AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ever since I first read "The Blue Castle" as a teenager, I yearned to write Barney's perspective of its events - but I never had the courage to try. Now, years later and after writing thousands of words in another fandom, I've finally found that courage and this is the result. I was inspired very much by the wonderful experience of the Blue Castle book club on Tumblr and credit many particular scenes or interpretations of canon to our discussions there. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I was enjoying writing this story!
When Barney first meets Cissy Gay, he thinks he has never seen such a jolly creature.
He's been slowly befriending Roaring Abel for several months before Abel grows to trust him enough to invite him over to his house and introduce him to his daughter. Even then, he gives him a stern side-eye.
"Cissy is a good girl," he growls significantly. "So no messing around with her, alright?"
Barney raises his hands in an appeasing gesture, but answers seriously that he would never.
Abel locks his eyes with Barney for several more moments, then guffaws with laughter and slaps him on the shoulder.
"I believe you," he says with equal seriousness and tells him to come over next evening.
It is early autumn, the days still warm, but the evening brisk, with the sky the kind of clear, bright blue you can only see in October, contrasting sharply with the sunset-like colours of the trees. Barney whistles to himself as he walks leisurely the two miles between Mistawic and Abel house through the woods and then through the barrens, following a rough, rocky, boulder-strewn lane white with pestiferous, beautiful daisies. He's been living on his island for less than a year, but he's still in the phase of this early, overwhelming new love for the whole place.
Roaring Abel's house is a rambling and tumble-down building which clearly has seen better days, with a faded arched sign over the gate "A. Gay, Carpenter". Barney notes that Abel obviously doesn't bother with doing any carpenter jobs for himself, since the roof is badly patched and the shutters all hanging askew. The garden is neat and pretty though and this is where he sees Cissy Gay for the first time, crouching down as she is busy planting bulbs of spring flowers.
For the long moment before she sees him, he takes time to admire her. She is easily the most beautiful girl he has seen in some time with her tumbling golden hair and big, bright, clear blue eyes. It is her obvious joie de vivre which draws his attention – the way she's smiling to herself as she's working and singing some happy little folk song. At twenty-one years old Cissy Gay, despite her rather unpromising surroundings, looks simply like such a thriving, jolly, happy girl that Barney feels his own heart lift just from watching her.
He doesn't want to startle her, so he greets her in a quiet voice.
"Good evening, Miss Gay."
She startles still, rising rapidly to meet him, but after a moment smiles brightly in welcome.
"You must be Mr Snaith," she says, gesturing for him to get into the garden and approaching him with her outstretched hand which she quickly cleaned of clinging soil. "Father said he was expecting you. Come in, Cousin Bathsheba should have dinner ready."
That is the most sincere and inviting welcome Barney has ever been met with in all his months in the area and he can't help being surprised.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" he asks curiously. She looks at him with a puzzled frown of her delicate brows.
"Why would I be?"
"People are saying all kinds of things about me," he says with a grin. He still rather enjoys all the wild stories which his mysterious way of life inspires in this boring little town and can't resist planting new ones when the previous ones get old.
Cissy gives him an indulgent smile, suggesting clearly that she suspects his enjoyment of it all.
"Father wouldn't have brought you home if you were bad," she observes calmly. "He may be a bit wild, but he is careful who he has around me."
xxx
Barney likes Roaring Abel – he really does. He appreciates his intelligence, wit, humour, general decency and not giving a damn about the rules. He finds most of his drunken stages either fascinating or hilarious and the rest tolerable enough. But one thing which he is forced to acknowledge is that having Abel for a father must be hellishly difficult.
Maybe even as difficult as having a patent medicine self-proclaimed doctor for one.
He is just passing through Deerwood when the service in the Presbyterian church finishes and the faithful are leaving. He sees Cissy among a group of women, discussing lively some charity work or other – he's on the other side of the road, but some of the women speak loudly enough for their voices to carry – when Abel races his abominable buggy down the street and stops with a flourish in front of them, drunk to the gills, of course.
"Cissy!" he calls in a booming voice giving full justification to his name. "I came to take you home!"
The conversation freezes all around and Barney observes as the smiles disappear and are swiftly replaced by disapproving glances and pursed lips. Cissy quickly and quietly makes her goodbyes but it is obviously not fast enough for Abel who starts pushing through the crowd which parts in front of him like the Red Sea for Moses, people eager to step back from his whisky-smelling breath.
"Come on, Cis!" he yells. "Dawdling here will not save your soul, it's all predestined anyway! We're going!"
There are several loud gasps and angry muttering, but nobody wants to pick a fight with Abel when he is in this kind of mood.
Barney looks at Cissy, walking composedly by her father's side, her arm in his and her head held high and he knows she is much stronger than he's ever been.
xxx
They talk about it once, when he comes over to find her alone, Abel away somewhere and the old cousin asleep.
"I admire you," confesses Barney honestly as they sit together on the steps of the back verandah in the falling twilight. "You know how much I like Abel – he's a splendid fellow – but it can't have always been easy to be his daughter."
Cissy rests her head on her hands and looks at the rabbits jumping through the barrens. She's silent for a long while and Barney is afraid he's misspoken. He curses himself inwardly – doesn't he know better than to touch as sensitive a matter as fathers sometimes are? – but before he can apologise, she sighs quietly and answers him.
"It hasn't," she admits softly. "But father loves me and he's always been good to me, best he knows how."
"It's not always enough," comments Barney bitterly before he can stop himself. Something about the silence of the evening and his heavy thoughts ever from his encounter with the Gays in Deerwood forces him to speak.
Cissy turns her head towards him and suddenly he's afraid that she sees too much; that he's betrayed too much. But she only nods and goes back to looking at the rabbits.
"Not always," she agrees. "But it is to me."
