Another wink at MrsVonTrapp - and to anyone out there who's playing our favorite game with us: spot the 80s reference! I've made this round much easier than the previous one ;) Happy hunting, and thanks for reading!
March 20, 1896
By Sunday morning, it seemed the whole town had heard of the stranger on the Island. Those who hadn't met Doug Sheehan at the pre-wedding party flocked around him in the churchyard the second the service was over: women dragging along their husbands to be introduced to the doctor, children peeping through their parents' legs to catch a glimpse of the man said to be the size of a bear and the color of a tiger cat.
Anne watched from a safe distance as Avonlea's keenest gossipers eyed the visitor with particular interest. She'd warned him that going to church might throw him in the way of nosy prodding and comments that were intended to be overheard, but even she hadn't anticipated such a high level of rudeness.
In retrospect, Anne figured she should have expected it. These were the very same people who'd treated the scrawny redheaded orphan as one would a stray dog, at first. Even now, as Enid Sloane's eyebrows furrowed in undisguised disapproval, Anne could hear the words from her first day at this church. 'Of all the reckless things to do, Marilla! We know nothing of this child. She could be bringing all kinds of disease with her! Have you checked her for fleas? What about mites?'
To her left, Leonore Pye's thin lips were twisted in their default sour expression. A woman as generous with her words as with anything else, she had been subtler in her disdain, but twice as sharp. 'My, but she is a scrawny thing! If she speaks as mildly as she looks, we'll be in for quite an interesting time.'
Oh, and Mrs. Harmon Andrews. She didn't know it for a fact, but Anne strongly suspected her of igniting the worst of the fears in the community. She could just picture those unforgiving, beady little eyes as the woman planted her seeds of hysteria: 'Marilla Cuthbert, you would put the whole town at risk by bringing in a homeless degenerate? You do know what orphans are like, don't you? Liars, thieves... they'd rob you blind, if they don't kill you in your sleep first!
Naively, Anne had hoped that Doug would be shown more courtesy. Surely he'd earned it, as a well-dressed adult, a gentle person, an educated man - a doctor, for crying out loud! But in Avonlea, there was such a thing as being too polished. Prince or pauper, young or old, it didn't matter in the eyes of the community: you were either from the Island, or you were not.
Fred interrupted her thoughts by stepping up beside her. "The man knows how to work a crowd."
It was true, she had to agree: Doug didn't appear to be struggling at all, answering the barrage of questions with a polite smile. His posture was neither arrogant nor embarrassed: he stood straight and kept his head humbly inclined, owning every inch of his body with a confidence that she envied.
"He certainly knows how to draw one," Anne rolled her eyes.
"I'll say. Haven't seen such a gathering since my parents rented those ponies for the Harvest Fest."
"I think they were kinder towards the ponies," she grumbled.
"Can't blame them for being curious. We don't get a lot of fresh blood 'round these parts."
He had a point, of course. Anne knew she was overreacting: these people were her neighbors and friends, and there was nothing unusual about their curiosity. It was a bit rude, the way they ogled him like a circus animal, but he wasn't bothered by it, so why should she take offense?
"Where's Di?" she changed the subject, looking around.
"Home with the baby. He was up all night, crying."
Anne turned to face her friend. The dark bags under his eyes indicated that he hadn't had much rest either. "Poor thing. Is he sick?"
"I don't know. Couldn't tell."
"Fred!" she scolded. "You left her alone with the sick baby?"
"We don't know that he's sick, Dr. Porter isn't sure there's much to worry about. All he ever does is cry - the baby, that is. It's his favorite pastime, apparently." The end of his sentence was distorted by a tearing yawn, which he muffled behind his sleeve. "Freddie stayed behind too, he knows to call the doctor from the Bells' telephone if there's need."
Conditioned by habit, Anne pushed down her panic in favor of practicality. "There's not a moment to lose. Let's go! I'll fetch Doug."
While Fred gathered his daughter, Anne made sure Dora had a way of getting home (she and Minnie May would walk together). Doug extricated himself from the crowd and informed Mrs Blythe of the change in plans. By then, Fred and his daughter had already hit the road: Anne readied the buggy and waited for Doug to hop in.
