Warning: Violence and the n-word.

Timeline - Anne of Windy Poplars, The Second Year. Chapter 13

Chapter 24: Colors

Ralph Andrews steadied his future bride Dora Keith as they struggled to ascend the rolling hill. A warm, pert wind swept her hair loose and a river of blonde trailed them as they half ran, half walked the acreage that one day would be theirs. He had picked out the spot to build their home and wanted to show her. After he graduated this winter from Queens, the foundation would be laid, all courtesy of his parents.

"What do you think?"

Ralph's sparkling eyes coaxed Dora's blossoming blush and she faltered under his gaze. She couldn't wait. She longed to start the rest of her life, even if some thought her ambition, to keep house, rather unambitious. Dora figured that she didn't need a big dream. She was content to find beauty in her children and pride in a tidy home. Even if her hopes weren't grand, she aimed to live grandly.

Ralph pulled her arm to bring her to him and he hugged her from behind. He rested his chin on her crown and pointed. "The house will be here on the hill and the stables to the left. We might be able to see all the way out to Newbridge from our second story. We'll be in the center of everything here."

Dora bit the bottom of her lip as to not disappoint Ralph. She wasn't sure about being so visible to strangers, especially with the Newbridge road running next to their property line. Green Gables had spoiled her for its seclusion; however, there was also something to be said about the Andrews building them a flashy house. Their home would be a showcase for the Andrews' name. Ralph's sister, Mrs. Inglis, promised Ralph and Dora all the modern conveniences; hot and cold running water, a boiler in the basement, and a hand-crank washing machine for her Monday work.

"Well, what do you think?" Ralph asked yet again, eager to hear approval for his provisions.

Dora turned to her young man to offer her opinion and found herself mute. Oh, what does it matter where the house is as long as he is in the house?

"Kiss me," Dora asked, pleaded, perhaps begged. She was never shy about soliciting his affection.

If the sunshine warmed her outsides Ralph's kisses melted her insides. Ralph slid his large hands down her back. He hoisted her up and Dora hitched her legs around his waist and her skirts pillowed with sun-warmed air. Their kisses were more refined, not the sloppy executions of the past. Lips and tongues gently explored the other's. Unhurried. Dora felt so loved and wanted. Her hands stroked Ralph's smoothly shaved jaw. He twirled her until she wriggled free.

"Do you have any idea how mad I am for you?" Ralph put his hands into his trouser pockets as Dora straightened her petticoats and peach over-skirt. He was looking at her in a way that made her blush redder. He was positively smitten. "I have it really bad for you, right now."

"Ralph!" Dora couldn't believe how he told her that, but the truth was she was more curious than shocked. It flattered her to think she might have such an effect on him. She told herself, as well as him, "We'll be married one day."

"I don't know if I can wait too much longer. The diaper count. How close are you to completing it?" Ralph chuckled at this question as he said it. He heard its weirdness. It was a bizarre condition for them, two thousand dirty diapers change she must. The fact that he already had a parcel of land to farm should have satisfied Miss Marilla Cuthbert.

"Ralph, it's going to be very close," was all Dora said as they descended the hill, leaning just so to counter gravity and the angle. "But I'll drop out of school to make the diaper count before Christmas. I'm up to four hundred now. I call on every house I know that has a child in diapers. I even go to New Halifax and help the mothers there. Those colored babies are so cute too."

Ralph stopped walking unexpectedly. His frown washed her in cold disapproval.

"Dora, you mustn't go to New Halifax, not anymore," Ralph commanded Dora.

"Ralph, why not?

"We can't avoid the coloreds if they come to town, but we can definitely avoid them by not going into theirs."

Dora was confused. "Why does it matter? A dirty diaper is a diaper, and Marilla makes no distinction on that."

"But it does matter Dora my darling! The races should never, ever mix. But you not knowing that is one of the reasons why I want to get you away from that house of eccentrics." Ralph sighed heavily and his voice lowered an octave. "Miss Cuthbert did a wonderful thing to take you and Davy when your mother died, everyone agrees, but Dora, surely you can see that her mind has grown feeble and her decisions show it. Bundling? Two-thousand diapers? And now she says her vision was restored by prayer? Old age has not been kind to her."

