The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep

And round the pebbly beaches far and wide

I heard the first wave of the rising tide

Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;

A voice out of the silence of the deep,

A sound mysteriously multiplied

As of a cataract from the mountain's side,

Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.

So comes to us from times, from the unknown

And inaccessible solitudes of being,

The rushing sea-tides of the soul;

And inspirations, that we deem our own,

Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing

Of things beyond our reason or control.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Meg Blythe opened her eyes with a smile. It was September 1945—the war was over, for good and for all, now that the Japanese had finally surrendered—her cousins were coming home soon—and her fiancé was coming by to see her that very morning. Who would not smile? The only thing that would make this—this entire time in her life, in fact—better would be if her twin brother Matt were coming home as well. He, however, had transferred out of the RCAF to serve with the Yankees' occupation force in Japan.

It's bad over here, Meg, he wrote. A few years ago, seeing devastation like this would have sent me far, far away. Now, though, I feel some responsibility toward these poor people, and if I can stay and help, then I will.

Besides, I like fixing airplanes, and I get along well enough with the Yankees. A few more years away from home won't hurt me.

Meg missed him still, but at least he should be home before she was married. Will would be leaving for seminary in the States soon, and they couldn't be married until he was graduated and ordained as a minister—and hopefully had a church, as well!

Meg sprang out of bed. She couldn't wait a moment longer to start her day. Will was coming for breakfast, but she wanted to see him now. He was just over at Tanglewood, and she knew he would be awake as well. They shared a love for the dawn, among so many other things.

Many women would have worn their nicest frocks to meet their fiancé, but Meg never even thought of that. She pulled on an old rose-colored skirt that she'd had for six years and a lightweight cream sweater that Auntie Di had knit for her last Christmas (Auntie Di was not noted for her knitting skills).

She didn't even bother with shoes or socks, but flitted lightly down the stairs to the kitchen, where her father was just coming in from the barn, where he'd been milking cows.

"You're up early," Shirley Blythe observed, smiling at his daughter. Meg looked remarkably like a little girl again, with her unbrushed curls bouncing wildly about her shoulders and her brown eyes dancing with excitement.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I thought I'd run over to Tanglewood and see Will."

Shirley sighed and smiled again. He had the deepest respect for Will Ashton, but there were times when he almost hated him for winning Meg's heart. "Well, before you go, there's a letter for you from Boston that came yesterday while you and Polly were sewing. I forgot about it until now."

"Rose!" Meg exclaimed gleefully, pouncing on the envelope.

The scented note was not from Rose Greye (soon to be Rose Templestowe), however. Some of the joy dimmed from Meg's face as she read it.

"What is it?" Shirley asked.

Meg looked up and tried to smile, stuffing the note carelessly into her skirt pocket. "Nothing," she said brightly. "I'll be back in time to make breakfast, Papa."

She kissed his cheek and ran outside, practically dancing across the cold dew-wet grass on her bare toes. Shirley blinked unwanted tears away and sternly told himself not to be a fool. He knew he couldn't keep his little Meggie forever; he was just glad to have another three years with her. He was thankful she was marrying a man of such good character.

Somehow, it didn't make him feel much better.

Meg, however had different concerns at the moment, but they vanished away when she saw a familiar curly head atop a lithe body perched on the old fence halfway between Green Gables and Tanglewood. The young man was dressed in ancient trousers and an equally old jersey, with the left sleeve pinned up around his missing arm, but to Meggie's eyes he was as handsome as any storybook hero.

"Good morning," she said, with a voice like birdsong.

Will pretended to look at her in astonishment. "Goodness!" he exclaimed. "Have I been enchanted? For whom do I see before me but a fairy maiden?"

Meg laughed. "If I am a fairy maiden, then you must be the prince who has won my heart and lured me to the mortal world."

Will hopped down from the silver-bleached fence and kissed her cheek. "I'm the luckiest man in the world, I am."

"I thought you ministers weren't supposed to talk of luck?" Meg said mischievously.

"I'm not a minister yet," he reminded her with dancing blue eyes.

"Well then, that makes it perfectly all right," Meg retorted sarcastically.

Will simply laughed again. "Come, walk with me," he said, holding out his right hand. "I need to talk to you about something."

Meg slid her hand into his, sensing again that warm astonishment of how right it felt, and they strolled down Anne Shirley's old Lover's Lane together.

"I had a letter from Grandmother Thornton yesterday," Will began.

"Oh." Mrs. Thornton was Will's grandmother in England, and from all Meg had heard, was a very determined, opinionated woman. "What did she say about our engagement?"

Will's face was a comical blend of chagrin and amusement. "She says that she's going to be sailing here on the very next boat to give her approval … and unsaid, her disapproval if she doesn't like you."

