This story references a scene in Series 1, Episode 7. What if Jeannie got to Green Gables a split second too late?

BANG!

The sound would stay with Marilla for the rest of her long life, the sudden crack reverberating around the property, bouncing off the barn walls, echoing. The horses shocked into bolting around the paddock.

There was the sound … then the terrible silence that followed.

It had all been a dreadful mistake. After the shock of the crop loss, Matthew had panicked. The bank manager was severe but allowed him to take out a mortgage on the farm. The plan was set; until Marilla waylaid him when he returned home. It all started to unravel from there. She was aghast that he had acted without her input, refusing to understand that he had acted in their best interests.

"You mortgaged the farm? Are you out of your mind?" She railed at him. "You took out a loan against Green Gables?"

Matthew tried to argue that it had to be done.

Marilla was aghast, "Why did you take such an action without discussing it with me."

Truth be told Matthew knew that had been a mistake once she voiced it but he felt, as head of the household that it had been his decision. But though he told her that he was trying to protect them, make the best out of a bad situation, his words sounded hollow. The problem was that he hadn't even told Marilla that the crop was lost in the first place. That meant she thought he didn't trust her. That wasn't it, or at least not primarily. It was a man's job to protect his family, not a woman's. She was his sister, not his wife. "I knew you'd lose your head," he explained.

"Oh, I ought to smack yours right off your shoulders!" she retorted furiously.

He explained that they had the loan and he had spent it all on high yield crops. But when he laid out the plan to her, she was still angry, rationalising that she didn't want him working harder than ever, she wanted him to work less.

That's when it happened, his legs gave out from under him, the room went dark and the next thing he knew he woke up in his bed a day later. She told him he lost consciousness and collapsed on the parlor floor. Somehow, they had managed to get him into his bed. The realization that he had made a terrible mistake came upon him in a flash. Now he was ill, a burden upon the family, despite his best efforts to save them; worse they had the millstone of debt around them. He had to do something, he had to save them all.

Marilla sat with him reading the Bible and trying to feed him some soup, He wasn't hungry, he didn't think he'd ever be hungry again, his stomach was tied in knots. The words were comforting, even if the sentiment rang false in his ears.

Anne had been sent to town to sell off all their worldly goods to pay the loan. The loan he had taken out, to solve the mess he had gotten them all in to. He felt sick that she had taken on this journey, she was just a little girl. It made him think of that other terrible journey they had sent her on, after the misunderstanding. She had survived that, yes, but they had nearly lost her for good. If she had caught that train, they might never have seen her again. His heart would have been broken. He had to save them now, as a way of making up for all the trouble he had put them in. Even by selling all their worldly goods, a good proportion of the debt would remain. Despite all Anne's efforts, they'd still be in dire straits. He had the perfect solution, all he needed was some time alone. Hopefully tomorrow Marilla would be forced out to the barn to milk the cows. He'd do it then.

Matthew fretted for Anne, "You shouldn't have let her go," he told Marilla.

Marilla tried to settle him, telling him not to worry. She told him that Anne would be safe with Jerry. But Jerry was just a boy too. Matthew didn't think they'd be safe even together.

"You and Anne, you'd be better off if I were gone." He told her.

"What? I won't have you talking like this."

"My life insurance will hold you both in good stead." It made him feel safe to know it was there. All he had to do was die, to make the money available to them.

"I won't hear it."

"It's what I wish for."

"Why would you wish that? You mustn't think such thoughts. We need you here." Marilla remonstrated with him.

"No."

"Anne loves you. You have to remember that."

"But… her future."

"Which do you think she would choose? This house … or you? Now stop this morbid foolishness."

Matthew rolled away from her, eager to have the conversation over.

Looking at him in his terrible depression for a while longer, Marilla walked back to the kitchen fretting, and then to bed where she lay awake for many hours.

During the night Matthew got up to find himself a pen, ink and some paper. He needed to write a couple of letters.

He loved his two women so so much.

