Chapter 44

Prince Edward Island

"Well, it's confirmed," said Gilbert. "Owen Ford is not listed on any of the passenger manifestos for any of the ferries in the past week."

"Maybe he registered under a different name," said Anne.

"What sense would that make?" said Gilbert. "Unless he did an undercover story about the ferry."

"Well, it was just an idea," said Anne.

Gilbert sighed. "I really do believe that Ford is still on this island. Here's the thing, ladies. We must catch the train soon since none of us prepared for an overnight trip."

Leslie said, "I can't believe that we're leaving Charlottetown without Owen – I mean, Mr. Ford."

The trio stopped at Prince Edward Island Hospital on their trip back to the train station. No, the hospital had no record of a patient named Owen Ford. They had no new admissions who matched Owen's photo.

"You should check the saloons, Dr. Blythe," the admissions clerk said.

"Excuse me, Dr. and Mrs. Blythe and Mrs. Ford."

Elizabeth Marks, the teenage nursing student from Glen St. Mary, approached the trio. She said, "My shift here starts in fifteen minutes. Can we step outside for a chat? Aww, that's better. I thought that you should know that Mr. McKinley – the Guardian editor - married into the Darcy family. Mrs. McKinley was a Darcy. Miss Darcy, the Prefect at the Cundall House, is his sister-in-law. They tried to get old Mrs. Darcy – Mr. McKinley's mother-in-law – committed to the psych hospital. You know, so they could take the Darcy farm off her. It was all that any of the trainees at the Cundall House talked about for a while. Dr. Broadmoor refused to sign off on it. Mr. McKinley was furious at Dr. Broadmoor. Told the doctor to watch his back. Anyway, pardon the gossip."

"Thank you, Nurse Marks," said Gilbert.

On the train back to Glen St. Mary, Leslie spoke.

"Mr. Ford is not in a saloon. He is not drunk somewhere, despite what Mrs. Elliot will say about this. Mr. Ford didn't get himself lost. And before you say it, no! He is not dead in a ditch!"

Gilbert said, "Unfortunately, I can't spend any more time away from my practice. I have several patients who are touch-and-go. Now, if you two returned to Charlottetown, I will ask Susan to be patient and keep an eye on the children. I am under the impression, based on today's conversations, that the Ford finances don't include funds for any overnight stays in a boardinghouse. Anne, am I correct that our finances are in a similar state?"

Anne said, "Gil, I'm sorry – "

Gilbert held up his hand. "I asked a yes or no question, Anne. Am I correct that presently you and I can't afford any overnight stays in a boardinghouse?"

Anne said, "Yes, Gilbert. You are correct."

Gilbert said, "If you two return to Charlottetown, I might score lodging for you at the Cundall House. Call in a few favors with the hospital."

Leslie said, "Dr. Blythe, we're going to pay you back. Why, just a few weeks ago, Mr. Ford told me that I should rent out the House of Dreams. If anything happened to him. I didn't think that the time would come so soon. If I must, I will!"

"Rent out the House of Dreams?" said Anne.

"Why, yes," said Leslie. "Mr. Ford said that we should market it as the place where he wrote The Life-Book. Said that the Boston literary crowd would eat it all up. Pay top dollar to stay there. Maybe even the folks from Manhattan. We'd sell tickets for walking tours to the lighthouse. Make up some story about Captain Jim's ghost haunting the place with Lost Margaret. Because he murdered her or something. True Crime Ghost Tours are big hits with the Yankees, you know. Especially if we write some escaped slaves into the whole tale. Maybe add a pirate. A hidden chest of gold, too. No one cares if it's true. Pay Walter or Jem to be the guides, of course. Sell maps to the treasure. The maps will be in French or Spanish, of course. Move Kenneth and Persis into the Spa at Mowbray Narrows for the rest of the summer and still come out ahead."

Anne opened her mouth to speak. Gilbert signaled for her to stay quiet.

"Well, sounds as if you and Ford have gotten yourselves quite a solid little business plan there," said Gilbert. "Once we get him back, you should hire him out as a consultant."

That night at Ingleside, Anne said, "Gilbert, can you believe that? Owen and Leslie discussed renting out the House of Dreams. To tourists. Yankees, at that. Shiftless, wandering Yankees. They'll desecrate it. Oh, I just know it, Gilbert. Tear up the garden. Yankees sleeping where Joy lived her one brief day, Gilbert. Oh, Gilbert, we can't have Yankees sleeping in the House of Dreams!"

Gilbert said nothing.

"Gilbert, you're angry at me, aren't you?"

Gilbert said, "I strive to never get angry. What good would it do to get angry?"

Anne said, "Unhappy, then. You're unhappy with me."

Gilbert said, "That's why you dressed Rilla in rags all summer, isn't it, Anne? And why Susan's cooking tastes like crap now. Because you lent our money to the Fords."

Anne said, "Yes, Gilbert."

