Chapter 10 – When The Waiting Begins
The last night came, as generally all last nights do. It was a humid, red night that foretold coming rain…quite appropriate, Di thought. Dinner at Ingleside had been a cheerless affair, despite Mrs. Blythe's valiant attempts to liven the atmosphere. Even a strange sort of melancholy seemed to have descended on Jem, for he barely spoke throughout the meal. Once it was over, he sought his mother's permission and left for the manse, leaving the family to deal with their suffering as much as possible during his absence.
Dr. and Mrs. Blythe sat quietly in the living room with Mrs. Blythe's head on her husband's shoulder. Anne did not say much, but her thoughts were on that sun-warmed morning when Little Jem had first alighted on the shores of life. How wonderful that day had been, when she had looked into her baby's eyes and realized that he was hers to keep! The other children had been blessings, but Jem had been a miracle that assuaged the pain of losing Joy and reinstated her belief that God had meant her, after all, to be a mother. Was the baby she had cooed and cuddled and tucked to sleep now to fight on the bloody battlefields in France? And yet…it was his right to go.
Nan betook herself to her room, where she locked the door and spent the night at her window, looking in the direction of the manse and murmuring prayers that she herself could not hear. Earlier that day, Jerry had clasped her hand after one of their philosophical arguments and said, with a note of affection in his voice, "Who will I have in Quebec to argue over Thackeray with me? You'll always be the only one, Nan Blythe."
At any other time, that would have filled her with indescribable delight. Now, she could only crouch by the window and pray…pray, as she had never prayed before…for God to spare one so beloved.
Walter was not praying – he had not prayed since the day that orders for Jem and Jerry's leaving had come in; a fact that would have horrified Susan greatly if she had known it. He was in the lawn, lying on the hammock and thinking of the time when he and Jem had laid in bed and practiced saying long words together. What was that word that Jem had used to scare Fred Elliot so long ago? What was it? Oh yes…'transubstantiationalist'. How it had scandalized the Glen when they heard of that exploit! Walter laughed a little…then shivered.
"Perhaps someone has just walked over my grave," he said to the sky, where the heavy, purple-tinged clouds had obscured the friendly light from the stars.
Di was not much given to shivering. With Di, action was the way of relieving emotions – not praying nor brooding. Sitting in her armchair knitting socks for the barefooted children from the fishing village at the harbour mouth was the best way she could cope with any sort of stress. It helped to take her mind off tomorrow; but she knew that there would be little sleep tonight.
Jem came back an hour later with a rose in his pocket that would eventually become his greatest treasure during the war. He found Ingleside in much the same state as the manse; silent, with half the lights turned off, yet nobody asleep. His parents were still sitting in the living room in much the same attitude as when he left.
"I have said goodbye to her properly, mother," he said, sitting down opposite them. "I can face tomorrow now."
Mrs. Blythe smiled a little, understandingly.
"Jem," said Dr. Blythe. He paused as something in his throat choked him momentarily. "Know this – your mother and I could not be prouder of you for going. Remember that we are behind you every step of the way."
"I understand, dad."
"I have never fought in a war before, but…" Gilbert paused again, as though seeking help from a higher power for something wise to say to his firstborn son who would be leaving him so soon. Jem was looking at him intently. "Trust in God and your comrades. Never let anyone down. Perform your duties to the best of your ability and get the job done. That will be more than enough."
Jem nodded almost imperceptibly. Mrs. Blythe held out her hand, and he reached out to take hold of it.
"We'll love and support you regardless of whatever happens, sweetheart," she said, her eyes fondling his face. "Do the best you can…we'll be holding the fort back home."
"You always have, mother dearwums," said Jem, using the old term of endearment. "You too, dad. I've always – always – been grateful that I have the both of you as parents. Nobody could have any better."
"Thank you, Jem," said Dr. Blythe. "That means very much to us."
It has been a wonderful life so far, Jem reflected. Born in the House of Dreams that had, for so many years, been sanctified by love; growing up in a home like Ingleside, where laughter and mirth had surrounded him throughout his entire childhood; meeting kindred spirits like the Merediths in Rainbow Valley; distinguishing himself at Redmond, and finally falling for Faith, the most passionately loving girl he knew…how blessings and joy had marked every step of his life till now! He had a sudden doubt…would the war taint this perfect record of happiness and love?
But even if it did…Jem smiled at his parents. There would always be Ingleside, and this pair of people…a place on earth for him to come home to.
Jerry was thinking much along the same lines as he sat at his window, looking at the slight drizzle that had finally descended from the clouds. He could hear somebody pacing restlessly up and down in one of the lit rooms. Perhaps it was his stepmother; Rosemary often paced the floor whenever she was in great turmoil of mind. His father, he knew, was downstairs in the study, preferring solitude on this last night.
"'Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love'," he quoted softly to himself. How true it was…all the excitement leading to this night had faded, and left in its wake the distinct realization of how much he loved his family and the Glen. He thought of Una's dark, wistful blue eyes – Carl's laughing voice and bright face which was so rarely creased by frowns or unhappiness – Bruce as a fat, dimpled baby worshipped by all at the manse – and Faith…Faith, who was peeping in at the door.
She smiled as he met her gaze. "Can I come in?" she asked.
"Do," he said.
She slipped across the room and laid her head on his lap. "My room was full of unfriendly spooks, so I rushed over to see if I could disturb you. I can't help thinking about tomorrow…you'll take care of yourself, won't you?"
"I'll try my best," he replied. "You must, too…and remind Grace of it, when you go to Redmond. She must be having a hard time of it, what with Toby going away and all."
"Grace is so strong," Faith said. "I'm dying to see her again…but the thought of Redmond…it'll be great having Walt and the twins along, but…it seems to me that I won't get over missing the two of you."
Jerry reached out with his foot and nudged her toes. "Hey, we mayn't be gone for long. Nobody knows when this war will end."
"I hope you're right," she said soberly.
There was a silence during which the drizzle became a downpour. The wind increased in notches and became a wild, howling force that beat against the window. How miserable it sounded! Surely someone had died a terrible death tonight. Faith was not prone to wild flights of imagination, but even she shivered.
"We have grown up, haven't we?" she said, to break the silence.
"Yes, we have," said Jerry seriously. "And I think you've turned out the best of all four of us, Red Rose."
He stroked her hair affectionately as she smiled up at him, loving him with her eyes. "Faith, you'll take care of father and mother while I'm away, won't you? Father is far more vulnerable than he makes himself out to be…and you know how mother tends to worry about us. Una is too timid and Carl is too…too boy." The both of them laughed at that expression. "So really," resumed Jerry, "you're the only one who can take over caring for them."
"I will," Faith said, "but you'll come back soon."
"As soon as ever I can," he returned. "You won't get rid of me for too long, I assure you!"
Faith laughed again, knowing that Jerry liked the sound of her laughter. He'd told her before that it seemed to him one of the things that made up the word 'home'.
Outside, the wind mourned on unabated, and Jerry remembered this as the night in which he bade a mute farewell to all that he loved and knew at home before venturing forth into an unfamiliar world.
The morning dawned, grey and uninviting. After an intolerable breakfast, Jerry gathered up his 'loot' and the Merediths proceeded from the manse. The Glen was filled with people all heading to the train station, and a cheer arose as the manse family walked past them.
"Go get 'em, boy!" Norman Douglas shouted, waving his whip in the air.
"Have fun, you lucky chap," Ned Jensen called. "Looking forward to letters."
"Doesn't he look glorious in his uniform?" