Thank you to everyone who has read or commented.

Back when I was considering Marilla and John's marriage I needed to put a hurdle in their way for the sake of drama. I settled on a special needs child.

A few people have enquired if I am close to a special needs child either as a parent, sister or aunt. I therefore make this full disclosure: while I have friends with special needs children, I have none in my personal life. This story springs from empathy and imagination alone.

I imagined how hard and heartbreaking it would be to have a child like Jamie back in the 1850s. Let's face it, this is a time when if you wanted a slice of bread and butter you not only had to make the bread, but the butter too. Housework was hard enough without the added strain of looking after a child like Jamie. There was no understanding of Down Syndrome. Mongolism, its initial name, was not described until 1866. There was no in-home support.
Children like Jamie were placed in asylums to languish until death.

Jamie had to die. There was no way I could have given you an adult Jamie.
One common symptom of Down Syndrome is congenital heart disease. As a result, children died,
usually of heart attacks, aged about 9.
Their life span has only improved in the last 40 years or so.

That last chapter was short and abrupt I know. I wanted to convey the sense of shock that
Marilla, John, Mary and Eliza would have felt in that situation.

They had no warning either.

Eternal Angel

But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.*

The church bell tolled as the congregation walked to the graveyard. The coffin was as small as the body within. Marilla was stumbling along in a world of pain. Sometimes she had found Jamie too hard to bear. Now that he was gone, she felt nothing but guilt about the way she had behaved. He was an innocent, loving her without question. She wished she had been able to reciprocate that love unequivocally.

14 August

Dear Mrs Bartram

This is John Blythe writing on behalf of Marilla. I am sorry to inform you that our beautiful boy Jamie died in his sleep last week. Marilla is too upset to write, but I know you have been corresponding regularly and may have been wondering why she did not respond to your last letter. We are of course devastated. We adored our little boy. The house seems very quiet without him around.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your support for Marilla these last few months. I know she has thanked you herself, but I would like to add my sincere gratitude. Having a friend to confide in has been immeasurably helpful for her. I sincerely hope you two will remain close henceforth.

I expect Marilla will write more when she is able, until then I remain,

Your friend

John Blythe

A dishevelled Marilla lay in her bed, she felt ghastly. She had been weeping in bed for days. She had forgotten about Jamie momentarily and it had all come rushing back, bringing tears to her eyes, but all her hankies were sopping wet. She heard a step in the doorway, looked up and was dismayed to see a well-dressed woman standing there. She was dressed in a smart cream dress and had a beautiful hat upon her head. "Wh-who are you?" Marilla asked tremulously.

"I'm Alice."

It was as though Marilla turned to liquid as she sinuously poured into Alice's arms, weeping bitterly. Alice held her friend tightly. She was sorrowful to meet her in such a state. "Shh shh I'm here. I know, I know." She hugged Marilla tightly, comforting her through her pain and grief.

As Marilla's sobs died away, leaving her hiccupping intermittently, Alice drew her back. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look dreadful."

Marilla gave a rueful smile. "I know. I feel awful."

"I'm sure. Your dear husband is drawing a bath as we speak. Shall we?" And with that she led a dutiful Marilla down the stairs in a way she could never have imagined an hour ago.

Alice gently undressed Marilla and helped her into the bath. She scrubbed her back and watched while Marilla washed the rest. Then she led her back upstairs to get dressed.

"I feel human again, thank you."

"I think a walk is in order, don't you?" Alice suggested.

The two ladies walked out the door hand in hand, while John looked on in wonder. He had cajoled Marilla to get out and about to no avail. He hadn't been able to get her out of her bedroom since Jamie's funeral. She had barely made it through that; had retired to bed during the wake, and hadn't emerged since. Their respective mothers had been to visit, but she hadn't spoken to them, nor to the minister either. But it had taken Alice mere moments to get her up and about again. Such is the nature of a friend, he surmised.

The women strolled through the late summer sunshine. It seemed wrong somehow, all this glorious weather, when little Jamie wasn't there to enjoy it.

"Marilla dear, I am so terribly, terribly sorry, you know that. This is a horrendous time."

"Oh Alice, I wish you could have met him. He was such a dear little chap. I wish we had introduced our children to each other."

Alice smiled at her, "That would've been wonderful. But we didn't know how little time we had, did we?" They strolled along in companionable silence for a while longer.

"How on earth can you come and visit me?" Marilla broke the silence first.

"My marvellous Martha, that's how. She's been the most wonderful support to me. I mentioned that I wanted to come here to comfort you, and at once she agreed to mind the family while I'm away. I can only stay a day. It's too much work for her by herself."

