Looking at the Moon (19 page)

Norah shrugged. “How should I know?” She hid under the covers from their curious faces. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? For the first time all summer she looked forward to the privacy of her own room in Toronto.

The next morning Norah was relieved to hear that Andrew had gone to Huntsville for a few days. “Mr. Hancock took him to the train station in Brockhurst,” she heard Aunt Dorothy tell Flo. “He won't be back until our last evening. He said he was going to visit some friends of his parents.”

N
ORAH SAT LISTLESSLY
at the kitchen table while Aunt Bea and Aunt Mary discussed with Hanny the special menu for their last meal tomorrow.

“It would be lovely to have a roast,” said Aunt Bea. “How I miss the supply boats! They came twice a week
right to our dock, Norah. There were vegetables and flowers—even a butcher on board! I used to take Gerald down when he was a baby and weigh him on the scales. Now I suppose we'll have to go all the way into Port Clarkson—the best butcher is there.”

“I'll go,” said Aunt Mary. “If Norah will drive me. Will you?”

“All right,” shrugged Norah.

She had never driven the
Putt-Putt
so far and her gloom lifted a bit when Aunt Mary let her manoeuvre the launch through the lock at Port Clarkson all by herself. But she quickly got bored with shopping and followed Aunt Mary around the stores in a dull daze.

“Would you like a cool drink before we go back?” asked her guardian.

“I don't care,” said Norah.

They sat in a dim restaurant, sipping iced tea. Aunt Mary's kind face looked concerned. “You've been so pensive the last few days, Norah. Are you worried about going back to school?”

“No,” muttered Norah, keeping her eyes down so Aunt Mary wouldn't notice her quick tears. If only she could unload her misery and be comforted! But she didn't want anyone to know how foolish she had been. She looked up, blinking rapidly. “There
is
something, but I can't tell you.”

“I won't pry then,” said Aunt Mary. “I hope it's not too serious.” She sighed. “Perhaps going back to the city will be a good change for all of us. This summer has been so …
intense,
somehow. We need to get back to our
regular routines. You'll be glad to see Paige and Bernard again, I imagine.”

Norah nodded, puzzled by her words. Surely Aunt Mary wasn't going back to
her
regular routine—wouldn't she announce tomorrow that she would marry Tom?

Aunt Mary pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose. It was already raw and her eyes were bloodshot. “What a nuisance this hayfever is,” she sniffed. “Did you know that people used to come to Muskoka to avoid it? But now I'm sure there's as much ragweed here as there is in the city.”

Then the colour slowly rose in Aunt Mary's face. She gave a small cough and looked down. Norah turned around to see who had startled her.

A man had entered the restaurant and was staring at their table, looking as bewildered as Aunt Mary. Then he came over and said softly, “Good-morning, Mary.”

“Good-morning, Tom.” Norah almost dropped her glass. “This is Norah Stoakes, who's living with us,” continued Aunt Mary. “Norah, I'd like you to meet Mr. Montgomery, an old friend of mine.”

“How do you do, Mr. Montgomery,” said Norah automatically. She gawked at the man as he stood there.

Tom looked even older up close than he had at a distance. His face was seamed with wrinkles and his sparse hair lay in thin white strands across his high forehead. He seemed as shy as Aunt Mary and pushed up his glasses nervously. “Um, shopping, were you?” he asked finally.

“Yes—we're having a big dinner tomorrow and I needed to pick up a roast.”

“I borrowed one of the hotel boats to do some shopping myself. May I give you a lift anywhere?”

“No, thank you. We have our own boat. Come along, Norah, we'd better start back before the meat turns.” Aunt Mary gathered up parcels and stood up.

“Goodbye then, Tom,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Goodbye, Mary,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps I'll see you again next summer.” He held onto her hand a second, then Aunt Mary turned abruptly and walked out.

Norah hurried after her. What was
that
all about? Was the whole thing off? Aunt Mary sat in the boat facing backwards, so Norah couldn't see her face. But when they reached their own lake she tapped Norah's shoulder. “I don't want to go back to the island just yet. Could you stop in that cove?”

