A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Miri, because she wanted some more of Cee and Miss Branston.
CLLW: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the stories. I really, really would like to find a way to bring Walter back, but I won't because I don't think LMM would have wanted him to-- and also, I don't think I could write a really good, plausible story about it. But if you want to read one, check out Once, of Ingleside. It's GOOD.
Strawberry Lip Gloss: I promise that all will be made known about Una soon. I'm planning on tying up that part of the story shortly. I definitely won't keep you hanging for the sequel.
Gufa: Una was sent to the hospital because she was depressed. And I've got an idea about why Sid would go from Cecilia to May Binnie-- but I'm afraid you might have to wait for the sequel to find that out!
Thanks to all of you who reviewed. They are so appreciated!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Time did heal all wounds-- or, if it didn't heal them completely, it at least scarred them over so that they did not hurt so much. Cecilia was sitting in their makeshift schoolroom in the parlor, actually thrilling at the beauty she felt all around her, when Miss Branston plopped down beside her. Miss Branston, too, had changed in the passing months-- her mouth was still grim and just that morning she had noticed with cycnicism that there was the first faint trace of ash in her blonde hair. But she who had once thought all young people nuisances, now thought about how truly dear was the one sitting beside her.
"Did you do the reading I assigned or have you been staring into space since I last left you?"
Cecilia smiled dreamily, and quoted,
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
"Of course I did the reading, Miss Branston-- and oh, it was so lovely. For the first time in my life I truly understood why Blythe commits so many poems to memory. Aunt Nan says that his mind is too full of poetry for anything else, but I know how he feels. I want these words with me always! I only have to think the words to get a shudder of beauty all over me. 'If I can stop one heart from breaking I shall not live in vain!"
"I knew this would happen when we covered Dickinson," said Miss Branston crossly.
"Oh, Miss Branston! You can't tell me that you don't like Dickinson!"
"I 'spose I do," said Miss Branston dryly. "Since one is almost labelled a Communist if one doesn't. I will at least keep up the charade."
"Which do you like the best? I like 'A Narrow Fellow in the Grass'--such a funny picture!-- or 'A Light Exists in Spring'--it does, Miss Branston, and you know it! But 'Because I Could Not Stop for Death' gives me a chill-- a beautiful chill, but a chill all the same."
"Hey, you monkey!" Miss Branston tugged gently on Cecilia's hair. "I thought you asked me which I liked!" She was silent for a moment and then said, eyes sparkling with something that was decidedly not mirth,
Heaven is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That "heaven" is, to me.
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind, --
"There Paradise is Found," finished Uncle Bruce. He was standing, silhouetted in the doorway, with a hungry look in his eyes. "I'm dreadfully sorry to interrupt you, ladies," he said lightly. "Cecilia, pet, where's your Grandfather? I want very much to speak with him."
He addressed Cecilia, but his eyes watched Miss Branston.
"Oh! Well, if you want him we must get him for you," said Miss Branston in a dangerous, choked voice. She stood tremblingly and made a show of looking under the settee and in the cupboards by the hearth. "Let us find him for you! No, not under there-- nor in there-- perhaps he is up the chimney, like Santa Claus. Hold tight, dear Bruce, we shall find him-- you know it positively-- since you always get everything that you want."
"Sit--DOWN," Uncle Bruce said sternly. "Penny, now is not the time for this."
"Oho, so saith Lord Meredith! So I must obey. No, no, don't speak, let me predict it. Next you will ask if we can finally let bygones be bygones and be 'pals' again. You think that because Cecilia is here I won't disgrace myself and will acquiesce quite prettily. Well, I won't! Cecilia knows me-- I have nothing to hide from her-- Bruce Meredith you can go to-- to--"
"Miss Branston, don't," Cecilia implored.
"To hell!" Miss Branston finished with a very red face. Then dropped a kiss on Cecilia's cheek. "Sorry, dearest."
"A damned stubborn woman," said Uncle Bruce, turning to an invisible audience.
"You mustn't say such things to each other!" Cecilia cried. "I don't care if you do hate each other. Why-- there has never been-- that kind of language--in Ingleside!"
She looked horrified, as if the house would shake down on its foundation after such a display, and without being able to help it, Miss Branston's mouth quirked up at the corners and Uncle Bruce began to laugh.
"It isn't funny!" said Cecilia in horror. "Why-- just imagine--if Grandmother had been able to hear you."
"Fifteen thinks us very foolish, Bruce," said Miss Branston. "Perhaps we are. No, don't try to say anything. I will make a truce with you, though you've ruined my life. See, I can say it quite casually now! For Cecilia's sake, and for mine, too-- or, rather for the sake of the ghost of the girl I used to be. There's something rather poetic in forgiving those who've wronged you. Don't you dare shake my hand though-- I'll bite it! As if we liked each other."
"We did, once upon a time," said Uncle Bruce, putting away the proffered hand.
"No," said Miss Branston, gathering up her books. "I never like you, Bruce Meredith. But I did love you-- once. Read Millay for Thursday, Cecily darling,"
She breezed out, and they heard her greet Grandfather Blythe who was coming in as she went. But Uncle Bruce made no move to get up. He seemed to have forgotten his reason for interrupting them in the first place.
"She did love me-- did," he said, more to himself than Cecilia. "Oh, I wonder if I can make her love me again?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"What went wrong with you two?" Cecilia closed her poetry book and turned to Uncle Bruce that night after supper. "You-- and Miss Branston, I mean."
"I-- don't-- know, exactly," Uncle Bruce said. "You've heard from the aunts the bare bones of the story-- but it is more than that. And-- less. I suppose you don't understand why I didn't just let her have the scholarship."