He nods as well in acknowledgment and drops the topic, but his conviction that Cissy Gay is both better and stronger than him remains unshaken.
xxx
He doesn't see Cissy that often. He prefers to meet with Abel in the woods for fishing or hunting, or from time to time in one of the bars Abel likes to frequent. He likes Cissy too much to risk her reputation by making his visits at Abel's house an object of gossip. This town is too excitable by half as it is; he still can't believe how little was needed to inspire the wildest yarns about him. Just the fact that he keeps to himself was enough, really, his own allusions only added fuel to an already nicely blazing fire when he overheard some of the rumours and was too amused to resist the impulse of fanning them. Good, proper, stiff, hypocritical Deerwood! Truly nothing usually happens here if he is the biggest news and object of public curiosity. Still, he's become notorious enough that his comings and goings are a point of interest and he doesn't wish to get Cissy's name suffering from becoming connected to his.
She obviously doesn't have such qualms though.
He's leaving Stirling's General Store when she is walking back from a meeting of the Missionary Society. He bows slightly, intending to walk away quickly without attracting further notice, when she waves at him and loudly calls his name. He can't ignore it, of course – he doesn't want to be rude to her or even worse, hurt her feelings – so he turns to her as she comes over with a bright smile.
He's very aware that they are attracting some stares.
"Barney!" she says brightly. "It's nice to see you."
"Miss Gay," he tips his hat again with a significant look at her. She looks at him with chiding amusement in response.
"I'm not going to deny knowing you," she says.
He sighs with exasperation.
"I'm trying to protect you," he points out morosely. "I don't have a reputation to save, but you do."
She shakes her head and puts her hand on his arm lightly.
"You haven't done anything bad that I know of," she states firmly. "And you're my friend."
It's her use of the word friend which nearly bowls him over. He likes to think that Abel is his friend by now – they certainly spend a lot of time in each other's company – but they never named their relationship. In fact, nobody called themselves Barney's friend in many years and not many of those who did were ever sincere about it.
He has no doubts that Cissy is and his throat tightens from emotion so much that he can barely speak.
xxx
It is May, the spring bursting in blooms and smells all around them and Cissy's garden in full splendour when she tells him with enthusiasm that she got herself a job at one of the hotels for the summer.
"I'm going to be a waitress," she explains, excitement dancing in her blue eyes. "You know, I've never been further than Port Lawrence and never spent a night outside of home – I'm so looking forward to going somewhere else and seeing all those people from the big cities."
He smiles wryly, leaning against the verandah's post.
"They are not so different from the folks from Deerwood," he says. "Just as self-important and smug more often than not. Possibly more fashionably dressed and with more spending money."
She sends him a chiding look.
"You're not going to tamper my enthusiasm with your cynicism," she says laughingly. "I'm too excited for it to work. You may not think it a big deal, with all your travels, but for me, it's the biggest adventure I've ever had."
"I hope it will be a wonderful one," he says sincerely. He wants her to have a nice summer full of fun. She surely deserves one.
xxx
Barney is woken up on one unseasonably hot September night by the sound he has never heard before: somebody banging on the door of his shack. He's more shocked than alarmed and his shock only increases when he opens them and finds Abel on the other side, a bottle of whisky in his hand.
"Scuse me for dropping in like that," he says gruffly, pushing in and falling limply onto the closest chair. He puts the bottle on the table with a thump. "I need to drink – I need to drink a lot – and I need a friendly ear for it tonight."
Barney shakes off the rest of sleep from his head, brings two glasses from his pantry and sits down opposite Abel, eyeing him with concern.
"What happened?" he asks quietly. He has never seen Abel so very rattled, even without taking into account his invasion of Barney's island fortress.
"Cissy's with child," answers Abel bluntly. "And the fellow – whoever he is – is not going to marry her."
Barney feels his jaw drop and reaches for his glass.
"Whoever he is?" he asks. "She didn't tell you?"
Abel drains his glass and shakes his big head.
"Not a word. Probably feared I'd shoot him on sight and she'd be damned right about that."
Barney swallows, bile rising in his throat at the next thought which comes to his mind.
"She wasn't forced… was she?" he asks roughly, scared to hear the answer. He's seen and heard things in his years of travel – horrible things – and he can't stomach the thought of something of this kind happening to Cissy Gay.
He breathes easier when Abel shakes his head again.
"She says she loves the fellow," he answers, rolling his eyes with exasperation. "He made her think he loves her too, damned bastard – turned her head completely – and after using her for a bit of fun in the summer and leaving her with a baby in her belly, sauntered off back home. He was a tourist, that much I got from her."
"My God," says Barney and drinks some more. "I'd shoot him too."
They sit for some minutes in grim silence, Abel drinking steadily, Barney mostly lost in thoughts.
"What are you going to do?" he asks finally. "What is she going to do?"
Abel shrugs.
"Stay home and have the baby," he says heavily. "They will tear her to shreds, of course, when they learn of it – all those supposedly godly Christians of Deerwood – mark my words, there'll be no pity for my girl, none at all. But I earn enough to feed a baby and they will have a roof over their heads, so life'll go on, I suppose. But I couldn't be completely calm over it all today after she told me. Didn't want to yell at her – you should have seen her, Barney, scared like a rabbit to tell me, I didn't have the heart to be cross – and anyway, that was that damned scoundrel's fault. Cissy's meek – too meek – she'd never have done anything if he didn't turn her head and use her ill."
Barney nods slowly to that – he can hardly imagine Cissy doing something like that out of her own initiative – but he frowns when he thinks about Abel's plan. He agrees with his estimation of the scorn Cissy will inevitably face here and his heart clenches with sympathy and fear for her.
"Wouldn't it be better for her to go away?" he asks thoughtfully. "Have her baby in secret?"
"She wants to keep it," says Abel with another shrug. "And there's no money for her to go anyway. She won't be able to work with a big belly or a baby on her breast."
"If it's just a matter of money…" starts Barney hesitantly, but Abel immediately shakes his head.
"I won't take a cent from you," he says firmly. "And neither will she. I might've been a poor father to her, but I taught her better than to accept charity."
Barney wants to argue that it wouldn't be charity, but he sees a steely glint in Abel's blue eyes and relents.
xxx
He visits Cissy the next morning, when Abel still snores on the sofa in his living room. His heart clenches when he sees her pale face and her big, terrified eyes. The change from his golden, laughing girl is simply too painful.
Oh yes, he would shoot the man if he could find him.