Dora's face fell, "Ralph, don't be so mean. Marilla is very old-fashioned and prim but her mind is not addled. Although, I do sort of see why the bundling would be questioned. Even Anne and Gilbert don't bundle anymore."

Ralph shook his head. "They're probably still sharing a bed, don't you think? Miss Cuthbert gave them a taste for it."

"Gilbert is a gentleman," Dora educated Ralph. It was a very indecent thought for her to have about Anne and Gilbert. "I'm sure he means to stay proper. Gilbert's sort of stuffy in his ways."

"He is also a man," Ralph educated Dora in return. "A slightly strange man anymore, but a man nonetheless. It's harder than you'll ever know to keep a promise like that."

"I'm sure he won't break it."

"I'm sure he wants to." Ralph pulled Dora closer to him as the ground leveled off. "If I'm honest, Dora, I know because it's how I feel about you. Whenever we kiss, all I want to do is more!"

"Ralph!"

"What? I'll never lie to you Dora," Ralph said. "I might speak roughly at times, but I won't lie. I love you and I want the absolute best for you, but please, stay away from New Halifax. Separation of the races is God's law. We learned about the Table of Nations a long time ago in Sunday school.*" More slowly and carefully, "You may want to distance yourself from Davy too. That girl he walks home. . . "

"Miss Marin?"

"She's not good enough for him. I know she's half white but it's still wrong. One day I may have to have a word with him."

"Ralph!" Dora said, "Davy's leaving me alone about you and I hope that you can give him the same courtesy. Promise me, don't talk to Davy about it."

Ralph needed a second to consider Dora's blazing expression. She looked daggers at him. Ralph recalled Davy was more than her brother, but her twin. Twins were always strangely defensive of the other. He had seen his own identical twin nieces act the same way.

"You promise to marry me in Montréal at Christmas?"

"I will move heaven and earth to make the count. But, please let me go to New Halifax!" Dora placed a hand on his chest. "I promise you that you'll be happy you did. We are going to have so much fun together, married."

Ralph bent over to kiss her again. "Alright, alright, you've made your point." And Ralph could feel Dora's smile come between their lips.

Henrietta could only do so much for Miss Marin as a sow. It broke her heart that she couldn't decipher the book held in front of her. She kindly grunted and oinked and although she couldn't exactly wag her curly-cue tail, she made the effort anyway. After all, Miss Marin was her favorite person in the entire world. She was always bringing her the nicest slop and praising her piglets. Her eyes spoke apologies as Miss Marin dropped the book into her lap. The young lady was really sad.

"Henrietta, where do you suppose Davy is? We always go over words in the morning."

Henrietta sat down and grunted something incomprehensible to most.

"Do you think so?"

Henrietta nodded and oinked, unsure if she was understood. Miss Marin still looked unhappy but seemed distracted by her attempts to make her smile.

Henrietta didn't know she was being stalked by Charlie, her oldest hog. He came up behind her and attempted to get her to flop down so he could nurse. He nipped her rump. Miss Marin laughed when Henrietta squealed in surprise. Henrietta chased off her boy and returned to Miss Marin's lovely smile. She sat back down in the trough's shadow, knowing she had helped turn a frown upside down.

Soon after Davy waltzed into the barn. He was suppressing a huge smile, like Lewis' Chester Cat, and Miss Marin craved to know what it was causing Davy to be so elated. Wisely, she stared at him and waited. His euphoric expression only grew and Miss Marin tried to think of what might have happened to cause such delight behind his eyes. He just gazed back at her, brimming with energy.

Finally, Miss Marin broke. "Davy, what is it? What happened?"

And Henrietta squealed her questions too at him, but that caused her piglets to suddenly form an oinking stampede.

"I'm sorry I'm late," He saw Henrietta turn her snout up in a way that would put a Pye to shame. "Marilla's mare had her foal this morning and I helped. Mr. Harrison had me reach inside and adjust the foal's legs while it was happening."

"Oh!" Her delight for him made his smile seem modest. She loved animals and their babies. Davy watched her curiosity build until it was too much for her to bear. "What did she have?"

