"Here you are Mama, I bought some sugar."
"Sugar?"
"Yes, twenty pounds, will that be enough?"
"Twenty pounds of brown sugar?" queried Constance.
When David came in for tea she said, "You'll have to talk to him David."
"Oh, what was it this time?"
"Brown sugar, twenty pounds of poor quality brown sugar. Honestly David we can't afford his courting style. This is his third ridiculous purchase this week. Tell him to ask the woman out and be done with it."
After tea David cornered Matthew in the barn. "Who is she son?"
"Who is who Papa?"
"The object of your affections, the one you can't talk to, the one you're buying all this expensive useless stuff from. Please, for all our sakes, ask her to go for a walk or something."
Matthew had noticed her in the mercantile a few weeks prior and had asked around. Nancy Campbell was a widow. Her husband had been a farm labourer but had died in a farm accident. She had two young daughters. Matthew was smitten. He spied Nancy over at the bolts of material and hid behind the sacks of grain to spy on her. The way she laughed, the way her auburn hair caught the sunlight, the sway of her hips, her impressive chest, were all mesmerising to him.
Matthew was in town again the next day, twisting his hat into a tight knot, before resolutely striding into the mercantile. He looked around cautiously and spied Nancy over by the rakes, but then his courage failed him, and he darted back to the seed and pretended to be avidly weighing up his options.
Summoning all his courage again, he emerged from behind the grain and walked over to Nancy. "Good day Mr Cuthbert." Nancy had noticed Matthew came to the store regularly and was buying up all manner of stuff, usually out of season, garden rakes and hayseed in winter for instance. She assumed he was eccentric.
"Good day Mrs Campbell um, that is to say, um." As he stuttered his question out, she came to the realisation that he was smitten, and the object of his desires was none other than herself. She had a good chance to investigate him then, he was not a bad looking fellow. He had soft brown hair down to his shoulders, and a full brown beard, admittedly with flecks of grey in it. His brown eyes looked very kind. He was in short, a gentle man.
Matthew continued to stutter out his question, never quite getting to the point.
"Yes? Can I help you?" she tried to help him.
The staff were watching his futile attempts to ask her out with amusement and growing frustration, eventually Mrs Cartwright walked over and motioned to Nancy "A word if I may interrupt, Nancy?" Nancy walked over to her, "Just put the poor man, and us, out of his misery and ask if he will walk you home?" Nancy nodded and walked back to Matthew.
"Mr Cuthbert, would you do me the honour of walking me home this afternoon?"
The look of relief on Matthews face was palpable. "I would be honoured, Mrs Campbell."
Accordingly, having hung around town all afternoon, imagining erudite conversations with the woman of his dreams; Matthew Cuthbert turned up at the mercantile again and asked Nancy if he could accompany her home.
Nancy gathered her goods, put her hat and Matt helped her put her coat on. He had never touched a woman other than his sister or mother and he thrilled to inadvertently touch her shoulders. She felt softer than Marilla. "Shall we?" he offered her his arm and the two of them walked out of the mercantile and down the street, Matthew Cuthbert looking like he did this every day of the week, although his intestines had turned to liquid with anxiety.
Matthew was just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, acutely aware of her arm in his, the warm feeling of having a woman, this woman no less, in close proximity to his body.
Her smell.
Her touch.
The sound of her breath.
The light on her hair.
Her perfume.
The feel of her coat and her flesh below.
Taking in all these sensations, speech was beyond him.
"So, Mr Cuthbert tell me about yourself?" Nancy broke the silence that threatened to engulf them for the totality of their short walk home.
"Oh, um" Matthew was stunned, he'd forgotten he was supposed to speak too. "Well, now let me see, I am a bachelor, I live at Green Gables in Avonlea, we farm potatoes mostly. I have a sister who is married and has three, no two children." At that he faltered, he missed Jamie too.
"I heard about your family's loss" Nancy reassured him, "that must have been a terrible shock."
"It was, Jamie was a gorgeous little boy. We all adored him."
"You must be close to your sister then?"
"Yes I am."
"Do you live at home still?"
"Yes, I live with my parents. What about you Mrs Campbell?"
"Well I used to be married but my husband died in a farming accident two years ago. He left me with two little girls Rebecca and Polly they are nine and five years old. I work at the mercantile to make ends meet. So, it seems we are both grieving at some level."
"Yes, though your loss was more devastating than mine, I'm sure."
"Well it's not a contest. I'm sure losing someone so young was a terrible blow. Oh, here we are, this is my humble abode." Matthew was shocked, it was a tumbledown shack on the edge of town. "It's not much, but it's home." She opened the door, Matthew could hear the rising voices of her daughters within. "Well I'll leave you here then. May I see you again?"
It became their habit, Matthew would pick Nancy up after work and walk her home, and as they did so they came to know each other quite well. They had progressed to first names after a week, he had been introduced to Rebecca and Polly. Matthew would bring her apples from the Blythe farm which her they all enjoyed. One evening he asked her, "Would you and the girls like to come to Green Gables for dinner on Saturday next?"
"Can you cook?"
"Well, no. Mama will be taking care of that, she is keen to meet you all."
"We would be delighted, then. I was a bit worried about what you might rustle up."
Dinner was enjoyed and eventually after a short courtship Matthew realised that around Nancy made him happy. He adored her girls too. He never thought of himself as the father type, but he had loved being an uncle for Marilla's children. One Saturday afternoon he paid a call to their tumbledown shack, knocked on the door, was greeted by little Polly and invited in. The girls were frolicking around, often Matthew bought them sweeties or little presents. It was all rather over whelming and Matthew had a job to perform that day. "Stop, Stop. Please. Nancy, I have to ask you a question." They all stopped and looked at him, it wasn't often Matthew asserted himself.
