Glen St. Mary, Canada
September 2013

No wedding day smiles

"Are you okay there, Grandma?" I ask, quickly grabbing Grandma Bertha's arm to support her.

She shakes me off with a huff. "I am perfectly fine, Marilla."

Full name.

Uh-oh.

"I had a minor operation," Grandma Bertha continues snippily. "There is no need to make a fuss."

"But… you had a hip replacement," I point out cautiously, my hand still hovering near her elbow.

"A minor operation," insists Grandma Bertha, swatting my hand away.

Well. If she wants to have it her way…

I shrug, stuffing my hand into the pocket of my skirt. (A skirt! With pockets!) "Sure, Grandma."

"Now, don't get smart with me, young lady!" Grandma Bertha wags a finger in my face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply in my most innocent voice, crossing my fingers inside the pockets (!) of my skirt.

Grandma Bertha eyes me warily, but seems to decide not to press the matter. Instead, she nods her head sharply at the garden spreading out below the Ingleside veranda. "Walk with me for a moment?"

I open my mouth automatically to ask whether walking is good for her hip, but when she gives me a warning look, I shut it with a clack of my teeth. No need to poke the beast.

She does, thankfully, accept my arm to lean on as we walk down the veranda steps to the garden. On the lawn, Izzie and Fire Lily are engaged in a rowdy game of fetch with a very excited Monday, while Jake and Bruce have climbed into adjoining maple trees. They're each equipped with a book and occasionally throw a bag of sweets from one tree to the other.

"Anne showed me the photos of your graduation," Grandma Bertha tells me. "I was sorry that I couldn't be there."

"It's fine," I assure her. "I mean, you had the –"

'The hip replacement,' I mean to say, but her look stops me dead in my tracks.

"The – the minor operation," I finish instead, mentally congratulating me for my quick save.

Grandma Bertha pats my hand. "Indeed. I'm still sorry to have missed it."

"So am I," I agree. "But I think Dad took more photos and videos than anyone could possibly want to look at, so you can live vicariously through those."

(I mean, truly. It's not like those reporters don't take enough pictures of me in all possible situations of life. They certainly have the task of visually chronicling my life well covered between the lot of them.)

"And through the newspaper reports," adds Grandma Bertha, her mind obviously having followed a similar trail of thought to mine.

"Those, too," I acknowledged. "They really didn't go away this time."

Owen's show of public support of me and my parents was much appreciated, but it also meant that the papers insisted on printing those photos again and again, from every possible angle, coupled with every possible speculation, each one more outrageous than the next. Given the glaring lack of the Queen in the pictures, they also quickly segued into wondering whether we had also met her in a more private setting and ran with that subject, too. (We did not. The tiny nod during the ceremony was the closest she came to interacting with me. After that, nothing.)

"It sells papers," explains Grandma Bertha, quite unnecessarily. "And if they have nothing true to report, they start speculating."

And boy, did they speculate! Once there was truly nothing more to write about us meeting the King and maybe-possibly meeting the Queen, they collectively turned to my future, both pertaining Ken and independent of him. As if that is anybody's business!

"If I had a penny for every false speculation about my future, I would be rich enough to live a life of perfect leisure," I remark darkly, mentally decrying both the amount of speculation and the lack of pennies. I wouldn't mind a life of perfect leisure, see?

Unfortunately, with my thoughts preoccupied by false newspaper articles and the need for more pennies (pounds, rather, and lots of them), I failed to notice that I was walking right into the trap Grandma Bertha wanted me in. Because she, upon hearing me mention my future, visibly straightens and asks, "What do you plan to do now? I hope you will put your degrees to good use?"

Which is so not the conversation I want to be having. (When I said 'nobody's business', that, yes, also included prying grandparents.)

Still. I take a deep breath and plough on valiantly. "I have a job with a company in London. I'm starting later this month." (After all, in addition to it paying the bills, having a job is part of the requirements for me to keep my Ancestry Visa.)

