Chapter 45
"You're finally home," Rilla said in a singsong voice as Ken opened the door for her. It was like a wave a relief as to be home. It was also daunting, knowing that she no longer had her mother and father around. At six weeks old Oliver was just under ten pounds, ready to tip the scale. He looked like most newborns and acting much like one. He loved to eat and when he was awake he liked to watch the room. Focusing on the people around him with big grey eyes, starting until he would yawn.
"Mrs. Ford, welcome home," The familiar voice of Mrs. Clarke came from the kitchen. She had come to make sure everything was ready for the family to arrive. Groceries were boughten, and the house was sparkling clean.
"Thank you, Gloria. Thank you, for everything during these weeks." Rilla told her as Ken silently helped her take off her jacket which had only been draped over her shoulders. While she held Oliver who was just waking up from his latest nap. "This is Oliver," Rilla adjusted the infant in her arms to show off the small boy.
"He is beautiful," Gloria smiled with a nod of her head. "I've washed all the linens, aired out the bedrooms. I have dinner in the works, a roast chicken as a celebration. Do you need help unpacking?"
"No, I think I shall be fine," Rilla told her. "Thank you for the offering."
"If you need anything let me know, I dusted and aired out the nursery washed all the diapers so they are ready to be used. Everything is ready for the young master." Gloria told her.
"Thank you so much," Rilla told her. "It's been a long journey I think we will rest before dinner. Will it be at the usual time?"
"As always," Mrs. Clarke nodded her head and stepped back. Smiling still as it was nice to have the Mrs. back in the house.
"Well, Ollie shall we give you a small tour of your actual home?" Rilla asked him, walking past Ken without much of a word. Making him sigh and smile awkwardly at Mrs. Clarke was trying to pretend she didn't see or feel the tension. It wasn't her place after all.
"Are we in need of some lunch?" Gloria asked them.
"We ate on the train, but a pitcher of water will be much needed when she nurses. She gets quite thirsty and often hungry so any small snacks that can be kept on hand will be much appreciated to her."
"Of course, I can make up some muffins or trail mix bars," Mrs. Clarke told him.
"Thank you," Ken said with a half-smile. "I will take up the luggage, and thank you Gloria for everything."
"It is nothing," Mrs. Clarke waved him off.
Rilla walked through the house with Oliver, pointing out rooms as if he would understand. She made her way up the stairs. Mentally flinching when she remembered how she fell down the stairs. She stopped in front of the nursery, looking in the room that was a light yellow with a light coloured wood crib. An oak dresser and a rocking horse that Ken had bought impulsively, but she had to admit it was a nice looking horse. There was a small rocking chair for him to use one day, one that matched her larger one that was in her room.
"This is will be your room one day," Rilla told him, kissing his downy head. "When you are older of course. You still a little too young to be here by yourself." She told him before crossing the hallway into the room she had only dreamt about for the past weeks. The crocheted doilies freshly washed and starched on her vanity. Bottles of perfume and make-up carefully dusted, the large mirror sparkling clean. She was afraid to look in the mirror but she did anyway.
Her hair was frazzled even though her mother had helped her set her the other day for the first time. Her suit that she had gotten to travel home in was wrinkled and it looked like her one stocking was drooping. All she could wonder is how did Nan manage to travel and still look put together?
She sighed and laid Oliver down on their bed. Talking to him sweetly while untying his bonnet and booties. Next came the little knitted sweater he inherited from one of his cousins. She kissed his head and laid him in the lacy ribboned bassinet. Turning she looked at the bed, realizing for the first time, she would be back sleeping next to her husband. A thought that would have been much more pleasant if they weren't still trying to figure things out. The long period of bleeding had tapered off and her figure was almost back to what it was after six weeks. Not quite the same as it never would be. It felt foreign to her as she bathed or looked in the mirror, the marks that graced her abdomen.
Her mother said that she had bounced back quickly, but she had always been slender. She was changing out of her travelling suit when Ken came into the room with the luggage.
"Do you need anything from the suitcase?" He asked as she breathed a sigh of relief as she untied the lacing of the corselet. One she had begrudgingly had been tied into but needed for the streamline of the cut of the suit she had worn.
"No, I think I will be all right," Rilla told him pulling on an older house dress. One from earlier in her pregnancy and buttoning the shoulder up and then the yoke of the bodice. It was snug but wasn't uncomfortable, and it was the same four dressed she had been wearing since December.
"You haven't worn that in a while," Ken said out loud.
"I outgrew it, so I couldn't" She replied simply without looking at him.
"Well, I am going to call the office," he told her as he stepped across to looked in on Oliver who was kicking his feet out. "Let me know if you need help with anything?" He looked at her through the mirror. She nodded her head to him and watched him make a fun face to Oliver as if he was trying to make him smile.
The rest of the afternoon was normal, a feed before sitting down for a quiet dinner. Mrs. Clarke left with a simple goodbye and instructions for them to leave the dishes soaking. That she would do them up in the morning. Rilla had nodded her head to it but found herself needing some dish therapy after dinner. Using the mechanical task of washing the dishes and placing them to try and sort out her thoughts.
"Are we ever going to talk?" Ken finally said out loud as he leaned again the counter. Beside him was the wicker basket that held Oliver.
"There's nothing to talk about," Rilla stated as she stared out the dark window to the moon that she could see in the sky.
"How many times do I have to apologize?" Ken asked her.
"Who says you have to apologize at all?" Rilla rebutted.
"Well, clearly I do if you're still not talking to me?" Ken pointed out. As he was focused on Oliver, picking out the pacifier that his son spits out and gave it back to him.
Rilla remained quiet, piecing together her thoughts. Trying to make sense of her emotions and her memories. "Walking into that house littered as it was, even the smell on your breath. It's ingrained into my mind and you only had one drink that day, but you were coming home for more." Rilla turned around. "It's not a memory I like to think about often. So forgive me if I'm not reacting how you want me to right now," she told him, albeit rather sarcastically.
"You asked me to keep you accountable, and I did for years, but now it's your turn to watch yourself. You want to stop smoking, drinking? Then you will have to rely on yourself. I am too tired from constant nursing, my back hurts from being hunched over. I cry all the time over nonsense. I can't, I just can't do it. I shouldn't have to deal with this right now." Rilla let it out with a shaky deep breath turning around still holding a sopping dish rag.
"I'm sorry," Ken said quietly looking at her. "You're right."
She just jutted her head and sighed leaning against the counter. Both just listening to the quiet radio in the background that Ken turned on. Then a rather loud sound, erupted from Oliver, loud enough to startle himself in the process.
Rilla's lip trembled as she looked at Ken who looked over at his son who was now crying. Both ended up laughing. "I guess he was tired of hearing us argue? I'll go check him," Rilla sighed. "He's probably going to be hungry soon."
"He needs his bath as well, I'll get that started for him," Ken told her, though he was already on his way upstairs. Not waiting for her to reply. It was their routine they struck up since he returned to Ingleside. Nightly baths by daddy, that often involved a soothing low voice as Ken talked to him.
The water was warm, and the towel was placed over the enamel service of the baby tub. He remembered the first time Rilla showed him how to bathe the baby once she was well enough to do so. In Susan's presence none the less, Ken assumed she thought Rilla would have forgotten how to bathe a baby. How much babies squirm and cry in water. Still, Rilla had remained cool and calm, he didn't think much of it. Until she passed on the honour to him next bath time. Then he found himself perspiring from every spot he could as he washed his son with the bar of baby soap. How to keep a small towel over his stomach and legs to keep him warm.
Of course, afterwards, there were fluffy warm blankets. A slathering a cream and puff of talc before a new diaper was pinned on. Like most nights, he spent a good hour or so snuggling with his father. After a nighttime story and one more feed. Oliver was settled into his bed as his parents were yawning longing for theirs. Ken made sure the fireplace was smothered, before checking the doors once more.
They both looked at each other and then the bed. "I can sleep in the other room," Ken offered not sure what she wanted.
"It's fine," Rilla shook her head and drew the blankets back.
Mrs. Clarke seemed to think ahead as the bed was still made up with extra coverage, more so on Rilla's side. They both slid into bed, trying to ignore how strange it felt. It's had been so long since they shared a bed. The bed at Ingleside had been too narrow, and for the days and weeks afterwards. It was more comfortable for Rilla to sleep alone especially in those early days. A heavy period her mother told her when it came to what to expect and what to watch for. Now that those days were behind her and she was thankful for it.
Before she left Ingleside Faith had come over to talking. Explaining that while breastfeeding generally suppresses one's natural cycle. It didn't mean it was accurate or foolproof. Her father relayed the same information, along with another size of veil, after all, she did have a baby. She looked at him for a moment wanting to ask just how he had met his contact for such things but decided against it. She didn't want another anytime soon and he was helping with that. She didn't even want to even consider such a thing or even consider such an act anytime soon.