"A black colt I think."

Rival whinnied loudly from his stall and pawed the floor.

"Don't you know Davy?" Miss Marin giggled. "It's not that hard to figure out."

Davy felt his face go pink. "The lighting wasn't great but it seemed to have a ...a..." Her laugh was louder than he expected, "Boy parts."

Davy was still blushing as he approached Miss Marin on their bench.

"I've been waiting for you to test my spelling," Miss Marin pushed her book into his hands as he sat down. "Henrietta was helping me earlier."

He raised his eyebrow, surprised. "You sure? You were struggling with this page yesterday. There's no hurry. Truly, there isn't."

"Papa was feeling good and he helped me with them last night," and with no little pride, Miss Marin added, "I've memorized entire chapters of the Bible. I think I can keep straight a list of twenty words."

"Right," Davy turned and faced Miss Marin, his leg folded in front of him. He reviewed the reader with one hazel eye and watched Miss Marin with his other.

Davy selected a word he thought would trip her up. "Spell 'union'."

Miss Marin slyly smiled and recited. "U-N-I-O-N".

"Good. Now write it."

"Write it?"

She wasn't prepared for that. Her golden-brown eyes popped open in protest. Next, she tried to cute her way out of his instruction, although, Davy wasn't sure if she was completely aware of her adorable actions.

"That's right." He handed her the slate and slate pencil.

"Davy," Miss Marin was unsure.

"You can do it!" Davy repeated what Mr. Harrison had told him when he asked Davy to reach into the mare's womb and push the foal back.

Miss Marin hunched over and etched out the letters with Davy's encouragement. She dutifully returned the slate for Davy's review.

"Well, you're really close, but the 'n's are backward."

"They are?"

"Yeah, but I knew what it was, and so would anyone else, so, it's fine."

"But it's not perfect."

Davy rubbed his knee. "Perfection is overrated. Sometimes just getting it done is enough."

Miss Marin frowned and looked at the slate. "The letters look fine to me."

Davy then rewrote the 'n's under hers to show her the difference.

"Oh," She traced her finger over the chalk markings.

Davy tried his best not to make a big deal about it. "Reading is a skill. Like pie-baking. I'm sure there are other things you do that I would have a hard time at."

Miss Marin glanced over at Henrietta and then back to him. She looked like she wanted to tell Davy something but decided against it.

"Should we do another word?"

Miss Marin shrugged an affirmative.

Davy picked up the reader again. "Can you write 'bonnet'?"

Miss Marin wiped the slate clean and very slowly wrote her answer. Davy averted his eyes to give her room to think. He saw Henrietta inch her way back to her trough as he waited for Miss Marin to submit her answer. She wrote "B-O-N-E-T". Davy praised her for getting her 'n' straight, but then he put the slate down and asked. "Can you spell it aloud?"

"Sure Davy," Miss Marin then replied, "B-O-N-N-E-T"

"That's fantastic!" Miss Marin beamed to Davy's encouragement as he then made light of the missing letter on the slate. "It's just that you forgot one of the 'n's when you wrote it."

"I did not."

"I'm sorry," and Davy showed her the slate, having written the word correctly underneath.

"That doesn't look right to me either," Miss Marin defended herself. "Let me see the book, please."

Davy reluctantly handed over the reader and Miss Marin found the word on the page. She compared the number of letters from the page to what she had written.

Davy tried not to audibly sigh as she frowned.

"Why does it need two 'n's anyway?"

"I dunno, that's just how you spell it."

Frustrated, she took the book and threw it. The book landed in the pigpen, just short of Henrietta. Davy ignored Miss Marin's sourness and indicated with his eyes that she should go get her book. Miss Marin only sat up stiffer.

Henrietta, on the other hand, was pushing the book with her snout, trying to get it as close as she could to the humans. She oinked "come and get it" when she could push it no further. Miss Marin wouldn't let go of her bruised pride and Davy eventually stood up and retrieved the book from the helpful sow.

"Thanks, Henrietta."

The pig had already trotted off to her pool of mud.