"What kind of job?" Grandma Bertha wants to know. She says it pleasantly enough, but there's a little note of scepticism in her voice, telling me she doesn't quite trust me to decide on what's good for me on my own. It's par for the course for her, but I'd be lying if I claimed it wasn't also a tad annoying.

"With a party planning company," I answer, even as I know it will not meet her approval.

And sure enough, she immediately furrows her brow. "You have degrees from two prestigious universities," she points out. "Are you certain that working in party planning is equal to putting them to best use? Surely, you've outgrown waitressing by now?"

"I have," I confirm, silently telling myself to keep calm. "I'm not employed as a waitress but with the actual planning aspect. My waitressing experience will come in handy, but I expect I'll also use the economics degree. I mean, you have to juggle a lot of numbers to make everything come together within the set budget, right?"

Grandma Bertha seems to consider that. "You might have a point there," she finally acknowledges.

(Ha! Success!)

"But," she continues pointedly, "is this truly the field you see your future in?"

I shrug. "It's fine. It's a job and it's not just an office job, which is a plus. It'll be fine for now."

"And what about later?" Grandma Bertha wants to know. "Where do you see yourself professionally in ten years?"

Geez. How am I supposed to know?

"I don't know yet. I just… take things as they come," I admit. Because isn't that what I've always done? And has it served me very badly so far?

"You must have a plan though," insists Grandma Bertha. "A vision."

Huh? A vision? Sounds like something one should see a psychiatrist for.

But I don't get to voice these impudent thoughts, for in that moment, Grandmother Marilla's voice rings out next to us. "Not everyone feels the need to reach soaring professional heights, Bertha. Some people find their happiness in other fields of life."

Grandma Bertha turns and narrows her eyes slightly. "These things are not mutually exclusive," she argues. "But no matter the other fields of life, it would be a shame for Rilla not to put her education to good use."

"And what would constitute 'good use' for you?" Grandmother Marilla asks, arching an eyebrow.

Okay. That's it.

I don't know what Grandma Bertha means either, but I do know that I want to have no part in this discussion. I won't be the surrogate pawn they push around while arguing about their respective life set-ups. I plainly refuse!

Before Grandma Bertha has a chance to reply, I extract my arm from under hers, though not without making sure she stands securely on the grass. "I think I saw Ken over there," I lie and vaguely wave my hand in direction of the house. "I better go see if there's anything he needs."

I don't think my grandmothers believe me. (And they shouldn't. I haven't seen Ken since leaving him deep in conversation with Dan and Walter fifteen minutes ago.) I don't much care either way though. I'm much too happy to escape this particular discussion and thus quickly hightail it through the garden, dodging around a leaping Monday and skipping up the veranda steps.

Once there, I am, however, stopped from entering the house by a bored-looking Shirley and a bemused Carl.

"You have to stay out here," Carl informs me, frowning.

"And why is that?" I ask archly. I wasn't aware those two could tell me what to do.

"Jem wants us to get everyone out into the garden," elaborates Shirley. "He has an announcement."

An announcement?

I raise a questioning eyebrow at Shirley, but he just shrugs. He doesn't look altogether very interested in whatever Jem has to announce, but then, he's never been the curious type. As far as Shirley is concerned, if people want him to know about their private lives, they will tell him and if they don't tell him, it's not for him to know.

Needlessly, I don't quite agree with the sentiment, admirable as it otherwise is. Nor am I as placid about waiting for Jem to appear and announce what he has to announce. I want to know now!

Luckily, it doesn't take long for everyone to be shepherded into the garden and collected in a loose circle around Jem and Faith. While Faith appears to be mostly amused at some private joke, my brother is a ball of nervous energy, in which he very much resembles Monday. (Who is currently bouncing around our group, barely able to function from the excitement of having us all collected together. Dogs truly have no dignity.)

"Uh, thanks for coming here," Jem begins, rocking backwards on the balls of his feet as he speaks. "Faith and I want to tell you something."

Yes, spit it out, big brother. Are you getting married? Did you get married? Are you having a baby? (I surely hope you don't already have one!)

