Chapter 12 - One Last Spring

Mabel did not bring up the subject of Lewis with Gwen again. School ended for the summer, and without their daily walks to and from the schoolhouse, they rarely saw each other. Gwen spent most of her time working at the post office, but she found being inside when the sun was shining to be almost more than she could bear. Whenever she could, she’d head for the mountain.

She hiked well-worn paths she’d known for years, sometimes encountering changes she hadn’t anticipated: streams and rivers that had been diverted to facilitate the dam construction and new footbridges that made travel easier. Every once in a while, she discovered areas where vegetation had been cut back, but she also found places where the Liverpool Corporation had started planting trees to prevent soil erosion.

Of all the evenings she spent on the mountain, however, her favorites were the ones when Lewis joined her at the boulder in the clearing. During all their conversations, he never once mentioned Mabel, but over the weeks, Gwen gleaned quite a lot of information from Rowland. The fact that Gwen had been willing to dance with him on St. John’s Day must have lowered some imaginary barrier in the young man’s mind because he’d gone from never speaking a word to her to seeking her out after chapel services and stopping by the post office on his way to or from his favorite fishing hole.

Gwen had not gone back to the smithy since the day she’d arrived minutes ahead of Mabel, but according to Rowland, Mabel had not been similarly deterred. She stopped by about once a week, usually bearing a gift from her kitchen. By Rowland’s reckoning, the bara brith had been a complete failure, as had been the Welsh cakes. Mabel’s gooseberry jam had been so tart their dog had refused to eat it. Her scones and baked apple had been marginally better, but the only offering Lewis had really enjoyed was the crempogs.

As the day that Gwen was to leave for school drew closer, her mixture of apprehension and excitement mounted. Her aunt had made arrangements for her to stay with a Mrs. Pritchard, who owned a house on Llanfyllin’s High Street and regularly let rooms to boarding students. Ed the Post, who knew everyone in town, had voiced his approval. He told Aunty Jane that Mrs. Pritchard was known as a fair-minded woman who kept a clean, well-ordered home. Gwen secretly wished his description of Mrs. Pritchard had included kindhearted, but she was glad to know of his support nonetheless.

Mabel and her mother visited her at the post office on the eve of her departure to wish her well. Gwen was a little sad that Mabel seemed quite happy to see her go. Although their differing interests and personalities had prevented them from being close friends, they’d become even more distant since the St. John’s Day dance. And Gwen was sorry for that.

Rowland also stopped to see her. He was on his way home from picking winberries on the mountain, and he must have forded at least one river because the lower ten inches of his trouser legs were so wet they dripped water all over the post office floor. Aunty Jane shooed him back outside so quickly he only had time to say good-bye and wave at her through the window.

When she walked up the mountain that evening, Gwen focused on trying to memorize every sight, sound, and smell. This was one of the things she would miss the most, and she dreaded the changes that would occur while she was gone. Her valley—and her view of the valley from this spot—would not be the same when she returned.

She started another drawing but eventually gave up. The concentration she needed to do the picture justice was missing. Her thoughts and emotions were too turbulent. This time she just needed to sit.

She heard Lewis’s whistle moments before he appeared in the clearing.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” he replied, giving her a small smile before taking a seat beside her on the boulder.

They sat quietly for a little while, gazing out at the view before them. From somewhere nearby, they heard a piercing whistle followed by the bark of dogs and bleating of sheep.

“It sounds like Dai Williams is bringing in his sheep,” Gwen said. She looked down. “He offered to drive me to Llanfyllin in his cart in the morning.”

Lewis nodded. “That was good of him.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

Silence descended again, but this time it wasn’t peaceful. Gwen squirmed uncomfortably. This wasn’t normal. And this evening, right before she left behind all that was familiar, she desperately needed normal. She glanced at Lewis, concerned to see something that looked like pain in his expression. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his hand. “Thank you, Lewis, for being such a good friend to me after Robert left. I’m glad he told you about this place. I’m going to miss coming here and sharing it with you.”

Lewis curled his fingers around her hand. His touch was warm and comforting, and she didn’t want him to let go.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, his voice sounding a little strained. “Will you write and tell me how you like school?”

“Yes,” she said.

He rose to his feet, and since he was still holding her hand, she stood too.

“Look after yourself,” he said with a faint smile. “Llanfyllin’s a bit far away for me to launch a rescue attempt.”

“I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble,” she promised.

He gave her fingers a quick squeeze before releasing them and stepping away.

Gwen wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Instead, a hollow emptiness filled her. “Wait, Lewis!” She covered the short space between them in two steps and threw her arms around him. For a split second, he stiffened, then he released a deep breath and pulled her closer. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, and for a moment, they stood there, not saying a word. Then, at last, he pulled away.

