A/N: Okay, second chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!
Anonymous 327: I'm so glad you reviewed my story and even more glad that you liked it! I think the reason for them being back in Avonlea will be revealed in this chapter, along with some other background information.
Marzoog: Yay! You followed me here! I'm glad you like this story so far. It's a little frightening, treading on such sacred ground. At least I know I have my faithful friends to help me along.
Ruby Gillis: Dear, dear girl. My most faithfulest of faithful reviewers. Here's the story behind the name of Christine. See, I've loved that name ever since I saw 'Phantom of the Opera' on Broadway and became a 'Phantom' fanatic. I always thought it unfair to give such a beautiful name to Anne's (supposed) rival. In all honesty, however, I had completely forgotten about Christine Stuart until after I posted the story on ff.net. Driving home from work (when I have most of my epiphanies) I suddenly realized my mistake and knew immediately that some one was going to call me on it. Congratulations! You're the first one! I won't change the name, but I'll try to reconcile it with Anne. As for Pat, I just hit a bump in the road. I'm hoping that, while I write this, the little wheels of my mind will start turning for Pat's next chapter.
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"Yes, Mrs. Spurgeon. I'll have a talk with Christine. I'm sure you won't see her running through the fields anymore. You're right, of course. She should know better. I'll see you in church on Sunday. Goodbye."
Rilla Ford closed the door and heaved a sigh of relief. Ken looked at her and chuckled.
"That spiteful old biddy," she said. Her husband was a bit taken aback by the namecalling.
"Now, Rilla, why don't you calm down?"
"Oh, I know I shouldn't call people names. It is very childish of me. But how dare she come over here and criticize my children! Chris is only fifteen years old. Why shouldn't she run through the fields? I don't care if she dances naked in the moonlight!"
"Yes, you do."
"Well, yes, I suppose I do. But I can't make Chris be anything but herself. Maybe Josie Spurgeon wants Chris to be like her daughter, Mabel. Married at the age of sixteen and a mother of five by the time she's twenty- three. And let's not forget the other four that came along after that."
"Rilla, now you're being spiteful. You know Mabel Blewett is one of the nicest women in Avonlea."
"Of course I do. I never thought a descendant of Josie Pye could be so nice. But would you want Chris to be like that? Mabel used to be full of life until she married that Andy Blewett. That shiftless good for nothing ruined her life. All because Josie Spurgeon didn't want her daughter to be an old maid like she almost was. Like she would have been if she hadn't married Moody Spurgeon after his first wife died."
"Rilla, what's wrong with you? I've never heard you be so critical."
"Oh, I don't know. I've been feeling so strange lately. Maybe it's all this business about Europe. Do you really think there will be war, Ken?"
Ken was torn between wanting to protect his wife and telling her his true opinion. All the news pointed to the possibility of war in Europe again. Ken absentmindedly fingered the scar on his cheek as his thoughts drifted to Walter and Matthew, his sons. Matthew was only thirteen. Surely the war, if there was a war, would be over before Matthew was old enough to go. But Walter was an entirely different matter. He would be eighteen next year and Ken knew that, if war broke out, Walter would be one of the first boys in Avonlea to volunteer.
Rilla watched her husband carefully. When she saw him running his finger along that scar, she knew the answer. She also knew he was going to lie to her. Well, if that was the way he wanted it, that's the way it would be. She could pretend to believe him. She wanted to believe what he was about to say. It made her life much easier.
"I think this world has had enough of wars, my Rilla," he finally said. There, now. That wasn't a lie at all. Ken was of the opinion that this world had had enough of wars. Rilla knew this wasn't a direct answer, but she accepted it without question and changed the subject back to Mrs. Spurgeon's wagging tongue. A conversation about Josie Spurgeon was, after all, preferable to a conversation about war.
"I suppose this is what comes of living in a small town," Rilla sighed. "You can't sneeze around here without some gossip spreading the word that you have double pneumonia and will most likely be dead by the end of the week."
She started to make her way into the kitchen and prepare supper. Ken followed her.
"Would you rather we still live in Toronto?" Ken questioned, knowing the answer already, but wanting to snap his wife out of her present mood. Rilla's response was emphatic.
"No, no, no. It was nice enough for the first year, but, when all is said and done, I prefer a small town to raise children in. I'm glad that we came to Avonlea, Ken. And it's so wonderful to live in the house where my own mother was a girl. You know, we've lived here for almost eleven years and I love Green Gables more than I did when we first got here. And we're practically next door to Di and Jack and their children."
"You sound as if you're trying to sell me on the idea all over again, Rilla. You forget that the idea to move here and start a newspaper was mine from the beginning."