Briefly, Jem looks to Faith for confirmation and she smiles brightly at him. It seems to calm him enough to tell us, "As most of you know, Faith and I have been thinking about what to do now that we're fully fledged doctors. And, um, we kind of made a decision."

Jem pauses and as we wait for him to continue, I catch Joy's eye by coincidence. She raises both eyebrows and I have to agree with her. Whatever he's trying to say, Jem is so bungling it.

"Yeah, and we decided that since we're still unattached –" Jem catches himself, frowning. "No, that isn't right. We aren't unattached. What I mean is that we wouldn't do this if it meant leaving someone important behind at home."

"Glad to know we're not considered important," quips Dad, nudging Mum in the side. She swats his hand away with a whispered, "Gilbert!"

"Uh," stutters Jem, clearly thrown. "I didn't mean it like that. We just thought that since we didn't have any dependants, it would be a good idea to do it now, you know? And then we thought that not having any dependants didn't have to mean that we couldn't, well, be dependent on each other. You know?"

No, actually, I don't.

"You're not making much sense, brother," Walter informs Jem, not unkindly but definitely with an amused glint in his eyes.

Jem opens his mouth, probably to start yet another attempt at explaining, but then Faith reaches out and pats his arm. "You're making a mess of this," she tells him brightly.

Turning to the rest of us, she announces, "Jem and I have been accepted to work with Doctors Without Borders in Africa. We're young and we don't have a family yet, so we figured it was now or never. But before we go, we'd like for all of you to be a part in our wedding."

See? That was nice and comprehensible. (And not at all surprising, to be honest.)

"Of course we will!" exclaims Mum, reaching out to hug Faith. "When do you want the wedding to take place?"

"Today," replies Faith matter-of-factly.

"Here," adds Jem, semi-helpfully.

Now that is a surprise. I didn't know you could just get married like that.

"Don't you need a licence?" asks Jerry, voicing my thoughts – but taking an instinctive step backwards when Di just glares at him. She's right, too. No-one wants him to be talking about weddings.

It does remind me, however, that not only is Ken missing in this circle, so is Nan. While Faith and Jem explain that they got all necessary licences some weeks ago (meaning they planned ahead, which also explains the presence of Cecilia and Fire Lily today), I crane my neck to search the garden, both for my sister and my boyfriend.

"– of course, it depends on whether either of you will marry us," Faith finishes her explanation, looking from her father to Una.

Una smiles. "Gladly."

"It's our honour," agrees John Meredith.

It seems to be the cue for everyone to descend on the happy couple for hugs and kisses and congratulations. I, too, bestow hugs on them both, before feeling someone pull on my arm, dragging me away from the general melee. I don't have to look to know it's Di, nor am I surprised to notice Joy following on our heels.

Whether Nan told Di where to find us or whether it's a twin thing, I'm not entirely sure, but whatever it is, Di leads us straight through the garden and into the maple grove lying at its feet. It is here that we find Nan, leaning against a tree and looking up at the canopy of leaves.

"I assume they've told you?" she asks without turning her head.

"You knew?" Joy wants to know, her voice veering between surprise and indignation.

Though quite why it surprises her, I'm not sure. Jem might occasionally be clueless and Faith rash, but they're both caring. They wouldn't let Nan walk into this unprepared.

And sure enough – "Faith told me a while ago. She asked whether I was fine with their plans," replies Nan, now looking at us.

"Are you?" I ask while I watch Di walk up to her twin and put an arm around her.

Nan inclines her head, as if considering the question. "Not really. I wasn't going to tell her that though."

"You could have," opines Joy.

Nan shrugs. "Perhaps. But that would have meant allowing him to damage their happiness as well."

"Bastard," mutters Di darkly and we all three nod in agreement.

"It's a wedding. They happen all the time," Nan continues valiantly. "It's not even at all similar to… to what we had planned."

