"Two years are nearly up then son," John said to Gilbert as he carved up his fried egg with his fork. "How do you feel about continuing your studies? I think between us we can manage the fees now."
"Are you sure Dad?" Gilbert replied. "The school board have been badgering me lately as to what my intentions were, and I've been putting them off because I didn't know. I mean I thought I'd be working for another year at least, but well…" he trailed off.
"Oh Gilbert, you should have said," Cora said sitting down next to her son and placing her hand on his forearm.
"I just didn't want to worry you. So, you think it's possible then Dad?" he asked hopefully.
"I do. You should tell the board that they'll have to cast out their net for a new teacher. The current one is off to university."
"A doctor in the family, fancy that," murmured Cora looking at Gilbert proudly.
"Not yet Ma. I have many years of study ahead of me yet."
"A doctor," repeated Cora undeterred.
"What do you think of that then son," John clapped Gilbert around the shoulders as they walked out to the barn.
"It's a bit of a shock. Can you give me a moment, Dad?" He left his father then and made his way out to the orchard to ponder. He'd hardly dared hope that it might come to this. All the nonsense with Anne had kept his thoughts at bay but in the back of his mind he'd wanted to go to Redmond, and he supposed everyone thought he would be off but until his father said it was possible, he'd been loath to bring it up. The disappointment of two years prior still smarted if he thought about it too deeply. That really had been one of the worst days of his life.
He didn't know it, but his parents were prouder of his reaction to that blow, than they'd wind up being when he graduated from medical school. "It's how you react to those slings and arrows that counts, don't you think John," Cora said to her husband a few days after the news was delivered. "I know he was upset but he handled it like a man, just like I'd hope he would. Remember when he was small? How he'd rail at slight setbacks, and we worried then for his older self."
"And you hated to discipline him," John remarked.
"He was so very precious." Cora accepted John's warm embrace as they remembered all their lost babies.
Wandering about the orchard oblivious of his parents' conversation from two years prior, Gilbert considered his options. Now that his life had opened out, he was frankly somewhat terrified. It was one thing to long for something, but another thing altogether to have it handed to you on a platter. Deep in thought he did not see his mother approaching with a cup of coffee. "It's an adjustment I dare say." He looked up and took the cup from her.
They sat down on an old bench in the corner of the field. "It's a bit of a shock. I mean a good one, don't get me wrong but…"
"It's rather daunting."
"Uh huh," Gilbert nodded and sipped his coffee.
"You probably feel a little like I did when you were born." Gilbert was silent. His parents rarely spoke about the time before, but he knew the reason he was an only child. "I'd longed for a child for years by that point. We had such problems conceiving and I've forgotten how many I lost along the way. Each one a tragedy. I almost got to the point where I'd dread falling pregnant for fear of the pain of the inevitable loss. It very nearly tore us apart Gilbert. Then you were conceived," she laughed mirthlessly. "And I waited and waited hardly daring to hope, and nothing happened. Then it seemed like you might go to term. Once you were born, I still couldn't relax for years really, and you're still incredibly precious. But I learnt there's a mile of difference between longing to be a mother and actually being one, do you see. I'd yearned for the experience for so long that when it came down to it, I was terrified."
"That you'd make a mistake."
"Mm hm," she nodded. "And you were a risk taker which didn't help. But John was wonderful, he told me we had to let you run, and now I want you to keep running."
"I could stay, be near you and Dad."
"What? No, no Gilbert. You have to go and make your way. We know that. We'll miss you, oh how we'll miss you, but you have to go. Can't get yourself an education stuck here in Avonlea, or even White Sands if it comes to that. Go and get yourself a life, son. We'll be here for you when you need us."
"Can I trust you two to go ahead," Anne asked the twins. "I just want to pop in on Marilla. Don't make too much of a mess," she called warningly after their disappearing figures.
Marilla had been helping Rachel of late. Spending her time supporting her oldest friend as she nursed Thomas through his last days. It had taken a long while, not nearly long enough as far as Rachel was concerned but Thomas was going downhill fast. For all her faults and some might say they were many, Rachel was a dedicated nurse. No task too onerous as she nursed, fed and toileted her dying husband. When he rested Marilla was there to pick up the emotional pieces holding Rachel as she wept; able to keep it together for Thomas but needed a comforting shoulder while he slept. Marilla mused as she held her friend how being a spinster protected one from this particular heartbreak. She and John may not be together, but the hurt was different and after all he still drew breath. As does Thomas, she berated herself. But not for long her subconscious replied
Rachel was resting when Anne opened the kitchen door and Marilla greeted her warmly pleased to see another soul, that it was Anne was of course a bonus. "How was your day?" she asked eager for news of the outside world. As Thomas sank, Rachel's world shrank, and Marilla came to understand just how much she relied on her friend to keep her up to date.
"Fine, fine," Anne answered gaily. Her tone shifted when she enquired, "how is he?"
Marilla sighed, "he's mostly sleeping now, I sent Rachel down for a nap after the doctor left. She never has a moment's peace. Says she doesn't want to miss out. But what with him and the children popping by to pay their last respects it's rather busy." Marilla sank into a chair and recognising that she too was exhausted Anne put on a kettle and laid out Rachel's tea things. "There's some cake here," she called out from the pantry but there was no reply. Marilla too was snoozing with her head on her forearms. Anne poured the tea things, thinking how Davy would enjoy it and thankful that he wasn't there. She sat in silence for a moment until Marilla roused. She pushed Marilla's tea over and they sat sipping in companionable silence.
"You must be exhausted, why don't you come home with me? Have a good night's sleep before you face it again," Anne suggested.
"I don't think I can, Rachel needs me here."
"You're no good to her if you're exhausted, Marilla. I'll let Rachel know you'll be back tomorrow."