Marilla, his sister. They had been together forever. He hated to disappoint her. She was always so strong, so capable and he was … not. Her look of dismay the previous afternoon after she had gotten the news; it was more than a man could bear. What had seemed so perfect a solution the day before, made her so very angry. Why couldn't she see that there was no alternative? Green Gables and the family were at stake. Matthew had done his best to save it and she was far from appreciative; she was furious. They never fought. She talked, he listened. That was how it had been, all their long lives.

The one time he did speak up, she did listen in her turn. They had sought a boy, received a girl and despite Marilla's initial hesitation they had kept her. Anne. The apple of his eye. Anne had brought joy. Yes, that was the word, Anne had brought joy into their lives.

He would do anything to protect her, protect them both. When they read his letters they would understand he was doing it for them. There was only one path open to him. One devastating way to ensure they had a future. He was sure they would be angry with him; they would be sad. They did love him, and he loved them. In time they would understand his sacrifice. It would mean they could keep Green Gables. He had paid his annuity regularly, even when money was tight. It was a nest egg safely tucked away for a rainy day. The only stipulation was, he couldn't be around to enjoy it himself. Life insurance, well it was death insurance really wasn't it? A necessary evil to guard against his inevitable failure. He shouldn't be surprised, it was obvious he wasn't up to the pressures of this world. Better to get some money for the family, than have them live with his useless self. It was better this way, really it was. He hoped they would forgive him, one day.

The next morning, Marilla looked in. She picked up his chamber pot and pulling on her big woolen coat she declared "I'll be going outside for a bit, tending to the livestock. I hope you've let go of that fool notion of last night. We've been together all these years, thick or thin. So, don't think I'll put up with you slipping away now. Anne will be home today, and she'll be very happy to see you."

Her words were compelling, but Matthew had made up his mind. This was the perfect opportunity.

Dizzy. He'd been sleeping for a long time and he felt woozy when he got to his feet. Kneeling down, his hands on the bed to steady himself, he located the gun under the bed. The shells were in the bureau, so he staggered out to the parlor to fetch them. The floor boards felt cold, he had no time to think of it, but it would be the last time he would feel smooth wood against naked feet.

Sitting down on the chair he fumbled in his haste to place the shells inside the rifle.

"Yoo hoo!"

Someone was outside. Who could it be? They weren't expecting anyone and it didn't sound like Rachel Lynde. He kept quiet, determined to go through with his plan. The gun was awkward, he had to think about where to shoot, from what angle. He wanted to do it right, not to make a mistake on this most important of tasks. He couldn't think about what it would be like for Marilla, he was intent on his own demise, for him there would be no after.

"MATTHEW!"

Matthew glanced up at Jeannie, of all people, but he was resolute. She disturbed him yes, but he pulled the trigger regardless.

BANG!

Marilla had been on her way back to the house. She had seen an unfamiliar carriage parked by the house, but when she heard the gun's report, she sped up, only to find her dear sweet brother lying in a pool of blood, the shell having pierced his flank.

"Oh, dear lord, no no. No!" Marilla stood over Matthew in a daze of indecision. What to do, what to do?

Jeannie bent down to feel for his pulse. Was that? Yes, there was a distinct beat under her fingertips. "He's still alive. Marilla, he's still alive. Help me."

Marilla looked at her in shock. "He's he's still here?"

Marilla sat down on the floor behind Matthew and manoeuvred around so that she was sitting with her legs out. Jeannie helped her lift Matthew's body against her chest. As he lay cradled against her, she pressed against the wound, in a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood.

"Oh Matthew, what have you done? Why brother, why?"

Matthew was silent.

"Matthew, don't leave me brother, stay with me. I need you, don't go, don't leave me all alone." She cried, feeling him slip away, the blood sticky against her.

Jeannie stood, "I'll fetch the doctor."

"Matthew," Anne's cheery voice called out through the house. Marilla gave Jeannie a short sharp look as she held Matthew. No words were needed, Jeannie went out to greet Anne at the front door.

"Anne."

"Miss Jeannie, what are you doing here?"

