A/N: I like doing the authors notes at the beginning of the chapter. It doesn't look as nice but it keeps you in suspense!

I'm glad so many of you like Joy now. She is Nan's daughter after all, and so is probably very proud. Plus it always seemed to me in the books that Nan had trouble making friends with people because of her pride, but also because she seemed to live in a world of make-believe.

Ipegasus: I'd never confuse you with Jenny Penny! (What a good fanfic that would be-- one about how SHE turned out!)

Gufa: I hate May Binnie, too, but unfortunately she'll have to show up in the sequel. You'll find out about Blythe's present below.

Arie: I don't know who Blythe likes...... hee. Please scroll through some of the other reviews and read some articles posted by Emma on first-cousin relationships. Also, if you've read A Tangled Web you'll see that LMM often puts cousins together. Hope that isn't too much of a hint about how this will all turn out! I like Sid, even if none of y'all do!

Miri: "I don't want Cecilia of Ingleside to end"... that is the nicest comment I have ever gotten. Thank you for making MY day!

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6-21-39

Cecilia,

You left this behind last night. How does it feel to be sixteen?

-Blythe

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Cecilia unfolded the paper that was lying on her pillow and read,

To Cecilia, on her Birthday

Far in the mellow western sky,

Above the restless harbor bar,

A beacon on the coast of night,

Shines out a calm, white evening star;

But your deep eyes, my 'longshore lass,

Are brighter, clearer far.

The glory of the sunset past

Still gleams upon the water there,

But all its splendor cannot match

The wind-blown brightness of your hair;

Not any sea-maid's floating locks

Of gold are half so fair.

The waves are whispering to the sands

With murmurs as of elfin glee;

But your low laughter, 'longshore lass,

Is like a sea-harp's melody,

And the vibrant tones of your tender voice

Are sweeter far to me.

When Cecilia had finished reading, there were tears in her eyes. She did not know what they were doing there. Her heart beat wildly--painfully--and she pressed her hand to it.

"I--won't--feel like this--about Blythe!" she said.

But the truth was, she could not help it. Sid's pearls were around her neck but her dearest present was in her hand right now.

"I wonder," she murmured, pressing the paper to her lips. "I wonder if I am the one--if Blythe means that--oh, I'm being silly! Of course he doesn't mean anything by it. It's just a flattering poem, is all."

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26 June 1939

Dearest, darlingest Cecilia,

Oh, how I miss you! Redmond is very lovely but it is no Ingleside. I don't know how your aunts and uncles could bear it when they went away to school. My own home isn't half so nice but I'm longing for it like crazy.

I feel terrible. My clothes are provincial, I've already got a reputation for being stuck up, and I feel out of sorts and haven't made one friend. How Inez Miller would laugh at me if she knew my only friend in the world was a shy, shining girl of sixteen? Inez Miller is the class sweetheart. She wears dresses that really are dresses.

But--somehow, I'm happy. My classes are wonderful. My teachers are wonderful. Every morning I wake and drop down by my bed and say, 'Thank God--thank God!' Me, who didn't pray for ever so long! I'm afraid I'm also getting the reputation for being terribly religious, but I don't care a whit what people think of me. I'm just happy to be here.

I go around all day feeling like there is a lamp burning bright within me.

Hide it under a bushel? No! I'm going to let it shine...

PENELOPE BRANSTON, B.A.-to-be

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"I had a letter from Penny today," said Uncle Bruce, as he and Cecilia sat by the babbling brook in Rainbow Valley. They had not done much talking--the brook was laughing and singing enough for both of them. His voice was so low that Cecilia almost missed it.

"So did I," she said. "She seems to really like Redmond."

"She sounds more alive than I've ever remembered her," said Uncle Bruce.

"I still don't think--you should have lied to her about the scholarship," said Cecilia staunchly. "You could have given her the money as a loan--she would have paid you back, Uncle Bruce."

Bruce shook his head.

"I don't want to own her mind," he said. "Her heart--and soul--already belong to me."

