As Meggie raced breathlessly toward the fields, she met Gervase, Uncle Patrick's hired man, coming in her direction.
"Gervase!" she cried, her high voice carrying on the still air. "What has happened?"
Gervase was puffing like a steam engine, but managed to gasp out: "Matty—fell—leg," before rushing past her.
Meggie never hesitated for an instant; she flew onward, coming at last to the still form of her twin. For once heedless of the beauty of the goldening fields and clear blue autumn sky, she pushed blindly past her father and uncle and flung herself to her knees beside Matty.
"Matty," she gasped, fear gripping her heart at his still, white face and closed eyes. "Matty, say something!"
"Meggie," said Shirley's deep voice as his arms came down and encircled her. "What are you doing here, child?"
Meggie never took her eyes from Matty, only now vaguely noticing Uncle Patrick pressing a makeshift bandage onto Matty's leg, and the blood that stained it. "What happened?" she whispered.
Shirley's arms tightened around her. "Matty was on top of the wagon, packing down the straw with the pitchfork. He lost his balance, tumbled down along with the fork, and landed on the tines." Even Papa's strong voice trembled a little as he said those last words.
"Is he—going to be all right?" Meggie choked out.
"Of course he is," Uncle Patrick said gently, looking up and forcing a smile. "Gervase has gone for the doctor, and he'll patch Matty up in no time."
Meggie gulped down a few tears that would threaten to spill. She couldn't cry now! She had to be strong for Matty. "Really?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Meggie," Uncle Patrick said seriously.
And somehow, Meggie knew it was true. She finally tore her eyes from Matty's still face and looked up at Shirley, noticing the strain around his mouth and the worry in his eyes. "Why is he so quiet?" she asked.
Shirley's mouth tightened as he answered. "He passed out from the pain." Seeing her eyes fill with tears again at the thought of her twin being in that much pain, he hastened to reassure her. "But don't worry, dearest. Uncle Patrick's right. Doc Martin will set him right again, you'll see. There's no need to fret."
Meggie nodded. She understood what Papa was telling her: Be brave, don't break down, don't give in to nameless fears. She knelt down by Matty and took one of his hands in both her own, holding it as closely as though she could pour her own strength into him that way. Papa knelt down behind her, his hand tightly on her shoulder, adding his support. They stayed like that until Uncle Patrick looked up with relief.
"Doc's coming."
The other two turned their heads to see Gervase sprinting toward them, followed by the short, plump figure of Avonlea's doctor. Doc Martin nodded briefly to the men, frowned at Meggie, and dropped down by Matty's leg, removing the blood-stained bandage so he could examine the damage.
Meggie felt sick to her stomach at the sight of all the blood, especially when combined with the odd angle her twin's leg was bent at, but she wouldn't let him down by giving in to cowardice, so although she was white to the lips, she continued to hold his hand and smooth his hair while the doctor examined him.
Finally, Doc Martin looked up. "Broken," he said shortly, his brusque manner a startling contrast to his gentle hands as they wrapped a clean bandage around the leg. "And gashed quite seriously in three places. We'll have to get him back to the house before I can set it."
"Will he be all right, Doc?" Shirley asked quietly.
The doctor hesitated, then nodded. "Should be, provided the gashes don't get infected. Young limbs mend easily, so I'm not too worried about the bone. Not to worry, Blythe. Give him three weeks to a month, and he should be back on his feet, though he'll be limping for a while after that."
The lines of strain melted slowly from around Shirley's mouth, and he gently lifted his son onto the makeshift stretcher Uncle Patrick and Gervase had created out of their coats and a couple fence rails.
Meggie, relieved that Matty was going to get better, but still terribly upset over his pain, never once let go of his hand, not while they were lifting him onto the stretcher, and not while they were walking slowly and awkwardly back to the house.
He was starting to come 'round by the time they reached the yard, moaning a little and flailing his free arm, and by the time he was carried into the parlor and Doc pried his hand away from Meggie's and shooed her into the kitchen, saying it was no sight for women or children, her own hand was red from the fevered grip Matty had had on it.
Uncle Patrick ducked out of the parlor right after Meggie. He smiled comfortingly at her worried face.
"Don't you fret, little woman. Doc Martin may be old-fashioned in some of his ideas, but he's a top-notch doctor. Matty will be just fine, you'll see."
"I just wish I could be there with him," Meggie replied, chewing her lower lip nervously.