Cissy leads him to the kitchen, with a muttered explanation that Cousin Bathsheba went shopping and busies herself making coffee. She looks at him resignedly when she puts it in front of him and takes her chair opposite him.
"Father told you, didn't he?"
Barney nods. He doesn't know what to say.
"I loved him," confesses Cissy tremulously, her white hands clenching on the table. "I still love him so much. I was so happy... But he... He doesn't love me anymore."
If he ever did, thinks Barney cynically, and he can only reach over the table for one of those poor, clenched white hands in perfect understanding.
It's the memory of his happiness during the months of his engagement that Barney hates the most. He remembers all the kisses, embraces, smiles and looks, all the bright, joyful plans for their future, and he wonders scornfully how he could have been so damn blind as to think any of them genuine. When he is careless enough to recall her lips on his, her body in his arms, the renewed realisation that she had felt nothing except perhaps revulsion – that she forced herself to endure and return his caresses in exchange for the prospect of his money, however tainted – never fails to bring bile to his throat, even now, when his love for her has long burnt itself to the ground. He doesn't think of her very often anymore – there are whole weeks or months now between the times she does cross his mind – and thankfully it doesn't hurt like it used to when he loved her still, despite everything, not like it must hurt Cissy now – but the wave of excruciating humiliation and intense self-loathing for his naivety and blindness are just as overwhelming as before.
He cynically thinks that his and Cissy's pain is as old and trite as time – a man duped for his money, a woman for her beauty – and yet its banality doesn't make either of them hurt any less.
He doesn't say anything – he still doesn't truly know what to say – but he sees Cissy look at his hand on hers and then on his face and the dawning revelation on her tear-streaked face. She doesn't say anything more either, just entwines her fingers with his and squeezes his hand back. They sit like that, in silence, holding hands over the table, for a long time.
In Barney's experience misery doesn't love company – he has always and vehemently preferred to lick his wounds in private – but there is something to be said for simply being understood.
xxx
In the months that follow, Cissy barely leaves the house, even long before her pregnancy starts to show.
"I can't help thinking that everybody will know," she tries to explain helplessly when Barney tries to encourage her to go outside. "And of course soon everybody will know, there's no way around that, and I will have to deal with it, but I can't help but want to postpone it as long as possible."
He nods, accepting it. The last thing he wants is to force her to do anything she doesn't feel up to. He is all too aware that she will have to pay for her love and that it will cost her dearly. The good people of Deerwood are bound to ensure that.
In the meantime, he tries to take care of her best he can. He doesn't like how pale and thin she is, so he brings her fruit and chocolates and takes her on walks through the barrens under the disapproving eye of her elderly cousin. They are spotted once or twice, despite the remoteness of the place, and the rumours start circulating, of course. They get back to him, eventually, and he asks Cissy whether she minds very much or wants him to keep his distance from her. She only smiles wryly in response.
"I'm going to be utterly ruined in several months at the latest," she says placidly. "So it doesn't matter to me. But don't you worry about yourself? People will say that you're at fault for this."
Barney shrugs carelessly, hiding his relief at her answer. If he is to be honest with himself, he would have missed her company if she preferred him to keep away. For the first time in his life he has not even one, but two friends and he greedily wants to keep them.
"It won't damage my reputation more than it already is," he answers with a jaunty wink at her and delights in hearing her laugh. He hasn't heard enough of it since it all happened.
She looks at him earnestly when she quiets.
"Thank you," she says softly. "Thank you for being my friend despite everything. I don't think anybody else will be."
His heart clenches at the likely truth of that statement. He wants her to be wrong about it, but he doesn't believe she is.
"Whoever doesn't want to be your friend is a fool who doesn't know what they're missing," he says fiercely and then redirects her attention to a squirrel running up a tree.
xxx
The winter comes and with it snow, but it hardly keeps him away from Roaring Abel's house unless the storm is truly bad, and he tries to come over at least once or twice a week. Abel works less now, of course, which unfortunately means he drinks even more, and as much as Barney likes him he can't escape thinking that Cissy really could use some sober company. The old hag of the cousin remains sternly disapproving and doesn't deign to speak a word to Cissy which is not necessary. The way Cissy's eyes light up at the sight of him convinces him he is right, so as soon as the weather allows he takes his skates and his snowshoes and does the trek to the mainland.
There is no hiding of Cissy's condition now; with her belly round and taunt like a huge ball glued to her slim figure by some giant, careless child. It seems incongruous with her own childish features and he can't guess how she manages to carry its weight around without toppling over. The baby is often active and kicking and Cissy laughs at that, even when she winces sometimes at the strength of those kicks. Most of the time she busies herself with knitting or sewing one item for the baby or other, often singing softly while doing it. Barney, playing a vicious checkers game with Roaring Abel, reflects cynically that this baby is already loved more than many born in perfectly respectable circumstances.
Which is a good thing, because the poor mite will need all the love he or she can get to survive the derision they're going to be met with outside this house.
When he is walking over the snowdrifts towards Mistawis that evening, Barney feels a fierce protectiveness for this unborn fellow. Illegitimacy is as bad as having a father selling patent medicines, he is grimly sure of that; he doesn't expect neither adults nor the child's peers to be any kinder to them than those he had to deal with as a child and in his youth were to him. He vows to himself to do anything he can to help this child, even though he knows he won't be able to protect them from the scorn they're going to encounter, just as he won't be able to protect Cissy from her share of it when all is known. Still, if there is anything he can do, he's determined to do it.
xxx
Cissy begs him to come over for Christmas, so he relents finally and is stunned to realise he's having a good time. The surly cousin went to inflict her presence on some other family members, but Cissy prepared a delicious meal and Abel's violin adds to the festivity. It's the first time Barney is celebrating Christmas in over seven years.
He bought the softest, prettiest baby shawl he could find during his last visit to Toronto and Cissy's eyes light up when she unwraps it.
"Oh, Barney!" she exclaims. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but you shouldn't have!"
He shrugs, hiding his discomfort. Even without father's cursed money he has enough of his own now from the sales of his books that the cost of the thing was the last thing on his mind when he was choosing it.
"Your baby deserves to be celebrated," he says simply and turns his eyes awkwardly away from the tears in Cissy's eyes.
