It was a cold January morning as Ken skipped up the steps of the office with a smile plastered on his face. It took a lot for him to leave Ingleside, but Rilla had been right. He did need to check-in, he needed to formulate a plan. He needed to tell the company the happy news. She and Oliver would manage without out him for a few days, a week if needed. She had a houseful of people to help her.
While he called ahead and let his employees know we would be stopping by. He had been taken back when he arrived he found his employee's waiting for him. Clapping in congratulations as he entered.
"Thank you, but my wife did all of the work," Ken told them humbly. "His name is Oliver Gilbert, he'll be making an appearance when he's a little older. At the moment my wife is staying with her family on the Island. So I will be stepping back, allowing Mr. McMillan to cover some of the tasks I generally attend to. My wife and I are hoping to be back at home by February, but that will depend on my father in law orders of course. Once we return I will be back full time, but I can't completely promise to not have my head in the clouds." Ken explained chuckling. "I will be here for this week, and part of the next to ensure that we are on schedule."
Ken spent the morning catching up on the everyday tasks he usually did. Which ultimately took longer as every person he spoke too, would ask him about his son. They learned that Ken was more than willing to talk about for hours on end. Clearly smitten by being a father. It took him two days to develop some of his photos and by his third day. He was carrying small wallet-sized photos, tumbled out in an accordion fashion. If Rilla had been there she would have rolled her eyes at him. Though she didn't need photographs to carry around just yet, as the baby would be at her side to see in person.
The ladies of the company awed over the photographs before presenting him with a gift. They had used their talents and presented him in a small quilt. Patch worked in nursery pattern fashion. Along with smaller knitted booties and bonnets that had been trimmed in lace. While the Men instead focused less on the baby and more claps on the back for having a son. Presenting him with a package of cigars for his first-time luck.
At night he spent playing with the cat, letting Artemis smell the baby blanket he had brought with him. Other hours he spent developing more films and of course meeting up with friends. After they called and invited him to their latest card night.
A night he went to often enough without overthinking any worries.
"It was like walking into the medical tent," Ken said as he looked at his cards. "I guess they spent the night calling, and I was already in Charlottetown. The look on their faces said it all when I heard her the first time. I just raced up those stairs and stayed with her."
"They didn't kick you out?" One man asked baffled. "My mother-in-law beat me out of the room as soon as it started.
"They're a medical family, Doctor Blythe delivered most of his children. He realized how could he tell other fathers they couldn't be in the room?" Ken explained looking down at his hands once more and tossed another chip into the pile. "I don't know it was rather amazing to see. Oliver taking his first breathes and cries."
"Well, shall we have a toast?" One man stood up from the table. "Otherwise, Ford may me want another child and I already have three." He left the room and returned carrying a tray full of glasses. "I found a bottle stashed away. What a better time to have a drink, then to toast to a new baby. Now don't look like that, Ford. You turn down drinks all the time and we let it slide, but you went and had a baby! Have a drink! You earned it!"
Rilla breathed in deeply the fresh air from the veranda. She longed to be out, to be exploring the valley, the dunes. But there was time for that in the summer months when Oliver was older and stronger. There were daily visits from friends and family. Leslie and Owen were constant fixtures at Ingleside. Anne and Leslie worshipping their grandchild. Often in ways that had Gilbert and Owen looking as they were remembering the days when Jem had been small.
While the three weeks seemed so short, yet a long time to be stuck indoors. Rilla was done being cooped up. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her blanket around her closer to her in the process. So many memories, hello's and goodbyes from this spot where she stood. Further down the path, to the gate she had seen too many boys, suddenly turn into men from walking the road beyond. Watching them as they walked and disappearing from sight.
"What are you doing out here? You'll catch your death," Anne said from the front door of Ingleside. She was dressed warmly for the winter weather,
"I just wanted some fresh air," Rilla gave her a shaky smile. Not wanting to panic over Ken missing her telephone call. Surely there was a reason for it after all. It did not good to think of the past, to think of the telephone tag they played years before.
