Trigger warning for death and grief.
I'm dreadfully sorry to do this to Gideon, I've grown rather fond of him.
The Green Gables attic proved to be a never-ending treasure trove. Another diary had been found wrapped in some moth-eaten serge which fell apart as soon as Faith touched it. Shuddering she wiped her hands on her trousers before she picked up the old book. Reverently turning its crusty old pages downstairs Jem asked, "does she ever mention the ring?"
Faith ruffled back through the pages and found the passage, a single solitaire diamond encased in a bright gold band, engravings in Hebrew within and paled.
"Sound familiar?"
She splayed her hand out and saw her engagement ring with fresh eyes. "Really?"
"I remember shortly before she died Marilla sat me down and said she knew I was too young yet, but that one day I'd fall in love with the most beautiful girl and that she'd like me to have it, it was a family heirloom she said."
"Goodness."
"Of course, she never told me which family, I just assumed."
"Did she have much jewellery?"
"Just an amethyst brooch. Now that I think about it, this is more ornate than anything else she owned. It never occurred to me before."
"I wonder what this writing means. I never did ask you," she said. "I always meant to, but once I put it on, I forgot."
Jem held his hand out for the ring and Faith placed it in his palm. "Hm, I don't know." He said squinting at the tiny writing. "It looks like Hebrew, but I can't guess what it says."
"Stop wriggling!" Gideon froze in his spot a crazed grin plastered on his face, and Marilla moved him back to her preferred stance. "Don't be stupid, you'll prick yourself.
He giggled, "it's ticklish." She smacked him gently.
Gideon had persuaded her to try out the sewing machine and she was checking the final touches. She'd been hesitant initially, but Gideon had pleaded with her, "you know ketzele," he'd said one afternoon. "These pants really are falling to pieces. Any chance you could have a go at making me a new pair?" Marilla looked at him shrewdly, she was quite trepidatious about starting the machine up and lacked confidence in the whole affair. "I have a pattern here if you need one," he said.
Looking down at her he noticed once again that her finger was bare. Marilla had been uncomfortable sharing her status as a fiancée. She feared the inevitable questions and subsequent shunning. Not that she wasn't proud of Gideon, but she anticipated a backlash. Regardless she had steeled her spine and planned to wear it to church that Sunday. Matthew with his usual tact had never spoken of its lack and even Gideon understood. Wearing his ring would have repercussions. Nevertheless, he'd commented, "do you not like the ring, ketzele?"
"I adore it. Oh, I don't know. It's just," she sighed. "I'm a coward I guess."
"I mean I understand, but…"
"No, you're right. This is ridiculous."
Gideon took her finger into his mouth, the ring cool against his tongue as Marilla leant into the warmth of him. "When the time is right, you'll let them know."
Standing straight she looked him in the eye, "the time is right, it's always been right. It's me. I dread the response. You're a wonderful man Gideon, never doubt that. My neighbours will judge you harshly and me too of course but know that I adore you. We belong together. I'd do anything for you. I … I …" She was stilled when he caught her mouth and kissed her for long moments causing her to melt into his arms and against his lips, liquefying from her centre outwards as he stroked her hair and caressed her back.
"I'll wear it to church this Sunday," she announced proudly, softening when she watched his pleased expression. "Feels so strange to go without you."
"There's no place for me there."
"I know," she replied sadly. "But it means there'll be questions since you won't ever be there with me."
"I pray in my own way."
"I know you do, but I doubt they'll understand. They'll," she sobbed. "They'll judge me. They'll accuse you of stealing me from my faith."
He had to leave before the end of the week. "I must pick up more of those sewing machines. They're at the dock but they'll sell them to others if I don't get there on time. I have an arrangement with the chandler, but he won't wait."
"I wish you didn't have to," she told him.
"I know ketzele, but you must understand." At her crestfallen expression he softened saying, "maybe once we're married, I'll stop. How about I open a small shop in town instead?"
