I was hoping to see the woods.”
“We can take a roundabout path to the place we’re going, or a shortcut through a marshy area.” As soon as she mentioned the marsh she knew she didn’t want to go that way. “It wouldn’t be wet now and the woods on the other side are beautiful, almost all oaks and elms.”
“Whatever you prefer is fine with me.”
She smiled. “You’re easy to get along with.”
“Always.”
She chose the longer way. He was full of questions as they went. How big was the farm, had they sold any parcels of land, were any other buildings found on the property? Emily couldn’t remember anyone being so interested in her home.
Cattle traveling in single file had worn a narrow path through the bush. They followed it to a more densely wooded area, mostly thin poplars too close together, with an undergrowth of highbush cranberry and hazelnut. Not far off, they heard water bubbling.
“The three creeks?”
“One of them. The biggest one.”
The woods thinned again and they entered a small clearing where daisies grew almost as thickly as grass. Large, smooth rocks—lichen-spattered granite—rose out of the ground at the edge of the creek.
“It’s beautiful, Emily. From the road you’d never know it was like this.”
“Your uncle taught me to fish here. That’s why I wanted to show it to you.”
Matthew climbed onto the stones. “It looks too shallow for that.”
“You can get jackfish or suckers in the spring, when the water’s high.”
“Suckers. Yum.”
She laughed. “And then in the winter Daniel played hockey with us here—with Sue and Liz and me. Three Creeks can be such a guy-ish place. Daniel is different.”
Matthew cocked an eyebrow. “Not guy-ish?”
They both smiled at the thought.
“He made time for us when we were kids, not just for the boys. He helped us if our horses weren’t behaving or had a problem with their hooves, he knew more about making snow forts than anybody. He taught us how to whistle.”
“Sounds like a father. Or an uncle.”
“Maybe not.” Daniel was never like the other grown-ups. “When we were little, he used to give us coffee. No one else let us have coffee. And while we drank it—hating it—he’d tell us stories about his Army days or about chasing criminals. He always called them ‘dumb clucks.’”
Matthew smiled at that.
“So if I seemed…impatient or anything when we met it was because I was afraid something had happened to him. I didn’t think he’d voluntarily miss Liz’s wedding.”
“You weren’t impatient—or anything. He’ll be sorry to hear he worried you.”
“Don’t tell him.”
She climbed up beside Matthew on the rocks, then stepped onto the next stone and sat down, her feet dangling above the water. Remembering the purpose of the afternoon, she began to tell him what she knew of the first settlers’ arrival, how the Robbs, the Rutherfords and five other families had traveled from Ontario by train and oxcart, and at the end of a long and difficult journey had found an untouched forest where they could hunt, with creeks that provided fish to eat and fresh water to drink.
She stopped when she noticed how intently he was watching her. “Matthew?”
“Hmm?”
Had he heard anything she’d said? “You’re staring. Past eye color, past freckles, right down to DNA.”
“Sorry. I guess I zoned out. Maybe it’s the drive.” He gave a quick, unconvincing smile. “Car lag.”
It wasn’t the drive. “You must be worried about your aunt. Or great-aunt, I suppose. Has Daniel called to let you know how she’s doing?”
“Not yet.”
“I wouldn’t mind talking to him—”
Matthew wasn’t listening. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek. “What a very nice woman you are.”
Oh boy.
She stood, casually she hoped, and moved off the rocks. Funny what one touch could do. All those questions about time and character vanished.
She patted the bark of the tree closest to her. “This is a poplar. Good for firewood, not so good for building, because it tends to twist. Do you have poplars in Ontario?” Silly question. Of course they did.
“Aspens.”
“Oh, right, trembling aspens. I love that name. My mother told me it comes from the way the leaves are attached. There’s something unusual about the stem that makes them shake and flutter in the breeze.”
He had the most intense eyes. They had been intense at Daniel’s the first day, especially when he heard her name. They had been intense yesterday while he stood with Treasure Island in his hand. They were intense now, in a way that confused her. She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or putting her under a microscope, and if he was putting her under a microscope she had no idea why.
“My cousins and I used to climb these poplars on windy days. We’d pretend we were up in the rigging of a tall ship out on the ocean. Cartier’s ship, usually, or pirates off Newfound-land’s coast. The tops of the trees swayed so much you could just about get seasick.” She was talking quickly, and a lot. Chances were her attempt at a casual retreat hadn’t fooled him.
“Sounds like fun. The girl cousins, I suppose?”
“Susannah and Liz.”
“Daniel told me about the three of you. They both left and you stayed. No wanderlust?”
“They had good reasons to leave. I didn’t.”
“Did you have reasons to stay?”
“Why would I need reasons? I live in a beautiful place with clean air and clean water. We produce most of our own food. We know exactly what’s in it and on it. I love my job, I love my family, and they love me.”
“It sounds perfect.”
“It is.”
“Except for the archives?”
“That’s a little thing.” She patted the poplar again, encouraging him to focus, the way she did with six-year-old boys in the library.
“So,” she said, her voice sounding too much like a teacher’s, “the woods at the Rutherford place would have been exactly like this. My grandmother might have pictures. I’ll call her later today and ask.”
He