"Please thank her for me, it is a lovely thing she has done.

"I'll be sure to. You're the reason we have her. I think she is happy enough with me, I am certainly trying to do right by her. We get on very well, apart from anything she is great company for me. You know how lonely it can be."

Marilla squeezed Alice's hand, "Yes, of course."

"Is it too soon to ask how you are?"

"How am I? I'm still in shock I think. It hasn't sunk in. I keep forgetting he's not around the next corner, that he's not around somewhere. Then it all comes flooding back and I…" She broke down in tears again. Alice silently handed her a handkerchief. "… and I feel so terribly guilty, you know."

"Guilty? Yes I suppose you would. It's natural, I'm sure. Though you have nothing to feel guilty for."

"Oh, I do. I do. I wasn't much of a mother to him."

Alice stopped and stood to face her. She took Marilla's hands in hers. "Marilla Blythe you did all you could for Jamie. No mother could have done more. You sustained and nurtured him in a way few people would. We both know how many people would have stuffed him in a home, one of those ghastly places where he would have had a life of privation and utter misery, confused and neglected. Keeping Jamie here with you was simultaneously the hardest and best thing you could ever have done. I will not have you berate yourself for being human. I won't."

Marilla listened with surprise to Alice's diatribe. "I, I… suppose… if you put it like that."

"I do put it like that. Come'ere and hug me."

The ladies turned around and went back home to coffee and cake. John was out in the barn, but he was keeping an eye out for their return. He was grateful for Alice's visit and wanted to speak with her too.

He made his way inside shortly after they returned. "Mr Blythe, how lovely to properly meet you."

"Mrs Bartram, likewise, I am sure."

Marilla interjected, "I think we three should be on first name terms, don't you? Alice, may I introduce my husband John, John, this is Alice Bartram." They bowed slightly at each other and relaxed. John sat down at the kitchen table.

"Are the girls around? I would so love to meet them too?"

"They're out visiting, but they should be home soon." John replied.

"How're they coping?"

"I think they're very sad. We have all been mourning in our own ways, of course."

"I think perhaps you need to mourn together too, y'know. I just think in these times of sorrow the shared support of your family is a wonderful blessing."

Alice stayed and chatted with them and was an enormous source of comfort for Marilla and John that afternoon. She had some words of wisdom to impart and they both felt better for having had her visit. She knew, as no one else could, their situation over the past years and she had an inkling of what they were going through now.

The children returned home and were introduced to Mrs Bartram and politely greeted her. For her part she was delighted to meet them, they seemed like lovely girls.

After a few hours she stood up. "Now I must be going. I have to get back home. John may I have a lift to the station?"

"Oh no! Please stay?"

"No, really I can't. Perhaps Marilla, you could come and visit me some day. I'd love to introduce you to Charlotte, and Martha too of course."

"I would love to, my dearest friend. That would be wonderful."

"I'll be in touch, my dear." They kissed and hugged, Alice climbed into the carriage and waved as John drove her away.

Marilla felt much better for Alice's short visit. She had put things into perspective. She would always feel guilty about poor wee Jamie, but she had done her best, and kept him with her, and really what more could she have done?

"Right" announced John about a week later "I think we all deserve a picnic at the beach."

The girls and Marilla looked up at him in shock "A holiday?"

"Yes. I think we all deserve a day out, don't we Eliza?" He picked her up and swung her around in a circle.

"Yes Papa" she replied, her eyes lighting up.

"Marilla," he declared "pack a picnic! We're off on an outing."

The water sparkled with the sun creating a myriad of tiny sparkling jewels upon the sea. The sunlight smote upon and incarnadined the shining, white, grassless faces of the sand dunes.** The girls hastily shucked their shoes and stockings off and ran shouting down the beach. Marilla and John strolled after them, hand in hand. "Jamie would have loved this."

John smiled at her, "he would've."

"I miss him."

"I do as well. He had a big heart, our little boy." Marilla leaned into John's shoulder, a tear twinkling in her eye.

"This is a happy day, Mar. No tears now."

"Yes, yes you're right." She said hastily wiping her tears away with her fingers. "Shall we set up the blanket here?"

"Looks as nice a place as any." John agreed.

The girls ran back up begging to go paddling. "May we Mama?"

"Yes of course you may, my darlings."

"Then we'll build a massive sand castle, shall we?"

"Oh yes Papa, that sounds like fun."

Marilla sat back and watched her happy family frolicking in the waves, John had joined the girls and was splashing them mercilessly, their excited laughter was echoing up the beach. She too had taken her shoes and stockings off and was enjoying the sensation of warm sand between her toes. It had been a long time since she had come to the beach. The sun was hot, so she put her parasol up to provide some shade. She could see her family running back up the beach towards her and the girls slid down to their knees next to her, their hair wild and their faces still wet with seawater.