Davy returned to his spot and sat next to Miss Marin. Miss Marin seemed ashamed. She looked between Davy and the sow with an uncertain expression.

"I'm sorry I got mad." She took the book from Davy and wiped the cover with her apron.

"You're entitled to get mad," Davy permitted. "It's not you. You're smart. It's me. I'm not a teacher. You need a real one."

"Davy, you're a fine teacher, really. And I've decided that I don't need reading," but Miss Marin sounded defeated. "I don't even know why I wanted to know how. I really just want to be a groom and you don't need to know how to read to be that."

"A groom?"

Miss Marin nodded and stared into the corners of the stable, smiling at what she saw.

"Yes, I think I'd be a good one. Just like Papa."

Davy scratched his head. A groom? Seriously, a groom?

Since Anne had returned home from Summerside, Green Gables had been filled with talks about her wedding to Gilbert. When she wasn't sewing, Anne often sat with her journal sketching out timelines and writing invitations and vows. He didn't know much about weddings but he was fairly sure that only the man could be a groom.

"You can't be a groom though," Davy finally told Miss Marin.

"Davy! Of course, I can!"

"But it's not right for a girl to be a groom." Davy rolled his eyes to the absurdity. "I don't know why you'd ever want to be a groom when you'd be extra pretty as a bride."

Miss Marin sharply inhaled. Her eyes were a puzzle to him, so he continued his explanation.

"Can I show you what I mean?" He was searching his pockets for his handkerchief and grimaced when he realized he neglected to bring his. "You don't have a white hankie on you, do you?"

Miss Marin's expression said "no".

"Let me see here. I'll just use my own hand and you'll have to imagine it as a veil." Davy picked up Miss Marin's soft, brown hand. He straightened her fingers and pointed them dow.

"Now, look how nice and deep your color is with my white hand over yours?" Miss Marin audibly swallowed and she seemed confused. "You just have to use your imagination. I know it's weird for me to say these things, but Anne's been talking nonstop about her wedding dress and her clothes. Things rub off if you hear it over and over again."

"You...you think I'm pretty?" Miss Marin's voice was barely a whisper.

"All brides are pretty," Davy shrugged.

But Miss Marin smiled harder and spoke more confidently. "No, you said I would be extra pretty as a bride, so you must think I'm always pretty." Her eyes were dancing at him now, sparkling like topaz gemstones.

Crap!

"Davy," Miss Marin smirked. "When I said I wanted to be a groom, I meant that I want to be a stable groom. Not a bridegroom. You know, take care of horses. Like you did this morning."

"Oh!" There was no backtracking now. "You would be good at that. I thought you went crazy there for a second. A groom, what a preposterous thought!"

"Can you spell 'preposterous'?" Miss Marin teased.

"No," Davy truthfully chuckled. They sat for a few more moments, the spelling lesson forgotten. Davy's heart was still beating rapidly, thinking over their discourse when he remembered that she wanted to give up their little school.

"Please don't give up trying to learn to read. Promise me. I want that dream for you, and I'll help you when it gets hard."

"Alright, but Davy?"

"Um?"

"You can let go of my hand now."

"So, Anne, have you written anything lately?" Mrs. Blythe asked her future daughter-in-law.

The question caused Anne to be careless with her sewing and she pricked her finger and drew a spot of blood. Helen chuckled at Anne's jolt of pain. The apples of Helen's cheeks were plump and Anne's attention was torn. Should she lash at Helen for making fun of her hemming mishap or answer the question Mrs. Blythe so politely asked?

Gilbert's mother continued talking as Anne chose to nail Helen with her wide-eyed, How dare you? stare.

"I did love writing my mother that her grandson was marrying a published authoress!" Mrs. Blythe's pride in Gilbert's choice for a spouse was obvious and Anne couldn't help the smile that floated over her own face.

"Oh, I haven't written anything for the longest while!" Anne finally offered. She was so busy sewing her hands actually would cramp on her making fine embroidery impossible. Luckily, Marilla was doing most of that. Marilla was renewing a lot of old interests in the wake of perfect eyesight. "Not that I don't want to write, but, it's just it takes time and the cooperation of the muses. My attempts with them are so sparse now, it is no wonder they have abandoned me for other conduits. Orphaned again I should say."