We didn't stick around to listen to Jem and Faith's plans, so I'll have to take her word for it. Though perhaps there's already enough difference in that Nan was supposed to have a big Halifax hoopla, while today's wedding promises to be spontaneous and unconventional enough to warm the heart of the bride's mother, with enough romance thrown in to please the mother of the groom.

"It's still the first Blythe/Meredith wedding, when that was supposed to have been yours," Joy points out. "Wouldn't that –?"

She doesn't get to finish her question, because Di leans forward and not-so-subtly jabs a finger between Joy's ribs. "Shut up, Joy."

Joy opens her mouth, ready to protest, but then her thoughts seem to catch up with her and all she says is, "You're right. Sorry, Nan."

Nan just waves the apology aside. "It's alright. Everything is alright."

I don't know whether she believes herself, but I do know that no-one else believes her. Joy wasn't wrong, after all. Even wishing Jem and Faith all the happiness in the world, this has to sting.

"So you don't want to talk about it?" I ask, because God knows I know all about people prying your private life apart without permission.

"No," confirms Nan. "You may stay for a while though. We could talk about something else."

"Maybe about how Jem and Faith are going to Africa?" suggests Di. "I actually thought that was the more important announcement, but somehow, it got completely lost when everyone started talking about the wedding. I mean, what is that Africa thing about?"

Joy nods, business-like. "I can help you there. Jem talked it through with me beforehand, so I knew about those plans for a while. They're going to Africa with Doctors Without Borders to help in a clinic they've set up there."

"Not to a war zone though, I hope," I remark, feeling an involuntary shiver run down my spine as I imagine my brother and almost-sister caught up in a war.

"No, not to a war zone," Joy assure me. "You'd have to ask Jem for more details – or better yet, ask Faith for a comprehensive answer – but from what I understood, it's about providing medical care and support for the local population."

"A worthy cause," decides Nan. "And I understand wanting to be married before they go there, so I will smile and be brave. It won't be very hard either, because I am happy for them."

She seems to say this as much to convince herself as to convince us, but even as I see Di and Joy exchange a glance, neither of us contradicts Nan. It's not for us to judge, after all.

"I am happy," insists Nan, "which is also why I won't keep you here any longer. They've got a wedding to prepare for tonight and I bet they're going to need every hand."

"What about you?" Di immediately wants to know.

Nan tils her chin upwards. "I will come and help as well," she promises. "I just need a little moment to myself first. Alone."

She's clearly very adamant about it, too, with her tone leaving little room for protest. Di looks like she considers trying anyway, so I reach out and give her a gentle nudge. "Come on. Let's go."

"Fifteen minutes, Nan" Di declares, even as she allows Joy and me to lead her away. "If you're not at the house in fifteen minutes, I will send search parties out for you!"

At least that seems to succeed in amusing Nan, because she smiles the first real-looking smile of the day, even as she shoos us off with both hands. With Di in our middle, Joy and I make for the house, though neither of us dares say a word for fear of Nan still being within earshot.

Thus, we walk in silence and we've almost reached the house, when I spot Ken standing at one side of the garden, seemingly lost in thought.

"Go ahead without me," I tell my sisters. "We'll be there in a minute."

Murmuring words of assent, they continue towards the house, while I change courses and walk up to Ken. As I come closer, I notice that not only is he deep in thought, there's something else about him. Something about his posture, his expression. Something I can't quite put my finger on.

"Hey," I greet him, briefly touching his elbow. "Where have you been? You missed something big."

Ken briefly raises his phone to indicate that he had a call. "What did I miss?" he asks, brushing a hand along my arm. But even so, he somehow still seems preoccupied by whatever is going on in his head

I open my mouth to tell him about Jem and Faith, but there's something about him that gives me pause. It's more constrained, but beneath the surface, I see the same nervous, giddy energy that was apparent in Jem earlier. Only that Ken isn't getting married. I'd know that.

"Oh, this and that," I reply, brushing his question aside. "What about you? What was the phone call about? Must have been important, considering how long it kept you."

"It was." Finally, Ken turns to face me fully and I see that my perception was correct. His eyes are burning with a sort of excitement I've rarely witnessed before. Something is clearly afoot.

