Meg stood in front of the mirror and smoothed her white dress across her waist. She hadn't, at first, thought she would be able to have a white dress for graduation. With rationing the way it was, spending money on something so impractical just was not an option. And so Meg was cheerfully prepared to wear last year's party frock, when Grandmamma Irving sent a beautiful white, filmy dress in the mail, along with a little note stating that no girl should graduate without a white dress.
Samantha's grandmother had also provided one for her, and Rose surely could have had one herself, but for the fact that Connie was making do with an old dress. Rose couldn't leave her to be the odd one out of their quartet, so she was wearing a dress of palest pink.
"Are you nervous, Meg?" Samantha asked.
Meg didn't turn from the mirror. "No," she said dreamily. "I'm asking myself if I really can be Joanna Margaret Blythe … if this girl I'm seeing is really me. Somehow … I can't quite believe it."
The girl in the mirror looked faintly bemused at the notion, too. Dark chestnut waves softly framed a dryad's face … merry brook-brown eyes; clear brown skin; a sweet, full mouth made for laughter; a pointed chin and high cheekbones; a delicately tip-tilted nose; and over all an air of other-worldliness.
"Can I truly be Meggie of Green Gables?" Meg wondered.
Samantha left her vanity table to stand next to her. The two made quite a contrast, with Sammy's chocolate-box prettiness.
"You're not Meggie of Green Gables anymore, you goose," she said in a surprising burst of affection. "You're Meg Blythe, soon-to-be graduate of the Conservatory of Music, and one of tonight's star performers."
Meg laughed, and suddenly the vision in the mirror was her again. "Oh Sammy, why did you mention that?" she asked. "Now I am nervous!"
The door burst open and Connie and Rose spilled into the room, both giggling anxiously.
"Oh no, what have you done now, Rose?" Samantha asked.
Rose tried to compose her features. "Nothing! Except … you know … I thought it would be a shame to leave these dear old halls without some remembrance of me."
"I should think they'd be desperate to forget you as quickly as possible," Samantha said.
Rose's indignation—and her tale of whatever it was she had done—were lost as a delivery boy knocked on the open door. A chorus of "oohs" broke from all four throats at the great sheaf of pink roses he bore.
"Is there a Miss Meg Blythe here?" the boy asked.
Meg smiled in delight. "They must be from Papa," she said, moving forward to cradle them in her arms. She pulled out the attached card and read:
Dear Meg,
I wrote to Uncle Kip and commissioned him to get these to you. Know that I am thinking of you today. Congratulations on all your accomplishments, and may all your dreams come true.
Will.
"Oh!" Meg breathed, a lump in her throat. She wasn't the least bit disappointed that they hadn't come from Shirley—she was only touched and delighted that Will had thought of her. She buried her nose in their velvety sweetness.
"Well," Rose said, having pounced on the card. "I wish Geoff had been so thoughtful!"
"Here," Samantha offered. "Let me put a couple of them in your hair, and you can carry the rest. They are beautiful, aren't they?"
Finishing with their final preparations, the four girls linked arms and stood in front of the mirror much as Meg had earlier. From strong, sturdy Connie with her vivid Celtic coloring, to Samantha's artificial perfection, to Wild Rose's delicate features belying her adventurous spirit, to Meg's tall, slim, quiet charm, they made an attractive picture of young womanhood.
"Well girls," Rose said finally, sniffing a bit. "This is it. The last time we will ever stand together as schoolgirls. It's been a grand four years, hasn't it?"
Meg thought back over the past four years … the struggle to like Samantha, now one of her dear friends. The ill-fated romance with Hawk. The friendship with Rose, bringing joy and mischief into her quiet life. The friendship with Will. Learning to live apart from both Shirley and Matt. Peter's capture and escape, and the friendship with Jocelyn that developed thereof. The development of her voice, and the surprising satisfaction she received from expanding her education.
Above all, the war, shaping and hovering over everything.
With all the trials and heartbreak, though, Meg wouldn't have traded the last four years for the most peaceful, quiet existence on a farm in Avonlea. She had grown these years … and she wouldn't go back to her old self if she could.
Not only Shirley and Matt, but Paul and Rachel Irving, and Anne and Gilbert Blythe came to watch Meg graduate. As they sat in the audience and listened to her pure voice soar into the rafters for her solo performance, none of them could quite believe this was their little Meggie.
None of them, that is, except for Matt. He beamed with pride over his sister, and forced all thoughts of enlistment far away for the moment. When she crossed the stage to collect her diploma, his chest swelled with pride as though it was his own accomplishment.
"She's really something, isn't she, Pop?" he whispered to their father.
Shirley nodded. He had been thinking of his beloved Cecily all day, and how proud she would have been of their little girl. Their little Meg, such a combination of them both, and with something else that was all her own.
"Yes, she really is," he told Matt.
Anne and Gilbert were holding hands and remembering their graduation from Redmond … how cold their relationship had been then, and how very far they had come now. With heartbreak happening on every side in their family, it was a relief to be able to celebrate something as simple and innocent as a young girl's graduation.
Paul Irving was composing a poem in honor of his only granddaughter, and Rachel thought proudly that their Cecily might have stood in this very place, had her health permitted.
Other eyes, too, were on Meg Blythe. Christopher Ashton, from his seat among the faculty, prayed earnestly that his Will might come home safely, perhaps to the reward of this young girl's heart. Graham "Hawk" Giraud, on the other hand, wished desperately that he hadn't thrown away his chance with her, and wondered if it truly was too late.
Meg herself, however, only had eyes for two. As she accepted her diploma, she turned and scanned the audience, her eyes coming to rest on two faces, side-by-side, looking almost like brothers. She beamed at her brother and father.
She had done it.