2 Return To Carmody Lake - A Two Part Edwardian Romance

Return to Carmody Lake.

A romantic short story set in a Canadian lakeside village in the 19th century.

Written and produced by Stephanie Poppins.

Part 2 Anne-Marie Thornton walked in companionable silence with her old friend Thomas,

Careful not to stumble on the steep path down to Carmody Lake.

Every day was a day closer to full health,

But she had little way to go yet.

The lake was one of those places that seemed to transcend time.

Generation after generation had fished,

Played and picnicked here,

And if Anne-Marie had her way,

So would generations to come.

Thomas offered a steady arm as they made their way through a tunnel of tall maples,

Their footfalls silenced on the soft-soiled path.

At the bottom the trees opened out into a broad cathedral,

And as they approached the water the air grew sweeter still.

It was a week since Garrett Pemberton had dropped the bad news.

They were still deep in thought about the threat to the future of the Carmody community.

I've been writing about the lake,

Thomas began as they reached the water's edge.

Not for the paper,

Just for myself,

Trying to capture what it means before.

.

.

He broke off,

Jaw tightening.

If Pemberton's development goes through,

Everything's got to change.

Then we'll make sure it doesn't,

Said Anne-Marie defiantly.

You said your paper could help.

Thomas nodded slowly.

I've been documenting the history of the lake settlements,

Interviewing the families who lived there.

Will my stories be enough?

Stories are never just stories,

Said Anne-Marie.

You taught me that.

Stories matter because that's how we remember what it means to be human,

You said.

Well this is the same thing.

If we can make people see what will be lost,

Really see it,

Maybe we'll have a chance.

So what's next?

The article will be front page tomorrow,

Said Thomas.

The peer pressure will start after that.

Those two families who want to sell need to be accountable to the choices they've made.

Next week it'll be printed in every regional publication that'll take it.

We'll make people care about what they're losing,

Anne.

We might well be in the 20th century now,

But that doesn't mean we've got to let standards drop.

All those who put dollars before duty to their community will be encouraged to reconsider.

And the word will spread on Sunday at church.

I even managed to request a mention about the power of community in the sermon.

If it wasn't for those out-of-towners,

The Pembertons wouldn't stand a chance.

Owning a holiday home doesn't give them the right to throw our community under the carriage.

But those houses are on two of the largest holiday plots,

Protested Anne.

Now the shore railway's running every day,

There'll only be more of them in times to come.

So all the more reason to protect what's ours,

Said Thomas with determination.

Town meetings,

Petitions,

Letters to the provincial government,

That's what we'll do.

Great,

Anne agreed,

What Garrett needs to get his approval and permits.

We'll make sure every step of the way is scrutinised.

You sound like a revolutionary,

Anne.

I sound like a teacher who's tired of watching powerful men destroy things that matter because they can't see value in anything that doesn't lie in their pockets.

Hmm,

Fallen out of love with him then,

Have we?

I never was in love,

Persisted Anne-Marie.

It was a friendship,

That was all.

I don't think he saw it that way.

Anne-Marie felt her jaws set with determination.

I don't care how he saw it,

He's shown his true colours this time.

And I've just found something that's worth fighting for.

So Garrett Pemberton is out of the picture once and for all.

We're going to win this,

Said Thomas,

A smile on his face.

We have to.

We will,

Anne-Marie agreed,

Because we've got something that Garrett doesn't have.

What's that?

We've got history.

The next weeks passed in a flurry of activity that left Anne-Marie breathless and more alive than she'd felt in years.

Day by day she got better,

And she and Thomas worked from dawn till dusk,

Often by lamplight in the offices of the Maplehurst Chronicle,

Surrounded by papers and interview notes and half-written editorials.

True to his word,

Thomas had begun documenting the history of Carmody Lake.

He interviewed Mrs Mackenzie,

Who was 93,

And remembered when there was nothing on the lake but her grandfather's trading post.

He spoke with the Johnson brothers,

Who ran a modest fishing operation and knew every current by heart.

He collected stories of children learning to swim in the cove,

Of winter skating parties,

Of the painted turtles that sun themselves on the log each spring.

Anne-Marie,

Meanwhile,

Threw herself into organising the community response.

She called town meetings in the church basement,

Where she stood before 50 concerned citizens to make them understand what was at stake.

