Persis came into work, giggling, one hot, still August morning.
"What's so funny?" Di inquired curiously.
Persis controlled her face, but her sapphire eyes still danced merrily. "A young man was at the Kennedys' dinner party yesterday evening, and was most attentive to the lovely and unattached Miss Ford." She bent at the waist in a mock bow.
Di's grey eyes began to glitter as well. Wherever this story went, if it involved Persis and a potential suitor it was bound to be amusing.
"He kept hinting around that he'd like to call on me sometime the next day. Mother asked me before she and Dad left to please not announce that I work as a housemaid at parties—not that she's ashamed of it, but it does tend to make the rest of the guests uncomfortable."
"Go on," was all Di said.
"Well, since I couldn't tell him I was working, I just kept saying I had engagements all day long. He positively begged me to cancel—in the smoothest manner possible!—as though he was doing me a favor—and finally I told him that I was a small space of time in the morning, between five and six, when he could accompany me on my daily constitutional."
"Oh Persis, you didn't."
Persis giggled. "So he showed up bright and early at my doorstep this morning, looking oh-so-dapper in his suit and straw hat, and there I am in my work clothes, and let him walk me here, to my job as a servant!"
The two girls burst into gales of laughter. Finally, Di straightened up, sobering. "Oh Persis, what will Aunt Leslie say?"
Persis grimaced cheerfully. "All too much, but it will be nothing I haven't heard before. Anyway, it served him right, condescending to me."
They were still giggling when the telephone rang. Di gave it a startled and fearful look. Nobody ever rang up this early in the morning. Biting her lower lip uncertainly, she picked up the receiver.
"Shirley-Stedman Home, Miss Blythe speaking."
"Diana," came a familiar, but very grave voice.
Di's heart nearly stopped beating. "Dad? What's going on?"
"Uncle Gil?" Persis whispered. "What's wrong?"
"Di, is this a good time to talk?"
"Yes, all the children are still asleep, and Persis is right here beside me. Dad, you're frightening me."
"I'm sorry, dearest of daughters. It's just…" for a moment, Dad's voice wavered. He caught it and continued. "Rilla's not been feeling well lately, what with this heat wave and all…"
Di knew about the heat wave. It had been nearly unbearable in Toronto for the past month, with temperatures hovering near 37° every day. Rilla had been having dizzy spells and cramping even before they and the elder Fords left the city, but they'd all expected it would get better once they reached the Island. "She's still ill?"
"We confined her to bed this morning. Di—if you can get out here, I think you should."
Di went cold. "What are you not saying, Dad?'
"This pregnancy has been very difficult for her…and she fainted yesterday at the top of the stairs and tumbled down before Ken could catch her."
"Oh no," Di whispered. Standing close enough to hear the other end of the conversation, Persis placed a slim, strong hand on her friend's shoulder. Di gripped it convulsively and forced herself to stay strong. "Go on."
Dad's voice, like his daughter's, was steady, but Di could hear the pain behind it. "Jem and I are doing everything we can, but we're afraid she might lose the baby…and—and if things don't go well, we—we might lose Rilla as well."
Di's legs wavered, but she managed to stay upright. "I'll be there as soon as ferry and train can bring me."
"Good. I love you, Diana."
"I love you too, Dad. Give my love to Mother—and tell Rilla to keep fighting."
She hung up and faced Persis. The other girl was ashen, her sapphire eyes standing out above her white face.
"I'll go home and pack," Persis said. "Mother has probably been trying to call me and let me know, too. We'll leave as soon as we can, Di darling."
Di managed a nod. "I'll let Tricia know we'll both be gone for a little while."
Persis flew out the door, and Di forced her stiff legs to carry her upstairs. Her mind felt curiously numb. She kept picturing Rilla as a baby—the most beautiful baby ever born, so they'd all believed, with her chubby legs and red curls and darling little dented lip and hazel eyes that buttoned up when she slept…
Tricia was still asleep, but she woke up instantly when she heard the news.
