Neither Faith nor Jem knew what to say, so they sat in silence for a few moments after Victoria left the room. They were both asking themselves the same questions: Why not marry now? Why wait until the war ends and Jem finishes his course in medicine?
Faith was afraid to say anything; she didn't want Jem to think she and Victoria were conspiring to get him down the aisle. Nothing could have been further from the truth. While the thought of eloping had crossed her mind, she'd never mentioned it to a living soul. She wondered what had prompted Victoria to tell Jem the story of her first marriage. While Faith had heard Victoria mention Patrick on several occasions, she'd never heard the story in such detail and had never seen Victoria reminisce in such a dreamy manner.
Jem was the one who finally broke the silence. Still holding her hand, he looked into her eyes and said, "Part of me wants to get down on one knee right now and ask you to marry me today."
She was surprised that he would admit to wanting to do something so impulsive. He was usually so practical.
"What's stopping you?" she asked cautiously.
"A number of things are stopping me, Faith, and you know what they are," he said quietly.
She nodded silently.
He let go of her hand, rose from the sofa, and walked over to the fireplace. He stood there, his back to her. Faith, who was seldom at a loss for words, dared not speak for fear that she would say the wrong thing.
"It wouldn't be fair to you if we got married now," he said without turning around.
"What?" she demanded. "How do you figure that? I'd marry you this very second – without reservation - if you'd ask me!"
"That's what I mean," he said.
"Jem Blythe, you aren't making any sense! How can giving me the one thing I want most in the world be unfair to me?"
He turned around to face her. She was standing now, and her cheeks were flushed with color. He could see that he had angered her, though she was trying not to show it.
"Don't you think I hate not being married to you? We've waited such a long time. When I shipped out, I thought I was going off on some glorious adventure that would last six months at the most. I never dreamed the War would last this long – or be so horrific. Faith, I've never told you, and I shouldn't tell you now…" His voice trailed off as he looked away.
"Do you think I don't know?" she asked as she walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I work in a convalescent hospital caring for badly wounded soldiers, Jem. The ones who've lost limbs or had half their faces blown off. I've seen men who are so badly shell-shocked that they will likely spend the rest of their lives in institutions. As much as I appreciate your cheerful and optimistic letters, I know the truth. You put on a brave face because you don't want me to worry. What I don't know is how you bear it all."
He unbuttoned his shirt pocket, reached inside, and pulled out two small possessions: a pink rose and a photograph of Faith.
"This is how I bear it. I look at these and think of you," he said before kissing her vigorously. She kissed him back just as hard. When he broke away from her, he said hoarsely, "My reasons for wanting to marry you now are very selfish."
His meaning was so unmistakable that it made her blush.
"I don't think that's selfish," she said quietly.
"Things are so uncertain," he said.
"Maybe that a reason to get married now, while we have the opportunity."
"We never speak of it directly, Faith, but we both know that I may not survive this war."
"That's my worst fear," she said, "and should it come to pass, I'll be devastated. My anguish will be immeasurable whether we're married or not."
"What if I survive, but I'm maimed?" he asked.
"Do you think I'd stop loving you just because you were crippled?" she asked incredulously. "I would be grateful that you were alive."
"Even if nothing happens to me, I still won't be able to support you until I finish my course in medicine," he said.
"You don't have to support me, Jem. I'm capable of working while you finish your studies."
"I couldn't let my wife do that, Faith."
"No?" she asked. "You couldn't share your home with a wife who works all day, but you have no problem with your fiancée working, even though it means we'll live separately. I know you think you have to follow your father's example, but you don't. Our circumstances are very different. Besides, your mother worked those years that she waited for your father. Think of how much happier they could have been during that time if they'd been married and could have gone home to each other every night."
"I'd never thought of it that way," he admitted. "But you wouldn't be able to work if we had a child before I finish my studies."
"Probably not," she conceded. "But we'd manage somehow. Surely men with families have successfully completed medical school."
"Faith," he continued quietly, "what if we marry now, and you find out in a few months that you are going to have a baby, and then something happens to me? You would be alone with a child to raise."
