Cecily lay listlessly on her cot, gazing aimlessly out at the October landscape. The trees were a gorgeous riot of reds and golds, the air crisp and fresh, and yet she could enjoy none of it. She knew her father would likely write a poem upon seeing such a beautiful vision, but she did not even have the energy to appreciate God's creation. She had had a bad few months. Instead of getting better, she was growing steadily weaker, and even Shirley's weekly, cheerful, steady letters did nothing for her. Her spirits were steady, but her body was betraying her. Several times a day she rallied all the strength of her will to fight against this disease ravaging her body, yet she could not seem to conquer it. Had she but known, the doctors had predicted she would pass on long before this—she was too delicate and had always had too frail health to realistically be able to best the tuberculosis—and they were amazed and encouraged simply that she'd survived this long. Not knowing anything about the growing stack of letters hidden under Cecily's pillow, they didn't know to what to attribute her strength of spirit.
Today, however, Cecily was finding it very difficult to be strong. She wanted to go home—she wanted to be well—she just wanted to see Shirley and hear his firm voice tell her she would be alright—she wanted to rest against his sturdy shoulder—she was just tired of being sick! She missed Meg, too. The older girl's symptoms had gotten far worse the past week, and none of the other patients had seen her since. Without her continual good cheer and encouragement, Cecily found it hard to keep her flagging spirits up.
"Miss Cecily, here's another letter for you," said Nurse Anna, coming into the porch, bearing an envelope addressed in Shirley's bold handwriting. She smiled encouragingly at the small, frail girl.
Cecily reached out and took the letter with the first sign of eagerness she'd shown all day. While she was reading Shirley's account of his senior year of college, the monstrosity of a house his construction company was reluctantly building for a very eccentric young couple, and Di's disastrous first attempt at canning, a smile lit her hollowed blue eyes and a faint flush infused her white cheeks. After finishing it, however, a small sigh escaped her, and she sank back into her lethargy. Even Shirley's letters couldn't lift her heart for long.
Nurse Anna stood just inside the building, a slight frown between her eyes as she watched Cecily in concern. She let out a sigh herself and strode down the hall to Meg Johnson's room. That girl had only a little over a week left to live, and the nurses were doing everything they could to make her last days comfortable.
Meg seemed to be sleeping when Nurse Anna entered. Nurse Abby, a plump, comfortable older woman, was just emptying the bedpan when Anna came in.
"How is she?" whispered Anna.
"Not much longer for this world, poor soul," answered Abby sympathetically. "And how is Miss Cecily today?"
Anna shook her head sadly. "She's not doing well at all. Her morale is fading fast, and with that gone, I'm afraid her body hasn't got the strength to fight anymore. It's a shame, too, because she was doing so well for a while last spring. It might just be that she follows her friend into the grave."
The two nurses shook their heads and clicked their tongues and tiptoed out of the room, neither one noticing the bright eyes that peeped open to watch them leave.
Di and Shirley were sitting peacefully in their small living room, Shirley finishing up some homework, Di attempting to knit a baby sweater for Jem and Faith's first child, due that winter. Di was not a particularly good knitter, but she was determined to give the child something handmade. Twilight was just turning to evening, forcing Shirley to get up and turn on the lamps, when a thunderous knock sounded from downstairs. Brother and sister looked at each other, puzzlement in both their eyes. None of their friends visited in the evening without calling first, and they weren't expecting any visitors.
A dreadful thought flashed into Shirley's mind suddenly. "Cecily," he gasped, running for the stairs.
Di leaped to her feet, dropping her knitting, and pelted full-tilt after him. They dashed down the stairs and Shirley wrenched the door open, his face pale and worry plain in his brown eyes.
A lovely maiden stood laughing at them on the front stoop, her bobbed hair just peeking out under her hat, the sparkle in her dark eyes visible even in the dim light. A large, dark gentleman stood just behind her, grinning sheepishly. For a moment Shirley stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Di gasped.
"Nan Blythe! What a fright you gave us! Whatever are you doing here? And with Jerry, too?"