Wearily Marilla nodded, the thought of a good sleep in her own bed was appealing.
Arm in arm the women made their way up the laneway. "How long do you think?" Anne asked.
"Not long, matter of days according to the doctor." Marilla shook her head, "poor Rachel."
"And you, how do you feel about it?"
Marilla thought for a moment before she replied, "I've known Thomas a long while. I met him around the same time Rachel did. Of course, I was never in love with him, but I joyfully witnessed their wedding and happily watched their marriage from afar, they've been together all these years. It's always sad to see an old friend pass, still if God decrees it's time he went home, then far be it for me to intervene."
Anne squeezed Marilla's arm, "are you sure you watched on happily?"
Marilla glanced at her, "well I admit I had my moments. Once upon a time I would have liked babies too, and they were so, well fecund is perhaps not a nice word but does the job." Anne nodded. "At times I admit I wept," she glanced across to Anne. "Rachel popped them out without a fuss and well, I would have liked just one. But I suppose," she added thinking back. "I was luckier than say Mrs Blythe. She had a very hard time."
"Really?" Anne asked. She had never thought about Cora Blythe.
"Yes, there's a reason Gilbert is an only child. Have you visited the family plot? Such a sad spot."
"Gilbert must be very precious to them then," Anne remarked.
"Absolutely. I'm sure they hovered over him something fierce and he was such a tearaway when he was wee. Reminds me of a certain ragamuffin."
"School year's coming to an end," Anne said changing the subject.
"Hm, how do you feel about it? Any regrets?"
"Oh no Marilla, not at all. I love living with you all, the twins are such dears. And I love teaching, moulding those little brains for the future. It's a real privilege." Anne spoke a touch too brightly, Marilla thought, but she said nothing.
Davy for once had listened to Anne and had not made too much of a mess though his face did look a little sticky and a jam jar a bit emptier than it had been that morning. Dinner was delicious. Lynde Hollow was practically heaving with donated dinners, so Marilla felt no guilt at taking one home. After all she had been busy caring for Rachel rather than cooking. Davy regaled them with one of his usual stories keeping them all amused until Anne ordered the children up to bed. "That's them down," she announced when she returned. "I hope Davy wasn't too, well Davy-ish for you."
"Not at all, having come from the Lyndes where it's so sombre Davy reminds me of the joys of life. One needs that, I think. Some light to balance the dark."
Cora Blythe was measuring out a bolt of cloth in the mercantile the next morning and despite their somewhat strained relationship Marilla bid her a good morning. "I'm just buying a few things for Gilbert," Cora explained. "I'll make him a few new shirts for Redmond. Don't want him to look like a hick in the big city."
"So, he's off soon then?" Marilla enquired with a small tug at her heart.
"Yes, he's been so patient. It wasn't his first choice to stay here these past couple of years, but we finally feel we can afford it now. He's excited to be off. To continue that which had been interrupted."
"I am pleased for him," Marilla said graciously. "Please pass on my best wishes."
Thomas Lynde went to his maker a few days later. The house was full of the family and Marilla backed away when it was clear she was surplus to requirements. Not that anyone said anything but well it was a private moment. "Remember when Matthew passed, Anne. We just needed to grieve together, without anyone around."
Anne nodded, "I do. Diana offered to stay, but it was not her hurt I only needed you."
"Exactly, I'll be there later when everyone's left but for now it's a family affair."
When the last child had made their farewells to their father and for the time being to their mother, a despondent Rachel visited Marilla.
"Come in, sit yourself down. How are you dear Rachel? What a sad time. He was a good man."
Rachel smiled at her oldest friend sadly, "he was at that. A marvellous father and a wonderful husband. I was lucky to have him."
"And he you," replied Marilla reassuringly.
Rachel smiled coyly. "Yes well. The thing is I'm not sure if I can stay here in Avonlea. We had to mortgage the farm a while back so there's not much money left. The plan is to sell it and move in with Eliza," she sighed. "It's good of her to take me in but I'll be awful sad to leave Avonlea and that's a fact," she wiped a tear from her eye. "It's a hard thing to lose your husband and your home in one fell swoop. Making new friends isn't easy at my age."
Marilla gazed at her thoughtfully.
In bed that night she thought it through. She hadn't wanted to say anything to Rachel without weighing all the factors. The thing of it was she heard Anne's bright affirmation the other day but behind that she fancied Anne was lying. Of course, she knew Anne would never complain, that wasn't her style, but education was important to her. And to Matthew too, Marilla thought. He was always adamant that she get educated. She was so good to offer to stay when he died but it's time she got on with her life. I'll miss her something fierce but if I had Rachel with me to help with the children and keep me company, then it would be bearable. She stared into the darkness, Rachel though. She can be overbearing at times. Can I bear to have her living here with me? The alternative is losing touch. Letters and a few visits a year would be no substitute for our friendship. No, I think I'll do it. I'll go down to Rachel's in the morning and sound her out.
Deciding to strike while the iron was hot Marilla sat down with Anne when she got home from school. "Anne," she started. "A word. You've been awful good to me, and I can't even put into words how much I've enjoyed having you around, but I think you oughta go to college next year if you still want."
"Marilla!" Anne said shocked. "How on earth will you manage?"
"Well, I went down to Rachel's, and we've hatched a plan. Her place wasn't worth much and she feared she'd have to move in with Eliza. As she said it's not easy making new friends at our time of life. So, we've decided, she's going to move in here with me. She'll have her own kitchen so we won't get underfoot too much, and she can help me with the twins. Since that's the situation I think we can afford to send you to Redmond, that is if you'd still like to go."
Gilbert saw Anne going home on his way into town and they stopped in front of each other. "I have something to tell you," they said simultaneously.