"Of course you must go," she said at once. "Don't worry about a thing here. I can handle the children just fine on my own, and if we run into any problems I can always call Mrs. Stedman for help. Go, Di."
Di couldn't say anything around the strange lump of ice that seemed to have formed in her throat, but her eyes showed her gratitude. As she turned to go to her own room and pack a few necessities, Tricia added,
"And Di—I'll be praying for your sister and all your family."
"Thank you," Di whispered.
Three days later, two weary and heartsick travelers crept up the Ingleside verandah. It had been a torturous journey, as neither of them could sleep or eat much, and every step closer to home left them wondering what they would find when they got there. The numbness in Di's mind spread and spread until she couldn't feel or think anything. Her entire being was focused on one thing: getting home.
The house was dark—most of the inhabitants must have been at the House of Dreams—but one light shone in the kitchen, and to that room the girls turned their steps.
A tall, slim, brown-haired and brown-skinned man sat at the kitchen table with two tiny baskets before them. He was murmuring softly and holding two bottles, one in each hand, to the inhabitants of those baskets.
At the weary footsteps approaching, he looked up, revealing a strong, good-humored face, a face that had suffered and been made strong through it. He smiled sympathetically at the two fearful faces before him, revealing even, white teeth.
"You made good time. Nobody was expecting you until tomorrow morning."
"What news?" Persis asked, fear trembling in every golden note of her lovely voice.
He shook his head. "Nothing yet. Jem said that the crisis would be tonight. Mother and Dad, Jem, Uncle Owen and Aunt Leslie, and Susan are all over there now. Faith, Jerry and Nan are all at the manse, watching Gil and the other little ones. They offered to let me stay with them, but my two prefer some privacy—just like their old dad." His tone was light, but they could see the worry in his eyes.
Persis turned to Di. "I'm going to go to the manse, dearest. I'd rather go to Ken, but I know they won't want anyone else over there right now. Do you want to come?"
Di shook her head. Weariness had settled over her, and she didn't think she could so much as walk into the next room, much less to the manse.
"All right. I'll tell Nan you're here in case she wants to come over."
Persis blew out of the room, back into the night, before either of the other two occupants could say anything more.
The babies had apparently finished feeding, for the man set the bottles down and rose up. Walking over to Di, her studied her frozen face for a moment, then simply put his arms around her and held her close.
At that, the dam broke, and all of Di's fears and emotions came rushing to the surface. "Oh—Shirley!" she gasped, and laying her head on his breast, she cried and cried, until there were no tears left.
A little while later, seated across the table from Shirley, a cup of hot, strong tea in her hands, Di felt some life start to flow back into her limbs and mind. Shirley, watching her critically, was relieved to see that the dead whiteness of her face was replaced by the flush left after crying, and her eyes no longer looked lifeless. She managed a wan smile at him over the rim of her cup.
"Stop looking at me like that, Shirley. I already feel embarrassed enough about breaking down like that. What would my patrons think if they could have seen the poised and controlled Miss Blythe sobbing like a little child on her brother's shoulder?"
"They would have been as relieved as I was to see any sign of life. If you hadn't broken down spontaneously, I would have pinched you to force you to cry."
Di sighed and set the tea down. "I just don't think I can handle losing another sibling. I couldn't let myself think about it, and so I just shut everything down."
Shirley nodded. "I know. When Dad called me, that was my first reaction, too. But we have to remember that God won't give us more than we can bear, sister dear."
"Sometimes I think He already has."
Shirley reached over and patted her small hand, covering it completely with his large, brown palm. "He hasn't abandoned us."
Di pushed her unruly curls out of her eyes. "How are you doing, and how are my little niece and nephew?"
A grin twisted the corner of Shirley's mouth. "They keep me going. Only four months old, and already they are the light of my existence. Take a look yourself."
Di rose—a trifle unsteadily—to her feet and moved around the table to peek at the two tiny bundles sleeping peacefully in their baskets. Their little faces were scrunched up enough that she couldn't make out any features, but her heart melted at the very sight of their impossibly small bodies and downy heads.
"They are so precious."
