Page 91 of To Know Miss May

She pointed her finger. “Ah, ye see? That be Jack the Giant Killer’s side of it. What if they be just rumors, though? What if everythin’ that was said ’bout Cormoran ain’t true, and they dumped that poor giant down the hole into the ground simply ’cause o’ what they believed to be true rather than what was in reality true?”

Livvy knew the story was just a legend, a tale those on the Mount enjoyed telling round bonfires and during parties to explain the heart on the pathway and the well of the Mount. But frankly, she was tired of having more in common with the giant of the Mount than with the people of the Mount.

“What if the giant be simply different?” she continued. “What if ’e be misunderstood? What if ’e wanted to fit in but couldn’t ’cause ’e couldn’t change who ’e be inside—a giant who liked makin’ lists of ’is favorite things, readin’ ’stead o’ talkin’, and misty weather ’stead o’ sunshine?”

They stood there in silence for a moment, robins chirping their lovely tunes overhead, the sea gently rushing below them.

Still, August didn’t speak.

“’Ave I finally caused the demise of our friendship,” she asked, eying him sidelong, “tellin’ ye I feel a kinship with a giant known for terrorizin’ others?”

The corner of his lips curled up, those same small smile lines stretching across his cheeks. “Ye’ll not lose me friendship o’er somethin’ so trivial.” His smile faded, and his eyes delved into hers. “I be merely thinkin’.”

“’Bout what?” she asked warily.

“’Bout ’ow tragic it’d be if ye really did fit in with the Mount, ’stead o’ standin’ out as beautifully as ye do now.”

Livvy wouldn’t allow his kindness nor his generous words to melt her into a puddle at his feet again. She needed to keep her wits about her. She needed to know the truth.

“If standin’ out be so beautiful, why do others avoid me ’cause of it?”

“Do they avoid ye?” he asked softly. “Or do ye avoid ’em?”

Long had Livvy had such thoughts—and long had she always readily and easily set them aside. After all, why would she wish to dwell on the idea that her avoidance of others, and not her odd behavior, was what kept people away from her?

And yet, August’s soft-spoken words could not be ignored.

With a deep breath, she nodded. “I know there be some on the Mount who don’t like me for bein’ different.” The Moon sisters, being two of them. “But I believe most of ’em don’t care a jot ’bout me bein’ peculiar, but they stay away ’cause o’ me own avoidance of ’em.”

Saying the words aloud was like removing a rain-sodden cloak from her shoulders. Warm. Relieving. Freeing. She’d held onto those lies for so long, she hadn’t realized until that point that they were lies.

“Ye be right,” she said, her spirits thriving without the weight of the world to drag them down. “I do avoid ’em. And I do it out o’ fear o’ what they’ll think o’ me. That they’ll believe me to be as peculiar as others do.”

“As your father believes ye to be?”

She lowered her gaze. Just like that, the weight returned, and humiliation overcame her. To have her own father think she was strange, to have her own father embarrassed by her, she could hardly bear it. And yet, she could not deny it.

She delivered a simple nod in silence.

August drew a deep breath, staring off to the side so she couldn’t see his full expression. Was he upset with Father? Or was he upset with her?

“I wish ye knew,” he began, “that any person who does find fault in ye, or uses who ye be as a reason to not accept ye, simply lacks confidence in ’imself and must tear others down to feel right.”

The words were uncomfortable to hear. Even still, she knew them to be the truth. Father did lack confidence—no doubt due to his wife’s treatment of him. That was why he only drank, gardened, or remained indoors, staring at the fire and smoking his pipe instead of meeting new people—instead of finding a new wife who did love him.

Was that why, when he did go out, he only ever spoke of gardening—just like Livvy could only ever speak of books?

The thought struck her with such force, she nearly fell over. She wasn’t like Mother, as Father suggested. Livvy was like him. Was that why he wished for her to change who she was? Because she reminded him too much of himself? Was that why he wanted her to leave the Mount—so he didn’t have to be reminded that he wasn’t secure in himself?

So he didn’t have to have the constant reminder of why his wife had left him?

“Did I upset ye?” August asked softly.

She shook her head. “No. Ye be right, ’course.”

He peered down at her, his gaze soft. “I know it be easier to say such things, but…try not to listen to the loud few who will do anythin’ to break ye. Listen instead to those who ’ave your best interest at ’eart. To those who admire your love o’ readin’ and list-makin’ and misty weather. To those who wish to see ye thrive as vibrantly as the sea pinks on the Cornish cliffs.”

Tears flooded her eyes at his kindness, at his words.