She has knitted him a sweater, warm and soft and robin egg blue – to highlight his eyes, says Cissy teasingly – and his throat gets tight. The wool must have been much more expensive than it was wise for Cissy to spend on it and it must have taken her countless hours to complete. It is the most personal gift he's ever got.
He thanks God that Abel chooses this moment to lead them in a rousing round of Christmas carols and breaks the intensity of the moment completely.
But he folds the sweater with care, packs it carefully into his bag and keeps it in his lean-to, to put on while he's writing there. He never risks it in the woods where a twig or a bramble could snag it.
xxx
It's pure luck that he even goes to Abel's house on that cold day in early March and finds Cissy moaning on the kitchen floor.
He was actually in Deerwood on a supply run – he found himself out of eggs, bacon, flour and matches – and he only makes a stop at Abel's on an impulse while on his way back. Good thing his groceries are in a backpack or he would have dropped them when the sound of her distress reaches him at the door.
He races into the kitchen at record speed and falls on his knees next to her.
"Cissy?" he asks anxiously, lifting her head gently. He notices traces of blood on her skirt and fights against brainless terror threatening to overwhelm him.
She lifts her head to look at him, her eyes glazed over with pain.
"The baby is coming," she whispers. "Father went for the doctor."
"And Mrs Thompson?" he asks, recalling with difficulty the name of Abel's old cousin.
"She fell on the ice yesterday and twisted her ankle badly," answers Cissy between the moans. Her hand squeezes Barney's so tight he thinks he will for sure end up with bruises, but he doesn't even wince, too terrified by what is happening. "She can't get up from bed."
Barney swears under his breath.
"Let's get you up," he says gently, helping Cissy sit up and then to her feet. His arm goes around her and she leans on him heavily. "Abel will be right back with the doctor."
God, he hopes so!
"It's easier when I walk," says Cissy with difficulty, so they do, around the kitchen and the hallway mostly, stopping every few minutes when another wave of pain hits her. Cissy tries to be brave – she is so brave – but she can't keep silent and as the time passes her moans turn into screams. Mrs Thompson doesn't even bother to enquire from her room off the kitchen, even though there is no way she doesn't hear the ruckus, and Barney curses her too in his head. He and Cissy are as good as alone and he's getting increasingly queasy at the thought that Abel and the doctor might not actually be back in time. His knowledge concerning bringing a baby into the world is non-existent and he suspects Cissy hardly knows more than him, but he'd be damned if he were to leave her alone now, not with the way her hand clenches on his every time she screams.
In the end it is down to him and her, and he learns much more than he ever wished to know about the process, but as he holds a squirming, squalling infant in his hands and gives him carefully to Cissy, his heart is full of wonder at this admittedly messy and terrifying miracle of nature. Seeing Cissy's face as she looks down at her son in wonder of her own, her face so full of love, does something to Barney's heart too.
This is when Abel and Doctor Marsh finally arrive and stare at the tableau in front of them in shock. Doctor Marsh thankfully takes over the proceedings, checking on mother and child, and Barney barely even cleans his hands before gratefully collapsing on a kitchen chair with a glass of Abel's whisky in hand. He rather thinks he deserves it.
"Never took you for a midwife," says Abel gruffly as he drains his own glass, but Barney sees that he is touched too.
"I hope to God this was my first and last foray into the field!" he says feelingly as he refills their glasses and raises his own.
"To your grandson!" he toasts. "And to Cissy, the bravest, strongest woman I know!"
Abel clinks his glass with him and empties it in one gulp.
"I have a grandson," he says in awe and a grin slowly grows on his patrician's face. "I have a grandson!"
He howls with joy and looks so sheepish when the baby starts crying in the other room at the noise that Barney nearly falls off his chair from laughter.
xxx
The news is well and truly out after the baby is born, of course.
Not that Barney notices so soon. The ice thaws not long after Cissy's baby is born and it's easier for him to take a boat to Port Lawrence if he needs anything than to slog himself through the muddy road to Deerwood. Besides, the early spring in the woods is full of wonders and he throws himself into rediscovering them with enthusiasm. Everywhere he looks, new life is bursting out of the winter sleep and he feels so alive that his very blood appears to sing.
He does get to Deerwood, eventually. It is late April and one of the first times he takes Lady Jane for a drive, grinning at the unholy racket she emits as if to announce that they're back in business. By the time he reaches the town, Lady Jane is half covered in mud and Barney grins again at the aghast looks he and his car are earning from God-fearing and law-abiding citizens. He pats the steering wheel of Lady Jane fondly as he parks her in front of the Stirling General Store.
His grin immediately falls when he spots Cissy leaning against the wall of it, pale like a sheet.
"Cissy?" he enquiries as soon as he reaches her, barely noticing the curious, disapproving looks they are both drawing now. "Are you alright, girl?"
She shakes her head.
"I'm so sorry to bother you," she says shakily, "but could you take me home?"
He leads her to Lady Jane as soon as she completes the sentence. Any further questions can wait; the priority is to get her away from here. He looks with concern as she more drops than sits onto the seat, but Lady Jane's engine makes any conversation impossible until they reach Abel's house.
When he parks, Cissy takes a deep breath and tells him everything.
"Cousin Bathsheba is ill, so I wanted to get groceries," she says, her voice more steady now, but terribly tired. "But when I got there, Mr Stirling told me his store is no place for women like me."
Barney is happy that she hasn't told him while they were still in town, because he's sure he would have become a murderer in truth then. Or, at the very least, punched some faces, Benjamin Stirling's smug mug most definitely included.
"He refused to serve you?" he asks incredulously through gritted teeth, but before he can say anything more Cissy half laughs, half sobs.
"Oh Barney, he wasn't the only one!" she cries. "Nobody was speaking to me – or responding to my greeting – except some women from the church who told me I should be ashamed of myself to show my face in town after what I've done – and Ruby and Philippa crossed the road to avoid passing me on the sidewalk – oh, Barney, I knew it was going to happen, but I didn't think it would be quite so bad!"
