordingly, Mother and Dad came home that very evening, and Jane had her reward for her patience in both Mother's glowing health, and Dad's proud thankfulness of the task she had accomplished.
"Don't forget, Aunt Irene," Jane called as Dad tucked her into the car with many blankets. "As soon as you feel up to driving again, you promised to come out to dinner."
Aunt Irene waved feebly at her. "I'll bring one of my chocolate peppermint cakes for dessert," she promised.
Jane swallowed the automatic answer that rose to her tongue … that she was quite capable of making dessert … and smiled. "That will be lovely. Goodbye! Take care of yourself!"
They drove off, and Mother put her arm around Jane's shoulders. "You're a noble soul, my Jane. How did you survive this time?"
Jane hugged Mother in response. "Aunt Irene's not so bad … when she's sick," she said mischievously. "We actually managed to swim along together fairly neatly. But oh, Mummy! How glad I am to have you and Dad and Lantern Hill all back again!"
"You've been working too hard, my Jane," Mother said. "I don't like the look of those pale cheeks on my brown, rosy Jane! You must rest for a little while … leave the housekeeping to me."
Jane started to protest, but then she saw the glimmer of excitement in Mother's eyes. Newly wise from her experience with Aunt Irene, Jane wondered now if Mother didn't sometimes miss all the fun of running her house … Jane did so much of the work. She'd always thought Mother liked being free to spend her days idly, just helping out here and there, when she felt like it. Now, though, she thought that perhaps Mother missed being in charge … making decisions … being free to make her own mistakes, without Jane there to tidy things up after her.
"All right, Mother," she said. "I'll be as lazy as can be for this next week. I'll swim and roam the fields with Jody … I'll read in the sun … I'll even try my hand at sewing myself something, though I'm so bad at that type of work. Just … oh Mummy … don't ban me from my garden! Every time I've looked at it, while I was trapped inside with Aunt Irene, I felt so sad about leaving it to the weeds. I promised myself I would get it back to its usual self."
"Don't worry, Jane," Mother laughed. "The garden is all yours. Just as long as you're outside and enjoying yourself!"
It was nice, Jane had to admit, to feel free again. She took Mother wholly at her word and ran down to the sea right then. She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the delicious briny smell into her very soul. This was what she loved about Prince Edward Island … this magical, mystical, unnamable charm that made it different from anywhere else, all bound up in the scent of the sea.
She turned around and saw Lantern Hill winking at her, smiling in a delicious fashion. She thought that perhaps the house was glad, too, to have Aunt Irene gone. As much as Aunt Irene criticized Jane she criticized the house … and didn't always bother to cover up her criticisms with false compliments, as she did with people. Jane knew that houses hurt when they were snubbed, and Lantern Hill had had its chief snubber in it for weeks.
"Jane!"
Jane turned to see Jody flying down the sand-dunes, her black hair wafting out behind her in the breeze. Jane marveled, as usual, over Jody's elfin beauty. Even Aunt Irene had had to admit at the beginning of the summer that Jody Turner, once the homeliest, unhappiest orphan in Toronto, was the beauty of Queen's Harbour (though Aunt Irene, when admitting that, had managed to insinuate that it was such a pity people couldn't say the same about Jane).
Jane waved happily and waited for Jody to reach her.
"Oh Jane," Jody said, skidding to a panting stop in the damp sand. "I was just at your place and your mother told me you were down here and your aunt was gone … oh Jane, I'm so glad you're free now! Aunt Justina's in an awful state the closer her wedding day comes, and I'm so afraid she'll jilt Step-a-yard at the altar after all … oh Jane, you will help me calm her down, won't you? And Aunt Violet's starting to think about how lonely she'll be when Aunt Justina leaves, even though the new house is right next door and she'll still have me, but she said they wanted to send me to college and she won't hold me here, but I don't want to leave her all alone just for college …"
"I thought Miss Violet and Miss Justina didn't believe in higher education for women?" Jane said curiously.
Jody shrugged. "They said that while it was not considered necessary in their youth for women to study such matters, they have come to understand, now that they have studied the matter more thoroughly (since they took me in, of course), that it is important for both women and men to have many options. And I think that Dr. Camlyn who took such good care of Mrs. Fraser helped change their minds about careers for women … if you liked her, Jane, and trusted her with your aunt, she must be all right."
"Cam is wonderful," Jane said enthusiastically. "And of course I'll help both Miss Justina and Miss Violet … oh Jody, it's wonderful to be really back!" She looked out at the sea once more, past the bar, where the setting sun was striping the water orange and pink and purple, a constantly changing masterpiece that rippled and flowed. "Jody, we should have a midnight picnic down here some night. Wouldn't that be fun? Just the girls: you and me and Min and Polly. We'll keep it secret from the boys, or they'll want to come, and it'll be more fun if it's just us."
"It sounds lovely," Jody said a little doubtfully. "But I don't think the Aunts will let me go out at midnight."
"You can spend the night with me," Jane said. "Then we can slip out and meet Min and Polly down here. Just imagine the harbour with the moon shining off the waters, and the stars shining overhead! We can build a small driftwood fire and sit and talk and dream."
"All right," Jody said, building up some excitement for the plan. "When shall we do it?"
"Two nights from now," Jane said decidedly. "You can ask the Aunts tomorrow if you can sleep at Lantern Hill, and I'll let Min and Polly know."
Jody agreed, and the two parted, Jody to return home to the Aunts, reporting to them that Irene Fraser was home again and Jane looked just fine, and Jane to go back to Lantern Hill, where Mother and Dad and Happy and Bubbles were waiting with stories about the Fords … and no Aunt Irene!
Jane sighed happily. Life was grand.
