The great room at Callaghan house was bigger than the entire first floor of the Marcus cottage. It had a two-storey vaulted ceiling, and the side that faced the lake was entirely windows. During regular days, the room was divided so that its size was less overwhelming, but on social occasions, such as this one, the heavy furniture was all removed, and the rugs were rolled up to clear the wooden floor. Instead of the pillow-strewn love seats and so on that usually served a person seeking a reading nook or a place to play cards, wooden chairs lined the walls. Instead of the massive dining table, small stations with food and drink had been placed around the room. Helena saw two of her favourites, pineapple bread and Hong Kong–style milk tea, mixed in with the Nanaimo bars and icewine. The two great fans that hung from the ceiling turned quickly, and every window in the house was thrown wide-open.
It was, Helena reminded herself, going to be very warm, very soon.
Across from the windows, a platform had been set up for the band. There were no electric instruments for the Victoria Day party, not that any of them required much in the way of amplification. Everything was scrubbed clean and polished, and ready for summer.
“Helena!” She looked up to see a flurry of black crêpe flying across the room, and caught the child as he jumped into her arms. It was August’s youngest nephew, gowned and giggling.
“How are you, Matthew?” Helena asked.
“I am wonderful,” Matthew declared effusively. “Mama and Mother said that because I’m five this year, I get to be the Queen! Addie was so angry, because she’s only half an inch taller than I am, but they bought her new shoes, and now she doesn’t care so much.”
Margaret was confused, and Helena took pity on her. She set Matthew down and smiled. Evie was on her way over to say hello.
“It’s a tradition up here,” Helena said. “Don’t ask me how it started, because I don’t think anyone knows, but the shortest member of the family dresses up as Queen Victoria, and gets to speak in royal plural if an adult tries to give them orders.”
“August was the shortest for a long time,” Evie said, grinning unapologetically. “He loathed it. When Helena was old enough to play the part, he was positively delighted.”
“Please tell me there are photographs,” Margaret said. She choked a little bit on the words, but seemed, rather unfittingly, amused.
“He tried to ruin them, of course,” Evie said. “But I’m sure my mother has some around somewhere. Come on, I’ll take you to her, and you can meet my father.”
Charlotte and Murray Callaghan were standing close to the band platform, making sure the performers had all they required. They turned immediately when Helena and Margaret approached, and made them welcome even though they were clearly preoccupied with their party. Helena didn’t envy the organizational feat, and rather admired that they had any spare thoughts at all. Charlotte did invite them for tea the following day, but Evie guided them towards the table of drinks almost as soon as they had accepted.
“Mother is very worried about this year,” Evie said.
“More so than other years?” Helena asked. Charlotte Callaghan’s parties were well renowned for a reason.
“Of course not,” Evie said. “Though if you ask her—and please don’t—we are all three breaths from disaster.”
“They’ll calm down when the dancing starts,” Helena reminded her.
The mere mention of dancing did seem to cheer Evie. “I’m so excited. Margaret, did you have any time to learn the steps?”
“Fanny was kind enough to make the attempt,” Margaret said. She blushed faintly thinking of potential embarrassment, and of the afternoon she and Helena had spent with their hands on each other’s waists, while Fanny commanded and giggled in equal turns from her place by the speakers.
“She’ll be able to muddle through,” Helena said, and winked. The truth was that Margaret was a fast learner, but dancing in private was one thing. Dancing when you have to share the floor was something else altogether.
“Wonderful,” Evie said. “Ah, there’s my brother. It’s about time.”
Helena looked over and saw that August, too, was wearing what he had worn to the debut ball. She felt her skin grow hot as she remembered kissing him in the kitchen only a short while ago, and hoped that if anyone noticed her blush, they would only think it was because the room was filling up with people.
“Ladies,” he said, joining them. Evie curtseyed elaborately, and they all laughed.
If he was going to say anything else, he was prevented from doing so by his mother, who signalled the band to begin playing the prelude to the Log Driver’s Waltz, and made a great show of accepting her husband’s hand as he offered to lead her onto the floor.
“Margaret, if you would?” August said.
Margaret looked surprised, as did Evie, but Helena nodded, and pushed her a little bit, and she went. Evie went off to dance with Matthew, or carry him, as was more likely, but the little boy was clearly having the time of his life. Helena was about to take a chair, when someone tapped on her shoulder.
“Miss Marcus, will you dance?” It was Horace, one of the older foremen. He was her father’s official crib opponent and euchre partner, and Helena was quite happy to see him.
She smiled and followed him out to the floor.
