-This chapter is so much more depressing than I meant it to be; sorry... but the next one will be full of good old Avonlea rainbows and sunshine, I promise.-

The arrival at Rose Cottage was a chaotic mess. Sara was convinced that the King of England never had a more enthusiastic welcome than exploded out of that little yellow house to greet one pale, blond girl who had finally come home to stay. Davey was ecstatic to have "company" at last; it turned out that Hetty's back had been the reason for her absence at the train station, and her lack of mobility, combined with some temporary, stroke-related malaise of Rachel's, meant that Davey had "no one to play with." He liked Dora alright, of course, as she was his sister, after all; but she was more like a life-size doll than a playmate, she was so quiet and good all the time. All this came pouring out into Sara's eager ears on the short walk from the buggy to the front door.

Janet had come over to look after everyone and had brought Daniel with her, but Davey was not too fond of him; he only sat and read aloud to Mrs. Lynde from the Bible and lots of other books, for hours and hours. Sara smiled; obviously the slightly older boy was acting a little superior for Davey's benefit. Daniel had always been almost as hopeless a scapegrace as Davey, and everyone but Davey knew it well.

Hetty was ensconced on the sofa in the sitting room with several quilts piled around, over and beneath her so that only her face, pinched with pain and the frustration of being so helpless, was visible at the end like an incomplete mummy, and Sara happily snuggled into the pile, careful not to jostle her aunt. Now that Sara had finally arrived and was physically within reach, Hetty relaxed, and they both lay back and listened to the surrounding mayhem, occasionally contributing a remark when it was called for - and in Hetty's case, often when it wasn't.

"Aunt Olivia," Sara wanted to know, suddenly realizing that all were not present and accounted for. "Where's Uncle Jasper?"

"Oh, he took Montgomery and the baby on a sort of tour of Avonlea, looking over all our old haunts, you know, the places we went on interviews for the Chronicle, all the spots that were important to us."

Sara grinned. "But what if he runs into any old acquaintances? He'll have to talk to them."

Olivia laughed her high, ringing chuckle. "Actually, no. You'd be surprised how toting around two such sweet little boys distracts people's attention so you hardly have to say two words to them; they spend the whole time exclaiming over the children."

"It's just a baby," Davey groaned, evidently feeling that the collective attention of the room had been off of him long enough. "It doesn't do anything. When is it going to grow up, Ms. Dale?"

Olivia smiled. "Soon enough for everyone but you, I should think, Davey. Too soon."

"Montgomery's getting so big," Hetty declared proudly. "He gets top marks in school, and" - with a pointed look in Davey's direction - "I never have to tell him anything twice. He's the most attentive child I've ever seen."

"He's alright, I guess," Davey muttered. "And he knows lots of jokes. But he isn't so big. And he only wants to talk about England all the time. I bet I know more about it now than any English people."

Sara couldn't help it; she burst into giggles. "Davey Keith," she scolded playfully, "envy is a sin. Don't worry, Davey-boy; I'm here now, and I won't let you get bored."

Davey missed most of the sarcasm in this assurance. "Thanks ever so much, Sara. Sara likes me," he added defiantly to anyone in the room who might be inclined to shower any more praise on any other boy in the near future.

Felicity sighed over-dramatically. "I pray every night for God to give me a daughter," she said half-seriously. "I think Gus wants a son, but I'm not sure he understands all that's involved in raising a boy. He was an only child."

The quick flash of a grin made another appearance on Felix' worn face. "What are you saying, Felicity? Don't you remember all the good times we had?"

Incredulous glances from his parents, sister and cousin spoke eloquently in the silence that followed this absurd remark. Felicity raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, I spent most of my time ordering you around, and you spent most of yours devouring everything I tried to cook and finding new and creative ways to upset the order of my little kingdom."

"Well, you really will be that child's mother; he or she will have to do as you say. You only thought you were mine."

Felicity's only answer was a halfhearted swipe at her brother's head with a cushion, but Sara was amused at the incredulous glance that passed between her uncle and aunt at the off-hand assertion that children were naturally duty-bound to obey their parents.

"I think you're confusing parenting with soldiering," was Hetty's thoughtless comment.

"Of course, how foolish of me," Felix retorted, and a burn of alarm flared in Sara's throat as she saw what Aunt Janet had meant in that halting postscript. So this was what Janet had delicately referred to as one of his 'moods.' It was now drifting like a mass of thunderclouds over Felix' formerly placid expression. It was truly frightening to witness; in that moment, Sara felt she was looking at someone, or something, else that had stolen away the carefree boy and left behind this... this specter in his place. In that moment, she didn't know him, and she felt the burn shift from her throat and strike at her heart as she caught Uncle Alec's and Aunt Janet's pained expressions out of the corner of her eye. 'How it must hurt them,' she agonized, 'to find sometimes that they don't recognize their own son.'

Felix wasn't done. "I suppose it makes sense to someone," he mused darkly. "Maybe God, I don't know. Refuse to feed the chickens when you're told, and you get a bit of a lecture; maybe you have to go to bed without pudding. But try to refuse when your country tells you to go crouch in a wet, muddy ditch, fire as many bullets into other human beings as you can before theirs find you, and keep doing it while you're watching childhood friends getting blown to smithereens along with pieces of your own flesh... try to say no to that irresistible invitation, and you're immediately an enemy to your homeland and your crown, shunned by your friends and relations and wishing you hadn't been such a coward as to choose to stay alive. Who wouldn't prefer to run through the dropping bombs, kill some Germans for King George and have people call you a hero if by some miracle you make it out the other side?"

Early on in this dreadful speech, Hetty had clapped her hands over Davey's ears, and Olivia had done the same for Dora. Daniel was upstairs with Rachel, but if he had been in the room, Sara was sure Janet's hands would be clamped over his head as well.

Felix looked miles away and thoroughly impenitent - until he caught sight of Sara, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. Remorse flitted across his eyes then, and he said softly, "I'm sorry, Sara. I don't mean to spoil everything."

Sara choked and wiped her eyes hurriedly. "It's alright, Felix. Just because I'm home doesn't mean you have to be glad, if you're really...not."

She was cheered by the instant, fervent response. "I am, Sara. You have no idea how glad. To be here, with everyone, instead of... there. With mud and death for company... I'd have happily lost the whole arm, and the other one, too, if it had been the only way to come home. Don't mind me if I sometimes get the feeling it isn't quite real, still. Sometimes, the things that happened... they feel like they happened five minutes ago. But I'm hoping to forget, someday. A little."

"I hope so, too, Felix," Sara whispered. "God, I hope so."

"Amen," Uncle Alec whispered hoarsely from the corner where he sat with his wife's face pressed into his shoulder.