friendship above all else, I know you agree with me that if he still wants the hand of our daughter in marriage, he can bloody well have it! And I hope, luv, you’d consider it as I do, a right honour for the whole family.”
James looked up sharply. This is not at all what he had expected.
Catherine leapt up, grabbed her father, flung her arms around him, and kissed him hard.
James rose too, as Eleanor came to hug him. He could hardly restrain the tears of joy that leapt into his eyes. A new chapter in his life had certainly begun.
Chapter Thirteen
The next Sunday, his heart beating furiously, James beached the canoe at the foot of Shigawake brook. In the prow ahead, Catherine Garrett stepped out into the waves, soaking her skirt and shoes without care — she was anxious too, he saw, as little Ben leapt out with her and the two of them hauled the canoe in to shore. The only way old Will had permitted his daughter to go off with James alone was with a chaperone, and they had finally persuaded him that Ben fit the bill.
Ben was going back to work at the mill on Monday as Hall had requested, but James would only return for one week, depending of course on the outcome of Catherine’s decision today. How well he knew that here, in this harsh land, women had to be practical, however much they loved a man. Would she approve of his cabin, albeit as temporary living quarters? Would she be brave enough to face the winter here, far from her family, in conditions fit for none but the hardiest? And all for a love which had not really been tested? Was James asking too much? Definitely, too much, he realized. Well, here they were, and go through with it he must.
He stepped out and helped them lift the canoe up above the high-tide line next to his brook that was tumbling down wide, red stone steps.
Catherine took up her own bag easily and slung it over her shoulder. “So this is the famous brook?”
“Aye. You like it?”
“’Tis pretty, James.”
First hurdle crossed, he said to himself, and set off in the lead.
They headed up the trail, clearly marked but not well worn, between the brook and the steep sides of the Hollow. Home again after two long months: but happiness mingled with anxiety as this one day’s expedition would decide whether she’d agree to become his wife.
So much hung in the balance. Deliberately he had refrained from telling her too many things about this “home”, because every time he spoke, his eyes would glow and feelings spill out — one certain way to destroy any surprise or appreciation. How could he prevent her from being disappointed, today of all days? Nothing for it but let the site speak for itself. And of course, pray hard.
James waved to his left, where through the bare autumn trees could be seen a brow of flat land above. “As I told you, I intend to build a house further up there, and I’ve got the foundations more or less placed.” He tried sounding optimistic, but saw how vapid that sounded — just foundations? “But the cabin is more or less fixed up, though.” He heard anxiety ring in his voice.
“I have always wanted to sleep in the wild.” Catherine sped up and passed him, as though more anxious than he, or was it more enthusiastic? “I remember when I was seven, Papa took me back to a neighbour’s hunting cabin in the woods. Frightfully exciting, for someone my age.”
She’s just trying to put me at ease, James thought to himself as he followed her. Well, heaven knows, I need it. I don’t think I’ve been this anxious since the night I jumped off the Billy Ruffian. Was that only two years ago?
How much he had achieved! That first summer, with the help of his Micmac friends, he had found this brook and established his cabin. Then in the winter, he’d lived back in the interior with the Micmac, learning how to survive, trap small game, and other rules about surviving the extreme cold of the Gaspé Coast. The next summer in Paspébiac he’d learned a trade,
James looked up sharply. This is not at all what he had expected.
Catherine leapt up, grabbed her father, flung her arms around him, and kissed him hard.
James rose too, as Eleanor came to hug him. He could hardly restrain the tears of joy that leapt into his eyes. A new chapter in his life had certainly begun.
Chapter Thirteen
The next Sunday, his heart beating furiously, James beached the canoe at the foot of Shigawake brook. In the prow ahead, Catherine Garrett stepped out into the waves, soaking her skirt and shoes without care — she was anxious too, he saw, as little Ben leapt out with her and the two of them hauled the canoe in to shore. The only way old Will had permitted his daughter to go off with James alone was with a chaperone, and they had finally persuaded him that Ben fit the bill.
Ben was going back to work at the mill on Monday as Hall had requested, but James would only return for one week, depending of course on the outcome of Catherine’s decision today. How well he knew that here, in this harsh land, women had to be practical, however much they loved a man. Would she approve of his cabin, albeit as temporary living quarters? Would she be brave enough to face the winter here, far from her family, in conditions fit for none but the hardiest? And all for a love which had not really been tested? Was James asking too much? Definitely, too much, he realized. Well, here they were, and go through with it he must.
He stepped out and helped them lift the canoe up above the high-tide line next to his brook that was tumbling down wide, red stone steps.
Catherine took up her own bag easily and slung it over her shoulder. “So this is the famous brook?”
“Aye. You like it?”
“’Tis pretty, James.”
First hurdle crossed, he said to himself, and set off in the lead.
They headed up the trail, clearly marked but not well worn, between the brook and the steep sides of the Hollow. Home again after two long months: but happiness mingled with anxiety as this one day’s expedition would decide whether she’d agree to become his wife.
So much hung in the balance. Deliberately he had refrained from telling her too many things about this “home”, because every time he spoke, his eyes would glow and feelings spill out — one certain way to destroy any surprise or appreciation. How could he prevent her from being disappointed, today of all days? Nothing for it but let the site speak for itself. And of course, pray hard.
James waved to his left, where through the bare autumn trees could be seen a brow of flat land above. “As I told you, I intend to build a house further up there, and I’ve got the foundations more or less placed.” He tried sounding optimistic, but saw how vapid that sounded — just foundations? “But the cabin is more or less fixed up, though.” He heard anxiety ring in his voice.
“I have always wanted to sleep in the wild.” Catherine sped up and passed him, as though more anxious than he, or was it more enthusiastic? “I remember when I was seven, Papa took me back to a neighbour’s hunting cabin in the woods. Frightfully exciting, for someone my age.”
She’s just trying to put me at ease, James thought to himself as he followed her. Well, heaven knows, I need it. I don’t think I’ve been this anxious since the night I jumped off the Billy Ruffian. Was that only two years ago?
How much he had achieved! That first summer, with the help of his Micmac friends, he had found this brook and established his cabin. Then in the winter, he’d lived back in the interior with the Micmac, learning how to survive, trap small game, and other rules about surviving the extreme cold of the Gaspé Coast. The next summer in Paspébiac he’d learned a trade,
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