Author's note: This will be my last update for a bit, as my husband and I are moving, and packing and unpacking will take up all my time. I'll get back to it when I can! Thanks to all who have reviewed, you all are so kind!
"Happy Christmas!" "Happy Christmas!" "Joyeux Noel!" "Merry Christmas!"
The sun had barely peeped up over the frosty horizon, and already Ingleside rang with joyous cries as its inhabitants scrambled out of their beds and into their Christmas clothes.
"Our first Christmas back together as a family!" exclaimed Di, looking quite festive in a green plaid slim skirt and frilly white shirtwaist, with a perky green bow holding her curls back from her head. She threw her arm around Shirley's shoulders as they trooped downstairs. "Do you suppose we'll have any more like this?"
"Why not?" asked Shirley laconically.
Di shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It just seems that we're all growing up now and living out own lives. Things can't ever stay the same."
"Sounds like you were up too late last night," commented Nan pertly, following them down the stairs.
"Oh, and you weren't? I saw you come in after talking with Jerry until one in the morning, Anne Blythe."
Nan blushed and tossed her head. Unlike Di, she hadn't gone with popular fashion, and had kept her brown locks long. Today they were pulled back in a simple chignon and woven through with a red ribbon to match her wool dress.
"Now, now, girls," admonished Jem, limping along behind them. His leg hardly ever bothered him now, but it was stiff sometimes in the early morning. "This is the season is love and peace. Let's all be nice." He pulled them all into a hug, nearly knocking the whole group down the stairs.
Laughing and chattering, they made their way to the dining room for a merry, noisy breakfast of Susan's magnificent cinnamon rolls and bacon and cocoa. After the last crumb of bacon was devoured, they all adjourned to the living and got down to the business of opening presents.
The pile under the white-and-gold tree, sparkling with lit candles, was smaller this year than it used to be. Although there weren't as many gifts, nor were they as expensive or elaborate as previous Christmases, much love and thought had gone into them all. Shirley smiled at the knitted grey scarf and matching mittens from Susan. Mother, Dad, and Jem had all gone in together to get him a book on aviation, the Wrights got him an elegant fountain pen—"For correcting all those papers," laughed Uncle Fred, and the Irvings had gotten him a brand-new pair of skates. His had been passed down from Jem to Walter to him, and he exchanged a warm glance with Cecily as he thanked them all.
All the other gifts were just as thoughtful, although there were, as always, a few joke presents. Everyone roared with laughter when Di eagerly opened a tastefully wrapped box from Grant, only to find that it contained a single lump of coal! After she was done scolding him, the handsome young man handed over her real gift—a beautiful screen painting of red and white plum blossoms from Japan. Di melted and forgave him at once.
Even Jack lightened up during the fun family celebration. He laughed with all the rest when Jem opened a metal box with broken glass inside. That young man was worse than Shirley in shaking his presents to find what they were, and the twins and Rilla had conspired to make him think he'd broken his gift the first time he shook it. Jem laughed with the rest, his hazel eyes twinkling with fun. Jack actually gave Mother a genuine smile when he opened her gift of a copy of Thoreau's Walden. Shirley wouldn't have thought him to be so fond of Thoreau, but his dark, brooding face lightened perceptibly as he kissed Mother on the cheek. Shirley saw Aunt Diana whisk out a handkerchief and mouth a silent "thank you" to Mother.
Finally, all the gifts were opened, the living room tidied, and everyone went their separate ways before Christmas dinner. Jem and Nan walked down to the Merediths, Rilla darted away to see Ken, Di and Grant took a walk down to the harbor, Mother, Susan and Aunt Diana pulled forth their knitting—Susan proudly displaying her new basket—Rachel and Miss Lavender followed suit with some delicate lacework, Dad, Paul, Uncle Fred and Jack disappeared into the study, and Shirley took Cecily for a walk in Rainbow Valley.