"Should we stop by Mrs Blythe's, to fetch your supplies?" she asked as she spurred Orlando to trot a bit faster than was reasonable.
"I didn't bring any with me, but we probably won't need them anyway. If it's a real emergency, we'll call on Dr. Porter."
x-x-x-x-x-x
They quickly caught up with Fred midway, and hurried inside while he tended to the horses.
"Di?" called Anne, taking the steps two by two, following the strains of an infantile wail. "Ah, Freddie, is your mother resting?"
"No," replied the sullen boy at the top of the stairs, peering over her shoulder.
"You remember Dr. Sheehan. He's here to check on the baby."
Freddie eyed the man skeptically. "You're a doctor?"
"I am," answered Doug before Anne could scold her godson for his manners. "I'm here to see if I can't get your little brother to stop crying."
"Good," sighed the boy with the inelegant relief of a sleep-deprived nine-year-old. "They're in the nursery."
Anne knocked and went in first, making sure that Diana was not feeding before inviting Doug in.
"You didn't need to come over," said the harrassed mother over Jack's yelling. "I called Dr. Porter last night, he said not to worry as long as there wasn't any sign of fever."
Doug handed his hat to Anne and stepped forward. "May I?"
Diana hesitated before handing over her youngest child. Anne stood by, ready to assist, but there was no need, as Doug took the baby with ease.
"Hello, there!" he smiled down at the crimson-faced banshee. "Nothing wrong with your lungs, is there? Let's see what's going on here."
Poor, haggard Diana wasn't able to hold back a gasp as he made to unwrap the blanket tightly swaddling the baby. Everyone in the room turned to face the somewhat less than put-together woman: discomfited by their stares, she reddened subtly at the cheekbones.
"How old is this little gentleman?" asked Doug lightly, attempting to put her more at ease while undressing her child. "Not much more than a week, surely?"
"Eight days," confirmed Fred, having just entered the room with Small Anne at his heels.
"Ah! You're still very new to this world, then," Doug addressed the unclothed creature, checking his skin for blemishes or irregularities. "No rash. When did he last eat?
"I tried nursing just now - he hasn't taken much in since last night," admitted Diana with deepening embarrassment as the doctor felt the diaper for dryness. "He'll start suckling, only to stop."
"I see," said Doug contemplatively, cradling the minuscule being in one arm. "I wonder..."
His massive hand descended delicately on the baby's chest. He felt around, prodding with the utmost care, coming to a stop on his tiny stomach. Doug placed two fat fingers just below the stump at his navel, and pressed sharply.
As the three other adults in the room lurched forward - Diana, to wrench her son from harm's way; Anne, to restrain Diana; Fred, to punch Dr. Sheehan in the face - the baby emitted a loud squawk, followed by a deafening noise that exploded in the small, cramped nursery. The crying immediately ceased, and all stood still as a stunned hush settled over the room.
Anne Cordelia was the first to recover.
"How rude!" she exclaimed with vehement disgust. The adults around her burst out laughing, and the tension in the crowded room dissolved. The Wrights' giggles verged on hysterical, the aftermath of a worrisome and sleepless night.
"Figures," Fred wiped tears of hilarity from his eyes, his face redder than ever.
"But- but how?" stammered a bewildered Diana, unburdened of the symbiotic pain. "I've tried burping him, several times!"
"I'm afraid the air was trapped too low for burping," grinned the doctor, wrapping the blanket back around a much happier little Jack. "I'll show you how to feel for the spot, should it happen again."
"Dr. Sheehan - we can't thank you enough," said Diana sincerely as she was handed back her son.
"No problem at all," replied Doug graciously, stepping out of the way to let Fred through. The relieved father leaned over his youngest boy, and rested his hand carefully on the downy soft head.
"All that fuss just to let one rip," he muttered, his unimpressed comment betrayed by the affection shining through his eyes.
x-x-x-x-x-x
"You've barely said a word about White Sands," commented Diana, levelling spoonfuls of flour and dumping them in the tureen.
