LM Montgomery owns Anne of Green Gables. Margaret Mitchell owns some other characters. I own the characters you don't recognize from any stories you have read. And legal disclaimers are for the birds. Tweet Tweet.
"Mama, I can't breathe!"
"Very funny, Anna. Let's get you out of this dress. I'll alter it for Jomishie and she can wear it to school when it starts." Marybeth shook her head as she unbuttoned Anna, who had been doing a melodramatic impression of a suffocation victim. "Looks like you're going to need that new dress sooner than I thought." She rechecked Anna's measurements and compared them to her pattern, then sent the girl off to get dressed. Marybeth had spent the morning checking over her children's clothes, making sure everybody was ready for school. Everybody was ready except Anna .
Marybeth and Anna started out walking towards the store. Marybeth would have liked to invite Anne to walk into town with them, but Anne and Gilbert, and Miss Cornelia and her husband were all invited to a wedding, and nobody was at home. It was perfect wedding day weather, sunny and warm, but not too hot. In the distance they could see the wedding guests gathering in the Presbyterian churchyard. Some people were trickling into the church, but many others seemed content to stand outside, chattering and enjoying the sun.
As Marybeth and Anna drew closer to the crowd, Marybeth saw Mr. Meredith by the gate, talking to a young woman dressed within an inch of her life. Marybeth guessed she was the bridesmaid, but whoever she was, it was obvious from her posture and gestures that she had his attention and wouldn't appreciate any intrusion.
Marybeth didn't wish to interrupt his conversation or disturb him at work, and she decided to cross over to the other side of the street, but as she put her hand on Anna's shoulder to guide her, Mr. Meredith saw her and nodded slightly. She couldn't cross now without looking rude, so she approached the pair at the gate.
Mr. Meredith smiled at Marybeth, and the young lady turned to look at her, giving her a rather impertinent stare, part appraisal and part challenge.
Marybeth took a small step back at the sight of that stare and spoke to the lady first. "What a lovely dress, are you the bridesmaid?"
The young woman nodded back at her, trying to act civil in front of Mr. Meredith.
Marybeth was unsure what to say next with the woman staring at her like that, and she fell back on a quote. "'Come haste to the wedding ye friends and ye neighbors, the lovers their bliss can no longer delay'..."
"You know that old song, don't you, Miss Clow?" Mr. Meredith said, careful to include her in the conversation. Looking at Marybeth he responded, "'Forget all your sorrows your cares and your labors, and let every heart beat with rapture today'."
Marybeth laughed and started inching away, nudging Anna as she did so. "I'm just in town to buy some dress fabric. Best wishes to the bride and groom." She breathed a sigh of relief as she and Anna made their escape. It was obvious that Miss Clow was not sorry to see her leave.
When they arrived at the front of Carter Flagg's store, Anna poked her mother. "Ooh, Mama, look."
Tied outside, hitched to a carriage and waiting for its owner was a young, well-muscled horse that nickered and tossed its head when it saw them approach. Anna liked horses, but she hadn't had any opportunity to ride since they came to Glen St. Mary, and the horse they used to drive into Lowbridge was old and in Anna's estimation, not very interesting.
"Very nice," Marybeth said as she opened the door to allow Anna in before her. A noisy conversation inside the store ceased as the bell jingled, and as they stepped inside Carter Flagg and Norman Douglas turned to see who had arrived.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hamilton, how may I help you?" Mr. Flagg asked.
Marybeth looked questioningly at Mr. Douglas, but he told her, "Go ahead." She stepped up to the counter and proceeded to place her order.
"Did you happen to get any of that double pink cotton print we talked about before?"
The requested bolt of fabric was produced, and she smiled her thanks at him. Then she unrolled a length of it to hold up to Anna. "Hold this arm up, sweetie," she instructed her. "So, Anna, what do you think?"
"Good, Mama, it's fine."
As Marybeth folded over the fabric preparatory to cutting, Mr. Douglas burst out, "Let's hear your opinion, Mrs. Hamilton, what do you think about flying machines?"
Marybeth turned to look at him. This must have been what he and Mr. Flagg were discussing when she and her daughter walked in. An easy, innocuous topic, but he asked for her opinion, and he seemed to be teasing her, too.