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10 July 1939

Dear Cecilia,

My, you've been gone so long I can hardly remember what you look like! I've got a beau now, too, so you needen't put on airs when youre back at school this fall. His name is Robert Mackay. His mother is a Wilmington of Toronto. I suppose that's good. Mrs. Oates said that to mother in a hushed tone when Mother told her I'd been going round with Bobby. And Mother said, "For heaven's sake, Amelia, she's only 15!" But Bobby and I love each other deathlessly.

I don't believe that Joy has really become nice, after all, but if you start liking her better than me I'll give you something to remember and it won't be pleasant! Ma says I can have a new blue coat for fall. What color are you getting? One of the pink velour ones would be nice, but you don't have the complexion for pink. Dad is reading over my shoulder and says that isn't a nice thing to write, but you don't. You know that, don't you? I'm going to go now because I don't want him to read what I wrote earlier about YOU KNOW WHO.

Won't it be fun to have you back in school this year! Last year was just aweful without you, Cee.

Love, LESLIE ROSE MEREDITH

PS: Give grandma Rosemary a hug for me.

PPS: And all the aunts and uncles and cousins and everybody, too.

PPPS: Except Joyce.

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"What a wonderful thing it is to love--and be loved!" Joy sat back against a pile of cushions in the manse parlor and sighed. She and Cecilia had poured over every line of Jake Penhallows latest love-letter to Joyce, wrestling every drop of meaning they could from even the most innocuous words. For example, he signed the letter, "Your Jake." Had he left the "s" off intentionally, or by error? Even if he hadn't meant to, surely his subconscious had meant to convey that his heart belonged to Joy. And he had written, "Dearest Joy." Dearest was ever so much more meaningful than plain dear.

"Uncle Ken twitted me when he heard me talking about Jake," Joy went on. "He said, 'Isn't John Knox a bit young for you, Nan?'"

Cecilia laughed, thinking of impish Jake Blythe wooing the tall, stately Joyce. "What did you say?"

"I said that we Blythes and Merediths don't have to marry our cousins like the Dark and Penhallows of Rose River."

"What did he say to that?"

"He laughed, and said I'd better watch myself if that was true, because Jake's cousin, Lindsay Dark, of Three Hills is his age exactly. The Darks and Penhallows do have such a way of marrying in the clan-- do you think they'll all hate me because I'm an outsider?"

"No!" Cecilia laughed. "I've said it before and I mean it-- I don't see how anyone could hate you. But surely you and Jake aren't talking about marriage--already?"

"Don't be silly," Joy said witheringly. "Of course we aren't--not seriously, anyhow. But I do mean to marry him one day. We'll buy one of those little bungalows in town and I'll stay home and keep house, and Jake will help his grandfather at the bank."

"And you'll have a white picket fence and 2.5 children," Cecilia laughed. "But don't you want a career, Joyce?"

"No, I'd rather be a wife and mother. Merry is wild to go off to Queens this year, but I'm like Aunt Rilla. I want a lot of kids. Only-- Jake says he's thinking of enlisting."

"And you don't want him to?"

"Not with what's going on over in Europe!" Joy shook her head vehemently. "Uncle Jem says its just a matter of time before Hitler does something rash--then England will jump in-- and we'll have to fight. And at that Mother clutched her chest and said, 'No--no!' and Aunt Rilla said Uncle Walter's name twice, in a very low voice."

"Do you think there will be another war, Joy?"

"What do I know about it? I have a policy, when it comes to politics and war: I don't think of them when I can help it. I'd rather think of rainbows instead. Look at that one, shining right above us! Let's see if we can run and find it's end."

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July 24th, '39

Dear Mother and Dad,

Enclosed find a ticket for Cecilia, to Charlottetown by train. She'll be able to pick her plane ticket up at the counter once she gets to the airport. I've arranged for her to leave the Island on the 20th of August, which should give us enough time to get her settled in at home before school starts.

Una's coming home next week. She seems to be looking forward to it, and we plan on coming out for Christmas if she is well enough. Or perhaps for the new year.

I cannot thank you enough for the care you have taken with my girl this past year. I know this time on the Island will be something that Cecilia always remembers. You have given her some joy when he world was very bleak.

