~*~

After that, speech, which had seemed so superfluous before, became the principle item of commodity (followed closely by kisses). Seated on the same couch on which Rilla had gone through such agonies of emotion at their last meeting there, the lovers enjoyed their first forthright and "loverly conversation," which was a bit one-sided, as Rilla was quite content to listen to her beloved's voice (she noted with satisfaction that it was as alluring and caressing as she had remembered it); and Ken, for his part, found it satisfaction himself to feast his eyes on Rilla as he spoke.

They both had changed over the course of the years, but that was no surprise to either. Rilla recalled with a blush the flighty, schoolgirlish creature she must have seemed to Ken, matching his nineteen years (including one at the university) to her almost fifteen. She had no way of knowing the beautiful purity of this picture Ken had treasured during the long separation, and the even greater beauty of the transformation from a young girl on the verge of adulthood to a woman with eyes lit with love. She also did not know (and she would have thought it quite unfounded) that Ken was ruing the pale scar spanning across his cheek, for already this, like each of his features, had become inestimably dear to her. When he fell silent several times, she ran her finger over the outline of the scar, trailing over his lips and tracing the contours of his face. This is what I have dreamed of so many nights. And it is real. Real.

They slipped into the oblivion of time that often takes over rational thought in such cases, and so an hour or perhaps several later, Rilla was startled to hear the door latch lifted as Jem entered, old faithful Dog Monday at his heels. Jem had come home only two weeks ago, and Rilla's heart still couldn't help but lift at the sight of him. Impulsively, almost instinctively she sprang up and hugged him. Still with a tired look about him, but the hollows of his face filled in now and walking with a far more relaxed gait, Jem smiled and rumpled his youngest sister's hair.

"Spider's gotten cuddly, has she?" Jem teased. Rilla scowled.

"Rilla, you are in mortal danger," Ken added, standing up. "We have a whole arsenal of past nicknames for you. Jem, good to see you!" They exchanged brief but firm handshakes, and Rilla, watching them, thought that perhaps there was a…companionship, or maybe a tacit understanding between those who had been in the war, even if they hadn't fought together. She had seen it here, with Jem and Jerry Meredith, various soldiers passing each other on the street…they shared some invisible bond that needn't be spoken aloud, but was there just the same. Even knowing the pain and scars they had sustained in body and soul, Rilla felt a flash of enviousness at merely the idea of being such kindred spirits with strangers and friends alike. It was a kind of empathy she had experienced so rarely in her life.

But here among her family and soon-to-be family, Rilla was drawn into the bond and treated as one of them; a new sensation, since the last time she had been in the company of Jem and Kenneth simultaneously, she had belonged decidedly in the kid department, or so she had felt. Now the age gap had narrowed considerably, and she was no less grown up than either of them, though far less experienced. Thus it was that she was both mortified and strangely delighted to once again be teased by the dear men in her life…simply to be together with them at all.

"Have you been back to Rainbow Valley yet?" Ken asked. "I've only just gotten back myself, actually. This was my first stop."

Jem gave him a knowing look of humor and answered, "Yes, I went to get mayflowers for Mother there. It was…right, I thought, to take them from our old world of magic. It's pretty overgrown by now…Rilla's been slacking off, I think."

She glowered at him and countered, mock indignantly, "I've been busy, truly I have! Up until recently I haven't had time for such foolishness – stop laughing, you rascal! You're as bad as ever."

"Don't give up all your foolishness, My Rilla," Ken said in his low, dusky voice that she always felt was meant just for her ears and as intimate as a kiss. She didn't have to look up to tell that his dark grey eyes were fixed on her. But she did anyways, just to know the thrill of making contact with that caressing gaze.

"And so you're going to steal away my little sister, are you, Kenneth Ford?" There was an unexpected note of protectiveness and, well, tenderness in Jem's voice. Always the big brother, Jem is. She sighed and flushed a little, but even more when Ken came up behind her and wound his arms around her waist.

"It's only stealing if you don't have the consent of the stealée," he said archly. "And I was most careful in securing the full and utter consent of this one."

Jem grinned broadly, yet a little absently, his thoughts clearly led down a similar but separate track. Then, with a delicacy which Jem was not usually known for, he said, "May you find joy," and turned from the room, snapping his fingers for Dog Monday (who never left his side for a moment, and certainly did not need the cue). Rilla wondered if his new sensitivity to romance was Faith's doing. Her own heart full, she was disposed to be warm-hearted even to the minister's daughter who seemed worlds apart from herself, at least for awakening in Jem a romantic sensibility.

Ken now noticed the decided advantages of his position and the solitude of the room, namely the inviting creaminess of Rilla's neck directly beneath his chin. He breathed a kiss at the silken skin where her shoulder and neck met, while drawing her closer to him. "Do you know I still have the rose you gave me?" he murmured when his lips were not otherwise engaged. "I carried it clear across France. I would take it out only when I could no longer help it from thinking about you. I can tell you it's seen a lot of use lately. It's nearly fallen apart by now."

She twisted in his arms and, though he was two hands taller than she, drew his head down to meet her uplifted face. "Then I shall have to give you a new rose."

~*~

Author's Note: You ARE going to comment, right? Yes, you are being irresistibly drawn to the comment section…you can't help yourself…;) I'm especially curious as to where you think the plot will turn, because I have a few tricks up my sleeves…

I apologize in advance for the formatting, but I've saved this as an html doc and used the tags and they still aren't working. (This whole author's note should be in italics but it's not, and the dividers should be centered). Anybody want to help me?

One more thing: the title of this chapter is a reference from another children's classic. Can you tell which one?