"I think, Mr. Douglas, that they are very interesting curiosities, and I would like to see one someday. Mr. Flagg, would you have any trim that goes with this fabric?"
The shopkeeper produced some samples, and Anna poured over them, holding them against the fabric, trying to decide.
"A curiosity! Come now--they'll be the next big thing in transportation," Mr. Douglas said, raising his voice.
Marybeth met his eyes, her own expression as innocent as a baby's, and lowered her own voice a notch. "Too impractical," she said, shaking her head. "Nobody wants to lie on their stomach just to go somewhere. Besides, you can't carry anything with you." She turned to her daughter. "You need a hair ribbon to match that fabric."
"What about locomotives, Mrs. Hamilton," Mr. Douglas boomed. "They were impractical when they were first invented, and now they're all over the country."
"That may be," Marybeth lowered her voice another notch, but her gaze never wavered from his. "But I think you're forgetting that a locomotive runs over the ground. There are too many people who believe that flying is unnatural. I don't believe it will ever catch on."
Anna turned away from the hair ribbons to look at her mother. Mama only lowered her voice like that when she was maintaining a stubborn position. She hoped they wouldn't be here all day arguing--she wanted to see her friends.
"What will you say if they do improve them--make them practical? What if flying machines do 'catch on', as you put it? What would you say then?"
Marybeth lowered her voice again, but still loud enough to be clearly heard, "Then we'll have to continue this conversation at that time, won't we?"
Before he could answer that, Anna, with bravery born of the desperation to get out of there, piped up, "Mr. Douglas, is that your horse outside?"
Marybeth stared at her daughter. Anna never spoke to grown-ups unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Yes it is."
"May I pet him?" Anna asked.
"He doesn't bite or rear back, does he?" Marybeth added anxiously.
"No, Mrs. Hamilton, he doesn't bite or rear and you didn't have to ask--I know better than to allow a child near a dangerous animal," he said irritably.
"It's my job to worry about my children."
"Then if you're that worried, I'll walk you both out--we'll go see him together."
Marybeth paid for the fabric and trim, and they went out to see the horse. Anna was feeling proud of herself--at least they were now out of the store and that much closer to home. She patted the horse as her mother watched from the sidewalk until she heard the noises coming from the churchyard. The wedding was letting out.
"Mama?" Anna said, pointing at the church.
"Go ahead, go see the wedding procession."
Anna stepped carefully around the horse, then trotted up the road to try to get a glimpse of the bride. Marybeth was alone with Mr. Douglas for the first time since the night of the storm, and she didn't know what to say to him. To cover her nervousness, she shoved her package at him. "My turn," she said, then she approached the horse calmly, talking quietly to it and giving it a scratch on the withers. The horse turned his head to her, and Marybeth blew gently into his nostrils. He regarded her for a moment before he looked forward again.
"What did you just do?"
"I taught him my scent," she replied.
"You think that works?"
"I know it does. Horses always sniff each other. Besides, that's how my mare learned who I was."
"So you know horses."
Marybeth scratched under the horse's mane. "I rode to hounds in Kentucky. But that was after my husband and I were first married, 21 years ago."
"Twenty one years? That doesn't seem--"
"Oh, it's possible. I married when I was in my teens." She turned to grin at him. "What I won't tell you is exactly how old I was then, because then you'll figure out how old I am now. So what do you call this breed?"
"It's a Canadian Horse."
Marybeth wanted to ask more questions, but at that moment Anna came back.
"Did you see the bride, Anna?"
"Yes. She looked beautiful. But they're all gone now to the wedding supper."
Marybeth looked over the horse's back towards the church. The churchyard was nearly empty.
"Mama, we can go back home now, can't we? It's almost noon, and we need to eat, and..."
"And you want to go play," Marybeth finished for her. "Yes, we can go."
"Why don't you let me drive you home?" Mr. Douglas offered. Anna's eyes blazed as she nodded, encouraging her mother.
"Yes, thank you, if it doesn't put you out any," Marybeth replied.
He helped her into the carriage, then Marybeth held out a hand and pulled Anna in beside her. "Since you're an experienced equestrienne, you should be able to appreciate riding behind a decent horse," he said.
"To be honest, Mr. Douglas, I haven't ridden very often since the babies came. And I've rarely driven."