"Marilla is expecting another baby." He blurted out, but that wasn't what he meant to say at all.
"Oh, what happy news. How delightful for you all. She must be excited."
"Nancy, would you like to go for a walk with me?"
"Of course, you'll be all right for a while won't you girls? I'll just grab my shawl."
They strolled down the road, it wasn't a particularly beautiful road, and there was a constant stream of traffic into town, but Matthew steered them down a side road where it was both quieter and prettier. All of a sudden, to Nancy's surprise he bent down on one knee, produced a simple pearl ring and said "Nancy Campbell, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
Nancy was astounded she hadn't expected to marry again. She did like Matthew, he was a nice man, but could she envisage living the rest of her life with him? He had a lovely farm, that was true, and it would mean financial stability for her and the girls, they could leave their shack and move out to Avonlea. Matthew was a quiet simple man, but very sweet. She thought he would look after her and love her girls. Poor Matthew was still kneeling on his right knee as she thought the situation through. "Yes. Matthew, I would love to be your wife."
"Oh, thank goodness, my knees were killing me." Nancy laughed, "Silly! You can get up now, and kiss me."
The sensation of her sweet lips on his nearly made Matthew swoon. Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine kissing such a beautiful woman as Nancy. He staggered a little, unaccustomed to long kisses. Nancy came up for air and reminded him to breathe. "Shall we tell the girls? I feel they deserve to know, you'll be their Papa after all." He nodded, still a bit dumbstruck with love to talk, and they made their way back to her shack.
Rebecca and Polly were delighted, they didn't like their shack and far preferred the thought of living in Avonlea. They adored Matthew and hoped they would all be happy together.
The Cuthberts were shocked and astounded that their son, Matthew, was finally going to tie the knot. That night after he had told them, Constance and David were discussing the news in bed. "Well I never thought that would happen, did you David?"
"No, I had given up hope, he's so terribly shy."
"She's a lovely woman, do you like her?"
"Yes, I do, I think she'll be good for Matthew. Her girls are lovely too. It's like he has an instant family, I wonder if they'll have one of their own?"
"That would be lovely. I'm looking forward to Marilla's baby too. I hope that goes well for her. She's had a tough time.
A couple of months later Matthew Cuthbert married the love of his life, Nancy Campbell. They were married in the Avonlea church amongst their friends and family who showered them with good wishes. Little Rebecca and Polly were their flower girls and Nancy's old colleague at the Mercantile, Mrs Cartwright was her Matron of Honour.
There was a little house near Green Gables for sale and Matthew bought it with his savings. It wasn't grand, but there was enough room for the four of them with a little room to spare, should it be needed. It was certainly far better than the tumbledown shack Nancy and the girls had been living in near to town.
Matthew found he loved married life. He loved sharing his bed with Nancy. He hadn't appreciated what he had been missing out on all this time. She was warm and soft, and he loved to lie with his head resting on her soft belly, tracing circles on her skin.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Marilla stood next to John in the church with baby Jack cradled in her arms. She swayed back and forth in the way that all mothers instinctively do when they have a precious babe in their arms. He was full of milk and sleepy, his pursed lips still had a few drops of milk on them. Hopefully he would sleep through the entire thing, but what did a baby squawk or two matter, particularly at his own christening?
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
They had checked him over carefully at birth, but he appeared completely normal. Certainly they had established nursing straight off, unlike those torrid first few days with Jamie when he was so hungry and unable to latch. He fed and slept and did all the things a baby should do. Life was good.
The rocky mountain splendour,
the haunting curlew's call,
the great lakes and the prairies,
the forests in the fall.
Jack was dressed in the beautiful Cuthbert christening gown that his brother and sisters had worn at their christenings and which Marilla herself had worn at hers. She fingered the dainty lace skirt that hid Jack's tiny feet. He snorted slightly in his sleep and she watched as his face screwed up and then relaxed as he dreamt of who know what? What do babies dream of anyway? Marilla pondered.
The purple headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The congregation were singing the hymn All Things Bright and Beautiful which seemed particularly apt to Marilla, Jack was the brightest and most beautiful thing that had happened to her for some time, certainly since Eliza's birth.
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them everyone:
She could see Eliza sitting in the family pew next to her grandmother, her uncle Matthew and his new wife Nancy on his other side. It was hard for Marilla to become accustomed to that thought, that Matthew had gotten married after all this time. She was very happy for him, he deserved a good wife.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;
She had invited Alice and her family including Martha to the christening and was pleased to see them in the third pew. Was Dr Cooper here? She should introduce them afterwards, he was responsible for their friendship after all. The autumn after Jamie had passed, she had sent a crate of strawberry apples to Alice's family and had received a lovely letter in return. They had been gratefully received. Marilla was not surprised, they were a rare and delicious treat, especially for a city family unused to the bounty of Avonlea. She meant to ask young Michael to stay over the summer vacation. He might enjoy a summer filled with freedom, such as only their town could provide.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;
This had been a happy pregnancy. She recalled the night they discussed baby names.
"How about Dilbert?" suggested John as he caressed her swelling stomach as they lay in bed one night.
Marilla looked straight at him "Dilbert? What on earth are you talking about?"
"I mean if it's a boy, we could call him Dilbert."
Marilla leant forward to feel his forehead, "Are you sickening for something?"
"What? No. I'm fine."
"It's just Dilbert is such a terrible name. Where did that spring from? Did you know a Dilbert somewhere?"
"I don't think so, it just came to me, as though I had to have a child called that."
"Well I hate to disappoint you, but that won't be happening. I like John, after your father, we could call him Jack. How would that be?"
"And if she's a girl?"
"Sarah."
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.*
*Cecil Alexander 1848