"They are that. They're also already developing very distinct personalities—Matty is as quiet and calm as his father, and Meggie is the delight of both our lives."
"Matty and Meggie, eh?" Di sat back down and took another sip of tea. "No longer Joshua and Joanna?"
Shirley shook his head. "Matty and Meggie suit them." He grinned again. "Enough about me. How are you, and how are all your children?"
"The children are doing well. They adore Persis. She is turning out to be the best maidservant we've ever had."
"That doesn't surprise me," Shirley interjected. "Persis can do whatever she puts her mind to."
"She can at that," Di smiled. "Tricia is my mainstay, though. She is a delight and joy, and extremely efficient. Between her and Persis, things are running as smoothly as they ever have."
"And how are you?" Shirley asked again, eyeing her closely.
Di shrugged. "I've—I've been homesick lately. If it weren't for the fact that I'm worried sick about Rilla and the baby, I'd be wild with joy to be back. And—I've been missing Walter."
Shirley nodded, unsurprised. Di wondered if anything ever took him aback. "I thought about him quite a bit after Cecily—after I lost Cecily. It was a comfort to think that he would be there to greet her when she reached heaven, and I like to think the two of them are watching out for all of us now. And Joyce," he added, as an afterthought.
All the Blythe children had heard, ever since they were toddlers, about their sister Joyce, but they didn't think about her much. To be sure, Jem and Faith had named their daughter for her—little Cecilia Joyce—but that was more for Mother's sake than from any kinship they felt with their departed sister, dead before any of them were even thought of.
Just now, however, it struck Di that this wasn't the first time her parents, Susan, and Uncle Owen and Aunt Leslie had experienced this kind of fear. "This must be so hard on Mother and Dad," she said softly.
Shirley nodded, having followed her train of thought. "Dad told me yesterday that he is very afraid for Mother, what it will do to her if…if anything should happen to Rilla and the baby."
Di shivered. "I'm sorry—I know it's cowardly—but I can't talk about this. Every time we talk about what's happening, I feel as though I will go mad. Please, can't we talk about something else?"
Shirley nodded, but before he could even open his mouth, the door burst open and Nan flew in, followed by the rest of the siblings—Jerry, Faith, and Persis.
"Di!" Nan cried, rushing at her twin and hugging her tempestuously. "Why didn't you come to the manse? I've missed you so!"
And with that, the cool, charming, sophisticated Mrs. Meredith put her head down on her twin's shoulder and indulged in a little cry.
Jerry carried two-year-old Blythe and baby Johnny in his arms, but he managed to bend down and kiss his wife's head. "There, there, dearest," he said helplessly. He looked at Di. "I can talk an entire House down when necessary, but I can't do a thing when she cries."
Di laughed in spite of herself. "Don't worry, Jerry. I've had considerably more experience with her tears than you have." She patted Nan's shiny dark head and murmured comforting words.
Faith, holding little Walt in one arm and supporting Lily in the other, also came over to kiss Di's cheek. "As soon as Persis told us you were here, we had to come over. A night of waiting like this—it's best to endure it together."
Shirley hid a grimace. "If you'll all excuse me, I'll put these two back in our room. They don't take very well to large crowds." Picking up the baskets, he quickly escaped.
"I think Shirley's the one who doesn't take well to crowds," Persis said softly, smiling as she shifted the sleeping Gil in her arms.
Nan finally got control of herself. "I'm sorry," she hiccoughed. "It's just with everything going on—I needed my twin."
Di didn't say anything, but she was glad they were all there. Faith was right: in times like these, it was best to be together. She put her arm around Nan's shoulder.
"Let me make you a cup of tea, dear. I promise, you'll feel much better."
Nan wiped her eyes on her dainty handkerchief. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be like Mother," she smiled. "Why are you the one who agrees with her that tea is the panacea for any and every situation?"
Di simple smiled as she filled the kettle and got down enough cups for everybody. It was going to be a long night, and they needed all the sustaining they could get.
Author's Note: 37 degrees celcius is right around 100 degrees farenheit.