I've been thinking of you both lately, especially with the news coming from Europe that sounds so dire. We have kept faith, like Walter asked us to, haven't we? Although some times it seems harder than others.

Love & miss you both.

SHIRLEY

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"I've planned a lovely day for us, dear," said Grandmother to Cecilia one balmy August morning. "We're going down to the shore-- we'll walk up and down the dunes and share secrets-- then have our lunch at the light. After that we'll go for a stroll in Rainbow Valley and pick violets-- and if this was Avonlea we'd finish the day back at Hester Gray's garden, but since it is only Four Winds and the Glen, the yard at the old House of Dreams will have to do. The late roses are out, Rilla tells me."

"That sounds lovely, Grandmother!" Cecilia clapped her hands, and the two set off hand in hand, Cecilia holding a basket of thin, delectable sandwiches and other delicacies. There were two different kinds of cake. If Susan Baker had been alive they would have certainly brought with them some of her monkey-face cookies, but since she was not, a batch of Aunt Nan's rhubarb tarts would have to do.

After a while of walking and secret-sharing, the grandmother-and-daughter stopped to eat their lunch, spreading an old sheet on the sandy walk in front of the light. Cecilia looked up at it with a sigh.

"There are no lighthouses in Montreal," she said. "Thank you for today, Grandmother--it is so wonderful to be chummy with you like this-- but it makes my heart sad, too. I'm going home soon, aren't I?"

"Yes, dear one," Grandmother said. "And I am glad that Una is ready to live again! BUt I'd much rather you stay here."

"I would, too," said Cecilia. "Of course I'd rather be where Mother and Father are-- but I wish that they would stay here. If you had had a home like Red Apple Farm, you'd stay there, wouldn't you?"

"It is a dear house," Grandmother admitted. "With shadowy corners-- and mystery and charm-- and dappled branches casting joyful shadows. But your house in Montreal is very grand."

"It's too grand," said Cecilia glumly. "It's too big and cold-- and not half so dear as Ingleside. And I'm afraid, with Susan gone, it will seem even more so."

"Like Old Highland Sandy said to us once, when all the boys were off: 'Your house will be seeming very big the day.'"

"And I don't want to leave Sid--and Blythe--and Joy and Trudy and the Douglases, and the aunts and uncles, and grandmother and grandfather Meredith-- and you!" Cecilia said in a burst. "Oh, it was unfair of Father to send me here, I think. It would have been hard for me to be home without Mother, but it will be harder still to leave this place-- and all the places I have come to love-- and all the people I have come to love. It's been positively Purgatorial."

"Well you needn't worry about me, dearest," said Grandmother. "We could be separated by leagues upon leagues of land and sea and I would always be near to you. And you and Bly and Joy will only grow closer with age, and Trudy and Cathy and Nellie can come and visit during holidays.

"As for Sid," Grandmother's eyes sparkled, "It puts me in mind of an old saying. If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours to keep.' If your young love can survive a separation, then the Fates give you their blessing. If not, then they frowned upon it in the first place and it is better to be rid of it."

"My head knows that everything you're saying is right," Cecilia sighed. "But my heart still aches at the thought of leaving."

"Then don't think about it," said Grandmother sensibly. "Let's think of beautiful things instead-- like that one golden cloud over the sun-- or the way the air seems to be full of mysterious scents and tang. Good heavens, Cecilia, who is that?"

For a figure had gone by them on the Shore Road in a blur. It seemed to be a woman, and she was riding astride a horse, the skirt of her dress flapping as she flew past. Cecilia had seen her face-- it was like a thundercloud.

"Oh-- no!" Cecilia cried. "Grandmother--forgive me--I've got to get over to the manse before she does! I'm sorry to spoil the picnic-- I'll tell you all about it later."

Grandmother did not seem disturbed. "If you go cross lots you'll be there in time!"

Cecilia hitched up her skirt and set off running.

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I'm tempted to leave it here! Who is the woman? Why is she thundering toward the manse? I'm sure you can figure it out.

The poem Blythe wrote to Cecilia was really written by LMM! It's called "My Longshore Lass." I hope she wont mind me borrowing it.