Norah turned the launch into a tiny cove and cut the engine. “Shall I tie it up?” she asked.

“Yes, but we don't need to get out. I just have to collect myself for a few minutes.” Then calm, placid Aunt Mary burst into tears.

“Aunt Mary! What's wrong?!” Norah quickly tethered the
Putt-Putt
to an overhanging branch and sat beside her guardian, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

It only lasted a minute or two. Aunt Mary dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, blew her nose again, then turned to Norah with a weak smile.

“What a foolish woman I am, Norah! What must you think of me, carrying on like this? I hope I didn't scare you. Perhaps I should explain. You see, I have been …
keeping company with Mr. Montgomery all month. I've known him for years—he grew up in Toronto—but he was living in the west.”

Norah shifted impatiently. Aunt Mary seemed to have forgotten she'd already told her about Tom.

“Then I ran into him at the end of last summer—he'd been spending August at Eden House Resort. We wrote to each other all winter. He sent his letters care of one of my friends—it was the only way I could hide them from Mother. All those times I said I was getting my dress fitted I was also visiting Tom! It was so underhanded and deceitful. I half-expected Mother to catch on, but she didn't. I just couldn't let her know—not until I was absolutely certain of the relationship.”

She looked so guilty that Norah cried, “Of course you couldn't!”

Aunt Mary's cheeks grew pink again. “We had such pleasant visits. He really is a remarkably decent man. And then … he asked me to marry him!”

“Oh, Aunt Mary!” Norah wriggled so much that the boat swayed. “That's wonderful! When did he ask you?”

“At Anne's sister's wedding. I knew he'd be there and we managed to slip away during the reception.”

“When are you going to tell Aunt Florence?”

Aunt Mary smiled sadly. “I won't have to, Norah, because I said no.”

“You said no! But you love him!”

“Probably I do love him. I must say, I came close to saying yes, but I thought about it very carefully. It's too
late for me to get married. I'm happy the way I am. I
like
my life in Toronto, with my church and my Red Cross work. I have so many friends there. I don't think I could adjust to living somewhere else. And I'd miss you and Gavin dreadfully! I know you won't be with us forever, but I couldn't be the one to leave first.”

“But why can't Tom—Mr. Montgomery, I mean—live with us in Toronto?”

“He could never do that, Norah. He doesn't want to change his life, either. He has relatives in the west—he belongs there now. And there's Mother, of course. I couldn't ask anyone to put up with her and she'll need me more and more as she gets older.”

“But that's just like
before
! You didn't get married
last
time because of Aunt Florence! You can't let her ruin your life again!”

“Perhaps, the first time, it was because of Mother,” said Aunt Mary. “Not now. If I really wanted to marry him, I wouldn't let her stand in my way. No … even though she's obviously a factor in my decision, this time it's because of me. I've become used to my own company and my own ways. I don't think I'm prepared to change them, not even for someone I respect as much as I do Tom.”

“But …” Norah's ready tears overflowed. “But you
love
him! And he must love you, if he asked you to marry him. He's your true love, just like all the songs. You have to be loyal to him!”

“Why, Norah! It's not like you to cry! Here, have what's left of my hankie. I shouldn't have told you all
this—you're only thirteen, after all. Love seems different when you're young.” She smiled. “Despite all those romantic songs, I don't believe that everyone has just one true love—why, look at me!”

“What do you mean?” gulped Norah. “You've only loved Tom! All those years!”

“All those years …” Aunt Mary looked puzzled, then she laughed. “Poor Norah, no wonder you're confused! That was a
different
Tom, that first man I told you about. That's Thomas Young. Now that would be loyalty, if I still loved
him
. I don't even know where he lives now.”

“A different Tom?” repeated Norah weakly.

“Yes, it is rather a strange coincidence, isn't it? But after all, it's a common name.”

“You mean, now you love someone else?”

“Yes, I do. You
can
love several different people in your life, you know. You will, I'm sure, until you find the right one.”