Rilla grinned. Ken may have had the idea, but Rilla had convinced him to go through with it. Now, over ten years later, Ken was the owner and editor of the 'Avonlea Chronicle'. Under his guidance, the paper had become a huge success. He had also written two novels since they moved to Avonlea and both were considered fine works. All in all, the Fords had done very well for themselves.
The one fly in Rilla's ointment was the fact that she wasn't close to the rest of her family. Mother, Father, Jem, and Faith were still in the Glen. Jerry and Nan had settled in Shrewsbury. And Shirley had gone off with his wife, Aurelie, to Vancouver of all places! Clear across Canada! If Rilla didn't have Di so close, she might have gone mad. Really, it was dreadful the way people just scattered to the four corners of the earth these days. Rilla hated to think of her own children leaving some day.
"I wonder where Chis is?" Ken asked suddenly. "Isn't it her turn to help with the supper?"
Before Rilla could reply, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house. Rilla and Ken exchanged knowing glances. That sound could mean only one thing. Their youngest daughter was home.
Chris rushed into the kitchen, her face flushed from running. Rilla looked at her with mildly admonishing hazel eyes as Chris began to wash.
"I'm sorry, mother. I forgot tonight was my night to help with the supper. I promise I'll be home early every night for the rest of my life."
Rilla managed to bite back a smile at her daughter's theatrical promise. She knew how likely it was that such a promise would be kept. A small lecture was in order and Rilla proceeded to give it.
"You would do well, Christine, to not let such things slip your memory so often. Wasn't it just last week that you 'forgot' to get the things I asked you to pick up at the store?"
"And the week before that you 'forgot' to deliver your route of papers," put in her father.
"I'm sorry," Chris said again. Her parents merely smiled in reply and Chris knew she was forgiven.
"Here, Chris. Will you start on the pie?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the meek reply. Chris immediately went to work under Rilla's watchful eye. Unlike Leslie, who was a born cook, Chris struggled with the task and had to be watched closely. Once, she had put salt in a pie instead of sugar. There had been no dessert that night.
No more was said about Chris being late. She had been mildly rebuked and, in Rilla's opinion, that was enough for such a minor offense. Why drag it out? As Chris and Rilla prepared supper, Ken sat at the kitchen table and talked to them. Once in a while, he helped Rilla with a chore. In fact, he had just started peeling potatoes when Walter came in the kitchen door. Matthew followed close behind. They both sat down at the table and were promptly handed knives of their own. They looked at their mother questioningly.
"It won't kill you to help," she said, not unkindly. Matthew, the serious one, immediately began peeling. Walter grinned and winked at his mother before picking up a potato and lazily peeling off the strip in one long brown curl. Had she not been concentrating on the pie so hard, Chris would've stopped and watched her older brother. She never could understand how he did that.
"Where's Leslie?" asked Father. Walter grimaced. His twin sister was not a favorite subject of his.
"She's over at the Pike's, talking to Sara," Matthew replied, referring to Gus and Felicity's nineteen year old daughter. Walter snorted contemptuously.
"A likely story. She's only over there to try and get Will Pike's attention."
"Walter, what a thing to say about your sister!" Mother admonished, despite the fact that she knew it to be true. Leslie was a little too boy crazy for her liking.
"I'm sorry, Mother, but it's true. Will is like some sort of challenge to her. He doesn't pay any attention to her except to be polite. I think it drives her crazy. He's the only boy in Avonlea who isn't at her beck and call. Well, besides me."
"Don't you think it's possible that she might really be interested in Will?" asked Mother. Chris, whose ears had perked up at the mention of Will's name, waited breathlessly for Walter's answer. Despite the fact that he and his twin didn't get along, no one knew Leslie better than Walter did. What if Leslie really did like Will? Would she be able to get his attention someday?
"No, Mother, I don't think Leslie is really interested in Will in the slightest. Even if she were, it wouldn't be any use. Will told me the other day that he's been seeing a girl for some time and it seems they have quite a romance going."
"Really? That's strange. Felicity didn't mention anything about it to me."
"That's because she doesn't know. No body knows except me. He wouldn't even tell me the girl's name. But he said that, since I was his best friend, he just wanted to let me know. I shouldn't have said anything about it. It's supposed to be a secret."
"Don't worry, Walter. It won't leave this house," Father assured him. Mother nodded in agreement, then looked at her other two children.
"I won't tell anyone," Matthew said with a grave voice.
"You're secret's safe with me, Walter," Chris tried to be serious, but couldn't keep the sparkle out of her eyes. She turned back to the pie she was concocting, totally oblivious to the knowing glances her brother kept giving her.
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A/N: Okay, all for now. I hope to have another chapter soon. Please review. I love reviews.
