Free Miss Elva by Stephens Gerard Malone Page B

said Elva was doing her share, but it sounded as if she meant, Be thankful, girl, you’re not like her.
    “Fine. Not my fault if we have pink potatoes.”
    At the shore of the lake, Jane tied her skirts around her waist, waded through the shallow water, her shoes held overhead, and vanished from Elva’s view.
    Why come here? No one comes here. Anything could happen and no one’d ever know! Jane!
    The last thread of her courage snapped. Elva could bear no more, go no farther. Running as best she could along the beach after her sister had been one thing, but once Jane dashed across the road and into the fields towards the lake, Elva’d gone too far, and knew it. Scared: plain and simple. No telling now if the dull clanging was the distant channel marker bobbing in the swelling tide or Elva’s racing heart. Farther ahead were twinkling orbs of yellow and orange circles: lights from Demerett Bridge. Here was darknessand shadow. Behind, nothing but that occasional yawn of the surf preceding the thunder of sea on sand and splashing foam.
    A thin line of azure appeared on the horizon in that place that spawned fog. As angry as she knew Jane would be, Elva had to find her sister and plead with her to take her home. That meant crossing into the lake and the tide was in. Muddled, Elva forgot to remove her shoes. Now they were wet and Amos would be furious if he saw them ruined.
    Hello Mary!
    It felt more right to Elva to start the prayer off that way. Hail sounded like Gil and Dom when they used to pretend to be Roman soldiers. Rilla always said to pray to the Virgin when you were in trouble, but now Hello Mary full of grace wasn’t working. Nothing was working. Her breath began to clutch, a prelude to tears, when she noticed a faint light in the Abbey’s faux cloisters.
    “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
    Even whispered night voices could be heard from a distance across the lake, so Elva, much relieved, knew Dom was with Jane as she crawled up on the shores of the island and wrung out the folds of her dress. Through the Abbey’s wispy birches rose the arches of the roofless cloister under a cavernous oak, the breeze jostling its dewy leaves. They were inside. Surrounding the rows of columns, white rhododendron,gone grey in the infant morn, along with Elva. Watching.
    “Someone followed us home.” Jane covered Dom’s face with kisses. “I had to make sure they were gone. And my mother was late getting home.”
    Dom grabbed Jane’s face in his hands. “Are you okay?”
    A kiss for a reply.
    “Was anyone hurt?”
    “They went after your brother’s friend.”
    “Why?”
    “I dunno. Something he did to the clock in town, I think.”
    “You shouldn’t have come, Jane. It’s too dangerous.”
    “Fine. I’ll go.”
    “No! Don’t.” This time, Dom kissed her.
    “Did you really not know he was back?”
    “No. But he’s not here to honour our father. I know that much.”
    “No forgiveness for the
Meghan Rose?”
    “I would if he’d admit to what he did, but Gil’s a coward. He ran away. Can only imagine what he’s done that he has to come back now.”
    “Never thought I’d see him again. No one did. Except Elva.”
    “Why did our little Miss Elva think that?”
    “Shut up about her,” Jane said, gently biting as she struggled with his shirt.
    His chest, matted with dark hair, flinched under Jane’s teasing tongue. Dom pressed Jane to him as he pulled her to the ground, wrapping his arms about her.
    “What is it?” For Dom was aware that Jane had gone still, momentarily eluding him.
    “I see your mother’s face, Father Domenique. What would she say if she could see us now?”
    “Don’t mock my faith.”
    Jane’d accepted being second to God because that meant nothing to her, but be damned, she’d not come after his mother.
    “Tell her, Dom. Tell her soon.”
    Elva was not ignorant of what happens between men and women, nor had there ever been any mystery or wonder surrounding it. Jane,