She bursts out sobbing for real now, big, wrecking sobs strong enough to shake her whole body, and Barney, feeling utterly helpless and impotently enraged, can only stroke her back in a pathetic attempt at comfort. What else can he do or say? It is ghastly, those people are horrid, and there's nothing he or Cissy or Abel can do to change any of it. Yet the sight of Cissy; so good and loving and honest, crying her eyes out in misery makes him want to hit something. Or someone. Or quite a lot of people, actually.
Finally, she is out of tears.
"I have to go back," she says, wiping her face with a handkerchief he by some miracle procured from the pocket of his overalls. "The little one will be hungry and I promised Cousin Bathsheba she won't have to watch him long."
Her face crumples a bit again and she looks up at Barney with desperation.
"Oh Barney," she says, her lips trembling. "I don't regret him – I can't, I'd never – but when I think that they are going to be so unkind to him, my heart simply breaks."
Since Barney can't promise her that they won't – he doesn't believe in empty promises – he only squeezes her hand.
"We'll tell him that he is the most loved and wonderful boy in the world and that his mother loves him very much," he says firmly. "Because he is and she does."
She hugs him then, with that surprising strength she sometimes shows.
"Thank you," she says. "Thank you for being the best friend I and he could possibly get."
He watches her go into the house, his heart in his throat. When he imagined having a friend as a lonely little boy he'd never thought it could be so very hard.
xxx
Abel is grumpy and angry on their next fishing trip, practically bristling with indignation on his daughter's behalf.
"Damned bunch of old hypocrites, the whole lot of them," he swears, staring gloomily at his rod. "So sorry for a half-orphan for having me for a father, so clucking over her since the day she was born, and now! Now they are all so damned pleased to tear her into pieces like hungry cats. The sanctimonious, snivelling parcel of St. Andrew's people. Too good to be seen on the same side of the road as her or sell her some tea and beans! I'm done with the whole damned world today, Barney, God knows I am."
Barney stares at his own rod and lets Abel talk. What can he add to that? He agrees with every word, swearing included, but it won't do any damned good to add his own anger to Abel's. Abel knows where he stands where Cissy is concerned, after all.
"You're a better Christian than any of them could ever dream to be," says Abel firmly, confirming his thoughts. "Their dogs'll go to heaven before they do!"
Barney shrugs, not feeling in a mood to accept the compliment. He doesn't see what he's doing as any kind of christian act. Cissy is his friend – one of the only two true friends he's ever had in his life – and he thinks fiercely that she simply deserves better. He reflects bitterly that if it was known who the baby's father is, he wouldn't have to contend with this kind of cruel treatment, even though, for all Cissy's assurances, Barney holds him as the one responsible for the whole thing. Cissy didn't know any better and loved the scoundrel deeply – loves him still, he knows – it was him who took advantage of her feelings in the worst way possible.
He wonders briefly who would shoot the fellow first, he or Abel, if Cissy ever told them his name, and allows himself a moment of grim amusement at the vision of them both racing towards him with their hunting rifles.
Any amusement he can derive from it though is necessarily brief and he and Abel finish their trip with scarcely any fish and way drunker than they should be.
xxx
As it happens, things aren't so very sad after all. Cissy avoids the town like a plague, true, feeling herself banished from it forever, but she doesn't appear too cut up over it, much to Barney's relief. She adores her little son utterly and whenever he sees her with the little fellow, she's beaming with happiness and love. It's easy to forget the disapproval of the society when they keep away from it and nobody visits them, and consequently Barney's heart is light and easy, his mouth readily smiling as soon as he approaches Abel's ramshackle house.
The baby is a delight all on his own. Barney has never had much experience with children, so everything little Gem, as Cissy took to calling him, does is a revelation for him. The May day when Gem smiles toothlessly at him in welcome is one Barney expects to remember till he's old and grey. He smiles back, feeling his heart melt in a totally new way, and playfully walks his fingers over Gem's belly, making the baby giggle.
"He's amazing, isn't he?" asks Cissy, smiling radiantly at him despite a persistent little cough which has been plaguing her recently. "When he laughs, it makes me so happy I want to sing and dance."
She bends over the Moses basket and places a kiss on Gem's golden, wispy locks. He is wholly his mother's child in looks, with her hair and her bright, blue eyes, and sometimes it's all too easy to forget that he has a father somewhere at all.
Or at least it's easy to forget at Abel's house, because outside its walls it's an issue very much on people's minds.
As Barney and Cissy predicted months ago, the rumours place the blame firmly at Barney's door. Nobody saw Cissy with any other man – Barney himself wonders how exactly her romance played out without attracting any notice from the gossips – and his reputation gives credence to any accusation. His known gallantry to Cissy only seems to confirm them, of course, but Barney would set himself on fire before he would have abandoned his friends to spare himself from evil tongues he cares nothing for anyway. Not that people say anything to him, most of the time – no, the notoriety has its uses and most of them wouldn't dare, just like they don't dare to ask Abel any questions about the paternity of his grandson – but they talk when they spot him in town and Barney has good ears.
It's not until he is caught by a sudden summer downpour while walking on the outskirts of Deerwood and by accident decides to shelter under the very same big oak as the Presbyterian minister, Mr Bradly, that he is properly confronted over the matter.
After a moment, Barney touches his hat in a perfunctory gesture and, after a longer one, Mr Bradly cautiously returns the greeting. He obviously gathers his courage though in the minutes they both spend watching the rain, because he finally addresses Barney with remonstrances that he should do right by poor Miss Gay and his child.
"They say you are fond of her and the baby," he says with as much sternness as he can muster towards a suspected criminal. "So unless you're already married…"
"I'm not," answers Barney curtly and automatically, his mind reeling from the unexpected direct attack.
"Then I don't see a reason you can't make an honest woman out of Miss Gay and assume the responsibility for your son," finishes Mr Bradly, emboldened by Barney's lack of reaction. "You might have led her astray, but Miss Gay used to be a good, respectable girl, despite her unhappy upbringing, and what you've done to her is despicable."
It's on the tip of Barney's tongue that it wasn't him, but he stops himself from blurting it out at the last moment. What would have been the point? Clearly nobody is going to believe such a denial – not with his reputation, which, to be fair, he himself encouraged to a great degree. But what truly prevents him from telling the truth and what prompts him to leave Mr Brady under the oak and march straight into the pouring rain, is the sudden thought that while he is not Gem's father, he could be.