"No, I don't," said Cecilia forthrightly.
"I don't myself," said Uncle Bruce, scarcely believing he was having this conversation with his slip of a niece. But somehow-- it felt good to tell it. "The long and short of it was that I wanted it. Father doesn't have as much money as everyone suspects-- what little he has should be kept. But underneath that, I suppose I was-- tired-- of being seen as always second in the class. Penny was first, you know. Always. And underneath even that, I did not want her to go-- she was Penny, and was sweet and simple and smart as a whip. Going to university would change that-- it would harden her and replace her sweetness with cynicism and sophistication."
"But that has happened anyway, now," Cecilia pointed out.
"I know," said Uncle Bruce. "But a young people do not always think rationally. Though-- you do, Cee."
"Maybe it's only the men, then," said Cecilia. And then, plainly, "Uncle Bruce, you were wrong."
"I see it now," Uncle Bruce smiled wanly. "We don't remain stupid always, us men. That is the worst part. I suppose I could pay her back, for the scholarship money. I have some saved, from my time out West at the logging camp."
"She wouldn't take it," Cecilia said glumly. "She is too proud. But oh, if this were a movie you would bump into a man on a street-- he would turn out to be a long-lost uncle of Miss Branston's-- you would introduce him-- and would put her through school where she would take top honors. Then she'd have to be grateful to you for finding him!"
"What a boring movie that would make," said Owen, who had come out onto the porch in time to hear the last statement. "No automobile crashes-- no gunfights."
"We are having a private conversation, Owen darling," said Cecilia gently.
"No--no, we're done for now. I--must be off, I have-- to go," said Uncle Bruce distractedly. He set off toward the manse, and Owen sat down to tell Cecilia how she might improve her movie idea, with all the finesse of a young Hollywood director.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Won't you stay to dinner?" asked Grandmother Blythe of Miss Branston as Cecilia showed her to the door after one of their lessons. "Cecilia has been telling me of your views on Gertrude Stein and I would so like to discuss them with you."
The rest of the group at the table-- Grandfather Blythe, Grandpa and Grandma Meredith, and Uncle Bruce-- nodded in agreement.
"Oh--" said Miss Branston. "I cannot-- though I would love to. But I have errands to run in town-- I'm having some new dresses made. The truth is, Mrs. Blythe--" she trembled with nervousness and pleasure. "The truth is, I am afraid I shall not be able to finish the year out with Cecilia."
"Oh, no!" Cecilia cried. "Miss Branston, I thought we agreed you would stay on with me through summer!"
"I can't," said Miss Branston with real regret in her voice. "Oh, don't give me that look, you urchin, you'll be fine back at the school. You'll knock their socks off. They'll want to bump you up two grades, not one. But I am going away."
"Away!" they all chorused.
"Yes," said Miss Branston proudly. "You see, I'm going to finish the spring term at Redmond."
"Oh, Miss Branston, how?" Cecilia clapped her hands in delight.
"It really is the most amazing thing," said Miss Branston, sitting reluctantly in the chair that they pushed toward her. "A few weeks ago I received the most amazing letter-- from a man who refers to himself as "Mr. X." He is a history professor at Queens and remembers me as a student-- I've been wracking my brain to think who he was, and can't for the life of me remember! He has nominated me for a scholarship-- and I've won it!"
"Imagine that!" said Uncle Bruce happily, slapping his knee.
"The most unexpected part," said Miss Branston with a happy but disbelieving smile, "Is that apparantly this Mr. X is a long-lost relation of mine-- an uncle, he says. Mother has no idea who he could be-- the only uncle I have on her side is my Uncle Frank, in Montreal. But he could be one on Father's side. We know--so little-- about his family. But I am determined to find out who it is, and I shall have the chance! He wants me to write him weekly to let him know of my progress, and I will!"
"How lovely for you," said Grandmother Blythe, covering Miss Branston's hand with her own. "We will miss you, though, dear. And I'm sure your Mother will, too."
"Hang Mother," said Miss Branston cheerfully and irreverantly. "She will miss me only as a nursemaid. But I told her-- I told them all-- that I won't miss another chance to live. Oh, I've prayed for this-- and God has finally answered my prayers. I thought he wasn't listening-- but he was."
"He is always listening," said Grandpa Meredith.
The others expressed their delight, but Cecilia had gone very red. "May I see you outside?" she said coldly to Uncle Bruce.
"Why, certainly!" Uncle Bruce made a big show of raising his shoulders in confusion. Cecilia pulled him to the parlor by his shirt cuff.
"Oh, Uncle Bruce!" she hissed. "What have you done? I know you wrote the letter-- don't deny it."
"I won't," said Uncle Bruce cheerfully. "Yes, I am the long lost uncle! I took your advice, Cee. Isn't she happy? Her whole face seems more alive than it ever did."
"She is going to find out it's you," Cecilia said through gritted teeth. "And then she will hate you more than ever. Oh, Uncle Bruce, you can't toy with her this way-- she is not a cat you can dangle a string in front of! I never expected you'd take me seriously."
"It's all going to be right," Uncle Bruce said, placing his hands on Cecilia's shoulders. "I've covered all my tracks. One of my old school chums is a professor at Queens-- he's going to forward me her letters, and I'll write nice, uncle-y epistles back. From the elusive Mr. X. I'll tell her-- one day-- and she won't be able to hate me anymore. So don't worry, Cee! Come on, let's go get dessert. Hello, folks! We're back from our covert meeting-- Penny, you look lovely and cosy in that green coat, sitting by the fire. You must get that dressmaker to fix you up in a gown of that shade to take with you when you go!"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx