In the Land of the Long White Cloud

very well that you only have one father.” Apologizing, she turned to George. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. It’s only that Ruben…he doesn’t have the best relationship with his father, and recently he’s gotten it stuck in his head that Howard…well, that perhaps he has another father somewhere in England. I imagine it has to do with my talking so much about his grandfather. Ruben is very much like him, you know. And he takes that the wrong way. Now apologize immediately, Ruben!”
    George smiled. “He doesn’t have to apologize. On the contrary, I’m flattered. Who wouldn’t gladly be related to Ruben Hood, brave yeoman and masterful croquet player? What do you think, Ruben, could I be your uncle? One can have more than one uncle.”
    Ruben considered.
    “Ruben! He’s going to send us croquet mallets. An uncle like that is good. You can be
my
uncle, Mr. Greenwood.” Fleur was unfailingly practical.
    Gwyneira rolled her eyes. “If she stays so open-minded with regard to financial considerations, she’ll be an easy one to marry off.”
    “I’m marrying Ruben,” Fleur explained. “And Ruben’s marrying me too, right?” She waved the croquet mallet about. Ruben had better not turn down her request.
    Helen and Gwyneira looked at each other helplessly. Then they laughed, and George joined in.
    “When can I meet the groom’s father?” he asked finally, glancing at the sun’s position in the sky. “I promised Mr. Warden I’d be back for dinner, and I’d like to keep my word. It looks like the discussion with Mr. O’Keefe will have to wait until tomorrow. Is there a possibility that he’ll meet me in the morning, miss?”
    Helen bit her lip. “I’ll gladly give him the message, but sometimes Howard is…well, stubborn. If he gets the idea that you want to impose a time on him…” It was visibly difficult for her to talk about Howard’s stubbornness and bravado, and she couldn’t even admit how often his moods and decisions were guided by caprice or whiskey.
    As always, she spoke with calm and restraint, but George could read her eyes—just as he’d done at the Greenwoods’ dinner table. He saw anger and revulsion, desperation and disdain. Back then these feelings had been directed toward his superficial mother—now they were reserved for the husband Helen had once believed she could love.
    “Don’t worry, miss. You don’t have to tell him I’m coming from Kiward Station. Simply tell him I’m stopping by on the way to Haldon—and I would like to see the farm and make a few business suggestions.”
    Helen nodded. “I’ll try.”
    Gwyneira and the children had already gone outside to hitch up her horse. Helen heard the children fighting over the currycomb and brush. George did not seem to be in much of a hurry. He looked around the hut before he made a move to say good-bye. Helen struggled inside herself. Should she speak to him frankly, or would he misunderstand her request? Finally she decided to broach the topic of Howard one last time. When George took over the local wool trade, her entire welfare would depend on him. And Howard would probably snub the visitor from England.
    “George…” she began hesitantly. “When you talk to Howard tomorrow, please be indulgent. He is very proud and is quick to take offense. Life dealt him bad cards, and it’s hard for him to control himself. He is…he’s…”
    “Not a gentleman,” she wanted to say, but could not get the words out.
    George shook his head and laughed. In his usually teasing eyes, she saw a gentleness and an echo of his old love. “No need to say a thing, miss! I’m sure that I’ll come to a mutually satisfactory agreement with your husband. I did attend the best school for diplomacy, after all.” He winked at her.
    Helen smiled, faint of heart. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow, George.”
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, Helen.” George wanted to shake her hand, but then had another thought. Once, just this once, he would kiss her. He put his arm around her and brushed her cheek with his lips. Helen let him—and then gave in and leaned for a few seconds on his shoulder. Perhaps someday, someone aside from herself could be strong. Perhaps someday someone would keep his word.

4
    “N ow, look, Mr. O’Keefe, I’ve visited several farms in this area,” George said. He sat with Howard O’Keefe on the veranda of Helen’s hut, and Howard had just poured himself some whiskey. Helen found that