Chapter Two—The Cruelest Month
"April is the cruelest month," thought Una drearily, as she woke to a rainy sky on the morning of her father's funeral. "It seems right, though, that there's rain. Somehow a blue, sunny sky would seem offensive." She slipped into her new black dress, thinking it quite hideous. Una hated black dresses. Although not at all what one would call a creature of mirth, she also didn't think that life was meant to be lived gloomily. Sadly, perhaps, but never gloomily. It was better to suffer your hurts without letting the rest of the world know that you were hurting.
There was such a bustle of people all around. Although Di and Philip hadn't been able to make it, everyone else in the Blythe-Meredith-Ford clan was there. And Una was the only old maid in the lot. For sure, Di hadn't gotten married until she was in her late twenties, but she had never lacked for beaus. And what a romantic story it had been, her visit to Mrs. Blythe's old college chum Philippa, and falling in love with her handsome son.
Una sighed. It was hard to know that she would always be Aunt Una to that pack of wonderful rapscallions overrunning Ingleside and the manse at the moment. As much as she loved them, they weren't enough. Thinking of her nieces, she accidentally overheard them through the wall of the spare room.
"I think your mother's so pretty," Dianne Meredith told her cousin Cecilia, daughter of Carl and Persis. "It's so nice to have nice-looking relatives. It makes one feel more likely that one will look nice when one grows up. Of course, one might also end up like Aunt Una."
"Why, what's wrong with Aunt Una?" Trudy Ford asked. Rilla was one of the few people Una counted as a close friend, although she lived in Toronto, and her five children loved Una to bits whenever they came to visit. "She's not ugly at all…in fact, I think she's pretty, with her long black hair."
"Aunt Una's a duck of an aunt!" Meredith spoke up, tossing her bobbed golden head. "She always has a full cooky-jar when we stop by at the manse."
"I'm not running down Aunt Una as an aunt," Dianne said slowly, as if she were speaking to an infant, "I'm merely saying that that's what she is, an aunt. Mother says that Aunt Una never had a beau, and that's not how I want to be when I grow up." She sniffed.
"Exactly," said Cecilia, who at eleven was the oldest of the quartet. "I'm going to marry a rich, handsome man and travel all over the world."
On the other side of the wall, Una brushed her hair furiously, trying to shut out the sound of childish voices. They meant no harm, of course, although Dianne was something of a puss. "I don't know if that's how a minister's child should be," she thought, "although we were never the stereotypical minister's children ourselves…" Nan had always had a few extra airs and graces, though, and Dianne had inherited them, with plenty of her own besides. Oh, well, only children and idiots tell the truth, and Una knew that there was plenty of truth in what was said…if only it didn't sting so much.
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The over-harbour cemetery was damp, and a mist blew in off the Harbour Head. John Meredith's mourners stood close to each other, as if to gain both comfort and warmth. Una found herself flanked by her stepmother Rosemary and her half-brother Bruce, who was home from his teaching job at Lowbridge.
"I am the Resurrection and the Life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies…" Una found it hard to listen to Jerry's eulogy and prayer, even though both were eloquent. She was consumed with the thought of what was to come. Norman and Ellen Douglas, Rosemary's sister, had offered Rosemary a home with them, since the manse was to be the home of the next minister. Even though Rosemary and Norman had always sparred, Rosemary had told her the night before that she intended to go and live with them.
"Ellen's my only sister, and I hate to make you give up all your plans for me," Rosemary had said softly. Una wondered bitterly what plans she had; after all, she had spent her entire life except for a three months' domestic science course in Kingsport living with her parents. But Rosemary had meant it as a thoughtful gesture, and besides, Una couldn't see herself fitting into the Douglas household. Norman Douglas was fine in small doses, but she thought he'd be somewhat tiresome to live with, with his rages and tempers.
"Well, there, Una! Your father wasn't bad, as parsons go. Only he'd contradict himself every once in a while…he did, Ellen, so don't poke me," Norman said, vigorously shaking Una's hand. Una realized with a jerk that she had missed the end of the service, and that the mourners were coming to condole with the bereaved.
"Your father was one of the few men one could talk to about politics," Ellen Douglas said. "Do excuse Norman, nothing I've ever done has gotten through to him."
"Well, I do say you're looking very well, Una, all things considered," Mary Vance Douglas said, her pale eyes and hair as pale as ever. "It's not everyone that can wear black, but at least it doesn't look as bad on you as it does on me. When Kitty Alec died, I had to wear mourning, and did it ever wash me out! I told Miller, 'I know she's your aunt and all, but three months is plenty.' Now Cornelia, though, she was a cat of a different color. I didn't mind wearing mourning so much for her. They don't make her breed nowadays, though I see where Rilla named one of her girls for her. I thought about it, but I've always favored showier names." Mary's children were named Violetta, Reginald, and Imogene, which no one could even begin to say were not showy.
"Please, please, go away, Mary," Una thought helplessly. Mary's heart had always been in the right place, but she was sorely lacking in the knowledge of what to say and when.
"Well, I best be getting back home; I left Miller with the kids, but he doesn't rightly have the knack with them that I do. Years ago, when I was with Mrs. Wiley, I could do most anything for the neighbor's young'uns. They'd call me over when one got sick…" Una let Mary's talk slide off her as she left. The knot of mourners was beginning to disperse, but she stood there with Rosemary and her siblings until everyone else was gone and they were left with only the mist off of the Head, which was turning to rain.