She drafted petitions that Margaret and her mother helped circulate through Maplehurst and the surrounding villages.

Then she wrote letters to the provincial representatives,

The newspapers in the city and anyone who might listen.

You're magnificent,

Thomas said one evening,

As he watched her seal yet another envelope with quick efficiency.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone work like this.

I'm making up for lost time,

Anne-Marie replied,

Smiling.

The first article Thomas published caused a stir.

Carmody Lake,

The heart of our community,

It read.

Anne-Marie cried when she read the passage about his mother painting watercolours on the cottage porch,

And how he said the light on Carmody Lake was like nowhere else in the world.

But it was Anne-Marie's editorial,

Published the following week,

That sparked the real controversy.

Progress at what price,

It was entitled.

She'd been neither gentle nor diplomatic.

She'd named the Pemberton firm specifically,

Detailed the profits they stood to make,

Questioned whether development that displaced existing communities could truly be called progress at all.

You'll make enemies with that,

Thomas warned.

Good,

She replied,

I'm tired of being liked by people whose approval I don't actually want.

And so the backlash was immediate.

Garrett himself sent a telegram,

Not to Anne-Marie,

But to the Chronicle,

Threatening legal action if they continued to slander his company.

Several prominent businessmen from the city wrote letters to the editor,

Calling Anne-Marie naive and sentimental.

One particularly nasty note suggested she should stick to teaching needlework and leave matters of commerce to men who understood them.

Needlework,

She protested,

As she waved a letter in front of Thomas' nose.

I once sewed my entire hem shut in domestic science.

Sister Agnes said it was the worst stitching she'd ever seen.

Needlework,

Indeed.

That made Thomas laugh till he cried.

But,

To their surprise,

Not all the responses were hostile.

Letters began arriving from neighbouring towns,

From people who had heard about the fight and wanted to help.

A lawyer from the provincial capital offered his services pro bono,

Intrigued by the legal arguments against the development.

Then a Toronto newspaper picked up Thomas' story and ran with it.

Rural communities fight back against corporate development,

His article read.

It was during this time the situation at Carmody Lake became dangerous.

The developers,

Confident in their eventual success,

Had already begun preliminary work,

Clearing trees,

Surveying boundaries and bringing in heavy equipment.

The community was in uproar,

But they'd have to wait for the legal action to take place before they could do anything.

One afternoon,

Anne-Marie and Thomas received an urgent message that sent them racing to the lake.

They arrived to find a scene of chaos.

One of the massive steam shovels had been working too close to the water's edge and the bank had given way.

Thomas' younger sister Emily had been there with her beloved terrier and the dog had tumbled into the churning water near the digger's massive treads.

They managed to reach his sister just as her strength was failing.

Anne-Marie watched,

Her heart in her throat,

As Thomas grabbed Emily with one arm,

Somehow managed to secure her dog with the other and kicked hard towards the shore.

Several other men had arrived by then and waded in to help,

But Emily was sobbing,

Clutching her soaked terrier,

All the while white-faced and shaking.

Whether from the cold or the aftermath of fear,

Anne-Marie couldn't tell.

These shovels shouldn't have been that close to the water,

Said Thomas through chattering teeth.

It's just not right.

Anne-Marie secretly cursed Pemberton Construction.

They were chancing their arm as it was.

They shouldn't even be here.

We're documenting everything,

She said fiercely,

Watching as several witnesses gave statements to the constable who'd been summoned.

This is all going in the paper,

Thomas,

Every single detail.

This incident became a turning point in public opinion.

Thomas's account of the near tragedy,

Published alongside a photograph of the steam shovel sitting precariously at the water's edge,

Made it impossible for people to see the development as merely a business proposition.

It had endangered a child.

It could have killed a child.

But the fight was far from over.

Pemberton's building company pushed forward aggressively,

Trying to build up as many lakefront properties as they could before public sentiment turned completely against them.

Most of the long-time residents refused to sell.

But money talked and two families,

Newcomers who had only bought their cottages a few years before,

Agreed to Garrett's generous offers.

What are we going to do now?

Asked Anne-Marie,

Convinced there was no way out this time.

And Thomas had to admit they'd been painted into a corner.

But he wasn't about to let go that easily.