No, there was no reason to think of such things like that.
"Why don't we make cocoa?" Anne asked, wrapping her arm around her daughter. "He's either developing photos or even working on something at the printing shop," Anne said reading her daughter's mind.
"Did you always know where Dad was?" Rilla asked her mother.
"Not always, and those first few times he went off on a call leaving me alone with Jem. It was strange, unnerving. I had Susan, yes, but I always worried I would need him and he wouldn't be home. When I thought I was in the depth of despair, my wit's end. He would suddenly come home and tell me how lucky we were. How lucky he was to have me. Then no matter how tired he was, he would always look in on Jem. Sometimes I would find him just sleeping in the rocking chair, trying to give me some more rest. He did it for every one of you lot, sometimes I think it hit him harder knowing you would be our last than it did me."
Rilla nodded, growing up with her father he was there when they needed him of course. He was loving and encouraging. Strict but always fair, he never pushed when she decided to not go to queens. Now seeing him with his grandchildren over the past few years, it was much more apparent. Just how much he cherished the family he had come to have.
"Come inside," Anne urged her wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "He'll call back, he always does."
"Your right, I don't know why I am worrying so much." Rilla laughed and sighed at the same time.
"You still overwhelmed with hormones, your body is still adjusting to going back to normal. You went through something extraordinary because giving is just that. Extraordinary, it will take a little while before you feel even somewhat normal. It's all right to worry, to not always feel up to the company. It's an adjustment period for all new mothers."
"Baby blues," Rilla looked at her mother. "I read about them in a motherhood book."
"Of course," Anne squeezed Rilla's shoulder. "I would expect none the less from you," Anne told her with a smile.
Cocoa did brighten her mood as she sipped the sweet drink curled up in her chair. Her eyes darting back and forth from her latest parenting book and the bassinet sitting beside her as she read.
"You miss your daddy don't you?" Rilla asked as she heard her make a whiny sound. She reached for him, cuddling him close to her. Letting her familiar scent wash over him to calm him. "He will be so surprised at how much you have grown."
"If he keeps this up, he'll surpass ten pounds by the time you leave," Gilbert said from the doorway. "Only two more pounds to go, how is he doing today?"
"He's good," Rilla smiled. "Do you want to hold him for a while?"
"Of course," Gilbert nodded his head and took his grandson and settled into his chair. Adjusting the swaddling, he smiled down at Oliver who looked up at his grandfather with curiosity. "Don't worry, no weigh-in for you right now," he told the infant. "You get to stay warm and dressed right now." He spoke as a tiny hand escape. Gilbert grinned and lightly stroke the tiny palm. Repeating the action until Oliver managed to hold onto his finger.
"Oh no, you caught me," Gilbert gasped feigning surprise. "My goodness, you are strong."
"He likes to hold onto things," Rilla learned back into her chair smile. "I've learned quickly to keep my hair away from those little hands. One cute minute can end up being a mess of tangles."
"A hair puller already?" Gilbert chuckled looking down at Oliver. "So you do take after your mother."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Rilla feigned indignity while crossing her arms.
"You pulled your mother's hair any chance you got. You were so interested in it, you cried and cried when she wouldn't let you play with it." Gilbert explained. "You took much comfort in twisting your little hands in it. When your mother was finally back on her feet and putting her up more regularly. It took a few days for you to adjust."
Rilla smiled and nodded her head before letting it rest on the side of the chair.
"So are you doing school work this spring?" She heard her father ask
"I will do some summer work I think," Rilla told him. "If I hadn't been so ill in the fall, I would have completed another credit or two. Luckily I can work on my own pace, I ended up deferring this semester as well. I said nothing more than being ill and still needed time to recuperate. It gives me a few months to work out a routine and adjusted to balancing life and Oliver. Hopefully, by May, I will be in a good place and send it away for another course." Rilla told him.
