"Isn't it a beautiful night, Kenneth?"

It would be more enjoyable if you weren't latching onto my arm. But of course he couldn't say that. Fortunately, he didn't have to speak.

"Are you going to that dance the Smiths are holding to celebrate Beulah's engagement? The Smiths are so ridiculously proud, and Beulah is so ridiculously happy. I don't see what's so glamorous about marrying a private like Beulah does."

Images of the war flashed before Ken's eyes. "Any man who has been through the war is honorable, Victoria," he said quietly. "Not fighting in it doesn't make anyone less respectable, either."

Victoria frowned. "Well, I just think there are so many better choices out there." She traced a finger along the rank insignia on his cuff, ignoring him when he stiffened. "You are going to the dance, aren't you? I heard you went to a harbour dance on the Island before the war. It must have been awful boring. Aren't you glad you're going to a real dance?

No, not if it's filled with people like you, Ken almost said out loud. "The dance was beautiful and memorable in its own way." He gave a half-hearted, wistful smile. "Beautiful."

Victoria frowned. The war was said to leave strange effects on men, but she never expected Kenneth Ford to be affected as well. No matter, he was still as handsome as he used to be, and she was currently the envy of Toronto, being walked home by Captain Ford. And she was going to continue to be the envy of Toronto, which is why she had to secure her spot on his arm for the dance before anyone else got it.

Before they reached her house.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again. "You know, Kenneth, if you are going to the dance, you might want to find a partner soon. All the returned men are picking the girls one by one. You might not get one of you don't do something," she giggled, trying to slow Kenneth's brisk strides as they turned on her street.

"Perhaps I won't get one, and I'll just spend the night being a wallflower." He lifted his cap to her when they stopped in front of her house. "Good day, Miss Ross."

Victoria watched his retreating back with a sigh. She'd been trying to get a reaction out of him by mentioning Beulah's engagement- Beulah, who had been just as infatuated with Kenneth as every other girl, joining her on trips to the Ford mansion almost every day during the war. It certainly wasn't rude to inquire after him while they knitted socks for Red Cross, so they did it often, so that they could have first-hand news.

When Courcelette came and went, no letter arrived. They prayed, they cried, they fretted for three weeks. Then finally, a letter came, shortest among short letters, stating his safety and the urgent need to write to the Blythes, whoever they were. That day, Mrs. Ford sent them all home early. The Fords looked pretty shaken after that, and Kenneth's letters felt distant and rushed.

She felt like they lost him after Courcelette. He only seemed like his old self when he was with his family. So if war changed men, even ones like Kenneth Ford, she would pray to God every night that there might not be a Great War ever again.

"Hello? Anne, is that you?"

"Oh, thank goodness I got you on the line, Leslie. I've received your letter, and Gil and I have thought it appropriate to put you on long distance."

"You didn't have to, Anne! You could've written a letter instead."

"But I have reason to believe I know exactly what your son needs. And time is a rather... important factor in this."

"Whatever do you mean, Anne?"

"Well, I can't say it too plainly over this line, but let me make sure I didn't misinterpret what happened. You say Ken is changed?"

"Yes, and a good deal, too. He's so quiet and... brooding, now. Melancholy, even." Leslie paused. "Is Jem like that?"

"Brooding, yes, at times. It can't be helped, they've seen such awful things. But melancholy, no. What about his behavior towards other people?"

"Now that you mention it, it seems like he's distancing himself, from girls in particular. He used to have flocks of them around him- and he still does- but he used to flirt with them, just because he could. It's ridiculous, I used to wish he would settle down with one girl, but now part of me wants to see him flirt with all those girls again. At least I'll know he's alright."

Anne laughed. "Oh, he'll be alright. Now listen, Leslie. Pack up your family, and come to the House of Dreams for a visit. I'm sure you can all relax a bit, and Ken will know what to do."

Leslie frowned, though Anne couldn't see it through the 'phone. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I have my suspicions. Not even Gilbert knows everything. But if he did, I'm sure he would agree with what I'm doing. He knows that my instincts on matters of the h- well, these types of situations are usually correct. Besides, even if I'm wrong, Ken could use a break away from those girls."

"I suppose you're right. I'll go speak to him first, and I'll tell you if we come, alright?"

Leslie walked over to Ken's door and peeked in. For the second time that week, he was sitting at his desk, head resting in his arms. Leslie kissed his head softly. "If you're tired, you can go rest on your bed, dear." Ken sat up to look at her, and that was when she noticed that he had paper and ink in front of him. "Who were you going to write to?"

Ken watched her face for a few seconds before he looked out the window. "Rilla."

He said it so softly that at first, Leslie wondered if she misheard. "Rilla... Blythe?"

Ken's lips twitched. "One and only."

Leslie marveled at how ironic it was that she just had a conversation with Anne about this. No, Anne probably knew already, which is why she had called her, claiming it to be urgent. "Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"Does she love you?"

"I-" Ken faltered. "I don't know." He buried his face in his arms again.