"Well?" I ask, smiling at him and trying to ignore the nagging voice whispering in my ear. (For some reason, it sounds suspiciously like Grandma Bertha.)

Ken reaches out to pull me towards him, wrapping both arms around my waist. But even as he looks at me, I'm not altogether sure he even really sees me. He seems to be caught up in his own little world of anticipation that I have no proper part in.

"It was my father on the phone," he explains anyway, proving he hasn't quite forgotten me. "He just finalised the last details with the MOD."

The… MOD?

The Ministry of Defence?

What on earth…?

"They're finally allowing me to finish my flight training!" exclaims Ken, a smile now blooming on his lips. "Remember that they pulled me for the UN internship back in 2010 before I could start operational conversion training? The prevalent opinion was that it wouldn't be worth the expense of training me on a special jet model when I wasn't ever going to available for active duty."

What?

I open my mouth, but words have left me, so I just stand there, gaping like a particular foolish fish. The voice sounding like Grandma Bertha has intensified its nagging. I wish it would stop.

"They're phasing out the Tornados soon though and no-one wants to be trained on them anymore," continues Ken, oblivious to my state. "They still need a few new pilots to wrap up the program, so I volunteered and they finally agreed! You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this!"

Since 2010, I presume.

I mean, I get it. I know how it rankled that he was never allowed to finish his training. But… but…

But.

I clear my throat. "That's amazing! Congratulations!" It's not a lie, exactly, but I don't sound very convincing to my own ears.

Not that Ken notices. He's much too caught in his own excitement to notice the hollowness of my tone. "It'll be great! They're hammering out the last details and then I can start later this month."

Later this month? But… but…

"How long… how long…?" I try to ask, but the words float away before I can make them be heard.

"34 weeks," replies Ken, quite as if that was both obvious and not at all a cause for concern.

34 weeks.

That takes us right into… May!

May!

That's nine months!

I stare at him, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Now there's only one hope left.

"And where…? I trail off.

"Oh." Ken nods. "Lossiemouth."

Yeah. Somehow, I don't think that's a secret new suburb of London.

"Northern Scotland, not too far from Inverness," adds Ken and suddenly, there's a cold, sinking feeling in my stomach.

Nine months, with him up in Scotland flying planes and me down in London organising parties. It'll be New York all over again when I had thought we were past that.

Finally, Ken also seems to notice that his great news might only be great for him. "Is this alright?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "I know we won't see each other as much while I'm training, but we did it before, didn't we? And we came out fine."

We did. But that was then and this is… now.

"It's just such a great opportunity for me. I don't regret coming to New York for obvious reasons, but this is something I've wanted for so long and if I say No now, it won't come back again," explains Ken, a note of urgency in his voice. "If I do this, I will finally be a fully trained pilot and no longer just a prince that dabbled in the military for a while before leaving for a cushy office job. Do you understand that?"

I do, is the problem. I hate that I do, but I understand him. After all, I know what it feels like to know that you don't measure up. I, too, would grasp at any opportunity to prove them all – and myself – wrong.

"I do understand it," I tell Ken and suddenly, my voice sounds so calm it's almost eerie. "I'm not a fan of the separation, but I see why you want to do this and I'm not holding you back."

His reaction is instantaneous. Tightening his arms around my waist, he lifts me off my feet for a second or two, burrowing his face in my neck. "Thank you," he breathes against my skin and I know I did the right thing. (If only it felt like doing the right thing, too.)

I accept his kiss, but even as I return it, my heart isn't in it. All of a sudden, he's too close, to there, and I just want to be alone. I need space, to breathe and to think and to sort my jumbled feelings.

Gently extracting myself from Ken's hold, I brush my fingertips along his cheek to show him that everything is fine. (Would that it was!)

"Would you mind going inside without me? I want to check up on Nan for a moment. Jem and Faith made an announcement earlier that upset her a bit," I tell him, hoping that the truthful parts of the statement are enough to cover the lie.