"What fun you must have all had growing up here," said Cecily, looking around at the snow-filled hollows and frosted trees with delight. "I can almost see you all playing as children—trying out your new mittens and scarves and toboggans, throwing snowballs and building forts and snowmen."
"Yes, they did do all that," mused Shirley absently, thinking how dainty Cecily looked in her navy wool coat with the wide fur collar.
"They?" she queried. "Not you?"
Shirley blushed a little. "I never played much with the rest of them. I generally preferred to be on my own or helping Susan. They all had such grand imaginations and wild schemes. I was too practical and down-to-earth to fit in with their games and dreams. Dad says I'm like his father; I don't know, maybe I am."
"I see," said Cecily simply, her great eyes very wise.
Shirley changed the subject. Talking about himself always made him uncomfortable. "Here, I got this for you." He drew the small silver-foil wrapped from his pocket and placed it in her gloved hands.
She caught her breath. "For me? Oh Shirley! I don't know what to say!"
He couldn't help but grin a little. "You haven't even opened it yet."
It was her turn to blush now. She hurried to unwrap it. When she saw the gold cuff bracelet laying on a bed of cotton, the blue lapis lazuli glinting in the winter sun, she gasped. "Shirley! It's absolutely beautiful! Oh, it's the loveliest thing I've ever seen." She pushed up the furred cuff of her coat sleeve and slid the bracelet around her wrist. She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Thank you."
Shirley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It just looked like you, somehow."
Her expression turned to one of distress. "But I didn't get you anything!"
"Just having you here is present enough," he said sincerely.
Later that afternoon, when Cecily had gone in to rest before dinner, Shirley was strolling casually around the lawn when he heard his name from the kitchen. With no thought of eavesdropping, he stopped, curious. People at Ingleside—and elsewhere—rarely spoke about him.
Because of the heat from the oven, Susan had opened a window and was speaking with Mother and Aunt Diana.
"Believe me, Mrs. Dr. dear, that boy is in love," she said emphatically. "Do I not know? Is he not my own boy whom I raised from a baby?"
"And he's over at Echo Lodge all the time," floated out Aunt Diana's voice. "Millie says they never see him at Green Gables anymore; he rushes over to Echo Lodge as soon as school is done and stays there until dark."
"Oh, I suppose you're right," sighed Mother. "It's just hard for me to believe that our sensible, practical Shirley could fall in love."
"Even the most sensible people are susceptible to love, Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan, "Or at least that is my observation, never having had the good fortune to fall in love myself, though I did receive one proposal of marriage."
"Yes," laughed Aunt Diana, "And then their good sense goes right out the window."
"And that Cecily is a sweet girl, Yankee though she may be," finished Susan, plainly determined to not be cheated out of her whole thought.
The conversation in the kitchen went on, but Shirley heard none of it. He wandered in a daze to the verandah, absently brushed the snow off one of the seats, and collapsed, his elbows on his knees and his hands gripping his hair so hard it hurt.
Could he be in love with Cecily? Was he? He didn't think he was, but according to the three women in the kitchen, he was showing all the signs of it. He'd never even thought of falling in love with Cecily. He just thought she was the sweetest, dearest, kindest person he'd ever met, and he wanted to protect her from anything bad or unpleasant in the world, and he wanted to be near her all the time—
He stopped short. "I am in love with her!"
He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized the symptoms—jealously, wanting to find her a special gift, wanting to be near her, needing to know he was dear to her—they were all there, and he had missed them.
"So what now?" he muttered, knitting his brow in puzzlement. What did people normally do when they were in love? He thought about Jem and Faith, Nan and Jerry, Rilla and Ken. He supposed he should start to court her, but…
Suddenly Aunt Diana's words came to mind: "And then their good sense goes right out the window." He sprang to his feet, determined not to lose his good sense just because he had happened to fall in love without realizing it. He would think this through calmly and logically, and then come to a decision about his next course of action. That might not be the romantic way, but it was the Shirley Blythe way.