Gilbert said, "And you thought that I wouldn't figure it out."

"Well, you almost didn't figure it out," said Anne. "And then stupid Owen had to go and get himself lost."

The look on Gilbert's face told her that she should stop talking.

Gilbert said, "Sometimes, Anne, you treat Rilla like an unwanted pet."

Anne said, "Rilla's fine. We're going to find Owen. He'll get paid a lot when his next book is published. He'll pay us back. Never mind renting out the House of Dreams to Yankees. I'll sew Rilla her new clothes."

Gilbert said, "Buy her a new hat, too."

Anne said, "Oh, Gilbert, do you believe that the story about Chaps McKinley is true?"

"Which story?" said Gilbert. "There are a lot of stories about Assless Chaps."

Anne said, "The one about him trying to get his mother-in-law committed in the asylum."

Gilbert said, "The story is entirely believable. Lots of men try to get unwanted women committed. Out of sight, out of mind. Husbands who want to ditch their wives for their mistresses do it all the time. It's one of the things that Dr. Broadmoor vowed to crack down on when he took over the psych hospital. Like I told you a few months ago, Broadmoor is a huge champion of reforms. Maybe a little too much for his own good. Good way to make enemies. Need to get some sleep now. Got a lot of house calls tomorrow. Can't take any more hits to my income."

Anne said, "Gil, I had to do it. Not for Owen. For Leslie and the kids."

Gilbert said, "I know, Anne."

Anne said, "Do you really, Gilbert?"

Gilbert said, "I must get some sleep now, Anne. I have a family to feed."

Despite their fruitless attempts to reach Chaps McKinley, he knew that Owen disappeared. The next day's edition of the Guardian carried a story about the disappearance of The Life-Book of Captain Jim author Owen Ford. The story concluded with speculation about Ford's whereabouts.

Owen's disappearance reached Toronto, and then Boston and New York.

Within a week, Leslie announced that the publicity prompted Owen's publisher to fast track the publication of Owen's travel memoir of cave exploring with the late Floyd Collins. Owen's editor even agreed to leave the section about the Black church.

Leslie concluded, "All of the buzz over Owen's disappearance allowed the publisher to raise a generous subscription. Every single copy of the first printing is now spoke for. I'm going to get a big fat check in the post soon."

Leslie explained that many of the sales were going to come from a variation of the subscription service that Mark Twain first championed in 1885. Door-to-door salesmen took book orders from individual houses and collected money for the book orders. Then, after the books were printed, these salesmen delivered the books to the households that ordered them.

"You mean just like the way that Girl Scout Cookies are sold?" asked Anne.

"Yes, but Mr. Ford's new book is much more culturally relevant than Girl Scout Cookies" Leslie said to Anne.

"Of course, it is, Leslie dear. Of course, it is." Anne turned to Gilbert and winked.

Leslie's eyes teared up. "I wish that Mr. Ford were here to celebrate this."

After Leslie left, Gilbert said, "One might almost wonder that Ford orchestrated his own disappearance. To sell books."

Anne said, "Oh, Gilbert, how can you even say such a thing?"

Gilbert said, "It's happened before, Anne. Other writers have disappeared after experiencing - setbacks – in their writing careers. Then, they reappear with vague explanations. After the book-buying public remembers that they exist. Either that, or Ford fell off the wagon. Or he's too embarrassed to show his face right now. Everyone knows him as the writer who killed off the subject of his next book."

Anne said, "Owen didn't kill Floyd Collins, Gilbert!"

Gilbert said, "Would Floyd have been down in that cave if Ford hadn't shadowed him?"

Anne said, "I don't care that the whole island thinks that you're a hero doctor, Gilbert. Sometimes your heartlessness just astounds me."

Gilbert said, "Not heartless, Anne. Just realistic."

"Cynical," said Anne.

The next day, Gilbert summoned Leslie to his office.

"Mrs. Ford, I pulled a few favors with the medical crowd in Charlottetown. The Cundall House has agreed to provide lodgings for you and my wife for a few days. You two can stay there while you search again for Mr. Ford. Susan has already agreed to watch over the Blythe and Ford clans while you are away."

Leslie threw her arms around Gilbert, "Thank you, Dr. Blythe! Oh, I mean, excuse me! Pardon my liberties."

Gilbert said, "There's nothing to pardon, Mrs. Ford. If anyone should be thanked, it should be Susan. That woman is a saint. She does everything that I ask of her. Never a complaint. Not sure why. She could make so much more for doing so much less at any of the wealthier households in Mowbray Narrows."

Leslie said, "Oh, I could kiss you right now, Dr. Blythe! Pardon my liberties."

Clarissa Wilcox stood outside of Ingleside. She looked in the window in time to see Leslie - Mrs. Owen Ford - throw her arms around Gilbert. She walked closer to the window. She heard Leslie say, "I could kiss you right now, Dr. Blythe."