Marilla gazed up at him in wonder, "really?"
"I'll investigate, I promise. But for now, I must go." They kissed as warm and loving a kiss as had ever been. Marilla half wished she could go with him. The thought of riding through the night with him by her side was alluring. She glanced around the kitchen, half compelled by thoughts of the open road. It had never drawn her before, but Gideon's tales of his nights and days, and the thought of seeing him at his work was intriguing. But she had a place here, tending the house. One day she'd go out with him, but now was not the time. He had a deadline to meet, "it won't be a leisurely journey, ketzele. I want more than anything for you to come with me, but not now." She waved him goodbye from the front gate, gazing after him long after he had turned the corner lost in imaginings of what might have been.
Dressing for church that Sunday was charged as it never had been before. Marilla stood in front of her looking glass for longer than usual so that Matthew called up the stairs asking if she was ready. After a long pause, she placed the ring on her finger almost in defiance.
All her worries were for naught since no one spoke to them anyways. She and Matthew made their way to their pew and sat down. Where they listened, sang, prayed all without much notice from their neighbours. They were considered an odd couple, estranged from their neighbours. Only Rachel would have noticed but she was in confinement.
With Rachel's time near Marilla made her way down the lane. Gideon had warned her he would be gone for a few weeks. He'd explained that he had to sell a few sewing machines and predicted that would take a while. Needing to fill in her days doing more than looking over the front gate for him, Marilla busied herself with learning the machinations of her machine as well as her usual baking, cleaning, and finally visiting.
Rachel had been wise to choose confinement over church, her stomach outstretched she waddled to the door calling over her shoulder to tell the children to be quiet. Lynde Hollow was never quiet, her raucous children spent their days bickering.
Despite being saddled with numerous children Rachel never grew tired of the outside world, a fact she often relayed to Marilla. "Well fancy that," she exclaimed over the newspaper as they took their afternoon tea together. "My goodness, Marilla, didn't you know him? Wasn't he your knight in shining armour that day in town?"
Marilla took the paper from Rachel's outstretched hand:
Travelling Salesman Bludgeoned to Death
A shocking event the likes of which we on PEI like to say is usually beyond our ken occurred Saturday last outside Charlottetown whereby a tinker was murdered. Details are vague but it appears the murderer was unappreciative of the victim's Jewish faith, and in an appalling act of violence the victim was beaten to death with bare hands. The accused was a Mr Charles Smith. He has been charged and is currently residing in the Charlottetown jail awaiting trial. The victim has been identified as Mr Gideon Hoffer previously of The Netherlands and currently of no fixed abode.
Marilla read with growing horror. Hoping against hope that Rachel had made a mistake, her blood ran cold when she saw the name, Gideon Hofferin stark black and white. She struggled to put on a nonchalant face but left immediately unable to breath. She struggled to get home through a blaze of tears. Rachel watched her go curiously but her attention was diverted by her squabbling children, and she almost immediately forgot about Marilla altogether.
Affronted chickens clucked in fright their beating feathers raising dust as Marilla strode heedlessly past. She made it home in a daze, not noticing where she went and later had no memory of how, but her feet led to her place of safety. Matthew found her on the veranda, newssheet crumpled in her tightly clenched fist. He prised it from her grasp and read the damning words. "Oh Marilla," he sighed. "Oh no, no," and he took her form into his arms and held her tight. She felt frozen, her emotions numb. He looked up at her in shock his face paling saying, "my God," and reached out to embrace her. Marilla was ramrod straight in his arms unable to think, to process, to anything.
A worried Matthew guided his catatonic sister upstairs, helped her undress and put her to bed for want of anything better to do. He was concerned for she did not cry, did not look at him but seemed completely blank. She's in shock, he thought. But when she still had not moved some time later, he really started to worry.