He ponders it all the way back to his island and long into the night, barely paying attention to Banjo who glares resentfully at him for the neglect. He doesn't love Cissy – not in a romantic way at least – and as beautiful as she is, he's never thought of her in any other way than his friend and a little sister he's never had. But he doesn't expect to ever love a woman again – no, thank you, once was more than enough – and he could give Cissy back some of her respectability and Gem a father who would be willing to claim him.
He looks around his shack and tries to imagine Cissy and Gem here – not only for a visit, but permanently – and strange as it is, it's not a wholly unpleasant picture. But would he be happy to have them in his life forever? He thinks he would, but a sliver of doubt remains, and of course that whole dilemma leaves out the question if Cissy would be happy to be forever tied to him. So far no woman wanted that, after all, not truly. As desperate as Cissy's position is now, she is so young; there might be some other decent fellow in her future who would love her as she truly deserves, not just as a chum.
He can't help voicing the question to Cissy next time he visits her and it turns out he was right – she doesn't jump at the prospect.
"Do you love me, Barney?" she asks, looking him straight into eyes in her earnest manner.
"You're the best friend a fellow could wish for," he answers. "And I care for you very much."
"But you don't love me," she says astutely. "And I don't love you, not like that. Not like we should if we were to marry. It wouldn't be fair to you, anyway. One day you will meet someone you truly love and if you were tied to me then, you'd grow to regret it."
"I won't," says Barney fiercely and with utter conviction. "This is one thing which won't happen."
Cissy shakes her head.
"Thank you, Barney," she says gently. "But it would be wrong to accept your kindness and I won't do it. I'll be grateful enough if you continue to be my friend."
Well, since this is her wish, this is what he's going to do.
He doesn't allow himself to dwell much on the mixture of regret and relief he felt in that moment.
xxx
He finds himself paying more attention to the animals with their young this summer, amused to discover more and more parallels between behaviour of the creatures of the woods and their human counterparts. His anecdotes make Cissy laugh and sneak into his writing; he notices wryly that this book is going to be much more lighthearted than his previous one. But it's hard to be gloomy even for him when confronted with gloriously beautiful summer, a cute cheerful baby and the wholly unexpected novelty of having friends. Whether wandering alone, holed up in his shack writing on rainy days while the wind raises the waves of the lake furiously, or while visiting Abel's house, he feels happier than he's been in years, possibly ever.
xxx
The next Christmas is the second one he spends with the Gays and even happier than the previous one, with little Gem crawling energetically under their feet and tearing with gusto into the simple gifts and homemade sweets. His newest book was published just weeks ago to rave reviews and unexpectedly good sales, filling his pockets with money entirely his own and enabling him to spoil his friends a little, including a colourful ball with a bell inside for Gem which the mite appreciates very much and chases eagerly all over the floor. Abel is in the most sociable and garrulous phase of his drunkenness, playing his violin as Cissy dances with Barney or with Gem and for a moment everything is right in their little world.
xxx
Gem's first birthday is celebrated with style, even if the birthday boy has no idea what the fuss is about. Cissy decorates the house with ribbons and bakes him a cake, and his proud grandfather carries him on his broad shoulders and throws him into the air, making Gem laugh and demand more. Barney brings him a set of wooden blocks and spends half an hour patiently building towers just so Gem can destroy them gleefully. The only mar on the festivities is Cissy's persistent cough – she can't seem to shake those recurring colds – and the fact that Gem appears to have caught it too, coughing a little between shrieks of laughter. Neither of them seem too poorly though, so the day ends on a happy note when Gem, exhausted by the commotion, falls asleep on Barney's knees before Cissy has a chance to put him to bed. Barney carries him there, instead, and puts him down ever so gently when Cissy turns back the covers.
For a long moment, they stand over the crib and admire the sleeping child. He is beautiful, thinks Barney, and the wave of affection swells over him.
"Have I ever thanked you properly that you stayed with me the whole time a year ago?" asks Cissy, keeping her voice down to avoid waking up her son. "Not many men would."
Barney chuckles softly.
"I was terrified," he admits candidly. "But what choice did I have? I couldn't very well leave you alone, could I?"
She grasps his hand.
"I just hope one day somebody will give you as much as you've given me," she says. "You deserve the world, Barney."
He squeezes her hand back.
"You've already given me more than I could possibly give you," he confesses seriously. "And you deserve the world too."
Neither of them predicts what a nightmare they're going to go into in a few short days.
xxx
When Barney comes over next week, Cissy looks frantic. She is holding Gem in her arms and Barney immediately sees that his little face is alarmingly pale, except for vivid red spots on his cheeks, and his blue eyes glazed over with fever.
"Barney, could you go for a doctor?" pleads Cissy and she sounds scared, so very scared. "He was mostly fine last night, but he woke up so poorly and hot, and I think he's breathing wrong."
"Of course," answers Barney and turns back on his heels. The roads are still atrocious, covered in half-melted snow and mud, but he fetches Lady Jane from Abel's barn and swears at her as the engine warms.
"Now is not the time for your jokes, Lady Jane," he mutters through gritted teeth. "Go!"
Thankfully, she does, possibly appreciating the seriousness of the situation, and although it seems to him an age, he reaches Deerwood and Doctor Trent in no time. Barney is sure he looks and sounds half mad when he urges the doctor to get into Lady Jane, but he must have managed to convey the urgency because the gruff doctor doesn't protest much.
Doctor Trent checks Gem and looks at Cissy with compassion.
"It's pneumonia," he says and winces at the gasp she utters and the way her hand flies to her mouth. "I'm afraid it looks bad, Miss Gay."
"But he still can get better, can't he?" she asks desperately, white like a sheet and clutching Gem to her chest as if to keep him with her by the sheer force of her will. "He can't die!"
Dr Trent averts his eyes.
"There is always hope," he says with clear reluctance. "But…"
He turns away from Cissy's stricken face and heads for the door. Barney follows him mindlessly, numb with shock, but the doctor waves him away.