“Good-bye, Gwennie,” he said.

“Good-bye,” she whispered.

Then he turned and disappeared down the path without looking back.

Gwen finished her bowl of oatmeal just as the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves sounded on the street outside. It was daybreak, and peach-colored rays of sunlight were touching the sky above the mountains. Birds were warming up their voices to welcome the new day and barely paused their song when Dai Williams walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Aunty Jane opened the door and moved aside so he could enter the hall.

“The trunk’s over there, Dai,” she said, pointing to the small brown trunk behind him.

“Very good,” he said. “I’ll put it in the back of the cart right away.”

He picked it up effortlessly and took it outside. Taking her hat and shawl off the coatrack, Gwen wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and moved to the door.

“I’ll write as soon as I’m settled,” Gwen said, tying the ribbons of her hat beneath her chin.

“I’d appreciate that,” Aunty Jane said.

Gwen glanced outside. Dai had finished loading her trunk and was moving to wait at the front of the cart. It was time to go, but still she hesitated.

“I’ll miss you, Aunty Jane,” she said, surprised by how much she meant it.

Aunty Jane’s expression softened. She lifted a small cloth bag off the hall table and handed it to her. “A little bit of home to take with you,” she said.

Gwen took the bag and gave her aunt a questioning look.

Aunty Jane nodded. “You can open it.”

Peeking inside, Gwen saw a jar of strawberry jam and one of the loaves of bread her aunt had made the night before. It was the most thoughtful, sentimental gift Aunty Jane had ever given her, and the gesture brought a lump to Gwen’s throat. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Aunty Jane put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder and turned her slightly so she was facing the open door. “Off you go, now. It wouldn’t do to keep Dai waiting too long.”

Gwen stepped out of the house. “Good-bye,” she said.

“Good-bye, bach,” Aunty Jane replied. “Work hard, and I have no doubt you’ll do very well.”

Still carrying the cloth bag, Gwen joined Dai at the cart. He helped her onto the seat before climbing up himself. Then, with a click of the reins, the horse moved forward, and the cart rolled slowly through the sleepy village to join the road that led to Llanfyllin.

The journey took the best part of three hours, but Gwen didn’t mind. From her seat at the front of the cart, she had a wonderful view, and she soaked in the beauty around her. The steep mountains and rolling hills were awash with color. Verdant green grass contrasted with the browning bracken of late August. The purple heather blanketing the ground was punctuated with bright patches of yellow gorse, and meandering white sheep dotted every hillside. Stone walls bordered the fields and the narrow road, and every once in a while, the cart rolled past a farmhouse built of the same gray river rock.

As the morning wore on, the sun became brighter and the temperature increased. Gwen took off her shawl. After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her hat too. Her nose and cheeks would likely be covered in tiny freckles by the time she reached Mrs. Pritchard’s home, but that was a small price to pay for experiencing the warm sun and soft breeze on her face.

Dai didn’t say much as they traveled, which suited Gwen just fine. The restful scenery did more to calm her nervousness than conversation ever could have done. But as they crested the last hill, Dai glanced up at the sky before directing his gaze toward the town below. “I’m afraid our pink sunrise this morning means rain by the end of the day,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at your lodgings, make a stop at the saddlers to pick up a harness I left there to be repaired, and be on my way as quickly as I can.”

“Thank you, Mr. Williams,” Gwen said. “I really appreciate the ride.”

“Happy to do it,” he said.

Minutes later they pulled up in front of a redbrick house with a black door and a shiny brass door knocker. At least half the brickwork was covered in ivy, and a telltale trail of smoke floated out of the chimney pot, indicating that someone was home.

Dai helped Gwen down from the cart and went to unload her trunk while she approached the door. Gwen took a deep breath, then raised the knocker and tapped it a couple of times. Almost immediately, she heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. A short, white-haired lady wearing a long gray dress opened the door and studied Gwen curiously.

“Hello,” Gwen said. “I’m looking for Mrs. Pritchard.”

“Well, you’ve found her,” she said. “And I’m guessing you are Gwen Humphreys. I got your aunt’s letter two days ago, telling me to expect you today.” She peered around Gwen to see Dai carrying her trunk toward the door. “Just one trunk, is it?”

“Yes,” Gwen said.

“Very good. We’ll take it straight up to your room,” she said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get settled because supper won’t be until six. Every day’s the same, so it’s easy to remember: breakfast at eight, supper at six.”

Gwen gave a hesitant smile. “That sounds fine.”

With an approving nod, Mrs. Pritchard moved aside so Dai could enter the house. Then she led the way up the narrow wooden staircase and into a small bedroom on the right side of the landing.