Chapter 18 - One Last Spring

Reopening the post office proved to be a blessing for everyone. Ed the Post was happy to resume his regular trek between Llanfyllin and Llanwddyn. For the first week, he stayed in the village a few extra hours each day, helping Gwen catch up with the stacks of letters that had accumulated during the two weeks her aunt had been ill, but it was not long before Gwen felt they had things well under control. She was pleasantly surprised by how much she was able to accomplish on her own.

The villagers were grateful to have their postal service restored and stopped by often for updates on Aunty Jane’s recuperation. It was good for Gwen to interact with friends and neighbors again and to become reimmersed in the happenings of the village.

It didn’t take long to catch up on the ongoing development of the dam. Most of the villagers were more than happy to grumble about one thing or another. Three more cranes had been delivered, bringing the total up to eight—and considerably increasing the noise at the site. The village policeman had had to break up four disorderly fights between navvies who had spent too long at the pub, and three pompous Englishmen from Liverpool had spent a few days surveying the dam before declaring Llanwddyn too wet and cold for them to stay any longer.

The winter weather had done little to slow the progress of the construction, however. Only two things had stopped the work for more than a couple of days. The first had been when supplies had been cut off by the blizzard that closed the pass to Llanfyllin, and the second was when one of the locomotives steaming up and down the valley hauling stone derailed. Three men had been injured, and it had taken several days to repair the train and the track.

Perhaps the most startling news was the Liverpool Corporation had started exhuming and reinterring bodies from the existing graveyard near the chapel to a new graveyard two miles down the valley. They were estimating that it would take three to four years to complete the job and had promised that family members would be notified before loved ones were moved. Despite that reassurance, Gwen resolved to go check on her parents’ graves before the week was over.

She also hoped it wouldn’t be too long before she was able to view the changes to the dam from her boulder on the mountain. From that vantage point, she knew she’d easily spot the progress that had been made while she’d been gone. For the time being, though, she spent every morning at the post office, then hurried home to spend the afternoon with her aunt before making supper and tumbling into bed exhausted.

Gwen had written a letter to the headmaster in Llanfyllin, updating him on her aunt’s condition and explaining that it was unlikely that she would be returning to school in the foreseeable future. It was a difficult letter to write because as hard as it had been to move away from home, attending school in Llanfyllin had introduced her to new school subjects and friends. She promised herself she would keep up her studies at home and maintain contact with Alice and Rosamond.

It had been surprisingly hard to reconnect with her Llanwddyn friends. Having Lewis gone was a huge blow, and now that Rowland was working in his stead at the smithy, he had less free time than he’d had before. His working hours were even longer than hers, so she rarely saw him. Mabel visited her at the post office once or twice a week. Her mother kept her updated on Aunty Jane’s condition, so she obviously didn’t think it was necessary to ask any questions of Gwen. Instead, she used every minute of her time to talk about a new dress she’d ordered, her latest delicious creation in the kitchen, or, worst of all, how much she missed Lewis and how much time they’d spent together before he’d left.

Gwen had lost track of how many times Lewis had walked Mabel home from chapel meetings or how many times he’d stopped to talk to her when he finished his work at the smithy. She also wasn’t sure if Lewis’s favorite treat was now Mabel’s crempogs or Mabel’s blackberry crumble; Mabel didn’t seem sure either. Gwen tried really hard to be happy for her, but despite her best efforts, she always seemed to go home grumpier on the days Mabel visited her.

On one of those days, the March sun was making a valiant effort to warm the wet earth, and as Gwen walked home, she felt a desperate need to escape to the mountain. It had been almost six weeks since she’d returned to Llanwddyn, and she had yet to visit her boulder. Her aunt had improved enough to leave her bed for a few hours each day and was happy to sit in her armchair by the fire as long as someone was there to help her move to and from her bedroom. In fact, she seemed quite eager to regain her independence. Gwen’s decision to forgo requesting a replacement postmaster had proved motivational for Aunty Jane. If the people of the village were expecting her to return to her position, then she needed to work toward doing so.

Mair and Bronwen now limited their time with Aunty Jane to checking on her once each morning, and Gwen had extended the post office’s closing time from noon to three o’clock. So, when she entered the house that afternoon to find Aunty Jane dozing peacefully in her chair with an open book on her knee, Gwen didn’t bother to wake her. She wrote a brief note explaining her absence and put it within the open pages of her aunt’s book. Then she ran upstairs and grabbed her sketchbook, her oldest boots, and her warmest shawl, then headed out the door again.

The path was muddy, and moisture from the rain earlier that day still clung to some of the branches and leaves. Gwen tried to avoid brushing up against the bushes, but her shawl was soon damp from the drips falling from tree limbs. Spring flowers cowered under protective bushes: white snowdrops, purple crocuses, and even a few early daffodils. Somewhere up ahead, a blackbird’s song filled the air, and Gwen paused in her upward trek to listen.

She was out of breath by the time she reached the boulder, but it was wonderful to stand in the clearing and look out over her beloved valley again. She could see the new cranes standing sentinel above the semiconstructed dam. The wall itself had grown by several feet in places, the enormous rectangular stones looking like perfectly cut building blocks. Piles of shale littered the area, and the muddy puddles were so large she could see the water from where she stood. A few buildings stood off to one side of the construction, new since she was last here, and there were men walking between them.