"Oh - it was as could be expected," replied Anne evasively, putting a cleaned platter in its place.
"Did Uncle Davy dance with Miss Hodgson? Did he look like a prince?" asked Small Anne eagerly as she dried a tumbler with a cloth.
"He most certainly did," Anne smiled, happy to answer an easy question. "And she's Mrs. Keith, now."
"Did she wear a big white gown?" the girl pressed on without skipping a beat.
"Huge." Anne plucked the tumbler from her hands, deciding to be generous with the dream fodder. "There was so much fabric, she looked like a cloud."
"Did she arrive in a carriage pulled by white stallions?" Small Anne's eyes glazed over dreamily.
"No, but she and Davy will arrive at Green Gables via buggy tonight."
"Did Aunt Dora bring her bozos?"*
Anne nearly dropped the tumbler, and Diana's head whipped in the direction of her daughter.
"Anne Cordelia Wright, who taught you that word?" she demanded, setting down the measuring spoon with an authoritative clank.
"You did, Mama! You told Papa that if Aunt Dora couldn't choose which of her bozos to bring from Charlottetown, she might as well do without for now. What is a bozo, Mama? May I have one?"
"You mean beaux," corrected Diana. "And you may have as many as you please - when you're older."
Anne bit her cheeks to stifle a chortle as Small Anne dashed to the porch, announcing to the men who were having coffee on the porch: "Papa, I'm getting twenty boze when I'm older!"
"Over my dead body," Fred's reply floated back through the kitchen. Diana shut the door on Doug's chuckles and rolled her eyes at Anne.
"Alright, now that she's occupied, let's hear the details," she declared with a smirk. "Did you dance with him?"
"With Davy, you mean? Of course I did, even though Mrs. Hodgson was doing her best to fill in for me. Would you believe she sat us at all the way at the back of the hall, as far away from Davy and Millie as possible? At least Dora had a seat next to Davy at the table of honor, or Rachel would have pitched a real fit."
"That vile woman! Who does she think she- oh, no, you don't!" Diana wagged a floured finger. "You won't distract me so easily, Anne Shirley. You danced with Mr. Sheehan, didn't you?"
"And with Ralph Andrews, and Henry Bell. What's it to you?"
"Ralph and Henry don't count, they're boys. Come on, Anne! He's the first man you haven't turned down since- in a long time," she stumbled and recovered quickly. "I'm just wondering if perhaps, there might be something more..."
Anne crossed her arms and tilted her head proudly. "It's nothing but regular courtesy...and hardly scandalous! We're both adults, who happened to share a dance at a wedding, in a hall crowded with people."
"You can't blame me for hoping. I know you don't appreciate being reminded of it, but it must be said, Anne - you're not in your twenties anymore. No, listen!" she held up a hand when Anne opened her mouth to protest. "I'll admit, it's barely ideal - he's not exactly a knight in shining armour... but darling, those are imaginary! He's a real man, with a solid profession. He seems good enough, and let's face it: he knows his way with babies, which is always a plus. Heaven knows we owe him a great deal of thanks for what he did with Jack."
"So he helped your son break wind: that's supposed to make me swoon?" Anne arched an eyebrow at her bosom friend.
"Swooning is what characters do in romance novels," Diana rolled her eyes. "In real life, you find someone with practical qualities, and you learn to appreciate them for their good values."
"You'll have to forgive my wife." Fred's voice made the ladies start as he addressed Doug: they hadn't heard the men enter the kitchen. "She's been trying for years to dissuade Anne from pursuing a life of spinsterish celibacy. Who are we pitching this time around, love?"
"Fred!" screeched Diana, her cheeks a mortified shade of scarlet. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, come now, Di, it's hardly a secret. We're among friends, Doug won't be offended, unless you've made him the- oh!"
Anne briefly wondered whether it was sleep deprivation, or the upcoming full moon which was responsible for their otherwise unexplainable lunacy.
"I'm very flattered, Mrs. Wright," Doug inclined his head politely to his hostess. "But I'm afraid it's quite impossible."
"That's right!" seconded Anne, relieved. "Simply out of the question."
