Author's Note:
Hello, friends! I've finally wrapped "Within a Forest Dark"/"The Sun and the Other Stars" and am ready for new adventures!
I've been thinking about the canonical Blythe kids ever since I doomed them all to a spectral non-existence last go-'round. What I really want to do is write a WWI story for them, but first I want to take some time to read the previous work that others have done in that vein. No sense re-treading. I've just finished Alinyaalethia's "Pieces of Lives," which is wonderful and inspiring and totally intimidating. So, if you'll forgive the reference, I'm going to stick a pin in my own nascent idea for now.
Instead, I've got some little vignettes set between the end of Rainbow Valley and the beginning of Rilla of Ingleside (ca. 1907-1914). They aren't arranged chronologically and don't form a complete narrative. If you read my previous story, you'll know it was all planned and plotted from the get-go, with consistent symbolism and call-backs, but this will not be like that. I'm just posting little fragments and seeing if they add up to anything worth pursuing.
But for now, just these little sketches. Tell me what you think, especially if I'm pushing someone too far out of character (I might test some limits). I may play with timing a bit, but I certainly don't want to wander as far from canon as I did last time. No non-canon deaths, I promise.
June, 1912
Sew a Man a Fish
Jem Blythe flopped down onto the grass in a little sun-dappled hollow in Rainbow Valley and unleashed his most charming smile.
"Listen, Faith, I need a favor."
"Oh?" Faith Meredith said, sitting up out of the clump of clover where she had been daydreaming. "Aren't you already in my debt?"
Jem shut one hazel eye and screwed up his face as if thinking very hard. "Am I?"
"Who rescued you from Sissy Flagg after prayer meeting last week?"
Jem grimaced, recalling the determined look on Sissy's face as she had tried to manipulate him into walking her home. "You're right. I do owe you. Well, let me double my balance and you can pick the terms of payment."
Faith sighed elaborately. "What do you want now?"
"I want to prank Carl and Shirley."
"Carl and Shirley?" Faith asked skeptically. "Why?"
"Because it's fun?"
"Shirley's what, twelve? Thirteen? Where's the fun in that?"*
Jem waved an airy hand. "Oh, Shirley likes a joke as well as anyone. He's quiet about it, but he's got a wicked sense of humor."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"He's very dry," Jem assured her.**
"It's a good thing your pranks are so subtle, then," Faith teased.
"Here's what I want to do," said Jem, barreling along as if Faith had agreed to help. "You know how they're always fishing down at the pond?"
"Yes . . ."
"I'm going to make a trout . . ."
"You're going to make a trout?"
"Just let me finish. I'm going to make a trout — a giant one, bigger than anything anyone ever caught in the Glen pond. And then I'm going to anchor it to a rock and set it in the shallows where they can see it. Then we'll see how long they cast at it before they realize it's a set-up!"
"You're going to make a trout . . ."
"That's where you come in," Jem said, grinning.
"Oh, is it?"
"I thought about carving it out of wood," Jem said reasonably, "but wood won't move in the water, so that's right out. But then, I found an old silk scarf in the garret and I'm thinking I could paint it trout colors and make a pretty good go of it, as long as I make sure to place it in the shadows by the reeds."
"Won't it just sink?"
"I borrowed a balloon from the physics lab at Redmond. For the inside."
"I'm waiting for the part where I come in," Faith said dubiously.
Jem shrugged. "I can't sew."
"And I can?"
"Una told us that Rosemary has been teaching you both to sew. She said you even made yourself a new dress for when you go to Queen's in the fall."
Faith pursed her lips. "I did. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but I did it."
"Sew me a fish, Faith. Please?"
"How about I teach you how to sew instead?"
"I don't have time for that. I just need one teensy little fish."
Faith adopted a long-suffering air and shook her golden-brown curls. "Sew a man a fish and he pranks for a day . . ."
"I'll owe you triple. Pleeeeease?" Jem batted copper lashes ingratiatingly, earning himself a shove and laughing as he fell over into the clover.
"Talk is cheap," said Faith. "How do I know you won't stiff me like you did for Sissy Flagg?"
Jem propped himself up on one elbow and clutched a hand to his chest in feigned offense. "Let it never be said that James Matthew Blythe fails to pay his debts!" Then, with a shrug, "I forgot about Sissy Flagg. You're right. Name your price."
"Well . . ." Faith began, savoring the moment. "Tomorrow, Rev. Lewis is coming from Lowbridge for tea. He always brings that insufferable Evangeline with him and I end up having to entertain her. How about you come by the manse tomorrow about an hour before tea time and call me away on some very urgent business."
"What sort of business?" Jem asked.
"Doesn't matter. Just make it convincing."
"Done. And where shall we go?"
"Somewhere entertaining."
"Not a problem."
Faith allowed herself a grudging smile. "So you want me to sew a trout . . ."
Jem grinned and reached into his satchel for the silk scarf, balloon, and sewing kit he had brought along with him.
* No one knows how old Shirley is. He's two when Rilla is born, but then he enlists in April of 1917, just after his 18th birthday, which makes him about three months older than Rilla. This is obviously impossible, but it's sort of important for explaining why he enlisted then. He also spends at least four years at Queen's. Since canon is irreconcilable on this point, I have decided to embrace Shirley's indeterminate age as a running joke.
**Shirley was "sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour." Rilla of Ingleside, chapter 3