Gwen sat on the large rock and studied the valley and the village below. Sheep were grazing in the fields, all traces of the snow now gone. The rivers were running high, and the trees were covered in the bright green of new leaves. She opened her sketchbook and turned to a fresh page, ready to record the view as it was today.

She drew for some time, absorbed in her work, but when the blackbird took up his song again, she stopped, instinctively turning to look at the area where the path reached the clearing. It was a bird, not Lewis. She lowered her pencil and gazed at her drawing. This was about the time Lewis usually arrived. He’d stand above her, studying her picture before remarking on some of the details: the gnarled tree beside the River Cedig, the huddle of sheep up against the shepherd’s hut on the mountain, the men standing at the feet of the nearest crane at the dam.

She bowed her head, the ache in her chest suddenly too much to bear, and for the first time since she’d learned that Lewis was no longer in Llanwddyn, Gwen allowed herself to cry. She cried for the loss of his companionship, for the fact that he wasn’t there to share his concern for her safety and his faith in her abilities. Remembering his stumbling attempts to understand her made her wish she’d told him how much she wanted him to stay in contact. She wished he knew how much she missed him. And then, because she allowed self-pity to finally have its moment, she cried because Mabel had taken her place in his life while no one had taken his place in hers.

Her tears were cathartic but exhausting, and she sat for a few moments with her swollen eyes closed, resting and letting the peaceful sounds of the valley wash over her. Then, when the hoot of a barn owl replaced the trill of the blackbird, she knew it was time to leave, and she slowly made her way home.

Two days later, Aunty Jane announced she was going to the post office. Even though she’d not left the house since her stroke, she’d been practicing walking in between rooms and was becoming more confident in her ability to make her own way. Her left side was still weak, but with the aid of a cane, she could make it from one end of the hall to the other without stopping, and although her steps were labored and a little unsteady, her balance was improving.

Aunty Jane’s speech had also become clearer over the last few weeks. Even if it took longer for her to express herself than it had in the past, it wasn’t hard to understand her. With a touch of guilt, Gwen recognized that she’d unexpectedly benefited from her aunt’s difficulty. There were fewer sharp words or brisk reprimands directed toward Gwen than there’d ever been before. Whether this was due to some level of gratitude on her aunt’s part or simply because it was too much effort, Gwen wasn’t sure, but whatever the reason, she was thankful to be spared further scolding.

Gwen woke an hour earlier than usual that day so she could help her aunt get ready. After buttoning her aunt’s gray dress, she began brushing her hair. As she pinned Aunty Jane’s hair into a small bun at the base of her head, she remembered Aunty Jane’s poor assessment of her hairstyling skills on St. John’s Day, and she tried extra hard to make the bun smooth and tight. Rosamond had given Gwen some good pointers on hairstyling when they were preparing for their choral recitation at school. She hadn’t had complete success with Gwen’s thick mane, which was why Gwen still preferred to wear it in a long braid, but the tricks she’d used seemed to help with Aunty Jane’s hair.

After breakfast, they set off together. The sky was clear, and the air held a hint of frost. Gwen tightened her shawl around her shoulders, but Aunty Jane stood at the garden gate and sniffed appreciatively.

“It’s good to be out in the fresh air again,” she said. “I can smell the tree blossoms.”

“Some of the crocuses are out,” Gwen told her, pointing to a cluster of yellow and purple beside the wall.

“I’ve always liked spring,” Aunty Jane said. She looked down the road toward the post office. “Except for all the mud, of course.”

Gwen stifled a smile. Their route, although short, would be an exercise in circumventing puddles. She knew it, and it seemed her aunt had just been forcibly reminded of it.

“Do you want my arm?” she asked.

In a movement that Gwen recognized all too well, Aunty Jane stiffened her shoulders and faced her destination. “No,” she said. “I’ll manage.”

Gwen let Aunty Jane take the lead. They walked slowly, with Gwen staying at her aunt’s elbow in case she lost her balance or needed to rest. Neither of those happened, however, and when they finally arrived at the post office, Gwen opened the door for her aunt to enter.

Aunty Jane was just taking a seat on the other side of the counter when Ed the Post walked in.

“Well, bless my soul, that’s a sight for sore eyes!” he said, giving Aunty Jane a big smile.

“Hello, Ed,” Aunty Jane said. “How are you?”

“All the better for seeing you here today,” he said cheerfully. He slid his postbag off his shoulder. “Are you going to be the one to help me with today’s delivery?”

“I believe I am,” she said.

“Right, then,” Ed said. “Let’s see if you remember how.”

Aunty Jane gave an insulted humph, and Ed managed a surreptitious wink at Gwen. With a smile, Gwen headed for the fireplace to coax the banked fire back to life.

Ed stayed until the mail was sorted, but that initial busyness proved to be only the beginning. For over two hours afterward, a steady stream of villagers came and went, some of them lingering for a long time so they could chat with each other and Aunty Jane. When tiredness began to take its toll and it became difficult for Aunty Jane to formulate her sentences, she simply listened to those around her and nodded her head at appropriate times. Despite Gwen’s repeated suggestions that she return home to rest, she would not leave until the last visitor had gone.

It was obvious Ed the Post had done an impressive job of spreading the word that Jane Jones was at the post office, and it was heartening to see so many friends and neighbors genuinely happy to have her back. Even Aunty Jane’s crusty exterior fell prey to such kindness, and later that night, when Gwen helped her aunt into bed, she couldn’t help but notice that the contentment evident on Aunty Jane’s face far outshone her exhaustion. It seemed that returning to the post office had been the best possible medicine.