Into the heavy silence he started to talk, "he was a good man, your Gideon. Seems silly I suppose but I'd started to regard him as a brother rather than an acquaintance. I could see you together, you worked, if you know what I mean." He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose, quite emotional himself. He looked at Marilla who still had not moved. "It's alright to cry you know. Doesn't mean you're weak. Just shows that you loved him." He could hear the cows lowing in the barn. "I'll be back," he said softly and left.
Despite her lack of response Marilla had heard everything he had said. He was right but somehow there was a barrier between her and her grief. The words, he is gone, he is gone, bounced around her mind but she could not fix upon them. They did not make any sense. How could someone as vibrant and alive as her Gideon be dead? How could he have done that to her? She had begged him to stay and despite that he had gone back out into the dangerous world. If he had listened to her advice, she'd still have him by her side.
Returning from the barn Matthew found her situation unchanged. If only she'd cry, he thought. I know I'd be crying by now.
Days later she had not yet given in and would not have done except that a worried Matthew gently suggested that perhaps her response did not do Gideon justice. That he deserved more. Her pained eyes turned towards him, and he saw then the depth of her grief. 'I know, I know. But I think he deserves some tears don't you think?" Marilla turned over and curled up into a tight ball at which he left her to it. He felt wretchedly sorry for her, but the farm still needed tending.
A few days later he commented, "you removed his ring?"
"Couldn't see the point. I'm not engaged anymore. She sighed heavily, "It feels like God is punishing me for my sins, Matthew. I conceived a baby illegitimately and now I've lost Gideon. I shouldn't have fallen in love with someone who doesn't believe in our Lord Jesus." She let go a wavery sigh as her bottom lip wobbled. Matthew waited, hoping that she would finally let go.
"Both those things were just terrible accidents, Marilla."
"No, God knows best. I deserve it, I deserve to be punished."
"Did that baby deserve it?" Her eyes welling with unshed tears Marilla gazed at him. "What did your baby do, what did Gideon do? Can see how you might feel that way, but I don't think that's how it works. God forgives us our trespasses, doesn't he?" Marilla nodded. "Yeah, so I reckon punishment don't come into it. I reckon losing them both was just a terrible accident, t'weren't nothing organised about it, not even by God. You ain't being punished, or at least not like that, even if it feels that way."
Marilla shook her head, she wished she could believe him, but in her heart of hearts she knew she would have to pray hard and be more devout in her devotion. She'd somehow let that slip of late, not that she blamed Gideon, she had just gotten a bit distracted.
"I'm for bed," she said rising out of her chair.
"Listen to me, it isn't your fault." She turned and shook her head at him sadly. It was nice of him to say, but she couldn't believe it.
Mornings were the worst. She'd forget, and the knowledge would slam into her when she woke. Afternoons were the worst nights were the worst. Random moments were the worst when the truth would march in relentlessly: down in the basement, on her way up the stairs, chopping vegetables, hanging out the washing; she'd be forced to stop what she was doing as a wave of grief overwhelmed her. She'd bite her lip, wipe tears from her eyes, heave a great breath and go on about her duties. At times she found her resolve leave her and she'd be forced to sit down and give into it for a spell, but only in private away even from Matthew and then she'd get back up and recommence her work eventually. She was reminded of him in countless moments and kept saving tidbits up to tell him when he returned only to remember with a jolt that it was pointless.
She found solace of a sort in her diary. the scent of him the heat of him the sound of him calling me ketzele his encircling arms love-making jokes his love his praying. I miss his stories. I miss his family. I miss his - I miss him.
The wall that Gideon had been steadily chipping away came back up with a vengeance, higher and thicker than before. An edifice that shielded but also kept Marilla from the outside world. She grew quiet. Afraid that if she gave into her grief, she'd never be able to stop. Matthew fretted. "It's acceptable to mourn you know, Marilla. Don't you think he deserves that much? A small memorial at least, if only here."
"Leave me be, Matthew," she replied curtly. Matthew gazed at her for a while, fretting.