Anonymous 327: I'm so glad you reviewed my story and even more glad that you liked it! I think the reason for them being back in Avonlea will be revealed in this chapter, along with some other background information.
Marzoog: Yay! You followed me here! I'm glad you like this story so far. It's a little frightening, treading on such sacred ground. At least I know I have my faithful friends to help me along.
Ruby Gillis: Dear, dear girl. My most faithfulest of faithful reviewers. Here's the story behind the name of Christine. See, I've loved that name ever since I saw 'Phantom of the Opera' on Broadway and became a 'Phantom' fanatic. I always thought it unfair to give such a beautiful name to Anne's (supposed) rival. In all honesty, however, I had completely forgotten about Christine Stuart until after I posted the story on ff.net. Driving home from work (when I have most of my epiphanies) I suddenly realized my mistake and knew immediately that some one was going to call me on it. Congratulations! You're the first one! I won't change the name, but I'll try to reconcile it with Anne. As for Pat, I just hit a bump in the road. I'm hoping that, while I write this, the little wheels of my mind will start turning for Pat's next chapter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Yes, Mrs. Spurgeon. I'll have a talk with Christine. I'm sure you won't see her running through the fields anymore. You're right, of course. She should know better. I'll see you in church on Sunday. Goodbye."
Rilla Ford closed the door and heaved a sigh of relief. Ken looked at her and chuckled.
"That spiteful old biddy," she said. Her husband was a bit taken aback by the namecalling.
"Now, Rilla, why don't you calm down?"
"Oh, I know I shouldn't call people names. It is very childish of me. But how dare she come over here and criticize my children! Chris is only fifteen years old. Why shouldn't she run through the fields? I don't care if she dances naked in the moonlight!"
"Yes, you do."
"Well, yes, I suppose I do. But I can't make Chris be anything but herself. Maybe Josie Spurgeon wants Chris to be like her daughter, Mabel. Married at the age of sixteen and a mother of five by the time she's twenty- three. And let's not forget the other four that came along after that."
"Rilla, now you're being spiteful. You know Mabel Blewett is one of the nicest women in Avonlea."
"Of course I do. I never thought a descendant of Josie Pye could be so nice. But would you want Chris to be like that? Mabel used to be full of life until she married that Andy Blewett. That shiftless good for nothing ruined her life. All because Josie Spurgeon didn't want her daughter to be an old maid like she almost was. Like she would have been if she hadn't married Moody Spurgeon after his first wife died."
"Rilla, what's wrong with you? I've never heard you be so critical."
"Oh, I don't know. I've been feeling so strange lately. Maybe it's all this business about Europe. Do you really think there will be war, Ken?"
Ken was torn between wanting to protect his wife and telling her his true opinion. All the news pointed to the possibility of war in Europe again. Ken absentmindedly fingered the scar on his cheek as his thoughts drifted to Walter and Matthew, his sons. Matthew was only thirteen. Surely the war, if there was a war, would be over before Matthew was old enough to go. But Walter was an entirely different matter. He would be eighteen next year and Ken knew that, if war broke out, Walter would be one of the first boys in Avonlea to volunteer.
Rilla watched her husband carefully. When she saw him running his finger along that scar, she knew the answer. She also knew he was going to lie to her. Well, if that was the way he wanted it, that's the way it would be. She could pretend to believe him. She wanted to believe what he was about to say. It made her life much easier.
"I think this world has had enough of wars, my Rilla," he finally said. There, now. That wasn't a lie at all. Ken was of the opinion that this world had had enough of wars. Rilla knew this wasn't a direct answer, but she accepted it without question and changed the subject back to Mrs. Spurgeon's wagging tongue. A conversation about Josie Spurgeon was, after all, preferable to a conversation about war.
"I suppose this is what comes of living in a small town," Rilla sighed. "You can't sneeze around here without some gossip spreading the word that you have double pneumonia and will most likely be dead by the end of the week."
She started to make her way into the kitchen and prepare supper. Ken followed her.
"Would you rather we still live in Toronto?" Ken questioned, knowing the answer already, but wanting to snap his wife out of her present mood. Rilla's response was emphatic.
"No, no, no. It was nice enough for the first year, but, when all is said and done, I prefer a small town to raise children in. I'm glad that we came to Avonlea, Ken. And it's so wonderful to live in the house where my own mother was a girl. You know, we've lived here for almost eleven years and I love Green Gables more than I did when we first got here. And we're practically next door to Di and Jack and their children."
"You sound as if you're trying to sell me on the idea all over again, Rilla. You forget that the idea to move here and start a newspaper was mine from the beginning."
