Author's note: The Scripture in this chapter is taken from Psalm 8, King James Version. Thanks to all who have reviewed!
December was a splendid month that year. Snow fell early on and stayed, covering the land in a soft white blanket as if creation was suddenly ashamed of all the ugliness that had marred it in the last few years. Everywhere the world seemed to be whispering of better times coming, of Christmas! Shirley had a very hard time keeping his students focused on their work; their hearts just weren't in it. He couldn't really blame them. As the time drew nearer for him to leave for the Glen, he grew more and more anxious about Cecily's visit. He wanted her to have a wonderful time—he truly, honestly did—and yet there was still that nagging worry that she wouldn't like him as much once she met the rest of the family. He told himself he was being ridiculous, childish, and petty, but he couldn't quite shake it. He just didn't think he could bear to lose her friendship.
Finally, however, school ended for the term, two weeks before Christmas. As Shirley released the children, they all went tearing off shouting into the white world. He laughed a little as he closed up the schoolhouse, remembering being young and waiting desperately for the holiday season to begin.
Green Gables was all a-bustle, getting ready for the upcoming celebrations. Robert and Mary were bitterly disappointed that Uncle Shirley wasn't going to be staying, but Davy Jr.'s return from Queens comforted them somewhat. Shirley set his bag out by the door—Aunt Millie had offered to pack it for him, but no boy raised by Susan Baker ever needed assistance in packing properly—rang up Echo Lodge to make sure everything was in order for them to follow him in a week and a half, and then spent his last night at Green Gables popping corn, stringing cranberries, weaving garland, and helping to transform the prim old farmhouse into a place of wonder and beauty for the next three weeks. For a moment, as he watched Mary eating as much popcorn as she strung, and Robert huddle in the corner working on one of his presents, and smelling the aroma of Millie's baking, a thought flitted through his mind that he would enjoy doing this with a family of his own. He almost could see the scene before him: putting up the Christmas tree and decorating it with the children, reading them the Christmas story from the Gospel of St. Luke, reciting 'The Night Before Christmas,' putting up decorations and eating holiday treats with a wife and children of his own.
He shook his head and came back to earth. He certainly couldn't even think about getting married yet. He had at least four years at Redmond, and then he would have to get a job and be well-established before he could think about supporting a family. Besides, he couldn't think of marrying any of the girls he knew. Why, he didn't even know how to begin being romantic! No, if he got married at all, it would be far, far in the future.
For a moment a pair of beautiful blue eyes floated before his memory, but the squeals of little Mary as the two Davy's brought in the beautiful little fir tree drove them away before he could recognize them.
Ingleside was all hustle and flow when Shirley got back. Not only were the Irvings coming for Christmas, but Aunt Diana, Uncle Fred, and Jack were coming as well. The Fords were making a flying trip from Toronto to the House of Dreams for the holidays, and Di, having finally admitted to her family about Grant, had persuaded him to come home with her from Kingsport, Japan being too far away for a short visit.
Mother, Susan, Aunt Leslie and Rilla were in their glory, baking, cooking, planning, and decorating. Dad and Uncle Owen spent most of their time either going for snowshoe tramps outside or hiding away in Dad's study. Persis, Faith, Una, Nan, and Di were running around doing all kinds of shopping, and Jem, Jerry, Grant, Carl and Ken had the all-important task of finding three perfect Christmas trees. Amid all the hustle, Shirley slipped away from Susan's overjoyed and floury welcome and up to Jem's room. Because they were having so many guests, he and Grant and Jack would be bunking with Jem, and Rilla, Nan, and Di had all crowded together. Cecily would be put in with them when she got there. It was going to be a full house, but after so many years of sorrow and emptiness, everyone from Mother and Dad down to Gog and Magog seemed to revel in it. Sometimes, amid the ceaseless banter and talk, a hush would fall, reminding everyone of their losses—not just their physical losses, but the loss of an innocent world, the loss of a carefree life. Oddly enough, those moments did nothing to dampen anybody's spirits, but rather deepened their joy, rounded it out, so to speak, as if the happiness they now felt was all the sweeter when compared to their former horrors.
Then too, Shirley reflected, there is something about a peace you've earned, rather than one you take for granted, that is far more satisfying.
The day after he got home he went down to the village to finish his own Christmas shopping, taking along Persis and Rilla, even though Persis's stunning beauty and worldly sophistication always slightly alarmed him. Dad lent them the car so they wouldn't have to carry all their packages back on their own, and he drove silently into the village with the two laughing and chattering girls in the backseat behind him.