Anne tried to make a joke of it, of being an orphan, but its reception fell flat.

Helen stood and headed to the kitchen where Katherine and Miss Marin worked on Miss Marin's reading. Katherine insisted it was a lost cause to teach her how to sew, but instead engrossed herself in finding a solution for Miss Marin.

"You're not an orphan anymore, Anne." Mrs. Blythe kindly spoke. "Not for a long time."

Mrs. Blythe had asked Anne a few days ago to start calling her "Mother" or "Mom". Anne could only reply that she would need to think about it.

"Anne?"

Ignoring a strangeness in her chest and the lingering pain in her finger, Anne returned her attention to the woman that gave Gilbert his hazel eyes. She was his mother and therefore would be her mother too. The logic was sound from her point of view, but Anne didn't know how to call her 'mother' when Marilla herself wouldn't let her call her 'aunt'. Anne wanted to form the word, could feel the insides of her mouth scoop to the 'mmm' sound. Utter out 'mother' or even 'Mother Blythe' she could not, but in her heart, she really wanted to honor Geraldine's request.

"Yes?" Anne finally said. Mrs. Blythe's face fell a tad not to hear the word, or maybe, it was only Anne's imagination.

"I had a letter from Gilbert. He's finding his work challenging. He visits the men on the grade. Helps them with their hurts mostly, and refers them to the company doctor when needed. Drunkenness seems to be a real problem. I assume he wrote you too?"

Anne nodded but most of what Gilbert wrote was for her eyes only.

"Yes, we've corresponded. I am a little worried. He doesn't seem to have found a friend yet and his old roommate is also there, so, he's not very happy right now."

"Dr. Felder went to the railway too?" Mrs. Blythe asked. "I know it was a great relief he got to graduate. We all chipped in and bought him a present."

"Things would be better if Eugene were there, but he's not," Anne said. "It's Marcus Trimble, Gilbert's other roommate that transferred out of Redmond."

"Oh, well, he didn't seem like a bad sort from what I recall. I was surprised when Gilbert told me he left school so abruptly."

Anne squirmed. Gilbert never told his parents the circumstances around Marcus' departure. If he had said what type of man Marcus really was, a cad that frequented brothels, and one that encouraged Gilbert to do the same, Mrs. Blythe wouldn't have had that particular opinion. Marcus Trimble was a bad sort. And to be honest, Gilbert had interfered with Trimble's engagement. The tension between Gilbert and Marcus escalated uncomfortably until one day, Gilbert came back from class to find out he was gone. Anne could tell from Gilbert's recent letters there was still animosity to resolve and she urged Gilbert not to use his bilocation magic. What would happen if Marcus discovered Gil's body in a dormant state?

Helen came back from the kitchen where she had interrupted Katherine's lesson to borrow Miss Marin. She needed to make a few alterations to Miss Marin's new dress. In addition to Anne's wedding things, the ladies were also united for a charitable cause. Gilbert had asked Helen to make Miss Marin a nice, black dress and Helen took it upon herself to have four dresses made instead. Three fashionable black dresses of various weights for her day-to-day and the fourth dress in a pretty lavender. Miss Marin only knew about the light purple dress, which was serving as a template to the others.

Helen showed Anne her adjustment to the bodice. Later on, at Green Gables, Anne would copy the adjustment on the three other dresses. They were hiding the black dresses as to not upset Miss Marin with thoughts of her father's pending death.

"Anne, on the cashmere, you might have a hard time fluting these gathers, if so, let me know and I'll stop by Green Gables and help you out. Marilla's sewing machine is capable but I've noticed she prefers plain styles and there's a fancy technique to it."

"Are you sure you have time?" Anne pondered. Helen was still busy drafting patterns for her European enterprise with Charlie Sloane, not to mention their tag-team partnership bringing customers to the Avonlea Telephone Exchange.

"I'll make time," Helen reported. "This is likely the dress she'll wear at her father's funeral. His bad days are out-numbering his good."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Anne was not surprised though.