The preamble ended, and a clear soprano began singing the words to the song. The pairs of dancers fairly flew around the floor, each trying to outdo one another with intricate steps while not killing each other in the process. August, Helena noticed, was being careful to keep Margaret out from under anyone’s toes, but she was holding her own well enough.
If you ask any girl from the parish around
What pleases her most from her head to her toes,
She’ll say, “I’m not sure that it’s business of yours,
But I do like to waltz with a log driver.”
Horace was not an adventurous dancer, but he was very good, and Helena was able to relax a bit while he led. This was the sort of thing she had been looking forward to, she realized. This family and this house and these people, from Murray Callaghan, gallantly leading his wife in the middle of floor, to Matthew, who swung around in Evie’s arms, the pair of them giggling so that Helena was surprised she didn’t drop him.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” Horace said. “It’s always brighter when you’re here.”
“It’s always summer when I’m here,” Helena pointed out.
“Perhaps.” Horace smiled. “I guess we’ll find out how you do in the winter.”
She made herself smile, and found she mostly meant it.
Now I’ve had my chances with all sorts of men
But none is so fine as my lad on the river
So when the drive’s over, if he asks me again
I think I will marry my log driver.
As the song went into its final chorus, Horace manoeuvred them away from the more energetic dancers, who would finish the song with their own improvisations. Helena was glad to see August and Margaret among them, Margaret’s dark red dress swirling across the floorboards as August spun her. They were beautiful together, at home in this room as full of faces in varying shades as anyone could have hoped. A dance like this required a measure of trust, and that measure was undoubtedly present. It made Helena feel better to see them getting along so well.
For he goes birling down and down white water
That’s where the log driver learns to step lightly.
It’s birling down and down white water
A log driver’s waltz pleases girls completely.
And with that, the dancers stilled on the floor and then turned to clap for the band, and for August’s middle sister, who had done the singing. Horace kissed her hand and departed for the card room with his good wishes trailing behind him. Before it could fully dawn on Helena that Horace’s dance was tantamount to a welcome from Callaghan Ltd., August returned Margaret, smiling brightly, to her side. But there was no time for words before the preamble to the next song began. It was the Rover.
“Come on then, Helena,” August said. “We’ll show them how it’s done.”
Helena laughed, and took his hand. She loved this song, and the dance that went with it was equally delightful. The Log Driver’s Waltz was for friends and married folk and family. The Rover was something altogether different. It was much more like the kiss in the kitchen. Helena was not one for flirting or public displays, it was true, but the Rover was a dance for ignoring the rules. They made it to the floor in time for the final bit of the promenade, and settled into their places to dance the formal steps as the male vocalist took his place in front of the band.
The Rover began like most staid country dances you could imagine, and then devolved almost immediately into a reel that encouraged partners to touch each other in ways they generally weren’t supposed to on a public dance floor. August smirked at Helena from his place in the men’s line, just beyond arm’s reach, and as they circled each other, she knew he felt the same way.
Though the night be dark as dungeon,
Not a star to be seen above.
I will be guided without a stumble,
Into the arms of me only love.
When they came together for the reel, Helena knew that the heat between them wasn’t just because the room was crowded and nearly everyone in it was dancing. Every time they had ever danced before had led to this, from when they were children and Helena wore the crêpe, until now, when they were both adults and thinking about the commitments they would make to their futures. They matched so well in every way except for one, friends from so young, and grown into something more. God, she loved him. And she could never have him, not anymore. But she would have this, before everything ended.
I went up to her bedroom window,
Kneeling gently upon a stone.
I rapped on her bedroom window,
“My darling dear, do you lie alone?”
She laughed as he lifted her just because he could. The dance could be as raucous and complicated as the pair wished, and August had clearly been practicing. Helena couldn’t take her eyes off August for very long, lest she miss a step, but she knew that they were the focus of attention. Every eye was on them, even those of the other pairs who were dancing on the floor. They must be such a sight.
I’m a rover, seldom sober
I’m a rover of high degree
And when I’m drinking, I’m always thinking
How to gain my love’s company.
He laughed along with her, his bright eyes reflecting the light of the flameless candles his mother had set about the room. Helena hoped that he would be able to forgive her for what she had done, and was about to do. They had been friends for so long, after all, and surely he could not hold her genes against her character, even if it would prevent their marriage. It was not as though it would be impossible for him to find someone else, even if it would break Helena’s heart to see it happen before her. She would do right by him, and hope that he could, at the least, respect her for it. She was almost positive he would, but the heart—ah, the heart—was the least logical part of the human body.
The song ended, and the cheering was even louder than it had been for the waltz. August led her around the floor, her wide green skirt trailing after her, before delivering her back to where Margaret was waiting for them, a tray of lemonade at the ready.