11 December 2017

Dear Friends,

Thanks to all of your for reading and reviewing. There have been times when I wanted to abandon this project, but your support and encouragement have me pushing on.

I wanted to say a special thank you to guest reviewers Anis and butterbee (since I can't thank you via PM) and, as ever, to kslchen for being a research rockstar. There is no perfectly satisfying way to combine Walter's story in Rilla of Ingleside with historical reality, but kslchen has certainly tried! For anyone following along with the Canadian Expeditionary Force war diaries, Walter is shipping out from Montreal with the 54th Battalion on July 21, 1915. In England, he will be absorbed into the 30th Battalion (Reserve) and eventually be sent to France with other replacements to serve in the 27th Battalion.

Also, 1,000 thanks to oz diva, who clued me in to the fact that my filters were set to exclude M-rated content. I've got that mess cleared up now and it is a whole new world.

Thanks again for reading — your comments mean the world to me.

elizasky

Square in Our Accounts

24 July 1915

SS Corsican, the Atlantic

Dear Di,

Three days at sea, and wind and waves keep our conversation on the Kingsport ferry at the forefront of my mind. I know I apologized then, but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry, Di — really and truly sorry.

I know it is no excuse to say that I have been in an awful state this past year, so I will not try to excuse myself. But now that I can look myself in the mirror again, I have, and I realize that I was cruel to you without meaning to be. You were right — I was wallowing in my self-pity. I felt neglected because your attention was elsewhere and I twitted you about Elizabeth without thinking what she meant to you.

I'm ashamed of having betrayed your trust by making light of it. This may sound terribly stupid, but I did not fully appreciate the faith you showed by confiding in me, nor how much my thoughtless comments had hurt you.

Even after you told me so plainly, I still did not quite understand, but I think I may have an inkling now. When I left Ingleside, I took along a volume of poetry Mother lent me. As I read, I found that certain poems in the volume were of a nature that the Army might not appreciate, and I suddenly felt a bolt of terror. I quickly cut them out of the volume and burned them, but that jolt of fear woke me up, I can tell you.

For all my premonitions and presentiments, I think I have been too complacent in how I have viewed the world. Do you remember the evening last summer, before the war, when we all sat at table together and talked novels? It is Shirley's Count of Monte Cristo that has stayed with me since, turning over and over in my mind these many months. We were very happy before the war weren't we? With a home like Ingleside and a father and mother like ours we couldn't help being happy. But that happiness was a gift from life and love; it wasn't really ours — life could take it back at any time. It can never take away the happiness we win for ourselves in the way of duty. I've realised that since I went into khaki.* And since speaking with you on the ferry, I have come to see that the happiness that I took for granted was not the same for all of us. The monsters guarding our castles are truly different shapes and kinds, just as Shirley said.

I'm sorry, Di. Be assured that I have never betrayed any of your confidences to anyone. Moreover, I never meant to insult you, nor trivialize your feelings on the subject. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I'm sorry.

I know you said that all is forgiven, but I felt I needed to put this down as plain as I can make it in a letter, just in case.

Love,

Walter

15 August 1915

Aster House, Kingsport, Nova Scotia

Dear Walter,

Do not spare a thought for regret. I was very angry last winter, but I know that you did not intend to be cruel. You never could be — not on purpose — and I know that.

Let me apologize as well, for letting my troubles distract me from yours. You needed a confidant as much as I did, and we were neither of us as gentle with one another as we should have been. Forgive me, Walter — it has always been our way to tell each other everything, even those things that we did not wish to hear. You were wrong in general, but you were right about Elizabeth in particular. I was feeling sore over it and reacted badly, and I'm sorry.

Now, no more of this. I said that we are square in our accounts and I meant it. Let us write of other things, having restored one another to our rightful places in each other's hearts.

Perhaps I will tell you of something that happened at the hospital last week. Faith and I were on shift — it is our job to do any of the little errands that are beneath the notice of the nurses, as they are so very busy these days with the hospital always understaffed. There was a little girl who came in with appendicitis and had to have an operation. It is a routine surgery and her case was not particularly dangerous, but her mother was in hysterics and was making the poor child nervous.

Faith got ahold of the mother and managed to steer her toward the canteen for tea, and I was left with the girl. I took her hand and had no idea how to soothe her, so I tried to think of what would have calmed me at the same age. None of my little rituals with Nan would suit, having no meaning beyond the bonds of twinship. But then I remembered how you used to recite for me whenever I was ill or sad — even sing sometimes. Do you remember singing "The Land of the Leal" the night of Aunt Marilla's funeral? How I loved you for coming to me then and bringing us all together in that moment.

Well, I'm afraid "The Land of the Leal" was bit much for the situation (which was not particularly dire), so I cudgeled my brain until it spit out "The Lady of Shalott." I recall being exasperated when Nan insisted that we memorize it all those years ago, but it served me well, and my patient was delighted. She made me recite it twice and would have gone for thirds if the surgeons had not called her case. They allowed me to go into the operating theatre with her and hold her hand and watch as they saved her life. The first surgery I have seen in person — it was beyond words. I think I shall remember it always.

Be well, Walter. I am proud of you.

Your loving sister,

Di

* RoI, chapter 15