"They'll be done soon enough, and then you'll be able to spend every moment with him, if you want. You're going to be invaluable to him while he's mending, you know. You'll have to be his legs, take care of him. No sense in wearing yourself out with needless fussing now."
Meggie smiled at him, her first smile since seeing Matty's crumpled body in the fields. "Thank you, Uncle Patrick."
"You're welcome," he answered, his blue eyes crinkling up as he smiled back at her. "Now, you just wait here, and I'm going to run home and bring back your Auntie Di and Polly. I think your papa will be glad to have family around once everything's over."
Thinking this over, it sounded somewhat ominous to Meggie, but knowing that Uncle Patrick was right and she couldn't do anyone any good by fretting, she busied herself with putting the teakettle on and slicing some bread, in case anybody was going to want anything to eat later. She doubted it, but at least it gave her hands something to do and kept her from dwelling too much on Matty's white face, his deathly stillness, the blood covering his leg, and how scared for him she really was.
She was filling the teapot when Auntie Di came in the kitchen door at a run. The older woman skidded to a halt upon seeing her niece, and her arms came out to enfold the little girl in a warm, comforting hug.
Meggie had been holding herself together quite well up to that point, but nestled in Auntie Di's soothing arms, she couldn't help but let a few tears slip down her cheeks.
"He looked so pale," she sniffed. That wasn't at all what she wanted to say, but somehow Auntie Di, with all her wise mother-lore, understood the unspoken fears in that simple statement.
"I know," was all she said, holding Meggie a little tighter.
Just two words, but somehow they helped immeasurably. Meggie straightened up, wiped her eyes, and managed a watery smile for the worried-looking Polly.
"Oh Meggie," Polly whispered, sympathetic tears filling her own eyes. "Has it been very dreadful?"
"He's going to be fine," Meggie said firmly.
"Of course he is," said Uncle Patrick cheerfully, resting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Meggie-love, do I see tea? What a treasure of a niece you are. Would you pour your old uncle a cup?"
Meggie did so, glad to have a practical task. She poured tea for both Auntie Di and Uncle Patrick, and Polly helped her fix a pitcher of lemonade for the two of them—Auntie Di considering tea unhealthy for little girls.
The four of them sat around the kitchen table, making spasmodic conversation while each listening for any noises coming from the parlor. Eventually, all pretense failed, and they sat quietly, idly playing with their teacups or lemonade glasses while waiting for someone to emerge.
Finally, Shirley entered the kitchen, his face drawn and haggard, and looking about ten years older.
"Doc set the bone and cleaned and bandaged the gashes," he said hoarsely, dropping into a chair. "He gave him a sedative to help him sleep, so he's resting peacefully now."
Meggie yearned to run to her twin, but it was her Papa who needed her help right now, so instead she jumped up and poured him a cup of tea. Before she could give it to him, Uncle Patrick intercepted it and added a dollop of something from a pocket flask that smelled very strongly. He winked at Meggie and allowed her to give it to her father.
"Thank you, dear," Shirley murmured, stroking Meggie's hair with one hand as he took the cup in his other. At the first sip, color came back into his cheeks and he coughed.
"Doc wants him to keep completely off his feet for twenty-one days," he continued in a stronger voice, "and build back up to walking unaided very slowly. It'll be at least two months before he's back up to full strength." He looked at Uncle Patrick. "I don't know what we're going to do about harvest with Matty out of action until mid-November. I suppose I could hire another hand, but this late in the season, I don't know where I could find a reliable one …" his voice trailed off disconsolately, and he gulped some more tea.
"I'll help, Papa," Meggie offered at once. She had only done field work once before, two autumns ago during an especially hectic harvest. She hated it, but if Papa needed her, she wouldn't be a shirker. "I'll stay home from school—I know Miss Craig will understand."
"I'll help, too," volunteered Polly. This was an even greater sacrifice for her than for Meggie—with two older brothers, Polly had never been needed in the fields, and loathed getting dirty.
Shirley smiled. "What troopers! Thank you for your unselfish offers, darlings, but I think we'll manage without taking you away from your studies. Besides, if we put both of you in the fields, we'll have nobody left to take care of the preserving and canning—and we can't leave Matty unattended all day long. No, we'll think of something else."
"I have an idea," said Auntie Di slowly.
The rest looked at her. "Well?" Uncle Patrick said finally. "Do we get to hear it?"