I can't let them even have a foothold,

He explained to Anne-Marie late one night in the Chronicle office.

If they get one piece of the lake,

They'll use it as leverage to force out everyone else.

Better that I hold the lad until this is over.

What do you mean you hold the land?

I've spoken to my father and he agrees.

The newspaper will step in to purchase both properties.

It's money we've been saving for years.

We'll use that and we'll have to take out a substantial loan besides,

But it's worth doing and we don't see we have any other choice.

But that's a huge risk,

Said Anne-Marie,

Worried.

What if you can't make the payments?

Then we'll lose everything.

But at least I can say I've tried.

The showdown came at the Provincial Land Commission hearing in early November.

Garrett's firm requested a review of the development permits,

Confident the financial benefits and political connections would carry the day.

But he hadn't counted on the hundred-odd citizens who showed up to speak against it,

Many of them having travelled quite a way to get there.

Anne-Marie and Thomas sat in the front row,

Watching as person after person stood to testify.

Old Mrs Mackenzie,

Her voice wavering but her memory sharp,

Described how devastating it would be if the lake changed,

How it would affect her life.

And the Johnson brothers,

Rough-spoken but earnest,

Explained how the fishing grounds would be destroyed by increased boat traffic and development.

A biologist from the Provincial University presented data on the rare bird species that nested along Carmody Lake shores.

And finally,

Thomas himself stood with quiet dignity and read from his mother's journal entries over the years.

The Commission,

Who seemed bored at the beginning of the hearing,

Were now leaning forward,

Asking pointed questions about environmental impact and community consultation.

This wasn't just about money and who could afford to buy the lots.

And after careful consultation,

They called a recess,

In which Anne-Marie came face-to-face with Garrett Pemberton for the first time in weeks.

He looked colder than she'd ever seen him look before,

His steely eyes committed to getting his way.

You're wasting your time,

You know,

She said,

And your money.

Buying the properties was foolish because the land that comes with them Thomas has already secured.

Well,

If the Commission approves our permits,

You'll be stuck with land you can't afford and can't develop,

He spat back.

It's only a matter of time before you and your sidekick give in.

Don't you remember?

Pemberton Construction's got connections at the highest levels.

We'll see,

Said Anne-Marie defiantly.

Then she turned her back on him and walked away.

When,

Two weeks later,

The Commission announced they were denying the development permits,

Pending further environmental and community impact studies,

Anne-Marie burst into tears in the middle of the Chronicle office.

Thomas was laughing out loud and the small staff broke into spontaneous applause.

It's not over,

He cautioned,

As he put his arm around her.

They'll reapply,

Of course.

Try again with modified plans.

Then we'll fight again,

Said Anne-Marie fiercely.

And again after that if we have to.

We've shown them we won't roll over.

And that's what counts,

Thomas read.

Winter came to Mabelhurst with snow that turned the village into something from a fairy tale.

Anne-Marie took up her old position,

Teaching at the village school.

She found joy in the work she'd once thought beneath her aspirations.

The children were bright and eager,

She found,

And she discovered that teaching them to love literature and think critically about the world was perhaps the most important work she'd ever done.

Something had shifted in her understanding of what was really important.

During the long months of fighting for Carmody Lake,

As she'd worked shoulder to shoulder with Thomas Reid in the Chronicle Office,

She'd begun to see village life with new eyes.

All those years she'd spent convinced Mabelhurst was too quiet,

Too provincial,

Too ordinary to satisfy her.

She'd been blind to the real stories unfolding around her every day.

I've been a fool,

She said to Thomas,

Late December under the Christmas lights.

I spent all those years thinking village life wasn't dramatic enough,

Or important enough.

But it turns out I was looking for the wrong kind of drama.

Not the sophisticated parties and influential people,

That's for sure.

So I'm not influential,

He smiled.

No,

I didn't mean that.

Fighting for Carmody Lake,

That was high stakes.

That was real drama,

Right here.

And you've developed quite an eye for a good story,

Said Thomas.

Anne-Marie felt her heart beat faster.

An idea had been forming in her mind for weeks now,

But she'd been afraid to voice it.

Thomas,

What's going to happen to the Chronicle when your father retires?

He's been talking about it a lot more lately.

Thomas ran an ink-stained hand through his hair.

I don't know.