"You don't need to explain yourself, I was just curious," Gilbert told her.
"I know," Rilla smiled. "Just didn't want you to think that I was giving up. I love Oliver of course, but it is still something that I want to complete." She told him as the beginning grunting cries, and wrinkling nose alerted her to her son. "I should go feed and bath him for the night."
"Of course," Gilbert smiled and handed over his grandson back to his mother. "Back to your mummy," he said to Oliver. Still finding it strange to call any of his children, mummy or daddy.
The evening faded into night time as Rilla put her baby to bed. Like every night before, but still, as she sank into her bed, knowing in two or three hours she would be up. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Ken not answering the phone.
Rilla was up eating breakfast with her mother and Susan in the kitchen. Oliver wrapped up in a sling, clinging to her as she tried to eat with one hand. Her one patting his back as he worked through whatever he was going through. He was particularly needy since the night before. While the dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes of how much sleep she has gotten. She wanted to laugh, she did laugh hysterically at one point. How angry she was when no one helped her with Jimmy, and now she was constantly telling others to go back to bed. Someone must get some sleep if it wasn't going to be her.
She dropped her fork full of eggs as the telephone rang. She looked up at her mother. "Well, go answer it," Anne told her.
"Hello, Ingleside?"
"Rilla?" Ken spoke through the receiver. He sounded tired, and his voice hoarse.
"Where were you last night?" Rilla asked into the telephone receiver as she juggled her son in her arms who was trying to stretch out. "I called."
"I know, I'm sorry I met with the lads for dinner. They wanted to welcome into fatherhood," Ken spoke carefully.
"Welcome you into fatherhood?" Rilla hummed the pit in her stomach feeling it was going to swallow her whole. "Why does that sound like it entails more than just dinner?"
Ken stayed silent over the line.
"Was there alcohol?" Rilla asked to ask candidly as she could through a whispery voice.
She could hear him think, chew his lip. "They wouldn't leave it alone. Sure they rib me occasionally, but they generally respected my answer."
"That is the saddest excuse I have ever heard," She told him her voice cold, void of emotions.
"I can't do this right now. We'll talk about this when you're back." With that she hung up the phone, looking down at her son who was nuzzling her chest.
She wanted to cry, she wants to scream. She wanted out of the house, she wanted to wear more than milk stained camisoles. She couldn't even go outside without being scolded. She must have made some sort of noise as she heard the floor creak behind her.
"Rilla dear?" She heard her mother asked from her spot in one of the many doorways of Ingleside.
"I'm fine," Rilla told her faking a smile the best she could. "I need to feed him."
Anne nodded but gave her daughter a once over before returning to the kitchen. Rilla sighed and decided to go back upstairs, relishing in the small haven of her room.
Rilla settled herself in the rocking chair, letting her head fall back with a sigh. In disbelief of what Ken had done. He always swore that they understood that he wasn't into spirits and she had trusted him.
The more you sit in the barber's chair, the more likely you'll get a hair cut. She angrily rubbed the back of the hand over her eyes. Disturbing her vision with tears, trying to clear them away. It wasn't until Oliver made a sound she looks down at her son.
"I'm sorry your hungry and mommy is mad at daddy." She told him as she got him situated, thankful that he settled quickly without fuss. It was a fifty-fifty chance of him being fussy or going with the flow. Some days he wanted to be cuddled into her, skin on skin. Other days he was happy as long as she gave free rein over his feedings. Feeding schedules were a thing not known to him. She could laugh bitterly about how the Morgan book would frown at her now. Bottle feeding on a schedule was all fine and dandy of course, but how could she deny her little man when he was hungry?
She sighed again at the mess that had unfolded beneath her feet.