More than once Davy had returned to Green Gables completely crestfallen, usually, it involved Mr. Marin's seizures. He didn't say much about it at the supper table, even if Mrs. Lynde pushed for details. Privately, Davy had told Anne that Mr. Marin was struggling to remember things. He had forgotten he had a daughter one day and Davy had to tell Mr. Blythe. The Blythes were considering boarding them as Mr. Marin needed more help than what Miss Marin could handle.

"What will happen to Miss Marin when he passes?" Anne asked.

Helen and Mrs. Blythe looked at one another as if they shared the same thought. Helen spoke up first, "I've decided to take her as my ward, but only if she wants to. It won't be legal, but, we have things in common and Mr. Marin seems pleased when I asked him if I might. It will only be for a few years and I'll get a taste of motherhood. I probably won't ever have my own child."

"John and I have already told Miss Marin not to worry, that she is always welcomed here," Mrs. Blythe winked at her niece, "You too."

Helen's interest in Miss Marin surprised Anne greatly. Katherine had not mentioned anything about it when they were home together at Green Gables. The way she understood it, once Katherine completed her secretarial course, she and Helen would board together. Anne cut her thread and frowned. She had a hunch that Katherine did not know Helen's intent to take a ward.

Davy Keith never complained about walking Miss Marin home to New Halifax, even if it was impractical. It was a mile there from work and two more miles to Green Gables. Seeing Miss Marin home was his reward after a long day. Often he was too tired to talk, but Davy had grown more comfortable with the silence and liked the hum of nature accenting their walk. In a weird way, he felt that Miss Marin said more to him by saying nothing at all.

Their hands sometimes brushed and Davy dealt with the desire to hold her hand outside of the barn. He stopped saying, "I'm sorry" when it happened. He craved to feel her fingers in his own. The crickets chirped encouragements. Davy-do-it. Davy-do-it. Hand holding on a public road was risky. Not just because she was colored and he was white, but also because hand-holding seemed to have a lot of unwritten rules.

Davy recalled back to when he and Dora first arrived at Green Gables. One morning, Anne came downstairs from her room still in a tizzy about Gilbert's advance from the day before. "He tried to hold my hand, Marilla!" Marilla insisted Anne was no longer a child and to get over it. Davy listened between mouthfuls of porridge, his own and Dora's. Davy was shocked to learn that 'that boy' was going "pay for his forward and shockingly bold behavior."

Hand-holding wasn't that big a deal. Davy decided as Anne dramatically fretted into her own breakfast bowl.

The way he saw it if parents could hold the hands of their children, and girls might hold the hands of their bosom friends, why couldn't Gilbert hold Anne's hand? Anne and Gilbert were friends and Davy liked Gilbert a lot. Anne was being stupid. Davy decided then and there that if he ever felt like holding a girl's hand, he would. No fuss. But that was a six-year-old's mind at work. That was before he knew hearts were on the line.

To his own surprise, Davy's hand acted of its own accord. Her hand brushed his and he twisted his wrist just so, and their palms kissed. He kept his eyes forward. It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. His pulse staggered in fear of her rejection, but instead, her hand firmly responded and joy flooded his senses. He grew two inches on the spot. They held hands briefly, but it was a glorious few minutes. Ones Davy wanted to relive.

"There he is!"

The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place the name associated with the utterance. The words snapped like a cruel whip. Davy knew he was in danger. He was standing in the thick of the woods, taking a shortcut back to Green Gables. The leafing trees choked out what little light was left in the day and the hillside terrain made it difficult to run. Davy deeply regretted leaving the road's safety.

He heard footsteps rushing up to him. It happened fast enough he never knew who gave him that first blow to his gut. He bounded forward in response to the strike and someone slipped a bag over his head. One was a lot bigger and his job was to hold Davy still. The other two hit him at will; his gut, his face, his chest.

Davy wrangled himself free, but his attempts to defend himself only made him topple down the bluff's precipice. Blinded by the bag, he hit his head hard on the limb of a tree that stopped his fall.