It all came to a head, as it had to. Matthew came into the kitchen to find her sobbing against the sink. He took her into his arms and let her know she was still loved. Through her tears she apologised, but he told her not to, "it's only human after all, Marilla. You cry, I want you to. Let it all out. Just let it go now." She wept for a long time and afterwards felt empty but somehow lighter. She had been holding all those emotions in for such a long time that it had become quite a burden, now she felt if not happier then at least calmer.
At times later Marilla would beat herself up in a rush of self-depreciation bewailing herself for the slights she'd shown Gideon. But Matthew would intervene and remind her that though he was not experienced in the ways of love one thing was sure and certain in his mind and that was Gideon's love for her. "Despite your faults," he grinned at her reaction, "He loved you; he would always love you, and I'm sure he loves you now."
She shook her head, "No, he didn't believe in heaven. We shan't, we can't be reunited."
Matthew regarded her for a long moment, sucking on his pipe as he did when he was thinking. "Well, I dunno," he said eventually. "'S far as I know no one's never come back to say." Deep in her sorrow Marilla listened with rising hope. "I mean the Minister really ain't the authority that he claims to be. Has he been? Heard from anyone who has?" Marilla shook her head, slightly alarmed at Matthew's heretical musings. "Gideon was a good man despite his brand of faith. Hard for me to believe he won't be waiting up there for you."
Marilla smiled sadly, "won't he get a shock then."
Rachel was concerned for Marilla. "Are you quite well, Marilla?" she asked as she patted the baby, a boy this time, on her shoulder the next time Marilla paid a visit.
"I'm fine."
"It's just you seem a little flat."
"Why are you nagging me? I'm fine, just fine."
Hand up in supplication she said, "sorry, sorry. Sorry I asked." She never mentioned it again, but Rachel did miss the gay Marilla that never would be again. Replaced with this grimmer, sadder version.
When Marilla returned home, she reflected upon her relationship with Rachel. She saw everything in black and white as Marilla used to do herself, she supposed. But now she understood life was more complicated. Despite her unending sorrow Marilla drew comfort in her closely guarded secret; every time Rachel made mention of her lack of children or husband. She reminded herself that that had been down to poor luck rather than the inability to love or be loved. Gideon loved her for her and her alone, he said so many times and despite initial misgivings finally she believed his sentiments were true. He had always broached the walls she erected. He just came crashing over them, ignoring her inner waspishness suggesting things that he enjoyed and knew innately would appeal to her as well. If she rejected them, he would back off without complaint, but he had an uncanny knack of introducing her to new experiences.
That night over dinner she spoke. "You know how vexed I was when you summoned him when I lost," she paused, intaking a sharp breath, "the baby?" Matthew nodded. "Want to apologise." He was silent. "I was upset, but in hindsight well…" she trailed off. Then after a long pause, admitted, "hard now." Matthew in his usual quiet way reached over and squeezed her hand. After a beat she reciprocated, gripping so tightly he had to massage his hand afterwards.
When she felt strong enough, she pulled down the box of letters and spent an immersive day reading, crying, and even laughing at times over their contents. Gideon had such a way with words; describing the characters he met along the way so that she felt she was present. Her diary also provided a solace, as she revisited her feelings towards him in those first giddy days when she was falling in love.
If only she had gone out with him that last time. Perhaps she might have saved him from his eventual fate, but when she expressed as much to Matthew, he shook his head. "What if you'd witnessed it, or worse been injured yourself. I'm not saying this is bearable, but I don't think you could have saved him. Couldn't imagine a world without you in it, Marilla. I need you. I suppose that's selfish of me, but I do."
It was only later, after Marilla thought she had recovered when she studied the picture that he'd drawn of her, that she noticed. Counting back, she realised that though they had not known it then, she was carrying the baby. That the swell of her belly contained life. Matthew found her curled up on the bed sobbing. Clutching the drawing close to her as though willing the baby back into herself.