"I will walk," he says briskly. "You better stay with her until her father is back – possibly longer, if he's not sober, which is likely – that baby won't last the night."
So Barney closes the door behind the doctor and goes back to the bedroom with grim determination. He held Cissy's hand as she brought Gem into this world and he will do the same as she is forced to let him go to the next one.
xxx
The day of Gem's funeral is cold and bleak, with the rain not falling yet, but threatening to do so at any moment. Barney, Cissy and Abel are standing over a freshly dug tiny grave in the grassy burying ground of the up-back church, under the pines. Gem was never properly baptised in the Presbyterian church – Cissy baptised him herself right before he died – and to Abel's disgruntlement it was only here that he was allowed to bury his grandson.
Cissy did not care. Barney looks at her now, shivering and pale in her only black dress, her eyes huge and unseeing, and he doesn't think she cares now, not for anything other than the fact that her beloved baby is staying forever here under cold, hard ground. His own heart is breaking, but he knows his heartbreak is nothing to hers and he feels afraid for her in her grief and despair, very afraid. Abel is already swaying slightly on his feet and Barney knows that as soon as they leave, he is going to drown his sorrow as quickly as possible, his grief too hard to bear otherwise. But that will leave Cissy alone and Barney doesn't think she should be alone now, not with how empty her eyes look.
"You will take Cis home, Barney?" asks Abel soon enough, looking wistfully towards his buggy. It is clear he yearns to be anywhere but here. He barely waits for Barney's nod before he bails.
Barney gives Cissy a bit more time, but when it starts to rain, he touches her arm gently.
"Cissy," he says softly. "We need to go. You're still coughing so much, you shouldn't get wet."
She turns her head towards him and her face scares him all anew.
"What does it matter?" she asks, her voice devoid of inflection. "I wish to be dead too. At least then he wouldn't be alone."
Barney wishes his throat wasn't so tight. Maybe if it wasn't, he would be able to say something. As it is, he can only gently pull Cissy towards Lady Jane and he doesn't know whether to be grateful or even more frightened when she is too passive to resist him.
xxx
If the previous summer was the happiest of Barney's life, this one is the worst.
Both of his friends are deeply in mourning, each in their own way, and he feels utterly helpless when confronted with it. He's mourning Gem too, in the quietness of his mind, even though he feels he hardly has a right to it. The boy was not his – not of his blood as he was for Cissy and Abel – and yet he wormed himself into Barney's heart from the moment he took his first breath on Barney's own hands and now Barney misses him with fierceness seemingly piercing his very being. He spends even more time walking the woods than usual, avoiding any form of human contact, and writes much less; when he does write, half of it ends up unusable and desperately sad. His editor is quite unhappy with him, but Barney hardly cares.
He worries incessantly for Cissy and Abel both. They are both thinner; too lost in their grief to eat much. Abel's drinking, always pathological, gets worse, and there have been occasions when he drove through the town like a madman, screaming his rage against God at the top of his lungs, only to collapse at home in prayers and tears. The usual mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes is gone and Barney can only hope that it's not for good.
Cissy doesn't rage. In fact, she barely speaks or moves at all, often sitting for hours in silence, staring into space. Barney brings her fruit whenever he visits and stands over her until she does eat some of it, having learnt quickly that if he doesn't she's likely to forget. Her cough is not going away either, getting slowly but progressively worse, and finally Barney can't stand it anymore and takes her to Dr Trent who promptly diagnoses consumption.
They are silent on the way back and stay sitting in Lady Jane for a long time after Barney switches off the engine.
"I will take you to another doctor," says Barney finally. "A specialist. Dr Trent is one of the best when it comes to heart diseases, but consumption is not his area."
Cissy sighs tiredly.
"There's no need. I'm not upset by this news, truly. I wish…"
"Don't say you wish to be dead!" protests Barney savagely. "You can't say things like that!"
"But I do feel like that," answers Cissy in the same tired voice. "I have nothing left to live for."
Barney wants to argue. Most of all he wants to ask what of him, doesn't he count? But he stops himself, admitting defeat. This line of thinking is utterly selfish and ineffective anyway; he can't imagine anyone deciding to continue living for his sake, even Cissy.
"Cissy, please," he pleads instead. "Let me at least take you to one doctor and discuss possible treatment. Consumption is bad, but not all patients die. If not for yourself or for me, do it for Abel. He will be left alone without you."
She relents finally, but he can see that it's mostly because she is too tired to argue.
xxx
Dr Marsh in Port Lawrence is maybe not a specialist Barney would really wish for, but he deals with consumption more often and eagerly than Dr Trent, so it is the best option they can get without taking Cissy to Toronto, which would of course open the whole can of worms on the subject how he can afford that. If it was the only method to help Cissy, Barney thinks he would have done it anyway and simply refused to answer any questions regarding his money's origins, but it turns out not necessary.
Dr Marsh analyses Cissy's x-ray and says her consumption is not so very bad yet that she won't be accepted at Muskoka Free Hospital for Consumptives at Gravenhurst, the newest and most modern centre for treatment of consumption in Ontario and the first free of charge for the patients. Its location was chosen for its clear air, the buildings are new and designed with the maximum of sunlight and the said fresh air getting in. The patients are spending hours every day outside in the gardens or on the spacious verandahs and are fed regular, nutritious meals. The weight on Barney's chest lifts a bit when he realises that Cissy is going to get the best treatment in the province. He sees the same relief in Abel's eyes when they relate everything to him later that evening.
Cissy still looks like she doesn't care, but she allows Barney to take her to the sanatorium. She is quiet on the drive – not that Lady Jane allows a conversation which doesn't involve yelling – looking listlessly through the window at the woods and lakes they are passing by. She grasps Barney's hand though when he's brought up her small valise to her bed in a sunny room full of them and the time comes to part.
"Thank you," she says. "I know I don't act very grateful right now – I don't think I can, not yet – but I appreciate so much that you care for me."
"Of course I do," answers Barney. "You're my friend."
xxx
Barney checks periodically on Abel while Cissy is away this fall. He tries not to be overt about it, inviting Abel for a hunt or some fishing or accompanying him to one of his favourite watering holes. Six months after his grandson's passing, Abel is mostly alright, but Cissy's diagnosis is a new blow to him and one he struggles with mightily.