Leslie smiled to herself and bend down next to him. "Tell me what happened?"

"I saw her on a week of leave." Ken sat up again. "She- I- the dance, you know? That was when I noticed her, really noticed her. Then that week before I left for overseas- she was dressed so prettily, and she was mothering Jims, I realized that I love her. But I couldn't tell her, and right when Jims fell asleep, I was going to ask about Fred Arnold-"

"Who is Fred Arnold?" Leslie interjected.

"Someone rumored to be seeing her," Ken responded sullenly. "I was going to ask her if she cared for me. But Susan chose that moment to return from the store."

"Susan!"

"Yes, Susan." Ken gave a small smile. "She seemed to think that I was bothering Rilla- and really, I still don't know if I was. She started to tell the most ridiculous stories about us when we were little. I had to leave, you know. Rilla followed me to the porch, and I- I kissed her." He cleared his throat. "It wasn't proper, I know. And I asked her to promise me that she wouldn't kiss anyone until I returned."

"Well, that was... quick."

"She did promise. And we've written letters- but I'm not sure- I don't know if she kept the promise, or knows how much that promise meant to me, or if she even cares about me at all."

"Did you write to her? Tell her you've returned?"

Ken waved a hand over his paper. "I tried. No words would come."

"Well, if she somehow found out that you were back and didn't go to her, what would she think?"

"I don't know!" Ken ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly agitated. "I don't know if she wants to see me!"

"How about this." Leslie placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll travel to the Island and stay at the old House of Dreams for a while. We could use a rest away from the big city, and you can go see Rilla- if you need to."

Ken gave her a relieved smile. "Thanks, Mother."

"Start packing, dear? I'll go tell Per and Father."

Ken kissed her hand. "Yes, Mother."

The train ride to the Glen was quieter than the other times, mostly because Ken was so quiet. Persis remembered fondly how he used to point out things in the landscape that he learned about in class, teaching her to recognize them like he could, or chatting about the latest football record, or teasing the life out of her.

But today, he was simply watching the land flash by. The war changed all of them, him especially. She knew he had seen indescribable horrors at the front that she couldn't even imagine. All the same, she wished Ken was more cheery. They were going back to the House of Dreams, after all. It was a simply magical place.

Later, when they were driving down the country road by the shore to their house, it was still unusually quiet with the Fords. In the old days, with such a picturesque scene, someone might've recited a poem. But on this day, everyone was admiring the beauty on their own, having no interest in conversation. Owen Ford looked and saw the old story of John and Persis Selwyn play out in front of his eyes. Leslie remembered the time she saw Anne dancing freely along the beach.

Persis was busy watching the emotions flicker over her brother's face as he watched the revolving light flash through the clouds. He closed his eyes. "Tomorrow," he whispered.

Whatever that meant.

To say Ken was nervous would have been an enormous understatement. Yet most would have scoffed at the thought. What, Kenneth Ford nervous about a girl? Why, the world must have turned upside down!

But yes, he was nervous. He knew he should've written Rilla. But as he explained to his mother, no words would come. Pathetic for an author's boy. But it was the bold truth.

And he still wasn't sure if she had promised her heart to another while has had been gone. He dared not ask someone else, because if word got out, someone like Irene Howard might set up a trap for him. He knew Irene wasn't on best terms with Rilla. Quite frankly, he was finished with all the Victorias, Beulahs, and Jennys. If only he could have Rilla! She was such a lovely woman compared to those others, despite having been born away from the city. Perhaps that was what made her this way. He had once heard Uncle Gil call his wife Queen Anne, after all, and Rilla was a Daughter of Anne.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up the path to the Blythe porch. He had to wait a few seconds after he knocked before the door was opened. It was Rilla, looking slightly irritated that there was a caller. Perhaps there was no other person in the house. Well, if that's the case, he was going to use it in his favor, the best he could.

"Rilla-my-Rilla." Hours, days, weeks spent over this one moment, and this was the best he could do?

She gasped. "Ken."

He took a step closer, thinking over his next words carefully before taking her hand. "Is it Rilla-my-Rilla?"

Her big brown eyes were flooding with emotion, her form practically shaking. "Yeth."

He put his arms around her, and in that moment, with Rilla wrapped in his arms, he had no doubt that no matter what happened next, if she was with him, then he would live happily ever after.

AN: Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfiction for the AoGG fandom, so reviews, criticism included, are welcome!

As I'm new to writing for this fandom, I don't have many ideas. If you have a prompt for me, I'll welcome it! There are some guidelines in my profile. (The three-authors rule does not apply here, as only one of us is interested in this fandom.) I will probably be writing a two-shot next, one that is a Modern AU, maybe with yet another twist. Maybe, if you have sharp eyes, you can tell my twentieth-century-style writing is a bit awkward. A lot of the feeling I want to convey has to be done so without using modern day slang. Fortunately, kslchen helped me smooth out the wrinkles and made things historically accurate, so a shoutout to her!

Once again, any suggestions are welcome!