I can't run it alone,

Anne.

There's far too much work for one person,

Especially if we're going to expand it the way I'd like.

But I can't afford to hire a real journalist either,

And I need to expand it if I'm going to pay off that loan.

Well,

What if,

Anne-Marie said slowly,

Her mouth suddenly dry,

What if you didn't have to hire anyone?

What if you had a partner instead?

Thomas had an odd look on his face.

Anne-Marie,

What are you up to?

Well,

I can write,

You know I can.

And I understand this community now in a way I never did before.

I can see the stories that need to be told.

I've decided I don't just want to teach after this term,

Thomas.

I want to write too.

I can share the teaching load with another teacher during the day.

She's been looking for work for a while.

So I thought this was the perfect opportunity to start writing.

Properly,

I mean.

As an equal partner,

Not just a contributor.

An equal partner?

Yes.

As you know,

Grandmother died,

And I have my inheritance.

We can grow the paper together,

And you won't need to struggle anymore.

She leaned forward earnestly.

I won't be giving up anything.

I would be gaining something I didn't even know I wanted.

And this way we can work more together.

Spend more time together.

Thomas was quiet for a long moment.

He studied her face carefully.

And this is what you want?

Yes,

I'm serious.

When your father retires,

I want to be your business partner.

Reid and Thornton will call us.

Publishers of the Maplehurst Chronicle.

She paused,

Then added more softly.

I was wrong to think I needed to leave Maplehurst.

My purpose was here all along.

And I realise now what it is.

Hmm,

Reid and Thornton,

Thomas replied.

Well,

My father will be thrilled.

He's been hoping I'd find someone to share the burden for a long time.

And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have beside me.

Now I fancy a trip down to the lake this evening,

Don't you?

We'll take a look at the summer house.

It's been needing doing up for a while.

I've been thinking about spending more time there.

That sounds like a plan,

Said Anne.

Shall I bring us something to eat?

Why not?

We'll sit by the lakeside and talk about old times.

That evening they took the buggy and the sorrel mare down to Carmody Lake.

The Reid Country Cottage was just the same as Anne Marie remembered it.

Weathered grey boards,

Green shutters,

And the tall trees trailing their branches in the water.

It was mirror smooth,

Reflecting the pink and gold of the sunset.

Welcome home,

Said Thomas softly,

Helping her down from the buggy.

Home,

Anne Marie repeated,

Testing the word.

She wasn't sure what he meant,

But said nothing as they walked down the dock and stood watching the light fade over the water.

Somewhere across the water a wild bird called,

And suddenly Thomas' arm was around her waist,

Solid and sure.

Anne Marie leaned in,

In spite of herself.

She liked this feeling.

She wanted more of this feeling.

She thought back to her apartment in the city,

With its perpetual gloom.

Of the crowded streets and the smoky air.

Of Garrett Pemberton with his polished shoes and hollow charm.

She thought of all those things she once believed in,

That she believed would make her happy.

Then she thought of working beside Thomas in the Chronicle office,

Soon to be their Chronicle office,

As equal partners,

Fighting for things that mattered and telling stories that needed to be told.

Of her sister's children and how close she was to them.

Of knowing her neighbours and being known by them in turn.

I'm glad you found your way back,

Said Thomas,

Pressing a kiss to her temple.

And I'm glad you'll be my partner in all of it.

So am I,

Said Anne Marie,

Turning in his arms.

She looked up at the face she'd known all her life.

Somehow only recently she'd learned to see it clearly.

As they stood together on the dock,

Watching night fall over Carmody Lake,

With the ancient trees whispering above them and the water lapping softly at the shore,

Anne Marie felt something settled deep in her soul.

This was her place.

These were her people.

And this man beside her,

With his ink-stained fingers and patient heart,

Was her future.

She needed him to be her future.

Behind them,

The cottage windows glowed golden in the gathering darkness.

They held the promise of warmth and shelter,

And in all the quiet profound happiness of the lives well lived in places that mattered,

Anne felt at home.

The world might be full of journeys and adventures,

She thought,

But sometimes the greatest adventure was recognising the place you'd been searching for all along had been waiting in your heart.

Just one more thing,

Said Thomas,

His grey eyes locked on hers.

I think read and read has a better ring to it.

Then read and thoughten.

Don't you?