"Oh no!" Meg began to giggle.

"What is the joke? I wish you'd let me in on it, because I'm getting a nasty creeping feeling up my spine every time I think about Grandmother Thornton meeting your Aunt Di."

Meg tried to compose herself. "It's not funny, I know, but I had a letter from Grandmamma Irving this morning, saying that she's going to be coming from Boston to give her opinion of you!"

Will stopped short. His jaw dropped. "Heavens!" he cried. "Our grandmothers are going to meet and clash, and Avonlea itself will vanish in the aftermath."

"What can we do?" Meg shrugged helplessly. "I've never met your Grandmother Thornton, but if she is anything like my Grandmamma Irving, there is no point in asking—or even telling—her to not come."

Will's face hardened into utter determination. "There is one thing we can do … something I thought of as soon as I received Grandmother's letter. I was hesitant to mention so drastic a step earlier, but now that I hear about your grandmother as well, I think it might be our best choice."

"What is it?" Meg asked.

"Will you marry me now—this week?"

Meg caught her breath. "Are you serious?"

Will turned his body so he was facing her directly. "Absolutely. I hadn't told you this before, but your Uncle Bruce wrote to me last week, telling me about a little church in Grey Harbour which needs a parson. It's a tiny little fishing village, barely able to support a full-time minister, but he said it would be a good chance for me to learn how to minister. I was going to write back and decline the position because I didn't want to put off seminary, and our wedding."

"What are you thinking?" Meg asked, her head whirling. Had Will really just suggested that they get married this very week? She hadn't even started preparing for a wedding—she thought she still had three years!

"If I take the position, we could get married now. They have a little house that comes with the church—a manse, or vicarage, or parsonage, or whatever you call it depending on your denomination. The Grey Harbour church isn't any denomination, apparently … the village is too small to support more than one. It won't bring in much, but we can scrape by. If we're already married by the time our grandmothers arrive, they won't be able to interfere with anything or spoil the sweetness of our love."

Meg's thoughts started to settle. "What about seminary?"

Will shrugged. "It can wait. Rev. Meredith thinks it would be good for me to get some practical experience first, anyway. He says too many people come out of seminary chock-full of doctrine and theology, and completely clueless regarding practicing Christ's love."

"Will," Meg caught his hand, very serious. "I know how much seminary means to you. If we get married now and you take that church, you won't be able to save up like you would if you were single. The reason we were waiting to be married, instead of getting married before seminary, was so that you could save."

"Margaret." Now it was Will's turn to be quite serious. "I love you. I want to be married to you. I do not want either of our families coming between us and casting shadows on our joy. If marrying now means that we have to put seminary off for a few more years, well, I'm willing to make that sacrifice.

"The question is, are you ready to sacrifice Green Gables three years earlier than planned?"

Meg reflected. When she was a girl, she had thought that nothing could ever take her away from Green Gables and Papa. She had loved her simple, quiet life there more than anything else, and couldn't imagine anyone even tempting her away. She was sure that no man could ever be worth leaving her beloved home.

Then she met Will. He was the most caring and generous man she had ever known. Never, in the six years she had known him, had he ever put his own wants ahead of other people's. Even now, he was willing to put his dream off for the sake of their relationship. How could she do less?

She looked into his eyes with a face full of trust and love.

"Yes," she said. "I will marry you, Will Ashton. Tomorrow, if need be."

His boyish grin broke over his face. "I don't think we need to be that rushed. Saturday—a week from today—ought to be sufficient."

A sudden thought crossed Meg's mind. "Oh, dear!" she cried. "How will we ever break it to Papa?"

Will, brave soul that he was, paled at the thought. "Oh dear is right. And the rest of your family?"

Meg couldn't help but laugh at his obvious distress. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll talk them round."

The gathered members of Meg's family stared at the young couple in dismay.

"This week?" Auntie Di said. "How are we supposed to get a wedding together in one week?"

"It won't be a wedding, not a real one," Meg assured her. "Grandmamma would be terribly hurt if we had a wedding without her and Grandfather. We'll just have you and Uncle Patrick and Polly, and Jocelyn and Peter (and Evie, of course), for our family, and Will's Uncle Kip. Will's going to ask Uncle Bruce to perform the ceremony, and it will all be very small and low-key."

"What about your dress?" Polly asked. "One week is not enough time to make a wedding dress!"

Meg had even thought about that. "I thought," with a hesitant glance at her silent father, "I thought I might wear Mama's wedding dress. It will need to be altered, of course, but that's easier to do than make one from scratch."

"And a wedding cake? You have to have a cake," Polly insisted. "And—oh, dear! I was to be your maid of honour! I suppose you won't have one now, if it's not a real wedding."