“Never!” cried Norah. “I'll never love anyone but—” She clapped her hand over her mouth and her fingers became slippery with tears.

Aunt Mary picked up the sodden handkerchief and very gently wiped Norah's face. “So that's it,” she said softly. “Who is it—Andrew?”

“Yes,” whispered Norah. “He doesn't love
me,
though—he never did!”

Aunt Mary pulled her over for a hug. “Oh, Norah, you're so young—very young! This is just the beginning! I'm not going to say you only have a crush. I remember
feeling the same way about one of my teachers—love is just as real at any age. But I promise you, you will get over it—and love someone else in time, someone who will love you back. Andrew is very fond of you, I'm sure, but he's so much older, you can't expect him to be interested in you. But wait and see—you're so full of spirit, so pretty. Lots of people are going to love you!”

“But I'm ugly!” burst out Norah. “My nose is too big!

“It's not big at all. Everyone thinks she's ugly at thirteen.
I
did—and when I look at snaps of myself then, I think I looked fine. Besides, it's what
inside
that makes people attractive.”

Now she sounded too much like the Sunday School teacher she was. But her kind words warmed Norah. She remembered that pretty, confident girl in the mirror and hope flickered inside her.

“The meat!” said Aunt Mary. “We must be getting back.”

“You won't tell anyone about Andrew, will you?” said Norah before she started the engine.

“Of course not! And I know you won't say anything about Tom. They'll both be our own special secrets.”

As they drove back to Gairloch, Norah kept her eyes on the waves ahead, pondering the disappointing end of Aunt Mary's romance. She supposed Aunt Mary was doing what she wanted, though.

Her
story wasn't going to be so boring. And she couldn't believe that she'd ever love anyone but Andrew.

17

The Last Evening

T
hey arrived back in time to say goodbye to Aunt Catherine. The whole family congregated on the dock to see her off, while the Nugents, who were going to take her to Ottawa, waited in their launch.

When it was Norah's turn to kiss her she wished she could tell Aunt Catherine what Andrew was going to announce when he came back tomorrow. She would be the only member of the family who would be pleased with him. But it was Andrew's secret.

“Goodbye,” she said, suddenly shy.

Aunt Catherine kissed her firmly on each cheek. “There! You have a good year, Norah, and I'll see you next summer. In the meantime, don't grow up too fast! There's no hurry, you know—one day you'll be like me and wishing you were young again.”

But her spirit seemed as young as ever as she waved vigorously from the departing boat. Norah watched it until it disappeared around the point. She usually forgot about the old woman until she was here again, but somehow, this year, she missed her already.

T
HE FAMILY
was in a flurry as they got ready to leave. Anything that could be nibbled by mice was put into the “tin room” above the stairs. Hanny packed boxes of jam for each family. Neighbours came by in their boats to say goodbye. Everyone was leaving together on Sunday morning, and the precious moments rushed by. Too soon they were all sitting in the dining room for their last Big Dinner.

“Hanny, you've surpassed yourself.” Uncle Reg leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “That was the best meal we've had all summer.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Hanny. She removed his dessert plate, stained purple from blueberry pie. The adults lingered at the table, smoking and chatting.

“The last time we'll all be together,” sighed Aunt Bea.

“All except Andrew,” sniffed Aunt Florence. “Why couldn't he have gone to Huntsville earlier in the month? And he really should have tried to be back in time for our last dinner. How is he getting here from Brockhurst?”

“He asked Mr. Hancock to leave the
Putt-Putt
there for him,” said Uncle Gerald. “He towed it over this afternoon.”

“He did promise he'd be back as soon as he could, Aunt Florence,” said Aunt Dorothy. She tried to change the subject. “I hope our tires will hold out long enough to come up next year. But I suppose we could take the train.”

“It's the gas coupons I'm worried about,” said Uncle Barclay. “We may have to run just one boat next summer.”

“Why don't you do what we're going to?” said Aunt Florence. “Store the car all year and take streetcars. Then we can save our gas coupons for the trip north and use the rest for the boats.”