Breaking the drought
She stood swaying gently with baby Jem cradled in her arms. His wispy red hair glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window. Jem yawned and looked straight into her eyes.
That night Anne crept into the spare room with a sleeping Jem in her arms. Marilla roused briefly and Anne placed the baby beside her. "I thought you might like to sleep with him Marilla." The proud grandmother turned her body to accommodate the baby, marveling at the sensation of his wee body lying next to hers. Grandmother and grandson slept soundly together until Jem's empty tummy woke him up and Marilla returned him to his mother's breast.
Marilla sighed and rolled over in bed. John lay next to her sleeping still. She reached over to caress him and he stirred. Half asleep, he reached out and pulled her closer. She laid her arm across his chest and leaned in resting her head against his armpit. Her head rose and fell gently with each breath. This physicality had been absent from her life for so long.
She supposed if she really thought about it, it was baby Jem who had first broken this drought of human touch. Young Anne had been too old and she wasn't really ready for it back then. At that point it had been many decades since she had truly been hugged, not since she and John had parted company. Matthew and her parents were still alive then, but they had been a private non-tactile family, not given to physical displays of affection. When Anne arrived she didn't really know how to express her love for her, hugs and kisses hadn't come naturally.
It was only when she met wee baby Jem and had him cradled in her arms that she felt the beautiful throb of motherhood. When he was older he would fling his arms about her and she would almost cry, not just at his gesture of love, but also at the simple touch of his arms. He of course had no idea of the effect of his actions. But it broke down a wall she never even knew she had erected between herself and the world.
John stirred, feeling the weight of her head. He moved his hand around to stroke her hair. "Mmm?" she murmured.
"I do love you Marilla Blythe. I love to wake up with you in my arms."
She tilted her face up to him and he leant in to kiss her though the angle was awkward. He shifted over to his side, the better to reach her. They both spent some minutes caressing each other's faces tenderly.
"Were you asleep?"
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
"Well about touch, I guess."
"Touch? What do you mean?"
"After you left, there was no one to touch me. Mama and Papa weren't tactile people and of course Matthew was my brother. By the time Anne arrived, we were like two strangers living under the same roof. Anne would have loved a hug, I'm sure, but I'd lost the knack by then. Really it was only when I first met baby Jem that anyone touched me. Being a child he'd hug and poke and cuddle me quite naturally. It was quite an awakening. I almost think I would have found being married quite difficult before he was born. I'm sure I would have been far shyer with you if he hadn't broken the drought."
"Well I'm very happy he did," John grinned at her "I must remember to thank him next time I see him. Or I could write a letter 'Dear Jem, thank you for giving me your sexy grandmother…'"
"Oh John, you mustn't." Marilla giggled "that would embarrass him beyond measure."
"No, I never would. Remember how his parents reacted when we had a bit of fun at their expense. He's only a child."
"Yes, and remember when the children saw us engaging in some heavy petting in Hester Gray's garden."
"We certainly have Jem to thank for some seriously fun times, Mrs Blythe. Get your clothes off. Let's explore the sensation of touch once more, I feel I need some practice."