Nan stepped inside and held up her left hand, where a slender band of gold spanned her ring finger. "Nan Meredith now, as of two days ago."
Nurse Anna was making the rounds of her patients before heading to bed herself. She had just peeked into Meg's room briefly to ascertain that the girl was still breathing, and was preparing to withdraw again when a hoarse voice arrested her.
"Nurse."
Anna rushed over to the bedside. Meg's pointed face peered up at her, her features creased with pain but her eyes bright with determination. "What is it, Miss Meg? Are you in worse pain? What can I do for you?"
"You can take me to see Sis," answered Meg unexpectedly.
Anna gaped for a moment. "You mean—Miss Cecily? But Miss Meg"—
"I need to see her before I die," said Meg, holding onto Anna's arm with surprising strength. "I have to see her."
"Miss Meg—you are not well enough to be moved, and we can't bring her to you. If you have a message for her, I will be happy to pass it on to her."
"No!" said Meg forcefully. She was overcome by a fit of coughing and had to wait for it to subside. Finally, the hacking stopped. Wiping the blood from her lips with a handkerchief, she continued. "No," she said more quietly. "A message won't do it. I need to see her myself, face to face, and talk to her. I've never asked for anything in all the time I've been here, and I never will ask for anything again if you just do this for me."
"I don't dare move you," said Anna, although weakly. Something about Meg's manner and eyes was very compelling.
"I'm going to die tonight one way or another," said Meg wryly. "Don't ask me how I know this, but I just do. Whether I'm moved or not makes no difference now. Please, Nurse."
It was the please that convinced Anna finally. She looked around quickly. Seeing nobody else around, she brought Meg's wheeled chair over to the bed and carefully lifted the girl into it, making sure she was well-covered in blankets. "This has to be quick and quiet," she warned the girl.
Meg managed a wink. "Thanks," she murmured.
Anna wheeled the chair down to the main sleeping porch. Most of the girls were asleep already, but she could see the moonlight reflecting off of Cecily's open eyes. She wheeled the chair over to Cecily's cot and left it with a quiet, "Five minutes only, Miss Meg." Then she withdrew to the door and nervously kept watch for the night nurse or—even worse—one of the doctors.
Cecily looked over at Meg, feeling some interest stir in her for the first time in days.
"Meg!" she gasped. "What are you doing here? Are you getting better? What"—
Meg held a hand up out of her blankets. "Hold it, Sissy," she said imperiously. "I've only got five minutes, so I need to use them well. I don't have time for you to interrupt me, so you just lie there and listen, understand?" At Cecily's puzzled nod, she continued. "I'm dying tonight, Sis. I've known it was coming for a while now, but something told me today that this was it. By tomorrow morning, I'll just be a memory. No, no interrupting! Just listen."
Cecily gulped back tears and closed her mouth.
"I don't want you to waste a whole lot of time mourning me. Life hasn't been all that swell for me to regret leaving it—although I will miss you. There ain't anybody but maybe you who will miss me. I'm better off in heaven, where I know I'm wanted, than being here on this miserable earth. But that's just me. Things are different for you, Sis! You listen to me good, now. You've got a father and mother, a grandmother, and a fine man who all love you dearly. You've got a heap of people praying every day for your recovery. You have to live. You've got to fight this thing and beat it! I know it ain't easy—trust me, I know. But Sis, when you've got this many people here who love you, you can't give in. You've got to live! Live for your parents and that Grandmother Lavender you go on about so much. Live for Shirley, who loves you more than anyone's ever loved me in my whole life. And Sis," she gave a crooked smile, "live for me. Live so that you can do with your life what I couldn't do with mine. I'd hate to think of this old world forgetting entirely that Meg Johnson ever existed. You must get better…and marry that boy…and be strong and healthy for me." She looked up. "Here's Nurse Anna coming back. My time's up. Goodnight, dearest."
Cecily somehow found her voice. "Goodnight, Meg." She leaned out over her cot and kissed Meg's cheek. "Sleep well."