Faith took a deep breath before answering. "If that happened, God forbid, our child would be the greatest gift you ever gave me – a living, breathing reminder of you. A child who would look at me every day with your hazel eyes, reminding me that I still have part of you even though you're gone." Don't cry now, she thought to herself as she swallowed a sob. "And your parents would feel exactly the same way. Having your child to love would provide them with some solace if we lost you."
"It's not in my nature to do something impulsive like elope," he said after a long silence.
"I know," she said, sighing and thinking she did not always like his practical nature. "But Jem, you can't base this decision entirely on 'what ifs.' There are no guarantees in life, war or no war. Look at my parents. When they married, they never expected that ten years later my father would be a widower with four young children."
"That's true," admitted Jem. After a short silence, he spoke again. "Do you think we can suspend this discussion for a while and go enjoy a day exploring London?" he asked, feeling that he needed to regain his equilibrium before making such an important decision.
"Yes, but I want to say one more thing before we do."
He waited.
"I don't see how getting married after a three-year engagement can be considered impulsive."
When Jem arrived at the Wentworth house the next morning, he quickly whisked Faith into the parlor and closed the door. Faith couldn't tell if his bright eyes and red cheeks were due to the cold weather or to excitement.
"Faith, I barely slept last night because I kept thinking about us and about Victoria and Patrick. I want to do the right by you, Faith, because nothing is more important to me than you are. Nothing. As you said yesterday, there are no guarantees in life. We can't look into a crystal ball to see how things will turn out if we make this decision or that decision. So maybe all we can do when the right thing isn't obvious is to choose what is right at the moment and believe we can make it the right thing no matter what happens later."
Faith stood silently looking at him. Clearly, he had made a decision, but she wasn't sure which one yet.
"So what are saying?" she asked.
"I'm saying that I love you," he said. "I'm saying that we've waited long enough. I'm saying that I want to marry you today – if you'll have me."
"Yes," she said gleefully. "Yes, yes, yes! I'll marry you today, and it will be the happiest day of my life!"
They threw their arms around each other in a tight embrace, their last as an unmarried couple.
End of Flashback
"When we told Victoria of our plans, she insisted that we have the ceremony at her house. It wasn't the wedding we had always planned, but we didn't care because we were so happy. Victoria went to more trouble than she should have – having a celebratory dinner for us after the wedding, then sending us on a honeymoon to a bed & breakfast outside of London for the remainder of my leave. We protested, telling her that we couldn't accept the honeymoon, that it was too generous. But she pulled me aside and told me to accept it for Faith's sake, that the memories would be important to her if something happened to me. I'm glad I gave in because it was a wonderful five days."
"Since we couldn't be there, I'm glad that Victoria and Luddie were," said Rosemary, who knew from Faith's letters how much the older couple had meant to her.
Jem smiled weakly. "Once we were married, I never questioned my decision. Not until today anyway," he said, his voice cracking slightly as he realized that Faith's life wouldn't be in danger now if he had insisted they stick to their original plan and not marry until he graduated from medical school.
"You mustn't question your decision, Jem," Rev. Meredith said resolutely. "You married my daughter because you love her, and you've made her very happy. You couldn't have anticipated this."
"Thank you," Jem murmured, appreciating his father-in-law's kindness.
"Here comes your father," said Anne, and the four of them nervously rose from their seats, eager to hear what Gilbert had to say.
"We've managed to stop the hemorrhaging," Gilbert said, getting directly to the point because he knew how worried they all were, "so surgery won't be necessary."
Gilbert paused while the others heaved a collective sigh of relief. John and Rosemary Meredith embraced each other while Anne put her arm around her son.
"There's more, isn't there?" asked Jem, who noticed that his father was relieved, but not happy.
"Yes," Gilbert said. "She's lost a lot of blood. She's very weak."
"But she will recover, won't she?" asked Rosemary.
"I'm cautiously optimistic that she will," said Gilbert, "provided that the hemorrhaging doesn't start up again. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. If she gets through the next twenty-four hours without developing any complications – like hemorrhaging – her chances improve a great deal."
"Is she conscious?" Jem asked.
"Not yet," replied Gilbert.
"May I see her?" Jem asked.
"As soon as she's settled in her room," Gilbert promised. "That should be just a few more minutes."
Jem nodded, not trusting himself to speak again. He knew that the next twenty-four hours could be the longest of his life.