Buying presents for the family wasn't so hard. Susan's, he already had—a framed picture taken of him overseas in his uniform, standing next to his airplane, and a new knitting basket Aunt Millie had helped him find. He found a silver hairbrush and comb set for Rilla, a medical dictionary for Jem, poetry books for the twins, a pearl brooch for Mother and silver cuff links for Dad—but he couldn't think what to get Cecily. He enjoyed giving presents to people, using his knowledge of them and their likes and dislikes to give them something they'd treasure forever, and especially seeing their surprised reactions when they saw how perfectly he'd matched what they wanted. For Cecily, however, he was in a quandary. He couldn't get her something too personal—that would be improper. But he couldn't get her something boring and impersonal, not after they had become such good friends.
One by one, everything else fell into place: silver candlesticks for the manse folk—despite all the improvements Mrs. Meredith had made, it was still always dark and gloomy over there, a little sculpture of a sailing ship for the Fords to put up in the House of Dreams, a set of elegant new placemats for the Wrights, and a backgammon set for the Irvings, who were avid game-players. But the time was drawing near for him to meet the girls, and he still hadn't found anything for Cecily. He supposed he could just add her name to the backgammon game, but he wanted to find her something special, just for her. He checked his watch and decided he had time for one last stroll through Carter Flagg's store before he needed to be back at the automobile.
Mary Vance Douglas was in there, waiting on customers by telling them exactly what she thought they needed to buy. Most submitted quite meekly, but Mrs. Norman Douglas looked fully prepared to launch into an argument with her. Gratefully, Shirley slipped around the corner to avoid being seen. Mary's cock-sure manner and loud tones always grated on him; he was grateful to Mrs. Norman for distracting her.
He happened to look down and realized he was standing at the jewelry counter. His gaze moved disinterestedly over the bangles, clip earrings, and long bead necklaces. He was about to turn away when he saw something tucked away in a corner. He peered closer.
It was a gold cuff bracelet, engraved along its length with curving runic lines, and studded here and there with several lapis lazuli. Shirley suppressed an exclamation of delight. The deep blue stones with gold flecks were a perfect match for Cecily's eyes. The whole thing was stunning yet delicate; it drew the eye but didn't flaunt itself. It was, he decided, the perfect gift. Checking to make sure Mrs. Norman was still distracting Mary—the two women were at it furiously, with Mrs. Norman booming in her deep voice and gesticulating wildly toward one brand of sugar while Mary tried to forcibly place a different kind in her basket—Shirley called Carter over and asked to have the bracelet wrapped.
Slipping the precious parcel into his pocket, Shirley escaped from the store without even being seen by the defeated Mary, who was now sourly placing the desired brand of sugar in a decidedly triumphant Mrs. Norman's basket, and wended his way to the car to wait for the girls. They actually managed to get back on time, and they all went back to Ingleside, Shirley's satisfaction at having found the perfect present enabling him to actually joke and laugh with the girls, to their amazement. Rilla, especially, couldn't understand the change in her brother. She supposed he was just happy to be back among friends after a dull fall and winter in Avonlea.
The Wrights arrived later that week: Uncle Fred, as jolly as ever despite the new lines in his face and the worried look in his eyes, Aunt Diana, whose blacks curls were frosted over with grey, still as loving and sweet, and still looking like an older, plumper version of Anne Cordelia and Little Diana, and Jack, who appeared far older than his thirty years. He had been badly wounded in the war, as evidenced by the scar that traveled across the right side of his forehead, crawled down his nose, and puckered his left cheek. A corresponding streak of hair on the right side of his head was completely white. Shirley knew there were more scars hidden on Jack's body, but far worse than the physical damage was the smoldering bitterness in his eyes. Shirley remembered Jack as being full of fun and mischief, always up to something.
The war. Everything came back to the war. There was nobody whose life had not been altered by it. Many for the worse, but some—Shirley's eyes wandered toward Rilla—for the better. Like everything in life, what you learned from it depended on your attitude.
Mother and Aunt Diana were thrilled to see each other, and as the day passed even Jack started to lighten up a bit. The next few days were full of fun, but Shirley started to get nervous as the time drew nearer for the Irvings to arrive. He and Jack spent quite a bit of time together, each content to let the other wander in his thoughts. The others noticed this and began joking about the two old bachelors. All except Susan. She knew her little brown boy, and she knew he had something on his mind. However, she also knew well enough that he wouldn't speak of it until he was good and ready—which might be never—so she kept her mouth shut and her eyes open.
Finally the Irvings came. Mother and Aunt Diana and Miss Lavender fell into each other's arms and laughed and cried and talked all at once. Paul twinkled his eyes at Dad.
"By Christmas, maybe, they'll remember the rest of us."
Just then Mother turned and hugged and exclaimed over Paul, and was delighted to meet his wife and daughter. Introductions were made all around, and then Mrs. Irving—who insisted that everyone call her Rachel—said that Cecily needed to rest until supper. Cecily plainly didn't think she did, but as usual she acquiesced with a sweet smile and no complaining.
"I'll take her up," offered Nan, looping her arm through Cecily's. The two whisked off up the stairs, followed eagerly by Di. The twins obviously felt that they had just been handed a new living doll.
