Chapter 17 #2
Mary considered that as they continued down the path.
“As a child, I just loved the story of a little girl with a lot of spunk who made me laugh. When I was older, I rediscovered them. I think it was her spirit. The way she refused to be defeated by circumstances. She was an orphan, unwanted, arriving at a place where they’d specifically requested a boy and got her instead.
She had every reason to be bitter or broken.
Instead, she was fierce and imaginative and determined to make a good life for herself.
” She paused. “I guess I’ve always admired that.
The ability to face hard things and still find beauty and joy. ”
Diane reached over and squeezed Mary’s hand, seeming to understand what Mary hadn’t said.
After her accident, after everything changed, she’d needed Anne’s resilience.
Needed that reminder that circumstances didn’t have to define you, that you could remake your life even when it wasn’t the life you’d planned.
They visited the L.M. Montgomery birthplace next, a small house in New London where the author had been born.
Then the Anne of Green Gables Museum at Silver Bush, which housed artifacts from Montgomery’s life and career.
Each stop was rich with history and connection to the books Mary loved, and despite Colin’s tendency to overexplain everything, Mary found herself deeply moved by the experience.
By the afternoon, they were all ready for a break.
James drove them to a historic tea room in the village of Cavendish, a charming establishment that advertised itself as “Anne-inspired” and lived up to the promise.
The entrance was easy to access, and they were shown to a quiet table near the windows, which looked out over a garden.
“This is perfect,” Mary said, settling in and accepting a menu from their server. “Thank you for arranging all of this, Diane. Today has been wonderful.”
“My pleasure, dear. It’s much more enjoyable to share these experiences with someone who appreciates them.” Diane ordered tea and scones with a decisive air, while Colin requested a full lunch menu. He had settled into the chair next to Diane, leaving George to be seated next to Mary.
The tea service arrived on a three-tiered stand, complete with delicate sandwiches, warm scones with jam and cream, and an assortment of petit fours.
Mary poured tea for herself and Diane, adding cream and sugar to hers while Diane took hers plain.
She offered tea to George, who accepted his cup with gracious thanks.
She lifted her brow to Colin in silent question.
“Oh yes! How antiquated this seems!”
She ignored his statement and turned to take several tea cakes and tiny sandwiches to place on her plate.
“So, Mary,” Colin said, spreading jam liberally on a scone.
“Diane mentioned you work in security? That must be fascinating. I have a friend who consults for private security firms in London. He’s always going on about the latest technology developments.
Have you worked with any famous people, like movie stars?
I think that sounds so interesting to meet the rich and famous… ”
She didn’t have a chance to answer his questions before he was off, launching into a detailed explanation of security from stories that his friend had told him.
Work was not what Mary wanted to discuss on her vacation, especially not with Colin.
She nodded politely and made appropriate sounds of interest while quietly wishing Colin had chosen to join one of the more strenuous tours.
She’d been looking forward to quiet conversation with Diane, woman to woman, sharing thoughts about Anne and books and life.
Instead, she was getting a monologue on security to the stars.
Diane caught Mary’s eye over her teacup. She gave her an apologetic look, suggesting she recognized the issue but didn’t quite know how to redirect her nephew without hurting his feelings.
“Colin, dear,” Diane said finally, interrupting a particularly detailed explanation of encryption protocols. “I think Mary might prefer to simply enjoy her tea rather than discuss work.”
“Oh! Of course. Sorry.” Colin had the grace to look sheepish. “I get carried away sometimes. Hazards of spending too much time alone, I suppose. You forget how to have normal conversations.”
“It’s fine,” Mary assured him, meaning it. He was enthusiastic rather than malicious, and she could appreciate that, even if she found it a bit exhausting. “Tell me about your travels instead. Diane mentioned you’ve spent time in Asia?”
That proved to be a safer topic, and Colin regaled them with stories from his years working in Japan that were genuinely entertaining.
He had a gift for description when he wasn’t trying too hard to impress, and Mary found herself laughing at his account of getting hopelessly lost in Tokyo despite having a GPS and a translation app.