Anger engulfed her when she thought of all that she had lost because of his recklessness. If only he'd listened to me, he'd still be alive and we might be married. She gasped thinking, I might even be pregnant again. He took all that from me. How could he do that do me? But she couldn't maintain it, her love for him won out in the end, despite everything. She could barely think of him in a negative light. He had been her love, her lover, her mainstay, her everything. Anger turned to tears once more. She felt as if everything made her cry and hated herself for it.
Another day Marilla pulled out her diary. She regarded it momentarily gathering her thoughts then gave that up as a bad job and instead took up her pen. Dipped it in the ink and started writing; just letting the words pour out of her without pause unless it was for ink. Finally rubbing her cramped fingers, she stopped exhausted. She had said all that needed to be said for the time being. There would be more later of that she was sure, but for now she'd said all that was in her heart. She sighed feeling the weight lift somewhat. She sat on her bed and gazed around the room thinking for the first time how bare it was. Gideon had filled the room as he had filled her life and now it stretched out before her empty and bereft.
Gideon's machine lurked in her sewing room for months. She was unable to face it for the longest time. Eventually when Matthew's pants had worn through so that no amount of patching would work, she eyed it off again. Gathering her courage, she sat down at the machine remembering that long ago lesson. His soft sibilation echoing in her mind, thread the needle like so, ketzele. Matthew entered the kitchen a while later and immediately noticed an unfamiliar sound. He smiled to see her absorbed in her work, especially when he saw the brown serge she was working on, his current trousers were falling to pieces, but he hadn't liked to comment.
Eventually the pain subsided, not that it ever went away completely; her grief became part of her. In time she found herself able to think of him without pain, without tears. Instead she was able to smile at his jokes, his stories, and the thought of him. To think of him as he might have been, her husband, a father to their children, a brother for Matthew. To imagine them all living as a family in Green Gables together.
The only time Matthew alluded to Gideon again was decades later when Marilla was upbraiding Anne for some minor infraction. After a chastened girl went slowly up to bed, her head hung low, he spoke up. "Don't you go blaming her for your mistakes."
"I'd never…" but she bit back her retort stopping mid-sentence. She was so hell bent on ensuring that she imparted a more moral tone than she herself had lived by, that she had forgotten there was an eager little girl at the heart of the matter. Staring at him over her knitting for the longest time before nodding. Figuring Anne might still be awake she made her way up to her to apologise in a manner that completely confused the girl. Henceforth she did her best to ensure Anne lived as full a life as possible unconstrained by her personal misgivings.
When Anne finally married Gilbert Marilla couldn't help but reflect on her relationship with Gideon. She knew even now that it had not been perfect, though to admit it tugged at her heart even now. She had loved him and knew that he loved her, that was enough or had to be. Though, as she watched Anne set her troth she smiled inwardly; little did Anne know that Marilla had lived a fuller life even perhaps than she had done. She'd done her best by Anne, to bring her up with a more moral code than she herself had lived by, at least when she was young. Believing that she had paid a terrible price for her infidelities she ensured that such a fate would not befall Anne, and yet, and yet perhaps it would not have been terrible if Anne had played the field a little more widely. Marrying the man she had loved since she was thirteen, was that the best outcome?
She had not expected thoughts of Gideon to rise again after all this time but seeing Anne in her bridal gown reminded her of all that she had lost. When she wiped her nose, Rachel patted her shoulder murmuring that she always cried at weddings too, "they're just so beautiful. Can't help thinking of the little girl who arrived all those years ago." Marilla smiled at her ruefully thankful that the reason for her tears was so easily hidden.
Marilla never spoke of Gideon again but at times she paused with a little smile when serving their breakfast bacon. Matthew marvelled at her resilience and strength, but Marilla found it necessary to steadily build a wall of secrecy about herself. Secrets that once Matthew died, only she knew. Secrets that were never guessed at until decades later when Faith Blythe unearthed her diary in the old Green Gables attic.
