Chapter Twenty-Seven—The Wrong Color of Thread
Una sat curled up in one of the big armchairs in the Redferns' living room, staring out at the soft snowfall and complaining about her situation to Valancy. "I can't go on like this, hopping from place to place," she moaned. "I'm tired of living with various relations, wearing whatever clothes I have packed in my trunk! And I would feel very odd living with any of the Blythes right now, but they comprise half my family. And—" Something snapped, and Una buried her head in a rather ugly striped pillow that Cousin Georgiana had made for Barney and Valancy. "I just don't know what to do."
"Don't cry, Miss Una," Cecy said, patting her on the shoulder. "You can come share my room."
"Thank you, Cecy," Una said gravely from the depths of the pillow. "But my problem is exactly that. Everyone keeps offering to share with me, but I want my own room. Somewhere without family members everywhere, feeling sorry for me. But that will never happen." A hint of self-pity crept into her voice.
"In that case, I won't feel sorry for you," Valancy said, not unkindly. "But you need to become independent. You're so used to living with your family that you can't imagine being on your own."
The tips of Una's ears—all that showed—looked rather affronted. "I went to Europe by myself."
"But it was a gift. You yourself need to have some sort of goal in life, a time when you break away and go off on your own without family constraints."
Una's eyes showed over the top of the pillow. "What did you do?" she asked curiously.
"I left home, took a job in one of the most disreputable households in the town, and asked a man to marry me."
Una sat up. "That sounds a mite drastic, in my opinion. I don't think I'm quite ready for that."
Valancy smiled. "Probably not. Desperate times called for desperate measures." The two women laughed. "Besides, I thought I only had a year to live and that I should try to get the most out of it that I could."
"I don't think I want to ask anyone to marry me, but I suppose a job wouldn't be that bad of an idea," Una mused. "Where would I start looking for one?"
"The newspaper," Valancy said. "Or Barney might know of something. We can ask him at supper."
"Perhaps I'll do that," Una mused.
***********
Two days later, Una approached the door of the Kenneth Ford household with fear and trepidation. She had put off her visit to Rilla as long as possible, but it could no longer be delayed.
Her fears were allayed somewhat by Rilla's warm greeting and the horde of children who "all wanted to see Aunt Una right now and tell her everything about the new baby". After little Leslie Anne was properly admired and put down for her nap, the two women sat down in Rilla's sewing room for a visit.
"She's darling, Rilla," Una said sincerely. "I declare she looks just like you, with the reddish curls all over her head."
"I never thought I'd be the mother of six children," Rilla laughed. "Goodness knows, I've come a long way from when I had Jims in my care. I remember wanting to just shake him when he wouldn't stop crying." She looked wryly at the pile of socks that needed darning. "The problem with six children is that they produce an enormous amount of mending. While I love children—at least my own—much more than in my salad days, I must confess that my love of mending has not increased in proportion to the size of my family." She tossed Una a pair of dark blue stockings and a darning egg. "If you could darn Trudy's good stockings, I'd be ever so grateful. She was sledding in them and ran into a small tree—I think the tree had the worst of it, but the stockings came in a close second. You can find a needle and thread in this workbasket, I think—at least, unless Cornelia Susan decided to give one of her dolls an emergency operation. She says that she's going to be a doctor just like Grandpa Blythe. Una, when you have children, be prepared for anything. I promise you, it will happen."
"I don't think I plan on having children for a while," Una answered, keeping her eyes on Trudy's stocking. She could see by the look in Rilla's eyes that Rilla was going to bring up the one subject that she didn't want to discuss. "Speaking of childish peccadilloes, did I tell you what Cecy Redfern did the other day?"
"No, but it's no use trying to distract me," Rilla said firmly. "Una, why did you and Shirley break off your engagement?"
"I don't think it's any of your business, to tell you the truth," Una said politely, but with equal firmness.
"He's my brother. You're my friend. Our families are inextricably linked, and yet you say it isn't my business." Rilla's temper, inherited from her mother, was starting to show.
"We simply decided that it would not work out. Can't you accept that? You wouldn't want us to be unhappy together, and it seemed that we would end up that way if we got married."
Rilla looked penetratingly at her but appeared to be giving up the fight. "If that's how you want it…"
"It is," Una said firmly, unaware that she was darning Trudy's socks with the wrong color of thread.
"To change the subject," Rilla said, "Ken had a letter from Walter yesterday. He thinks that all of his paperwork muddles should be cleared up in the next few days. He never was actually discharged from the army, so they're attempting to do that now with the smallest amount of red tape possible."
"That's good."
"Yes, he was worried for a while that he'd be considered a deserter. But since he was a prisoner of war until after the Armistice and was presumed dead anyway, the government decided not to take his case that direction." Rilla tossed her head and groaned. "And I suppose that I'll be getting a new sister-in-law one of these days, now that Walter is getting his life put back together."
"Why, whatever do you mean?" Una asked sharply.
Rilla looked at her with the same penetrating look she had used before. "Irene Howard…well, Irene North now."
"I thought he wasn't seeing her anymore. He wrote to me a few months ago that he thought she was malicious."
"So he had some sense, at least a while ago," Rilla muttered to herself before answering Una. "I don't know. She asked him to be her escort to a few parties and things when he first came here, but as you said, he didn't really care for her. Then closer to Christmas, he didn't see anything of her at all. But during this last month, he's squired her to all sorts of galas and parties all over Toronto. We had words over it, and I'm not sure if he's speaking to me at the moment. I don't see why Irene considers him such a feather in her cap—she's known around the city as a bit of a fortune-hunter, and goodness knows, Walter doesn't make all that much on his salary at the paper."
"But he's noble and courageous. That should count for something even if he didn't have a penny!" Una said vehemently.
Rilla looked at her again. "Una...may I ask you a question?"
Una immediately jumped to the defense. "I don't want to discuss it. My life and my feelings are my own business. I already told you that."
"Una, why did you darn Trudy's blue stockings with black thread?"
"For pity's sake," Una murmured. "I did do that! I suppose I wasn't paying attention."
"We've been friends for years, Una. Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Una stood up, dumping stockings, basket, and all on the floor. "Yes. I do not need a husband. I don't want anyone to tell me that I should or shouldn't marry anyone else. Today I sent in a letter of application to the Hopetown Orphan Asylum, which needs a new matron. I have decided that it is time for me to be out on my own. I'm sorry about Trudy's stocking, Rilla, and I hope I haven't hurt your feelings by not wanting to share mine."
Rilla looked utterly flabbergasted. "Well, the only advice I can give you then is to not clothe your orphans in yellowish-brown wincey," she said after a minute of silence.
Una's face softened. "Thanks," she said softly. "Rilla…if I knew myself what I felt, I might be more inclined to tell you."
"I know. And Una?"
"Yes?"
"It's my brother's loss. Both my brothers' loss."