She fiddled with her bandeau stuffed with rounds of soft flannel pads. She had dozens, and some were always soaking or air drying. She had larger ones for night, to protect her clothing but also the bed. She had given up on nightgowns, just satisfied in a pair of pyjama bottoms that she had stolen from Ken long ago. One the tied up over her waist that was slowly coming back.
She sighed as she wiggled to get comfortable. Thinking back to the last time she had slept in this bed. How Oliver had made it impossible to get comfortable. Now she could sleep in practically any position. Even on her stomach as long as Oliver had drained her enough, for a small amount of time. She flipped onto her side sighing she yawned, trying to ignore the chill that ran down her spine. The sheets were still so cold, it took a moment before she gave in and inch towards Ken for body warmth. Ken said nothing but turned and wrapped his arm around her quietly.
"Why? Why did you let it happen?" Rilla asked him quietly.
"Do you want to know?" Ken said quietly.
"I'm just trying to grasp it, wrap my head around it. Was it like before? Or was it one drink with the men?" Rilla asked trying to understand more.
"One rather stiff drink that hit me faster than my old self, and another that they allowed me to sip." Ken started. "As for why they were asking about how I was there in the room. It was the most magical moment in my life. Excepted the more I thought about it, walking into that room seeing you in pain. It brought me back to the medical tents for a moment. I hadn't been quite able to shake that feeling, I keep seeing your father with a worried face. Talking quietly as he did whatever he could after Faith called him. I've seen men die in front of me, and I've seen men struggle to breathe in gas attacks. I never thought I would witness my own child fighting for his life." Ken admitted. "In the end it only made me think of it more, and then the bottle was brought out and I already lost half of my resolve. When they pushed me, I just let it happen."
Rilla nodded tucking her one arm under her pillow and resting her pillow on it. "It still haunts me too." She admitted, and in response, she felt him kiss the curve of her neck.
As soon as people knew she was home, the calls were pouring in. Requests to stop by and see her and her baby. Rilla had denied many not up for the company. The only person she allowed was Laura who came holding a bag and dressed casually for the call.
"Look at you," Laura said kissing her cheek. "The picture of motherhood," she observed Rilla was had done her best to look put together.
"I am a fright I know," Rilla sighed patting her hair and ushered her friend into the living room. Where a tray of coffee was waiting for them to enjoy. "I got him down about half an hour ago, for a nap. I hope you don't mind if we leave him be, he'll be wake in an hour. He'll be hungry." She motioned to the bassinet she had near them. Her light blue shirtwaist dress that buttoned down the front was neat and clean for the time being.
"Of course, I know how it is," Laura told her. "Have no worries about it. Now though, I want to hear all about you."
"There's not much to say, I had a baby," Rilla responded. "We all know how it is."
"You had him by my calculations, almost a month early," Laura gave her a look.
"He was a month and couple days early," Rilla admitted. "However he's doing extremely well," Rilla told her. Not wanting to relive those harrowing moments . Ones that still stopped her heart when she thought about them. "Luckily I born into a family of doctors and nurses. Faith my sister in law delivered him. I think it killed my father to let her take over. But I think it was him trying to keep me comfortable with the process." Rilla explained. "I stayed in bed for three days, or very least the second floor. By the third day, I made my way downstairs on Christmas for an hour at the most."
"Confinement, one hand it's a blessing, on the other sitting in the same room is torture." Laura nodded her head.
"Once I could manage a few hours without thinking about sanitary things. I was allowed to eat downstairs and do as I saw fit," Rilla told her. "As long as I was inside, of course, going outdoors was met with a scolding look. It was too cold to be outdoors according to everyone, and it not like I would bring him out. It was just me standing on the porch wanting fresh air." Rilla sighed.
"Winter babies," Laura nodded her head. "As long as they are wrapped and warm, a small walk to the park, or down the street is fine. Fresh air is good for them after all. Lizzy was born in the fall as you know. I was out at the park with her while Davey ran off energy at the park before Christmas."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rilla smiled. "I think I'll wait a few more weeks though. I know he's six weeks technically, but as my father explained. Development-wise he will be slower to achieve some of his milestones. Dad said he behaves much like a newborn around two or three weeks old. He's learning his reflexes." Rilla explained with a crack of a motherly smile.
"So he's coming into the cuddling stage?" Laura said calculating in her mind.
'Some days he doesn't let me put him down," Rilla sighed. "Ken will generally take over when he comes home to give me a break. Though he will weasel out of most of the diaper changes if he can."
"Most men do," Laura laughed into her coffee cup. "I don't think Denis changed one of the children's." She told Rilla honestly. "How's Ken adjusting?"