"I could never find a partner in someone with such a violent temper. I would live in constant fear for my life."
Anne gaped at him, then frowned: "And I could never be with someone with such a lack of interest in literature, and no taste for poetry whatsoever!"
"Beside which, there isn't much flesh to her bones..."
"He's incredibly fat-"
"...almost sickly pale-"
"-extremely freckled-"
"And her hair's so red!"
The last statement plunged the kitchen into stillness, the alarming quiet that often preceded catastrophe. Anne blinked, staring back at Doug, and the two simultaneously threw their heads back and erupted into peels of laughter, as if they had played out a well-coordinated prank.
"Oh!" Diana stormed off, unsure of whether she felt more embarrassed at being caught matchmaking, or vexed that they weren't taking the matter seriously. Fred looked at the pair, scratching his head with a bemused smile. This was interesting.
x-x-x-x-x-x
"I don't think I've ever known such a tranquil evening." Doug leaned back in his seat on the porch with a contented sigh.
"Don't jinx it, then," warned Anne, just before the kitchen door swung open.
"I thought we could all use a spot of tea," announced Millie cheerfully, balancing a china laden tray in one hand, a teapot in the other, kicking the door shut behind her with her foot. "Except for you, of course, Dr. Sheehan. Davy'll bring out coffee for you in a minute."
"Please don't trouble yourselves-" Doug began apologetically, but Millie wouldn't hear any of it.
"It's no trouble at all, really." She smiled sweetly as she handed out a cup to Anne, and poured one for herself. "We do appreciate all your help with recent events - here, as well as in White Sands," the young woman said. "Anne, I'm truly mortified at how my parents carried on..."
"Think nothing of it," replied Anne. "I was simply glad to be included, in any capacity. It was a joy to share your special day."
"You still should have been with us at our table," Millie plopped a third sugar cube in her own tea and stirred daintily. "The only seating request on my part was to keep you, Dora and Mrs. Lynde closeby. I was furious with Mamma for ignoring it."
"Let it go, Darling," soothed Davy as he joined the crowd to deliver Doug his coffee.
"It was a beautiful reception: that's all that matters," assured Anne with a warm smile. "Everyone had a marvellous time."
"Even Dora," added Davy, leaning against the porch railing. "Doc - whatever it was you said to that weasel Kelly, thank you. I can't stand the sight of him."
"It was nothing. Just some light chitchat about the weather," Doug added, seeing Anne's confusion.
"Cloudy with a chance of black eye?" asked Millie, startling everyone else into surprised laughter.
"Well, it worked," chuckled Davy, slinging an arm around his new wife's shoulders affectionately. "He stayed clear for the rest of the night, even after you'd left."
Anne gritted her teeth, her anger at Liam Kelly still boiling her blood.
"I didn't mean to ruin Dora's fun for the night," said Doug contritely.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," said Millie with a cute smirk. "Ralph Andrews was most generous in his offer to dance with her for the rest of the night."
"He did upset a few gentlemen who'd been waiting their turn," commented Davy with a grin.
"What are you talking about?" demanded Dora, marching up the porch steps.
"Nothing," Anne quickly said.
"The weather," answered Millie at the same time.
"None of your business," added Davy in the sneering tone reserved especially for spats with his sister.
Dora glared at them suspiciously. "You were talking about me and Ralph, weren't you?"
Anne repressed the urge to correct her phrasing, and thus remained silent.
"Not everything is about you, Dora," said Davy in a bored tone.
The honey-haired girl narrowed her hazel eyes at him. "Gossip is such a vulgar trend," she sniffed haughtily.
"Oh ho, I don't think you want to go down that road, Sister," he intoned in a way that made Anne intervene before things got ugly.
"Davy, be nice. We weren't gossiping, Dora, dear - merely talking about yesterday, and how much we enjoyed the party. Did you not have a good time, sweetie?"
"If this is your roundabout way of asking about Ralph, I'll have you know that nothing of interest happened: we shared four dances, stayed for Mr. Hodgson's speech, and left. Short of remarkable - it was adequate."