She was cold when he arrived at Ingleside, suitcase in hand. She passed him the baby, knowing that the chances of her wanting to throttle him with the baby in his arms would be less. She caressed Oliver's head but said nothing to him before she turned. Letting her robe swishing around her feet as she went back upstairs saying nothing to him. If anything she can use the advantage of having a soak on the tub. It was always interesting how deserted Ingleside could be at time times.
It was an hour later when Ken finally came upstairs. Still holding his son who was fairly relaxed in his arms. They had had a staring contest for the first few minutes in the living room. As if Oliver was deciding whether to cry for the lady who had the milk, and who he adored. Maybe he remembered how he smelt? Ken thought as Oliver seemed to warm up to him. He had grown in the short two weeks. Or at the very least gained enough weight to looks like more like a newborn than a four week old.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Rilla confronted him. He sighed and walked through the open door of Rilla's room. It was less clinical looking. With more infants' clothes lying about in stacks and baskets, along with baskets of her own clothing.
"Please can we just talk about this?" Ken pleaded.
"You drank," Rilla sighed, her teeth still gritted. "It's like I wasn't home for you to come home to or I wasn't there to smell it on your breath upon return. So you drank." Rilla shook her head not having his excuses. "You promised me, you promised me when we got married that you wouldn't take another drink. Now it just makes me wonder how much of a fool I have been all these years. How many times you hid it from me?"
"It was my first drink since the night you found me, almost four years ago. I swear on any grave that you want me to. I swear on our son that it was my only drink." Ken argued back.
"Funny, since it was his birth that had you drinking!" Rilla spat at him rolling her eyes at the same time. "Not only that, but it's also still illegal!" Rilla seethed trying to be quiet. Looking back at their son who was lying in his bassinet.
"But it's not, you can drink it all you want in reality. You just can't buy it." Ken corrected her, knowing it wouldn't help him in the slightest.
"Minor technicalities," Rilla's voice raised. "It doesn't change the fact that you broke your promise."
"No, I told you that I would get my act together, and I did. I did everything I was supposed to. It wasn't always easy, but I managed and I thought I was going fine. I thought that it wouldn't bother me as it used to. I stopped missing it, and I can't apologize enough for letting my guard down thinking I would be fine. I don't even smoke half the amount that I used to, because I didn't feel the need to compensate for that need." Ken corrected her.
"At the end of the day, you broke your promise, and frankly I am way too angry to even look at your face right now," Rilla told him, opening the door of the bedroom, not asking for her son back. Knowing he would make it know when he wanted her.
Ken sighed as backed away from her. He was only thankful that Ingleside was empty . He went back downstairs and settled in one of the rocking chairs that appeared over the weeks.
Oliver relaxed on his shoulder, his downy head nuzzling into his father's shoulder. Oblivious to whatever his parents were fighting about. "I've made such a mess," Ken whispered to the empty room. "If I hid it from your mother she would be angry if told her she would be angry. Do I want her to think I lied, and hid it from her and be even angrier and lose complete trust in me? Instead, I was honest, deciding it was easier to deal with her anger now than later. It was a no-win situation, God I hope you never have to experience what we went through. All the waiting, battles, messed up situations that shaped our world, our lives. I don't know why I let it happen, but it happened and I can't take it back."
"Should I ask?" Jem asked learning from the doorway.
"What are you doing here?" Ken asked confused.
"I was in the area and Dad asked me to check on Rilla as they are out," Jem shrugged. "Again should I ask what happened."
"I had a drink," Ken admitted.
"So you had a drink?" Jem shrugged. "Don't most new fathers get a little wet behind the ears? She can't be that angry, there's nothing illegal about having a drink. Temperance is more about control than actual drinking."
"I broke a promise," Ken admitted.
"Well, that changes the story," Jem straightened up. "Do I have to remind you that I will bury you if you hurt her beyond repair?"
"It's not like that," Ken shook his head. " I drank a lot during the war."
"Didn't we all?"