"He's besotted, over the moon, every sort of adjective you can say about a new excited father?" Rilla leaned back on the sofa. "He's working fewer hours, but still going in every day to make sure things are running smoothly. I'm at the beck and call of the Oliver." Rilla explained looking up at the sound of Mrs. Clarke, bring a pot of coffee for them and a fresh plate of shortbread.
Rilla reached for one handing one to Laura before taking one herself. She just took a bite when Oliver let out of cry.
"Well, it never fails," Rilla sighed as she went to pick up her son. Trying to console him as she swayed with him in her arms.
"One day you'll look back and miss these days,' Laura smiled kindly coming to stand next to Rilla. "My, aren't you a Grumpy Gus?" She spoke to Oliver, "Handsome but grumpy."
"I'll let you know if that happens," Rilla weakly laughed as she swayed on her feet trying to calm Oliver. "Shh, it's all right. You'll have your lunch soon enough. Unless you're uncomfortable?" She patted his bottom beneath the blanket. "Nope you feel dry, you just woke up scared didn't you?" Rilla murmured. Feeling the back of his neck to find him neither hot nor cold.
Laura stayed for another half an hour before she took her to leave. Not minding when the young master of the house all but demanded a mid-afternoon snack from his mother.
"I'll keep the others from hounding you," Laura told her as she donned her coat.
"Thank you, I'll introduce and bring him around when I am able to," Rilla replied as she hugged Laura. "Say hello to Lizzy and Davy for me."
Rilla yawned, eyeing the couch. She still had Laura's gift which had been put off to the side, Laura wanting her to wait before opening it. She smiled at the soft knitted blanket. She couldn't imagine how many hours went into the technique of the design. She sat down at her small writing desk, planning to make a formal thank you card. Finding her half-written letter to Lillian that needed to be sent out to Paris soon as possible.
She grabbed her favourite pen and looked over at Oliver who was sleeping next to the desk.
Dearest Lillian
Your letter was quite a surprise, and very sweet. This letter will be much more woman talk than the other I have also addressed to Shirley and Amelie. I had an inkling you would want more than just then what my brother wishes to know.
So here it is,
Motherhood is exhausting, but I am sure you know that. Still, I don't remember it being this exhausting Lillian. I thought I had it down pact, I had a step up from raising Jimmy as I did. Yet every day I am being presented with some variable that I have never encountered. Like watching my mother interact in ways she never did with Jimmy. Sure she played with him time to time, but to see her so enthralled with Ollie, when she barely cared about Jimmy. I didn't think it makes me feel hurt as it did.
Jimmy came to visit while we were at Ingleside, a few times. The first time I cried, he decided to be Uncle Jimmy. Ken's suggestion, as he thought it is the easiest way to explain. To me, they will always be brothers though, in my heart at least they will be brothers.
Oliver is growing each week, possibly day. He looks at me, holds me finger or turns at the sound of my voice now. He feeds like a champ now after some early struggles. He's almost ten pounds, so close to doubling his birth weight already. Ken is helpful, as helpful as he can be. He avoids nappies like the plague though, but he looks after bath time and story time at night. It's rather sweet watching him read Oliver stores.
I know these days will pass, they did before. I won't be this exhausted forever, I'll just be exhausted. How was I so silly to think this would be the same? Even now I think back to that night he was born. I was so afraid when they couldn't get him to cry. It might have been only minutes but it felt like hours to me at that moment. I know I shouldn't complain, not to you at the very least. Still, I don't know if I ever want to do this again. I had a miserable horrible pregnancy, I gave birth four and a half weeks early. I know Ken, I see Ken with him and he'll forget about the details. He'll want more.
I wish this could be a happier letter, and I am happy, please don't think otherwise. I am just—well I am not sure what I am at the moment. I did enjoy your anecdotes on Elodie, I wish I could meet her. It's not fair the Shirley took you so far away, but seeing you both so happy makes it bearable for the family. Maybe one day when Oliver is older we can visit, do wish to see Paris. For now, here is a couple of snapshots of Oliver and us.
Love Rilla.
Thank you all for the lovely comments and follows and favorites as of late. I am slowly learning the balance of trying not to be completely baby talk and moving along with the story. But at the same time, Oliver is pretty much Rilla and Ken's life at the moment haha!
I might be going back to work at the beginning of July! WOOO, but that also means back to bi-monthly updates most likely. I will no longer have every morning at my fingertips to write sadly. Which is sad since I do a lot of writing in the morning!
I hope everyone is safe and well and managing through this crazy time.
Tina