He shrugged as he slapped the reins. "Driving is the man's job anyway." He looked sideways at her with that same teasing, challenging look he gave her in the store.
"That's not necessarily true," she answered, rising to the bait. "I know some women who are very capable of driving any horse that comes their way."
The ride home was faster than Marybeth was accustomed to. When they arrived at her gate, Anna waved "bye" and jumped down from the carriage before anyone could help her and made a beeline for Rainbow Valley.
Marybeth watched her go before she turned to Mr. Douglas. "He has a nice, smooth gait and he transitions well," she said, gesturing to the horse.
Mr. Douglas acknowledged the compliment to his horse, then asked her, "So, am I to take it that you approve of women's rights?" Referring to their earlier conversation.
"I wouldn't march in a parade for it, but if I ever get the right to vote, you can be sure I'll be voting in every election."
"Come now, do you think a woman is the equal of a man?" He was clearly trying to get a rise out of her.
She looked him in the eye and said quietly, "Absolutely not, Mr. Douglas. We must aim higher than that."
That made him laugh and he climbed down from the carriage. Marybeth waited as he came around to her side and he swung her down easily. He walked with her to the gate.
"Do you mean to say that things like superior size or superior strength don't give one an advantage in this world?"
"Not all the time. Don't you know any women around here who are independent and doing well? I myself have managed on my own for the last seven years."
"Come now--" he started, but Marybeth suddenly held up a hand and shook her head. She blinked. Then she blinked again. The third time she blinked, she touched a fingertip to the corner of her eye, shaking her head slightly.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She shook her head abruptly, still dabbing at her eye.
He took her arm. "Let me see." Tilting her face up, he peered into her eyes.
Something perverse in her own nature made her smile and say to him, "I wouldn't know about advantage, but I got you to gaze into my eyes--without using size or strength or logic or even persuasion."
His eyes opened wide a moment, then a change came over his expression that made Marybeth look down suddenly and catch her breath. It was the same expression that she had seen as they sat together in his parlor--still teasing, still challenging, but there was something more to it; invitation.
Taking a deep breath, she sidestepped him and sidled back to the gate. "I have to go and start making dinner. Thank you for bringing me home."
He made no move to follow her as she slipped into her house, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd gotten the better of her somehow. She went into the kitchen to find Daisy preparing dinner with the assistance of Lanie, who was starting to resume some of the household tasks. Dilcey was supervising. Marybeth was not needed to help with dinner, but she didn't particularly wish to be alone. She found her basket of socks that needed darning and brought it into the kitchen where she sat on the battered sofa that stood against the far wall. She half-listened to the conversation of the others and let her own thoughts drift gently through her mind.
Regardless of her original intention when they first arrived at the Glen, she had done a poor job of staying uninvolved in her neighbors' lives. She was involved, all right, not only once, but twice. She thought about John Meredith, with his shy smile and dreamy eyes and a knack for saying exactly the words she needed to hear. She was assured that she had his friendship and it made her glad, but there were times she had seen something more in his eyes and it pained her a little, even though she liked it. Perhaps she couldn't help being sweet on him, but it would have been far, far better if her feelings had remained unrequited. She would have been able to bear it if he had no feelings for her--it would have been perfectly understandable. In fact, she could have even laughed at herself for developing a crush and at her age--but most importantly, nobody else would have to get hurt from this impossible situation.
Then she thought of Norman Douglas with his bluster and candid statements and his deliberate baiting of her. Even when he said things to her that irritated or annoyed her, she did enjoy arguing with him. Then, when his mood would change from one of challenging her to one of beguiling her, it made her dizzy and she felt drawn to him against her better judgment. She couldn't honestly say that she found it unpleasant when he beguiled her. She allowed herself a moment of grim amusement at that last thought. She could think of several women of her recent acquaintance who would think she had taken leave of her senses if they knew she liked the advances of Norman Douglas, but there it stood.
She had the uneasy conviction that she ought to do something about the whole situation, but she wasn't sure where to start. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to have happen. Marybeth finished darning the first sock and put it aside. She decided that when the first opportunity presented itself, that would be the time to act. She hadn't the slightest idea what that action would be, but she consoled herself by reflecting that sometimes it was better not to plan too far ahead.