Chapter 1: The Decision to Adopt a Boy
Marilla Cuthbert stood at the corner where fence and garden met; a cheery spot known to be the home of house-spiders, snails, and the occasional frog; creatures happy to find abode in the soggy mash of grasses and mud which gathered after spring rain had followed course down the slight dip of earth past her homestead's front porch, down the nicely swept lane, and into beds of flower and vegetable alike, finally meeting the white-painted wood fence at the garden's edge. It was here that Marilla stood on the soft grassy thrush slightly above mud-level, one hand firmly planted on her waist and the other on the fence, looking sternly past fields of newly planted potatoes over to the red road and farther on to the property line a fair ways away. In the distance between the property line and the road were Cuthbert fields with adjacent fields belonging to neighbors on either side – the Barrys, whose homestead could be found by traveling through the western woods along which a creek bubbled pleasantly; and the Lyndes, over to the east towards the center of town, for whom a sun-dappled homestead rose up gently within a dip of the otherwise flat earth. All homesteads in Avonlea, and Prince Edward Island, to be fair (save those in town), were encapsulated within thick property lines of dark green pine, oak, ash, and maple. It was in that direction that she gazed, slightly southwestward through the thick dome of woods where her brother had tread a just few hours earlier on the road to Bright River station.
Marilla Cuthbert breathed the springtime air in deeply as she surveyed her property. Matthew had finished his sowing the week prior; and in the week since, had caught up on all manner of care to the outbuildings of Green Gables. The farm looked dignified and proper, she thought, her family's livelihood an upright contribution to the hard-working Christian community of Avonlea. Indeed, she too had spent this week catching up on home projects; cleaning the east gable room from ceiling to floor with such attention that Matthew suspected anticipation, as well as unboxing and cleaning the long-unused common plates and silverware from years past in preparation for use once more by their new addition. Musing upon this, Marilla turned thoughtfully to glance at her home – a white-paneled building fringed with green atop the roof along to the east and west gables behind. A covered front porch jutted out pleasantly to greet the walkway bordered on both sides by the aforementioned garden, and on the other side, beyond her current range of sight, was a sturdily built back porch raised up a couple feet revealing a grand view of the Cuthbert and Blythe pastures. Green Gables would be a fine home to welcome a young working lad to, she thought; a good Christian home to raise Matthew's farm boy.
In measured pace, she considered the circumstances that had brought her and her brother to this moment. She was not wont to pause her work in the middle of the day, but there she was, staring absently into the woods while considering the arrival of this new house member. Similarly, Matthew was hardly one to leave his fields unworked for the day, save for wintertime, death, illness, fire, or some other village emergency that required the attention of the menfolk. But this was not one of those times, Marilla reasoned, and she couldn't think of a time, past or present, that an Avonlea farmer had done anything of the sort. The well of anticipation that Marilla had felt for the past week was beginning to grow within her uncomfortably. She pinched a few weeds up from the garden and busily scanned it for flowering dandelions and thistles. Churchfolk would certainly be buzzing come Sunday, she reckoned, and Mrs. Lynde would definitely have a part to play in the proliferation of this particular piece of gossip. Marilla chuckled silently; for nearly forty years of friendship and counting, Rachel had developed quite a knack for meddling. Rachel was just as likely to be the thorn in her side on certain occasions, Marilla thought amusedly, as she was to be her most fervent supporter on others. In this present matter, Marilla decided, Rachel's position on the news would likely resemble the thorn.
It was not that she disapproved of Matthew's idea; rather, she thought it a sensible decision that had been a long time coming. In years past, the Cuthberts had hired seasonal help from town; the Boutte family, originally from Nova Scotia, had been a great help for many years, but their children were all grown and looking for long-term jobs. Matthew did not need daily help in the cold months, and needed even less during the dead of winter, and the Cuthberts could not afford to keep a hired hand on throughout the year. Hailing from strong Scottish stock, the Cuthberts had always prided themselves on being self-sufficient and economical in both personal and business matters. Marilla's father had designed and built their home himself after moving to Canada with her mother many years ago, choosing to place their home far back from the main road so that they could feel the freedom of the open land from their windy little plot on the island's north shore; a far cry from the shabby cabin that he was raised in where he and his family worked another man's land in exchange for room and board. No, Mr. Cuthbert decided, when he moved to Canada with his fresh young wife, he would enjoy the land with all of his heart; he would write a new chapter in his family's history, and he would pass this love along to his children.
Marilla furrowed her brow at this thought, taking a pause from weeding. She and Matthew had inherited their parents' love of the land, certainly, and farming was their livelihood. It was a shame, she sometimes thought, that her father's dream had not been fully realized. Despite all of their hard work and planning, her parents had experienced setbacks that were difficult to recover from. Droughts, cold snaps, floods, and crop price fluctuations in Marilla's youth were storms that many of their more established neighbors could weather. But Mr. and Mrs. Cuthbert had only lived on the island for a few years; they had two young children, barely a nest egg, and no family back in Scotland to borrow money from. The family worked hard; Matthew out in the fields with his father and Marilla keeping up the home, the gardens, and the care of the animals with her mother. It was a six-day routine, with church on Sundays. When she was thirteen, her mother died while giving birth to their infant brother, and Marilla took on the task of keeping up the home, the gardens, and the care of the animals alone. Mr. Cuthbert, free spirit and lover of the earth, was always considered queer by the townsfolk for not remarrying. Why, they thought, with nearly-grown children, would he not remarry with such an acreage to look after? Would he not have more children? For all of his dreams of farming and freedom, Marilla thought at the time that her father was a dreaming fool with more imagination than sense.
The Cuthberts went on with their daily routines year after year. In her mid-twenties, when Matthew was near thirty, the farm at Green Gables had begun to be economically self-sustaining. Things were good, and the Lord had seen them through. Marilla had considered marrying, and wanted to. Matthew was as shy towards womenfolk as any man could be, taking after his father in matters of the heart, for as odd as it sounds, he had truly inherited his father's love of the land. Womenfolk were for the cities and the towns, he believed, and he rarely ventured off the farm. No, Marilla knew that her brother, as kind and good to her as he was, would not marry. So, with a proper dose of practicality and half a spoonful of girlish desire, she thought that it might be good for her and her family to have small ones around who could help on the farm and see it through to the next generation.
Marilla came back to the present time suddenly when she felt the sun hot on her back. She looked down absently at the handful of weeds she'd been holding, then up at the sun. It was getting close to noon, and she needed to put tea on and begin preparing dinner for her brother and their new charge before long. She smiled wryly; Rachel would likely pay a visit to discuss the sight of Matthew Cuthbert riding his buggy in the middle of the day while wearing his best suit. While walking to the chicken run to throw in the weeds she'd gathered, Marilla quietly completed her reflection. She was pleased that they would have stable, year-round help on the farm, and she felt at ease with the notion that this boy would not just be help, but part of the family; a boy for her and her brother to raise in a good Christian fashion. It was the proper thing to do, she thought; moreover, it was a good time for this type of change. Matthew's heart had been bothering him for several years, and she'd been experiencing headaches and changes in her eyesight. They were both in their sixties, and had no kin to pass the homestead on to. For the longevity of her parent's dreams and her own and Matthew's, and for Christian virtue all together, it made sense; Marilla was at peace with her brother's decision. With this, she threw the weeds to the chickens and walked crisply back to Green Gables, where she put on the tea and waited for the arrival of a surprised Mrs. Lynde.