"Adequate?" A new voice spoke, making all five occupants of the porch squint into the darkness.
"Ralph! Good evening," called Anne, second to identify his form, but first to recover her voice. "Would you care to join us for a cup of tea?"
"What are you doing here?" asked Dora bluntly, causing the poor boy to whiten as he approached the candlelit porch.
"No, thank you, Miss Shirley," he tipped his hat politely. "I actually came to speak to you, Dora."
"About time," pronounced Davy, quite audibly. Ralph paused at bottom step and looked up expectantly at his best friend's sister. Dora crossed her arms challengingly, and began to tap her foot, while everyone else watched the scene with great interest.
"I was hoping - we might, perhaps, go for a walk? The night's not so cool - and we wouldn't go far," he directed the last reassurance at Anne, who beamed her approval back at him.
"I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish with a walk at this hour, when we could barely see two steps ahead of ourselves," came Dora's acerbic reply.
Ralph's cheeks turned crimson, and his eyebrows slanted dangerously.
"Fine! You want to do this right here, right now? I love you, Dora Keith - I've loved you ever since we were twelve years old! You might be too scared to admit it, but I'm not: I love you, and I know you love me, too. So, I made a mistake, and I hurt you, and I'm sorry - but Dor', that was years ago! Heck, I wasn't barely a man at the time. I've done some growing up since then, and so've you - except, I've been working at getting better for you, and you've been trying to push the pain away by moving to the city, and making yourself so shallow, you can't feel anything! But I still see you, the 'you' you try to hide - and still I love that 'you'. I'm willing to try again, for real this time. I'm a better man now, I know I'd make a fine husband one day - I just hope that when I do, it's you on my arm, in my house, with my children. 'Cause I'm telling you, Dora: I'll wait some, but I ain't waiting forever."
The end of his tirade echoed in the ensuing second of silence. Ralph fixed the recipient of his declaration with a burning stare, breathing heavily. Dora had gone three shades pinker than usual, but she did not make so much as a squeak. Everyone else jumped to their feet simultaneously.
"I forgot to air out the linen cupboards!" exclaimed Millie.
"I'll help," offered Davy eagerly, rushing in after her.
"Would you mind grabbing the teapot?" asked Anne, quickly piling used teacups on the tray.
"Not at all," Doug complied, following her inside.
"Well!" she said, setting the china on the counter.
"That was quite to the point," grinned Doug.
Anne giggled through her blush. "It certainly was. Honestly, it's time someone shook some sense into that girl. I was about to do so - but somehow, I feel his approach might be more successful." And talk about a full moon - it seems all the lunatic couples are having it out tonight!
"Depends on what you're trying to accomplish," Doug agreed tactfully, filling the wash basin with the water that was left in the large kettle.
"I do hope it works," Anne worried out loud, adding cold water to the basin. "She'll be miserable if Ralph gives up on her."
"I'm sure he won't. The fellow's clearly smitten."
"What's going on?" asked Davy with interest as he came back down the stairs and into the kitchen, with Millie on his heels. "Did she say yes?"
"How should we know?" shrugged Anne. "They're still out there."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" he asked, and hurried to the window that gave on the porch. Anne opened her mouth to scold Davy, and tell him to give them some privacy, but Doug followed suit, as did Millie. Shaking her head, Anne walked up to the window as well.
"What's going on?" she asked, tiptoeing in an effort to see over Doug's immense shoulder, to no avail.
"Let me see!" demanded Millie, shoving Davy to the side, only to sigh disappointedly. "They're just talking."
"Come on!" groaned Davy at the two through the glass. "Do it, already!"
Alerted by the noise, Dora turned toward the window and frowned. She grabbed Ralph's hand and yanked him down the path, as one would an uncooperative goat.
"Aw, now we don't get to see!" whined Davy.
"Oh, let's let them have some privacy," preached Anne belatedly. "They know what they're doing: perhaps Green Gables will know a wedding this year, after all."
*I know that the word "bozo" only appears in print starting around the 1920s. I'm taking a huge liberty here in assuming that just because it wasn't used in print yet, doesn't mean people didn't know the word or use it in speech.