"All those people living for years and years," he grumbles one night over whisky. "And my little girl gets sick before she had a chance to. It is all predestinated, of course, and can't be changed, but I'll be damned if I understand the justice of it."
Since Barney agrees with every word, he just nods gloomily and drains his glass.
xxx
The woods are his escape again and he feels himself relax – literally breathe easier – as soon as he walks into their waiting depths. They are always there for him, vast and full of life and wonder, but gloriously empty of people. He spends this fall focusing on the trees, right now in a magnificent palette of colours and soon his current manuscript is trashed and a new one started. He observes their beauty, their strength, their life cycle and all the creatures big and small relying on them and the words are flowing under his pen when he sits in his study, dressed in his blue sweater from Cissy, with Banjo snoring by the stove. This book is going to be a good one, he's sure of it, and when his editor receives the first chapters he finally gets off his back and lets him work on it in peace.
xxx
Cissy comes back soon after the first snow, looking less gaunt and pale, but still desperately sad. There is no talk of celebrating Christmas this year – none of them can stand the thought of the pain the contrast with the last one would necessarily bring – and so by silent agreement none of them raises the topic.
Cissy and Abel attend another funeral instead in January. Cousin Bathsheba died and while Barney can't bring himself to regret her passing after her unkindness to Cissy ever since she got pregnant, he finds her replacement as Abel's housekeeper even worse. Esme Crew is a crass, dirty woman nearly as prone to be drunk as Abel is, but with none of his charm and intelligence. Abel admits to him that he would have never hired her if it wasn't for the fact that nobody wants to work in a house where a girl is sick with consumption. Miss Crew, sacked from her last job for her drinking and desperate for money could not afford to be choosy, but the way she's avoiding Cissy like a plague says she's none more enthusiastic than the rest of potential candidates.
"I don't mind that she keeps away," mutters Cissy with uncharacteristic viciousness. "I hate her."
Her cough, gone for some weeks after the sanatorium, is coming back with a vengeance. When Barney takes her to Dr Marsh and he gets to examine her newest x-rays, he only shakes his head. The disease has progressed suddenly and savagely, despite the treatment, and it is a very bad sign.
"It got so advanced in such a short time," he says nearly apologetically, showing them both the filmy pictures of Cissy's lungs. "This is not good. Consumption is an unpredictable and capricious disease, but when it goes rapidly like this, it doesn't bode well."
"Would another stint in the sanatorium help?" asks Barney, his throat tight. Cissy sits next to him, pale and calm, and he can't lose her, he just can't.
Dr Marsh sighs heavily.
"Miss Gay would not be accepted there now," he says reluctantly. "They don't accept patients with the disease at such an advanced stage."
Cissy just inclines her head, but Barney can't give up on her, there's no way.
"Then there must be some other place which does," he says firmly, his mind busy calculating how much money he has available. His last book really sold well and he hardly spends any of it; he will spend it all if it gives Cissy a fighting chance.
But Dr Marsh shakes his head again.
"None which would be of any use," he explains, with another regretful look at Cissy. "With the way the disease is progressing… We simply don't have an effective cure. Rest, fresh air and good, regular meals are the only things which we can in all truth recommend, and Miss Gay does not need to go to a sanitorium for that."
"What about other treatments?" asks Barney with a frown. He has read up on it; he's read all he could put his hands on. "Deflating the lung? Gold injections?"
"We can try it," admits Dr Marsh. "But I don't think it will help."
Barney wants to quarrel further, to find some solution, but Cissy puts her thin little hand on his sleeve.
"It's alright, Barney," she says. "Doctor Marsh told us all there was to know."
She gets up, thanking the doctor and making her farewells, and Barney has no choice but to follow her outside into the bitterly cold February air.
"Why didn't you allow me to finish?" he asks angrily as they settle in Abel's sleds they used to get to Port Lawrence. Angry as he is with her, he still makes sure she is adequately wrapped in furs before they ride home to Deerwood.
Cissy shrugs.
"Because there was no use. He did consider it all and told it as it is. I'm dying and there's nothing which can be done about it."
Barney grinds his teeth as he urges the horse to go faster through the snowy road. For the first time in a long time he pays no attention to the white, frozen beauty of the landscape they pass through.
"We don't know it," he quarrels stubbornly. "There might be something. I'll take you to another doctor; they might know of some way to help you."
Cissy puts her gloved hand on his sleeve again.
"Barney," she says softly. "It's alright. Sometimes there's simply nothing to be done."
He looks into her eyes and sees that she's thinking of Gem, not of herself, but it only makes him more bitter. There wasn't anything they could have done to save the baby they loved; there must be something to save the mother.
"There isn't," says Cissy, as if she's reading his thoughts. "But it's alright, Barney. I know you will miss me, but I don't mind. I'm going to see Gem again. It's been unbearable to be apart from him and now I know I won't be for long."
Barney clenches his teeth again and focuses on the horse and the road. They don't speak anymore until they reach Abel's house.
xxx
The late winter storms keep Barney buried in his shack for the next three weeks and he's glad of it. He has enough provisions to keep himself and Banjo from starving and frankly, he's not ready to see either Cissy or Abel now; not while his anticipatory grief for her is so damned strong he feels like crying whenever he thinks of it – and he thinks of it constantly. She will die, he's starting to acknowledge it now, but he's nowhere closer to accepting it than he was when he first heard the news. No, he's angry and bitter and raging at the utter injustice of it all and in no way fit for human company. Even Banjo seems fed up with him and his black moods.
As the storms finally pass, he realises that he can't keep away forever. Cissy will die soon. It won't be instantaneous – not like it was with Gem – but sooner or later it will happen and he won't be the coward and the selfish cad he knows himself to be and avoid her while he still can spend time with her and possibly ease her lot in some small way. No, he will be by her side as long as she wants him there, and he's aware that as poor of a friend as he is, she doesn't really have anyone else. Abel will do his best for her, he knows, but he also knows his old friend's limitations.
He puts on his skates, picks the snowshoes and starts the trek to Abel's house. He will remain by Cissy's side until the end.