I can see understanding dawn on his face, but it relates to Nan, not to me, and I'm unsure whether to be grateful for that or not. "Of course," he assures me. "Go ahead and check up on her."

Not that I have to.

Because the moment the door to the house has shut behind Ken, Nan herself steps around a nearby tree and one look at her face tells me that she heard it all.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she remarks, though without volunteering an explanation for why she did anyway. Maybe because it freed me from having to repeat what happened.

I try anyway. I open my lips and try to find words to explain for why I wanted to say No and said Yes anyway. But Nan just shakes her head and holds out a hand for me to take. "It's okay. I get it."

Somehow, I have a feeling she does.

I take the offered hand and Nan tugs me in direction of the door. A big part of me wants to resists, doesn't want to face the happiness of a wedding, but I know that if Nan can face it, so can I.

Nan squeezes my hand and musters a smile for me. "Come on. Let's be brave together."


The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'The River' (written by Bruce Springsteen, released by him in 1981).


A/N:
Don't worry, I'm not here to announce another hiatus ;). I just want to wish everyone a Happy New Year and all the best for 2020. Here's to the Roaring Twenties! (Preferably without another Great Depression this time around...)


To JoAnna:
A tiny, little, itsby bit of Leslie ;). But we're moving closer and closer to her first proper appearance and the reveals accompanying it (of which there are many!). The chapter is already written and I can safely promise that it'll be posted this year :p.
Ah, Ken has a history of not preparing Rilla properly for the situation she encounters as his girlfriends. He's at least consistent in that respect (though I admit that's the only nice thing that can be said about it). In fairness, I don't think he knew Owen would stage a public greeting, but I agree that Ken should have foreseen it as a possibility and he should have prepared not only Rilla but also Anne and Gilbert for it. If it had gone wrong (as it easily could have), that would have been on Ken, especially since he keeps making that mistakes over and over again. He's made headway in other respects, but letting Rilla run into royal-adjacent situations unprepared is a mistake he's repeated a few times by now. So, if your opinion is that he needs to do better, I'm standing right with you, nodding and agreeing whole-heartedly.
I love that even though Ken messes up in the last chapter, you still feel sorry for him for other parts of his life. Ultimately, that's exactly the characters I'm trying to create - characters that have good parts and bad ones, so that they evoke feelings of exasperation and feelings of sympathy equally. (Though we'll see how sorry you feel for him after this chapter...)
As you said, he can never just relax into the relationship as it is and let it unfold, because there's always the future looming. For him, that future comes with a whole lot of expectations that will be settled nearly equally on his wife. He has other reasons for being reluctant to let his Rilla life merge with his royal life (we'll really lean into those reasons in the Leslie chapter I mentioned), but he's also aware how much it takes for any woman to actually stay with him. It's not that he doesn't trust Rilla as a person, he knows that
he wouldn't chose that life if anyone had given him the choice, so he struggles to believe than anyone will or that anyone can love him enough to sign up for all of it. In short... yeah, his head's definitely not a fun place to be sometimes!

To Mammu:
A happy new year to you, too! And since today is Wednesday, you don't have to wait for another chapter at all. It's all set and posted (as you can see) and I hope you enjoy it (despite Ken).
You're entirely right that they won't be any wedding bells anytime soon. Even if Ken hadn't decided to go off playing soldier, I don't think a quick wedding would have been in the cards, but of course with another separation looming, an engagement is now further than it has been for a while.
Ken definitely knew Owen was in Oxford, but I don't think he knew Owen would come out for a public introduction. He should have guessed it was a possibility and he should have forewarned Rilla and her parents accordingly. Of course, story-wise it's more fun to have Owen materialise as a surprise though, which I admit is part of why I went with it here ;). It also fits Ken's past behaviour pattern of not preparing Rilla for the situations she's thrown into as his girlfriend, but they're all lucky in that everyone rises to the occasion and it works out for the best. The press would have had a field day if it hadn't. (No worries though. They'll get plenty of fun material soon enough!)