Meg winked as Nurse Anna swept up and wheeled her silently away. Cecily fell back on her cot. Tears of grief would come later for her friend, but for now, there was only a new resolve. Meg's words had touched her in the very core of her being, dredging up strength she'd never known she had—never had needed before. She gazed up at the night sky, so thickly clustered with stars, and the pine trees standing out in black relief against its midnight blue.
"Dear God," she whispered. "Help me to live for Shirley, for Mama, for Father, for Grandmother Lavender, and for Meg. Give me the strength to endure, and the grace to live day by day." She suddenly felt very tired and peaceful. Without another thought, she laid her head back down against her thin pillow and fell asleep—a deep, restful, healing sleep, that would mark the beginning of an improvement that would completely baffle the doctors.
"Aren't you going to congratulate us?" asked Nan, laughing at their dumbfounded faces. "Or at least invite us in?"
"Won't you please come in?" said Di, very flatly.
"Thanks, we will," twinkled Nan. Di led the way up the stairs, followed by Nan, the Jerry, bearing two overnight bags, and finally Shirley, whose sense of humor was starting to return to him as he closed the door.
"You don't mind if we stay here tonight, do you?" asked Nan. "We can just sleep on your living room floor, if necessary."
"You can stay," said Shirley, smiling bemusedly. "On one condition. You tell us exactly what has happened."
A hint of color was starting to return to Di's cheeks. "Yes, Anne Blythe—Meredith," she said, shaking her finger at her twin. "Whatever happened to the big wedding you'd planned, and me being your maid of honor?" Her green eyes were laughing now.
Nan took off her hat, fluffed her hair, tossed her coat to Jerry, revealing a very smart dove-grey traveling suit, and dropped gracefully into the nearest seat. "Of course I'll tell you all about it. I've been dying to tell you." She cleared her throat, waited for them all to be seated, and began.
"Well, I've been perfectly miserable for a year because Jerry wouldn't set a date for our wedding. He kept saying he wanted to be established first, even though I told him that could take forever. He wanted to provide a fine home and every luxury for me, while I was willing to live in a hovel just to be with him. It got very bad this spring, around Rilla's wedding. Jerry was going to be leaving for Ottawa to start out as an intern on Parliament Hill—which is wonderful—but it meant that he was going to be leaving me behind. I was so angry with him for being excited about leaving that I wouldn't speak to him at all before he left. Then I was absolutely miserable at home. I couldn't stand being around Rilla and Ken, and Jem and Faith. I thought about coming here to stay with you two—but I didn't know what I would do—I'm clever, but I don't want a career. All I've ever wanted was to be Jerry's wife and help him in his political career. A wife is very important to a politician. She can make or break his career. Finally, I couldn't stand it. I told Mother that I had to see Jerry and talk to him, or I was going to go mad. She and Dad paid for me to come out to Ottawa, where I surprised Jerry, found out he'd been perfectly miserable without me, and talked him into getting married now. Then we couldn't see why should wait even longer until we could both get home and have a big wedding like everybody else, so we went to a justice of the peace in Ottawa two days ago and just got married! We called home yesterday and told everyone. They were quite shocked and upset at first, but after they heard how happy and content we were, they settled down. We thought about calling you, but since we're only ninety miles away, we decided to just come down and surprise you!" Nan finished breathlessly and leaned back, her face lit up so that she looked like a flower.
Shirley couldn't help but smile at his sister's strong will. When Nan wanted something, she got it, and nothing could stand in her way. He could well imagine his parents' disappointment and shock at her impulsive act, but Nan just brushed off their disapproval airily. Looking at her happy face, though, and seeing Jerry beaming behind her, he couldn't doubt that they'd made the right decision. He walked over and kissed her cheek.
"I wish you all the best, sister dear," he said sincerely. At the same time, he couldn't help but think that him and Di were the only ones left unmarried. He set his jaw grimly, thinking that he wouldn't be unmarried for long, not if he could help it.