By the time they finished tea and returned to the ship, Mary was pleasantly tired and full of the kind of contentment that came from a day well spent. She’d seen the places she’d dreamed about, traveled in the fictional Anne’s footsteps, and experienced the magic of Prince Edward Island firsthand.
After dinner, she retreated to her stateroom, showered, changed into pajamas, and settled on her bed with her phone. The ship had left port and was sailing toward their next destination, and Mary felt the gentle rocking beneath her like a lullaby.
She sent a text to Bert. Day 2 complete.
Her phone rang immediately, as though he was once again waiting on her. Laughing as she greeted him, she loved hearing his voice.
“What did you do today?”
“Visited all the Anne sites and they were everything I hoped for. Green Gables was perfect. Read passages from my book at various spots like a total tourist and didn’t even care.”
His soft chuckle met her ears. “Glad you got to do that. I can picture you, loving every minute. Did you cry happy tears?”
Mary smiled, but hearing him say he could picture her made her realize once again how much she would have loved to have him with her. Her chest deflated as the air left her lungs, and an ache settled in its place.
Her momentary silence was finally broken when she said, “I think that’s the best vacation. Trips that make you feel things, even if I cry happy tears.” Then wanting to know what he was doing, she asked, “How was your day? Did you survive more of my spreadsheets?”
“Barely. I have a newfound respect for your organizational skills. Also, Timothy called from his mission. It’s going well, but he complained that he can’t get real coffee. I promised to have some waiting when he gets back.”
They chatted for the next hour, an easy conversation that ranged from work updates to Mary’s detailed descriptions of the tea room and Diane’s stories. She mentioned Colin too, trying to be kind but honest about his tendency to dominate conversations.
“He means well. Just talks a lot. I think he’s lonely more than anything. But I was hoping for more one-on-one time with Diane. She’s fascinating, and I feel like we could really talk if it was just the two of us.”
“Maybe you’ll get that chance later in the trip,” Bert said. “How’s the ship itself? Is everything still accessible and working well?”
“It’s perfect. The crew is attentive without hovering, and the other passengers are friendly. A few of them have started including me in conversations naturally, which is nice. Sometimes people don’t know how to approach wheelchair users in social settings.”
“It’s their loss if they don’t.” His voice lowered. “You’re one of the most interesting people I know.”
Mary’s chest tightened hearing those words.
Bert had a way of saying things that felt significant even when they were wrapped in casual conversation.
She stared at their picture for a long moment, trying to decide how to respond.
Deciding to be honest, she said, “I miss having you to talk to in person. Talking on the phone is good, but it’s not the same as sitting on your porch with a beer. ”
“I miss that too. Your house is dark, and it feels weird not having you there. I keep expecting to see your lights come on.” His voice was rough, his words scraping over her.
She felt tears prick her eyes unexpectedly. This was what she’d been trying to escape, this careful dance where they both admitted they missed each other but never quite said what that meant. The longing that built between them in moments like this, separated by miles but somehow still connected.
“In just a little over a week,” she whispered. “Then I’ll be back, and you can tell me in person how much you missed me.” She held her breath, wondering how he would respond.
He didn’t make her wait. “I’m counting on it, Mary. Sleep well. Dream about Anne and her friends… and me.”
She wiped the tear that escaped. “Good night, Bert.”
She set her phone aside and stared out the window at the dark water beyond.
The ship’s lights reflected on the gentle waves, and in the distance, she could see the faint glow of the mainland.
Today had been wonderful. She’d visited places she’d dreamed about since childhood and made memories she’d treasure forever.
But her heart kept pulling back toward Montana. Toward a man who told her good night and remembered that her favorite books might make her cry happy tears. Toward a friendship that felt like it should be something more.
Mary closed her eyes and let the rocking of the ship lull her toward sleep. Tomorrow they’d visit more historic sites, explore fishing villages, and experience more of Maritime Canada’s beauty and culture.
But tonight, she let herself miss Bert. Let herself wonder what he was doing, if he was thinking about her, if he felt this same ache of wanting more. Tomorrow she’d focus on the adventure, but tonight, she just missed the man who filled her life with joy.