Instead of answering, Auntie Di looked at the two girls. "Girls, I think I hear Matty stirring in the parlor. Would you go check on him?"
"But we want to hear your idea," Polly protested. "Besides, Uncle Shirley said Matty was given a sedative—he won't wake up for a while."
"Polly!" Uncle Patrick said sternly. "Don't talk back to your mother. Go into the parlor at once."
Forgetting her advanced years and great maturity, Polly pouted like any three-year-old, but rose and did as she was told. Meggie, eager to see her brother, was already at the door, and the two girls went into the parlor, where, sure enough, Matty was sound asleep on the sofa, his leg set and bound in a hard plaster shell.
"He looks better," Meggie breathed, her last fear laid to rest by seeing his peaceful face and the steady rise and fall of his chest.
"I'm glad," said Polly sincerely, "but I wish we could have stayed in the kitchen. What's so dreadful about Mum's idea that we can't hear it? I wish they wouldn't insist on treating me like a child!"
Meggie was too wrapped up in Matty to do more than smile at Polly's italics. She was slightly curious about Auntie Di's idea, but far more interested in watching the color creep up into Matty's face.
Polly grumbled a bit more, but when she saw that Meggie was holding Matty's hand, her eyes fixed hungrily on his face, completely ignoring her cousin, the older girl finally fell silent.
Shortly after that, Auntie Di and Uncle Patrick looked in, pronounced themselves relieved that Matty looked so well, and the three Samuels left the three Blythes alone at last.
"Well, daughter dear, this has been a rather eventful day, hasn't it?" Shirley asked Meggie wryly, sitting down beside her.
"I'm just glad Matty's going to be all right," Meggie said, a little quiver in her voice at the thought of what it would have been like if Matty weren't going to be all right.
Shirley put his arm around her and squeezed. "So am I," a tremble even in his strong voice. He'd had his own fearsome possibilities to deal with when he saw his son—his and Cecily's son—fall off the wagon and lie on the ground so still and bloody. "Thank God," he added under his breath. He couldn't have born losing Matty as well as Cecily … he simply couldn't have.
Meggie felt the shudder pass through Papa's body, but a moment later, he was himself again, smiling cheerily at her.
"How would you feel, little woman, to having company this fall and winter?"
"That would depend on the company," Meggie answered cautiously.
Shirley laughed. "That's my canny girl. Specifically, how would you feel about your cousin Johnny coming and staying with us for the next few months?"
"Johnny?" Meggie asked in surprise. He was the last person on her mind right now. "Why?"
"Your Auntie Nan mentioned to Auntie Di the other day that she thought a change of scene would do Johnny good. He's been … restless … at home lately. Auntie Nan was thinking about seeing if Grandmother and Grandfather wanted to keep him for a little bit, but as we are in desperate need of another field hand, I decided that—as long as my children agreed—I would phone Auntie Nan and see if she would let Johnny come to us."
Meggie suspected there was slightly more to the story than simply what Papa was telling her—otherwise why couldn't have Auntie Di said all that in front of her and Polly?—but she didn't trouble over it. "But Papa—he's a city boy. Wouldn't it be easier to hire someone who knows what he's doing?"
Shirley shrugged. "Easier, perhaps, but I'd rather have my nephew here than a stranger. Besides, I think it would do Johnny some good to stay with us. What do you say?"
Meggie reflected on it. Johnny was undoubtedly the least attractive of all her cousins—but he had rescued her that awful night at Ingleside—and remembering the look in his eyes the day she and Uncle Bruce found him in the strawberries, the look of someone almost frantic for approval—she suddenly felt herself overwhelmed in a wave of pity. Yes, they would do Johnny some good, she decided.
"I say yes," she said decidedly.
"There's the girl," Shirley said approvingly. "I knew you would."
Matty suddenly stirred—sighed—raised his free hand—moaned a little—and opened his brown eyes.
"Papa? Meggie?" he asked faintly. "What happened?"
The two set to work explaining the events of the day, relieved that they were all together and (mostly) in one piece to do so.
Author's Note: I am very sorry about leaving you all hanging for so long with this chapter. My husband and I just found out a couple months ago that we are expecting our first child at the end of October. While we are thrilled, the shock of the discovery drove everything else out of my head for a while. Things are settling down now, (and morning sickness is mostly gone), so hopefully I will be around a bit more frequently, though I doubt I will be updating and reviewing with anything like the kind of regularity I had in the past. Take comfort though, it will only get worse once the baby is actually here!