"I'm afraid not," Meg said apologetically.

Peter, Meg's supporter through thick and thin, clapped Polly's shoulder. "Cheer up, sis. Lily and Freddie are going to be married next year, and you know Lily will want you for maid of honour."

"I'll make the cake, if you like," his wife Jocelyn volunteered, shifting little Evie in her arms. "I have a marvellous old recipe that's been passed down for hundreds of generations in the Reed family."

"I'll provide the music," Uncle Patrick said, getting into the spirit of things. "Even if it's not a real wedding, you still have to have music."

"Count me in," Auntie Di said decisively, making up her mind all at once. "I was forced into a huge wedding, when all I wanted was to slip away and marry quietly. All my memories from that time are horrid. I won't let anyone do that to you two."

Polly looked around, saw that general opinion was against her, and gave in. "Very well," she sighed. "Meg, I'll help with the sewing."

Meg looked at her father. Shirley hadn't said a word ever since she and Will had rushed in and blurted out their plan. She was suddenly very afraid of hurting him.

As though he sensed her stare, he lifted his bent head. Though unshed tears glistened in his eyes, he smiled at her. "Very well," he said.

Meg let out an enormous sigh of relief. She rushed forward and threw her arms around Shirley, nearly strangling him with her hug. Will came forward as well and pumped Shirley's hand.

"Thank you, sir," he said fervently. "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"I know," Shirley told him.

The planning picked up again and swirled around Shirley. He watched his daughter as she held Will's hand, her glowing eyes turned up trustingly to him, a little smile constantly on her lips. He knew he couldn't hold her back, nor stand in the way of her happiness.

He understood a bit better now, though, the sacrifice Paul and Rachel Irving had made when he and Cecily wanted to marry so quickly.

Oh, how he wished she was still here.

"Cecily," he whispered to himself, before getting up and hurrying outside.

Meg's loving eyes followed her father's unobtrusive departure. With a whispered word to Will, she slipped away after him.

"Papa?" she said hesitantly, seeing his bent back. When he swung around to face her, she was shocked at how much older he suddenly looked. The lines in his face were deeper, and the grey hair tickling his temples seemed more noticeable than before.

Meg couldn't stand to think of Papa alone—growing old—lonely for her—without anyone around to bring him comfort. She broke into a small sob.

"Oh Papa—I won't go. I can't do it. I'll tell Will—he'll understand."

Then her father's arms were around her, strong and comforting, as though she was a little girl again, and he her protector and hero.

"Hush now, Meggie-love," he soothed. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be just fine. It's just going to take some getting used to, this thought of you leaving in a week. I thought I had two more years with my girl."

Meg rested her head on his shoulder, unconvinced. "But I can't leave you all alone."

Shirley chuckled peacefully. "Now then, do you really think I'll be alone? Di will want me over for dinner every day, Peter and Jocelyn and Evie will be popping in and out to keep me young, and Matt will be back in a few years." He smoothed the hair back from her forehead with a firm yet gentle hand. "For a crusty old hermit like me, I'll have more company than I know what to do with."

Meg couldn't help but laugh. Her father's dislike of large crowds was legendary. "Are you sure?" she asked him, brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a penetrating gaze. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

Shirley tightened his arms around her. "Meg, what I want more than anything in this world is for you—and your brother—to be happy. I could not be content, knowing you gave up love just for me. Go. Marry your Will. All I ask is that you keep one corner of your new house for your old father to come visit whenever he has a mind to."

Meg beamed, her last fear dissolved like air. "The very best corner for you, Papa."

She went back inside with a light heart, passing Will on his way out. He too stopped before Shirley with a hesitant look in his eyes.

"Mr. Blythe …" he began hesitantly.

Shirley shook his head. "Don't say it, Will. I know this isn't the way you planned it."

Will opened his mouth, closed it again, and made up his mind. "Thank you, sir," he said humbly.

"Just take good care of her," Shirley told him.

"I will," the young man promised.

Shirley smiled. He could not have given his Meg away to anyone who loved her less—or whom she loved less. To Will, though, he could entrust even his most precious possession.

"Oh, Will," he called, as the other started back inside.

Will turned. "Sir?"

"Now that we're going to be related, do you think you could drop the 'sir'? It makes me feel awfully old."

Will's eyes twinkled. "Then what shall I call you?"

Shirley eyed him. "How about 'Dad'? Or Pop, as Matt calls me."

Will nodded once. "I think I can do that—Dad."

Shirley watched him hurry back inside to his Meg. He reminded himself that he was not losing a daughter: he was gaining a son. His eyes twinkled whimsically.

"From two children to three in one week. When will Matt spring a bride on me?"

He mounted the steps and joined the crew inside, to assist his daughter and new son in planning their wedding day.