Davy went limp and laid very still against the incline of the hillside. When he moaned, he heard someone say, "Ah, he's alright! Aren't you nigger lover!" But they left him there to manage himself, running off before Davy had the bag removed. He had no idea who they were, but he knew why he had been targeted. At least it was him and not Miss Marin.

He bent over and vomited. Everything tasted of blood.

Slowly, he inspected his face with his hands, worried he needed Dr. Blair and another slap. It was a blessing to feel his nose and know it was still straight. He couldn't open his left eye, and for a terrifying moment, Davy thought his eyeball gone. His fingertips were slick with blood. Had the tree gorged his eye out? He then found the source of his bleeding in his hair. He remembered how the branch hit him as he tumbled, stopping his fall.

Later that evening Davy sat naked in a bath of hot water behind a hung blanket trying to recover. It was a warm evening overall, and Davy didn't mind taking his bath in the barn. Marilla, Mrs. Lynde, Anne, and Katherine kept coming with buckets of heated water and Mr. Blythe added them to his bath. Davy was sullen. The night was a blur. He vaguely remembered Mr. Blythe finding him, carrying him like a small child, and loading him into his wagon. First, they went to Dr. Blair's, where his head was partly shaved and his lacerations stitched closed. Dr. Blair gave him a powder to lessen the pain and more for later. Then Mr. Blythe drove him home to Green Gables where Davy was led to the barn for the bath. Dr. Blair had telephoned Green Gables and explained what happened.

Davy was so grateful for the man's presence as the evening stretch to the midnight hour. He didn't have it in him to deal with Marilla, Mrs. Lynde or Anne hovering over him. It was only Mr. Blythe and he'd give him the space he needed.

"Well, Davy, it seems you've escaped any serious, long-lasting injury. Dr. Blair thinks you're made of rubber, you know. They didn't get you in the groin, did they?"

Davy shuddered at the thought.

"It's pretty dishonorable to hit a man below the belt," Mr. Blythe said. "Do you want to tell me exactly what happened and not that watered-down version you told Blair?"

Again, Davy shook his head.

"Davy, you can't expect me to handle Marilla Cuthbert unless you give me the facts. All those ladies are waiting to carve me up like the Christmas goose. If you tell me, I think I can get them to leave you alone, mostly."

"I was takin' the shortcut home from the New Halifax fork."

"That's what you told Dr. Blair. You know that path well enough. You didn't just fall, did you?"

"No, I had help from three others, I'm pretty sure there were three."

"What else."

"They put a bag over my head so I couldn't see them."

"Cowards."

"The big one held me but I got loose and fell. I really did fall. That's how I hit the tree." Davy paused, trying to remember. "When I came to, I heard 'em call me 'nigger lover' and they took off. I never saw who they were."

John Blythe examined his protégé. For one time in his life, he was lost for words.

Davy moved his legs, sloshing the water.

"Are you ready to go in?" John pointed to the towels waiting for Davy. "You know Marilla is pacing a hole in the floor to see you."

Davy again shook his head.

"Well, you might want to try and use the soap, unless you want me to help you. You'll feel better clean."

It was a kind threat as threats go. With deliberate effort, Davy picked up the soft, slimy lye and rubbed it against his chest, instinctively avoiding the bruises. Davy's hand went under to cleanse the submerged parts of his body; his lower abdomen, privates, and legs. Mr. Blythe watched him splash water to rinse his skin. Then his fingers reached to his swollen lips. Mr. Blythe held his own breath as Davy felt the foreign lump that was his left eye. "You don't have a mirror, do you?"

"Davy, you're looking really rough right now. Those bruises are going to be a rainbow of colors as the month progresses."

"Color, this is all because of color."

"No, it's not," John answered. "It's more complicated than that. It's a festering disease, racism. It's hate. But you're not the one in the wrong, Davy. Rest tonight knowing you did nothing wrong. I about had a heart attack myself when I found you."

Dr. Blair said it was a miracle Davy had been found. He was so far off the road and in the shadows of the trees. Through the throbbing pain, Davy asked, "How did you know to come looking for me?"

"Well, that's a long story, but let's just say a little bird told me."