"Are you thirsty girls? Do you want a drink?"

"Yes, please Mama."

Marilla poured out some water for them both and they drank it down thirstily. "May I have some more Mama?" Eliza asked politely.

"Of course."

"Are you hungry yet? I have some sandwiches here, and a cake for later."

"Not yet" they called over their shoulders, running back down the beach for another go.

"Let's surprise Papa" Mary whispered to Eliza.

"Yes, we have a score to settle", she whispered back.

John was kneeling down in the water, waiting for them to return from their drink. He was expecting reprisals because he had teased them mercilessly.

The three of them hooted again, Marilla was delighted to hear their mirth, it had been a grim month for them all. This had been a splendid idea of John's, they all needed a break,

Marilla lay back on the warm sand, her thoughts drifting back to Jamie as they so often did in quieter moments. They'd bought him down here one day when he was small. He had had a wonderful day, paddling in the shallows with her. His bare little bottom reflected in the sea. She wasn't sure, no he hadn't been walking then. She must have been holding his hands. He had been laughing too, but as with anything to do with Jamie, there had been that underlying sorrow. A boy his age should have been swimming with his friends, something Jamie never learnt to do.

Jamie had had a protected life, for obvious reasons, and that meant he never had friends his own age, Marilla wondered if he missed them. Perhaps he never had the maturity to appreciate the lack. His family provided all that he needed in that regard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Eliza announcing that she was hungry, and could they have lunch now. "Oh, I'm sorry darling, I was miles away, what did you say?"

"I asked if we could have lunch? I'm starving."

"Of course." Marilla dug around in the picnic basket and fished out a sandwich for Eliza who plopped down next to her to eat it.

"Were you thinking about Jamie?"

"Hmm? Yes, I was."

"I think about him all the time. I miss him Mama."

"Me too sweetheart. He would have liked today I think."

"Yes."

"What do you miss most?"

"I just miss reading him stories. He always used to laugh when I used funny voices for the characters. You never knew if he really understood all the words, but he liked the voices I used. What about you Mama, what do you miss?"

"I miss nursing him to sleep, that was always a special time for us both. You know he was most indignant when you turned up and I had to nurse you instead of him."

Eliza smiled, "I bet. He wasn't very good at sharing, was he?"

"No, that was something he never learnt the knack for, that's for sure and certain."

"What are you two discussing?" John enquired as he and Mary arrived for lunch.

"Jamie." said Eliza

"Oh yes, Jamie."

"We're discussing what we most miss about him. What about you Mary?"

Mary burst into tears, "I think I was a horrible big sister to him. I never spent much time with him, I just treated him like an annoying little brother."

"Well darling that wasn't always true, you know. When you two were little you were besotted with him, and he with you."

"I was?"

"Oh yes, you played together so sweetly. Remember John?"

"Yes, you were lovely together."

Mary felt much better hearing that, she had been feeling terribly guilty about the way she had behaved towards him, if she hadn't always been awful, then maybe she wasn't so bad after all. She smiled, and her parents were pleased to see it, she had been rather quiet of late.

"And you Papa? What do you miss?"

"Well I miss having another man about the place, I'm rather outnumbered by women nowadays."

"Oh John," Marilla leant over to kiss him,

"But seriously I miss his cheeky smiles and his sense of mischief, I know he created a great deal of work for you Mar. but you have to admit he was fun to be around." They all smiled at that. He had made them all laugh through some pretty bleak times.

"Have you finished lunch?" Marilla enquired after a pause. "I'd like to go for a stroll along the beach. Anyone coming with me?"

"That sounds like a splendid idea Mar. Shall we look for shells girls?"

John and Marilla strolled hand in hand along the beach, while the girls ran rings around them, bending over to pick up pretty shells and running back to show their mother. Marilla kept the most beautiful as a keepsake.

"This was a wonderful idea, John. Thank you for suggesting it."

"I thought we needed it. Just the four of us, a time to grieve and to remember Jamie and to take stock of how lucky we are."

"We were lucky to have him, weren't we?"

"Yes, he was our little angel. Here on earth for such a short time; an angel in heaven for eternity."

After their walk John announced it was time to build a sand castle. He and the girls knelt in the wet sand and built a castle with many turrets and bridges over the moat. The girls used their sea shells to decorate the towers.

Later sunburnt and covered in sand they made their way back up the beach to the carriage for a sleepy ride home.

* Matthew 19:14
** Anne's House of Dreams