"I drank, I drank a lot to forget. I drank and I hid it from her, from everyone." Ken said quietly. "I broke my promise."
"Is this what prompted the two of you to go from being barely engaged to get married within a few months?" Jem raised his eyebrow again. "I thought something was strange, but you both seemed happy enough."
Ken nodded his head "We made up a plan, and it worked up until now. I was good, most people don't question why I don't partake in alcohol. Other times, special occasions they seem to think it adds to the jolly fun. They wouldn't let up, and they were all looking at me. I kept trying to picture Rilla, but my resolve was just breaking piece by piece. I just remember at one point hearing her voice and I scrambled out the basement I was in and just left."
"Look, hormones can make women haywire, they say it stops afterbirth but thats a lie," Jem offered. "Give her a few hours to cool down, and then you can apologize. She may feel like she's overreacting, but by the sounds of it and your history." Jem told him patting his shoulder. "She may ask for your head on a silver platter. Until then, do as she says, change some diapers, give her a break. She's probably angrier that you were out with buddies while she was here being a slave to your son." Jem told him.
"Why does it sound like you have your own stories?" Ken asked.
"I sometimes work a lot," Jem shrugged. "Every married couple, new parents. Everyone has these moments, but seriously if I ever find her crying or hear of this again. I will make sure that you will never take another drink again," Jem told him. "
Ken nodded as he turned his head and looked down at his son. "Do you ever worry that they will go through what we went through?"
"That they will be called to war?" Jem asked looking up, and Ken could only nod his reply. "Every damn day," Jem told his brother in law. "But we can't think like that, we can't live in the what if's. War will always come and go, we just have to learn from the past and adjust how we deal with the aftermath."
"How did you manage?" Ken asked and then added cautiously. "In the camp?
"Faith," Jem told him with a smile. Not elaborating into what faith he was alluding to, spiritual or a certain lady who was now his wife.
Jem took his leave, mentioning that he had done his duty on checking on Rilla for his father. He left Ken with one more threat but then softened before speaking once more.
"Sometimes the best thing to do is admit you have a problem and not hide them. Making excuses, only lets people believe they can break those excuses for you." Jem told him one more piece of advice.
"But thank you for telling me the truth," Jem told him sincerely before closing the door. Ken turned his head and saw Rilla sitting on the stairs. He placed Oliver down in bassinet carefully before going over to her. Making nervous motion as he kept feeling his silver case of cigarettes in his pocket. He sighed and approached the stairs, but staying a few steps away from her.
"Take them," he placed them down on the stairs near his wife. "I can't go back in time, but I can start over and I can add on to the list."
"I don't care that you smoke," Rilla looked up at him.
"But I do right now. I know I do it outside, away from you, but it lingers. I don't want Oliver to be subjected to the smell more than he already has," Ken told her. "I can't promise anything, and I won't because I've been smoking for years and frankly it's already killing me doing this. I know it will never make up for the other night, but it's all I can do right now." Ken told her. "I'll do better because I have to. I tell all of them just as Jem said. If they can't support me knowing the truth, then they shouldn't be my friends."
Rilla nodded slowly. "I'm still angry." She told him.
"I know, I'm not expecting you not to be," Ken told her.
I hope everyone is safe and well still. My city is doing extremely well, but who knows when I will get back to work since I work in an industry that relies on large gatherings.
Few side notes. Ken: why now? The original plan was to have fallen back after experiencing a deep loss. Which fell through, but I am often reminded though 4 years feels like an eternity, that it shouldn't bother him, he should crave it. 4 years is nothing when it comes to these sorts of things.
Well after talking to my sister in law who worked in addiction counselling and studied physchology in school she gave me a few points. Much like the saying, if you sit in the barbershop long enough. You will get a hair cut. Ken never set out to drink, but he still let it happen.
Is giving up his smoking really an apology. Most likely not, but it's him trying and taking the initiative to get back on track without Rilla prompting him.
Tina