'Anne, there's been an accident."

"Oh no, is everyone, is everyone all right?"

Anne was suddenly hyper aware of the weak winter sunlight as it struck the kitchen wall.

"It's Matthew," Jeannie's voice sounded like it was miles away. "He's hurt."

With a cry of anguish Anne rushed past Jeannie despite her attempt to stop her. Anne found both her parents on the parlor floor.

"Marilla? What happened?"

Marilla turned her red eyes towards Anne. "He's injured," she whispered.

"Injured? How?"

"He'd been talking, you know, after you left. He believed we'd be better off, financially, without him. I tried," Marilla sobbed, failing to answer Anne's question, "I tried to reassure him. I told him how much you loved him, how much we both loved him. That this house, as dear as it is to me, is nothing without him. I thought he understood. Then I went to tend to the livestock. The livestock Anne, as if the cows matter. I shouldn't have left him alone for even a minute."

"Marilla, is he? Is he?" Anne daren't even say the words.

"He's still alive."

"That's wonderful."

"Not really, I can't do anything for him." Marilla's voice was unemotional, mechanical even. As though if she showed any emotion she wouldn't be able to stop. It was better to keep it reined in. She hoped Anne would not think she cared any less.

"What happened?" Anne was frantic.

"He. He ... he shot himself, with the rifle."

"Can? Can we save him?"

"We must pray, Anne. Jeannie please go for the doctor! Until then all we can do is pray." Anne knelt down next to them both.

Talk to me Marilla. Tell me," Anne pleaded.

Keeping her eyes fixed on her brother, Marilla mechanically told Anne about their conversation of the night before. "I thought I talked him out of it. I thought I'd made a difference."

Anne hugged Marilla's shoulder even as she caressed Matthew; the three of them locked in an embrace. Rachel Lynde found them there, all together on the floor. Matthew's blood pooling around them all. She had been summoned by young Jerry who believed her services would be required.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

When the doctor arrived, all he could hear was the sound of women praying. "Miss Cuthbert?"

"Doctor! Have a look, tell me he will be all right, please tell me you can save him."

Ushering the women out, the doctor examined Matthew Cuthbert for the second time that week. By look of the blood-stained clothes that covered his left flank, it was useless. It was a miracle that Mr Cuthbert was still alive, but he couldn't last the day. The only good thing at this time was that he was obviously unconscious, the doctor was sure it was painful.

Turning back to Marilla he could only shake his head. It was hopeless. There was no way he could stanch the blood loss in that area. Matthew would die, probably soon. He hated it bring it up, but had no choice. The death certificate would need a cause of death.

Matthew was too ill to move, so they left him on the floor. It seemed a poor place to die, but he was surrounded by the ones he loved, so there was that.

After a couple of hours Matthew revived momentarily. His eyes fluttered open, he looked at Anne, his blue eyes staring at the girl he loved more than life itself. "..."

"What's that Matthew? What did you say?"

It took a monumental effort to force more air through his lungs, but he did it. "Love."

Marilla felt rather than heard the word. As though every spare bit of energy he had left was expressed through his entire body. He spoke, then she felt all his strength depart, leaving her with his dead body in her arms.

Tucked away in a corner of the bureau was a piece of paper; the insurance policy. Unread by anyone since it was first taken out. On it, in small print were the following words: 'In the event of suicide, no payout will be made'.

Disclaimer: I'm Australian, we don't do guns. But I did wonder why Matthew, a farmer, would have a pistol. Surely a rifle would be useful for a man in his situation. If a horse or cow needed to be dispatched a pistol would be useless. So, I've changed the gun in question to a rifle, hidden under his bed. Also, I don't know if a self-inflicted rifle wound would be survivable even for a short time; for the sake of the story, let's just say it is.

Edit, ChickenWhisper tells me that a pistol could kill cattle. I guess I really wanted the rifle because I wanted the sound of the shot to ricochet around the property. Is a pistol loud enough? (CW You have to log in, so we can talk!)