Rilla grinned. Ken may have had the idea, but Rilla had convinced him to go through with it. Now, over ten years later, Ken was the owner and editor of the 'Avonlea Chronicle'. Under his guidance, the paper had become a huge success. He had also written two novels since they moved to Avonlea and both were considered fine works. All in all, the Fords had done very well for themselves.
The one fly in Rilla's ointment was the fact that she wasn't close to the rest of her family. Mother, Father, Jem, and Faith were still in the Glen. Jerry and Nan had settled in Shrewsbury. And Shirley had gone off with his wife, Aurelie, to Vancouver of all places! Clear across Canada! If Rilla didn't have Di so close, she might have gone mad. Really, it was dreadful the way people just scattered to the four corners of the earth these days. Rilla hated to think of her own children leaving some day.
"I wonder where Chis is?" Ken asked suddenly. "Isn't it her turn to help with the supper?"
Before Rilla could reply, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house. Rilla and Ken exchanged knowing glances. That sound could mean only one thing. Their youngest daughter was home.
Chris rushed into the kitchen, her face flushed from running. Rilla looked at her with mildly admonishing hazel eyes as Chris began to wash.
"I'm sorry, mother. I forgot tonight was my night to help with the supper. I promise I'll be home early every night for the rest of my life."
Rilla managed to bite back a smile at her daughter's theatrical promise. She knew how likely it was that such a promise would be kept. A small lecture was in order and Rilla proceeded to give it.
"You would do well, Christine, to not let such things slip your memory so often. Wasn't it just last week that you 'forgot' to get the things I asked you to pick up at the store?"
"And the week before that you 'forgot' to deliver your route of papers," put in her father.
"I'm sorry," Chris said again. Her parents merely smiled in reply and Chris knew she was forgiven.
"Here, Chris. Will you start on the pie?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the meek reply. Chris immediately went to work under Rilla's watchful eye. Unlike Leslie, who was a born cook, Chris struggled with the task and had to be watched closely. Once, she had put salt in a pie instead of sugar. There had been no dessert that night.
No more was said about Chris being late. She had been mildly rebuked and, in Rilla's opinion, that was enough for such a minor offense. Why drag it out? As Chris and Rilla prepared supper, Ken sat at the kitchen table and talked to them. Once in a while, he helped Rilla with a chore. In fact, he had just started peeling potatoes when Walter came in the kitchen door. Matthew followed close behind. They both sat down at the table and were promptly handed knives of their own. They looked at their mother questioningly.
"It won't kill you to help," she said, not unkindly. Matthew, the serious one, immediately began peeling. Walter grinned and winked at his mother before picking up a potato and lazily peeling off the strip in one long brown curl. Had she not been concentrating on the pie so hard, Chris would've stopped and watched her older brother. She never could understand how he did that.
"Where's Leslie?" asked Father. Walter grimaced. His twin sister was not a favorite subject of his.
"She's over at the Pike's, talking to Sara," Matthew replied, referring to Gus and Felicity's nineteen year old daughter. Walter snorted contemptuously.
"A likely story. She's only over there to try and get Will Pike's attention."
"Walter, what a thing to say about your sister!" Mother admonished, despite the fact that she knew it to be true. Leslie was a little too boy crazy for her liking.
"I'm sorry, Mother, but it's true. Will is like some sort of challenge to her. He doesn't pay any attention to her except to be polite. I think it drives her crazy. He's the only boy in Avonlea who isn't at her beck and call. Well, besides me."
"Don't you think it's possible that she might really be interested in Will?" asked Mother. Chris, whose ears had perked up at the mention of Will's name, waited breathlessly for Walter's answer. Despite the fact that he and his twin didn't get along, no one knew Leslie better than Walter did. What if Leslie really did like Will? Would she be able to get his attention someday?
"No, Mother, I don't think Leslie is really interested in Will in the slightest. Even if she were, it wouldn't be any use. Will told me the other day that he's been seeing a girl for some time and it seems they have quite a romance going."
"Really? That's strange. Felicity didn't mention anything about it to me."
"That's because she doesn't know. No body knows except me. He wouldn't even tell me the girl's name. But he said that, since I was his best friend, he just wanted to let me know. I shouldn't have said anything about it. It's supposed to be a secret."
"Don't worry, Walter. It won't leave this house," Father assured him. Mother nodded in agreement, then looked at her other two children.
"I won't tell anyone," Matthew said with a grave voice.
"You're secret's safe with me, Walter," Chris tried to be serious, but couldn't keep the sparkle out of her eyes. She turned back to the pie she was concocting, totally oblivious to the knowing glances her brother kept giving her.
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A/N: Okay, all for now. I hope to have another chapter soon. Please review. I love reviews.
