That Forgetful Shore by Trudy Morgan-Cole Page A

embraced, is still her second self, her other half. What could Elliston offer to compete with that?
    Ben takes her bag down to the wharf and sees her off on the Ethie . “I’ll be gone to Nova Scotia when you get back.”
    â€œYes, and if you come home for the summer, I’ll be getting ready to go home again,” she says.
    â€œShips passing in the night. I’ll be sure to have my flags out when you pass by, though.”
    â€œYou could write me,” she suggests.
    â€œI’m no great letter-writer,” he admits. “But I may send the odd postal.”
    â€œYou do that, then,” says Kit. “The odd postal. The odder the better. I’ll look for it.”

Triffie
    Missing Point
January, 1908
    My Dear Peony,
    Just a postal to send on the Ethie when she sails tomorrow – long letter to follow. How short a time you were here, yet how great a gap your Absence leaves. New friends may come and go but none fills the Void left by an Old, True Friend who is Far Away. I sit at my little table tonight and wish I could cross the water and be with you. And if I caught a glimpse of a certain Mr. Darcy, that would at least satisfy my curiosity!
    â€œHe’s really nothing like Mr. Darcy,” Kit had insisted when she was home at Christmas. “A bit in looks perhaps. But not in character. Can you imagine Mr. Darcy building a manger for the school Christmas pageant?”
    Of course Triffie couldn’t. This Ben Porter sounds like a perfectly nice, charming, helpful young man. Handsome, of course. Tall and dark, Kit has assured her. Her quick pen sketched a series of caricatures that left Triffie laughing, but Triffie can’t entirely erase the idea of Mr. Darcy from her mind. The thought that Kit has an admirer whom Trif has never seen, who is entirely outside their circle of acquaintance on the Point, fills Trif with the blackest envy. She offers this sin up to God in her prayers but never manages to dispel it completely.
    Before Christmas, blond and smiling Brother Anderson said his goodbyes to Trif and the rest of the small flock of faithful Adventists left behind in Bay Roberts and the nearby harbours. He has gone back to America, to Battle Creek, that town humming with devout industry. It’s a mythical place in Trif’s mind, filled with golden corn-fed young men like Brother Anderson, and apple-cheeked blonde maidens like his fiancée Louisa, coupled off two by two like animals going into the ark: missionary preacher and teacher; missionary doctor and nurse.
    But his departure does not spell the end of Trif’s newfound faith. Rather, with the American missionaries gone, she is stirred into action, keeping the little band of believers faithful by gathering them on Sabbath mornings, doing everything short of preaching sermons. A dozen times Uncle Albert has threatened to put her out of the house if she won’t give up her new religion and do some housework on Saturday. But Triffie has figured out by now he’s all talk; he’ll never be known as the man who turned his own niece out of doors to starve. Aunt Hepsy Snow, the only other soul on the Point who continues going to the Adventist meetings now that the missionaries have gone, is a valuable ally. She is Aunt Rachel’s first cousin by marriage, and is quick to defend her own and Triffie’s religion when others in the family criticize. Moreover, Aunt Hepsy has a horse and sleigh that she drives to meetings, picking Triffie up along the way.
    Trif’s work week is reduced from six days to five, since Aunt Rachel won’t hear of her doing any housework on Sunday. On Fridays Triffie bakes a double batch of bread and cooks a big pot of something – pea soup or beans, usually – that will do for Saturday’s dinner. If it’s pea soup, she puts her own aside in a separate pot before adding salt pork for the rest of the family, though she can’t work out a way to get around