Davy stood and wrapped one of Marilla's soft, white towels around his middle. John distracted himself as Davy slowly moved out of the tub; he was counting his bruises. One, two, three, four…

"Please don't tell Miss Marin," Davy requested as he attempted to dress. "That I was beaten up because I like her."

"Son, let me help you there," Davy managed to get his drawers on, ignoring the pain he felt when he bent forward. John assisted with getting his arms into his nightshirt. "Miss Marin has got her own ways of figuring things out. She's too curious for her own good. Just worry about yourself right now."

Marilla walked into the kitchen where Davy sat and showed him what arrived at Green Gables that glorious Sunday afternoon. It had been almost two weeks since the incident and Davy's convalescence was coming to a close.

"Another pie?"

"I don't know how that girl managed it, but she found enough ripe strawberries to make one." Marilla shook her head. "That's nothing short of a miracle this early in the season. She's really resourceful and I should ask how she does her crust. I've never seen such consistency. Do you want a piece now?"

Davy shook his head, instead, he pulled the pie closer and examined it for himself with his good eye. The wafting scent was delightful. "Why does she keep making me pie?"

"Why indeed?" Marilla perked her eyebrow high. The quirky movement of that arched brow metered his own blush. The higher and more expressive her face, the warmer his face felt. Embarrassed over his own obvious bashfulness, Davy basically admitted to Marilla he was in the throngs of teen-aged puppy love.

"Davy, we need to talk about you and Miss Marin," Marilla braved up. "I've wanted to say something for a while and I wish I had before you were attacked. Maybe if I had, you might not have been harmed."

"Marilla, we don't need to discuss it." He knew her thoughts without her saying it. "You're going to tell me to stop seeing her."

Marilla exhaled heavily. "Actually, I'm not." But then she held up her hand as Davy perked up. "I do not like it, it's not how I was raised, but—I've decided I'm not going to stop you."

Marilla joined Davy at the table where they stared at the lattice crust pie some more. It took Davy a minute to absorb what Marilla said.

"You're not going to forbid me?"

"No," Marilla replied. "Now, maybe three pies ago I would have said something different, it's ... Oh Goodness. Where is Anne when you need just the right word?"

Davy grinned a tad. Anne always had just the right word for any situation. That was her gift, not theirs.

"Tell me about her, Davy. Does she have a name other than Miss Marin?"

Davy chuckled to himself. "She won't tell me."

"Well, that's a high and mighty outlook on herself, can't even share her name with you."

"It doesn't bother me," Davy explained. "It's almost sweet, her reason. She wants to be a 'proper Southern lady'. Mr. Marin told me he was raised to always refer to the young ladies as 'Miss'. She has so little, I figured this is something I can give her."

"She might be playing coy with you."

"I don't think she is," Davy answered. "The reason why I was beaten up was because we were holdin' hands. That's not coy. Kinda the opposite."

Marilla then asked, "Do you know who attacked you?"

"There were three of them. They slipped a bag on my head. I recognized the voice of one person, but, I can't put a face to it."

Marilla bit her tongue to not interrupt him. She knew this story from John, but she wanted to hear it from Davy directly.

"They called me a 'nigger lover' before they left me. I was seeing stars. I hardly remember the night actually, but I remember hearing that."

"Davy," Marilla spoke as calmly as she could but inside she felt that same crying rage she first felt when she saw him on John Blythe's wagon. His head was wrapped in white bandages and his shirt was drenched with blood. He could barely talk and John recruited Anne and Katherine to restrain her from attending to her son. "Don't let those bullies win, Davy. I don't see how holding a colored girl's hand warranted what happened to you. I thought about telling you to stop walking this path you've taken, but, truthfully, I would prefer that you stand your ground, even if it also means standing up to me. Turn the other cheek**, Davy."

Davy was confused. "You want me to be beaten up again?"

"No, of course not. What a silly conclusion, but our current minister is a dullard so I see how it was made. It is an act of defiance to bear insults patiently." Marilla stood and softly touched his hair, trying to remember the precocious boy he once was. "I may not agree, but, some things are more important than my approval. And this is one of them."

to be continued

*Genesis 10
**Matthew 5:38-40