Shirley, hovering in the background with Jack and Susan, felt his heart sink. It was as he had feared. The family was taking over, and he had barely had a chance to say "hello." It wasn't anybody's fault—his family couldn't help the fact that they were all so gregarious and loving, (in fact, it was one of the things he loved most and was proudest of about them), and it wasn't his fault he was so quiet and retiring, and it certainly wasn't Cecily's fault she fit in so well. It was just the way things happened.
Susan, unobtrusively studying her boy out of the corner of her eye, felt her own heart sink a little as he wistfully watched the Yankee girl disappear up the stairs. "It's happening," she murmured to herself. "Providence may have ordained me to be an old maid, but I still have eyes to see. He doesn't know it yet—she certainly doesn't—but it's happening, all the same. My baby—my wee little baby—but why, under heaven, did it have to be a Yankee?" And she sighed heavily to herself.
As it turned out, Shirley need not have worried. Although she adored the Blythes as much as they adored her, Cecily made no secret of her preference for Shirley. In a no-nonsense, child-like way, she made it quite clear that, while she enjoyed spending time with the other, she was first and foremost Shirley's friend. The family soon almost unconsciously recognized this and backed off a bit. Even Susan, who was won over to Cecily despite the fact that she was a "Yankee," started inviting her into the kitchen and telling her stories of Shirley when he was a little boy. With Susan, approval and acceptance could go no further.
On Christmas Eve there was a skating party at the Glen pond. At first Rachel had declared that Cecily couldn't go, but upon seeing her disappointed face, Dad put it a good word for her. Rachel was much impressed by the knowledgeable Dr. Blythe, and relented, saying that Cecily could go as long as she was back by ten.
Dressed in think woolen tights, a short red skirt, brown wool jacket, and very jaunty red cap, Cecily walked brightly beside Shirley to the pond. It was a perfect night, cold, clear, and still. They could see the large bonfire by the pond, and hear the cries and laughter of the skaters already arrived. Jem and Faith, both avid skaters and quiet graceful together, had left early and were already there. Out of the rest of their group, only Rilla, Ken, Una, and Jack were missing. None of them enjoyed skating, and Rilla and Ken had wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Aunt Leslie and Uncle Owen. Jerry and Nan were walking together, arguing earnestly about politics, Di and Grant were walking silently and dreamily, Carl was striding along sturdily on his own, Persis was in a merry group of girls, and Shirley and Cecily were coming along behind the rest, the latter crimson-cheeked from excitement.
"I love to skate," she confessed to Shirley. "When I was little, I dreamed of skating in the Olympics, like Madge Syers, but of course, I wasn't ever that good."
"What do you like about it?" queried Shirley, who was a passable skater, but had never worked up any enthusiasm for the sport.
"I—I don't know quite how to explain it," Cecily said, looking down a bit embarrassedly. "It's just—I feel so free, like I'm leaving all my troubles behind. I get lost in the movements, and sometimes, I even feel like I'm soaring."
Shirley smiled. "I guess we both like to fly, then."
Cecily looked surprised, and then laughed. "I guess we do!"
They reached the pond, put on their skates, and set out. Cecily was indeed a beautiful skater. Not only could she skate well with a partner, hands clasped in front and legs moving in unison, she also could trace marvelous patterns and figures on the ice, and perform many complicated steps and even a few small jumps and spins. Coming from most girls it would have looked like showing off, but Cecily's pure joy in what she was doing contradicted that idea.
With everyone having such a good time, it was hard to leave by ten, but they managed. Di had twisted her ankle slightly, so she and Grant walked back with Shirley and Cecily. Grant, tall and fair-haired like his mother, quoted suddenly from the book of Psalms, his melting voice rolling richly into the night.
"O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! Who hast set thy glory above the heavens…When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? And the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels and hast crowned him with glory and honour…O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!"
In reverent silence, they walked through the silent night.
Once inside, there was time for a quick cup of cocoa by the fire while Shirley pretended to shake, pinch, smell, and feel all his presents to guess what they were, until Di forgot her bad ankle and chased him around the room.
"Now, now," admonished Shirley with his brown eyes twinkling. "Be careful, Diana Blythe, or you'll only receive coal in your stocking tomorrow."
Grant smiled mischievously. "That's right, if you're not a good little girl Santa Claus won't bring you any presents."
"Do you remember how frightened you used to be of Santa Claus?" Di laughed, running a hand through her bobbed red curls.
Shirley smiled. "Yes, and the time Dad's false beard caught on fire from the tree candles!"
Amid their laughter, Dad popped his head over the banister, trying to look stern. "You children may not mind keeping Santa Claus away by staying up all night, but I for one want my presents in the morning!"
"Yes, Dad," laughed Di. They quickly finished their cocoa and headed upstairs, each with a pleasant consciousness that tomorrow was going to be very fun indeed.