This chapter was a collab with oz diva, who inspires me every single day!

Thank you, oz diva, for writing this chapter with me. I love our hugely long messages of going back and forth over the details of this chapter, and you not minding that I was constantly saying "heeeellllllpppppp meeeeee" when trying to write about John and Marilla.

I hope all of you readers like it!

Oz diva's writing is really one of the absolute bests of FanFiction. She has brought so much to Marilla, and I am completely flattered that she would collab with me. Love you, oz diva. Readers, go check out oz diva because her stories are where I steal- um, borrow?- Marilla from. ;)


"Mr. Blythe," Anne whispered.

He did not say her name, but his eyes said everything.

She took his hand and squeezed it, wishing she could pour some of her own energy into him.

"I know I already told you I have to leave today, but I wish it wasn't true," she told him regretfully. "I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to. But I don't have any choice. We have to go to where we're staying, so I'll be near the hospital. ...I wish I could stay with you."

There was quiet for a moment, Anne wanting to speak but not wanting to cry while she did.

Suddenly she felt a soft nudge from inside.

"Oh," she almost laughed. "I'm sorry. I forgot about you."

"Hmm?" Mr. Blythe breathed.

"The baby, Mr. Blythe. You see, I told it that we were coming to see you today before we went on the train. I think...I think it just wanted to make sure I didn't forget about it."

He smiled.

"I think it wants to talk to you," she told him. "It always pokes at me when it has something to say. We talk to each other a lot, the baby and I. ...Do you want to see what it wants to tell you?"

He answered again with a smile.

Anne picked up his fragile hand and held it to her belly. After several moments, the baby greeted him with a healthy kick. When she looked back at Mr. Blythe, she saw a tear, shining like a pearl, caught in the corner of his eye.

"It says it likes you," Anne said to him, trying to ignore the tear, because she felt a sob rising in her throat. "When we come back home, I'll bring the baby here to visit...all right?"

He smiled again, but it was the sort of smile you give when you know somebody is trying to make you feel better.

Anne was not sure even at that moment whether she really wanted to bring the baby home at all- but she'd figure that out later. For now, it didn't matter- the only thing that mattered was keeping Mr. Blythe smiling.

"Gilbert thinks it's a girl," he said, struggling to get the words out.

"I haven't even thought of it as a boy or a girl," Anne admitted. "I've just thought of it as a baby. And sometimes I've thought of it as a potato. ...Once I thought of it as an onion."

Gilbert gave Anne that impish smile he had, the one that made his eyes sparkle.

"An onion, eh?" Mr. Blythe asked. Mr. Blythe did not know what she was talking about, but he couldn't help but laugh- which only came out as a broken, raspy cough.

"Oh, no," Anne said worriedly.

"No," he breathed. "I'm...all right."

Anne held his hand again. "Mr. Blythe, I love you," she said, unable to keep two fat tears from slipping down her cheeks. "And my baby loves you, too."

She could sense him struggling to respond, and she quickly begged, "Don't say anything. You don't have to say it back to me. I already know. ...I've known from the very first day I met you. When Gilbert and I skipped school...and he brought me here, to your house...and you didn't ask me why I didn't want to go to school...you just told me to come on in and make myself at home...and...and the pancakes," she choked on her words and could not continue.

She tried to get herself back together: "And the stories. The magazines. Walden. But it isn't just in the things. It's in everything you say and do, Mr. Blythe. You've always made me feel…"

Anne was struggling for a word, because none seemed special enough.

"Cherished," she finally whispered.

She blinked back her tears. "So, you see, I already know you love me. You don't have to say it. Just rest for now, and I'll come home soon."


The door finally opened, and there was Anne. The dim, flickering light made a silhouette of her as she lingered a moment in the doorway, her head leaning on the doorframe, her hand cradling her belly. "He'd like to see you," she breathed, barely loud enough to be heard.

Taking a steadying breath, Marilla walked through the door, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. With the blinds closed and only a few candles lit, the room was dark- as John wished, because the light hurt his eyes.

Marilla hastily stopped herself from gasping audibly when she first saw his pale, waxy complexion.

"I...I hope...I hope I'm not an unwelcome visitor," she stammered, when she could not seem to say anything.

"Anne- told me-" he could not finish quickly, and she had to wait for him to swallow, take another breath, and begin again. "Told me you came. I'm glad."

She felt clumsy as she reached for the chair in front of her and lowered herself into it, never taking her eyes off John.

"Mar," he struggled to say.

That simple name- who called her Mar?- made her eyes brim with unshed tears.

John wanted to hold her hand, but found himself unable to find the strength to reach toward her.

But Marilla read his mind, and took his hand in her own- and just like all those times when she was young, she felt a spark pass from his hand to hers.

She looked down at that hand, once so strong and reassuring, now limp with weakness. Marilla knew, then, that she would be the one to do most of the talking in this, their final conversation.

"John," she exhaled.

The name felt like a complete sentence, and for a moment she said nothing else.

He smiled wanly at her, more with his eyes than with his mouth.

"John, you have raised a wonderful young man. You must be so proud of him. I know I would be, if he were..." She stumbled there, shaky, and then finished: "If he were mine."

John could only smile in response.

She began again, unburdening herself this time: "John, I- the way I left things...between us. I was always sorry for it. I hope you know that."

"Mar-" he began, as if to shake his head.

"No, John, I- I got upset over- over silly things, things that don't seem to matter anymore. I...I never had an easy time showing my feelings, and I caused you to suffer for it. I regretted the way I treated you, but...I never seemed to be able to make things right."

She could not look at him when she said:

"I should still have reached out. Been kinder. Acted more charitable. But I suppose I was jealous of the happiness you found with your wife- until her passing, of course. And then I grieved over how you suffered, but it was a private grief. I...I ought to have done something, but I didn't know what to do, or if you'd see my attempt at friendship as intrusive. So I stayed away."

Marilla started to worry that she was doing this more for herself than for him, and she began to be upset with herself for potentially causing him more stress. She tried to smile, though her eyes were mournful. "I used to feel regretful of the life I could have had with you...but I can't be, now- seeing your son. I'm glad- so glad- that you found your wife and married her and had a life together, short as it was." She took a deep breath as she explained, "Because what came out of that marriage was nothing short of a miracle- the world needs Gilbert Blythe in it. And my Anne wouldn't be the same without him. He's been a remarkable friend to her through such a trying time."

"She's everything to him,"John said simply, his voice weak.

Marilla couldn't help the note of surprise in her voice. "You've noticed the way they are with each other, then?"

John gave a smile that was rarely seen these days. "Mar, if I were well, I'd tell him not to rush into things; he's got plenty of time to grow up."

He stopped a moment to breathe. "But life is so short, and time, so precious. ...He'd marry her tomorrow if you'd allow it. And I gave him my blessing long ago. They're still children, I know- and not even old enough to court yet. But someday...someday you may have yourself a son-in-law. I hope you're not opposed to it."

He was glad that was all he had to say, because the speech had worn him out.

Marilla knew, of course, that Anne and Gilbert were very close, and she knew they had discussed marrying someday. But she had no idea that it was something John had talked seriously to his son about, let alone already given him his blessing.

"John, there is nothing I'd love more. You see, we're really a family, all of us. It didn't happen the way that you and I expected it would all those long years ago, but it must have been God's plan, because it happened- just later, with our children."

When Marilla slipped quietly out of John's room, her eyes were wet with tears.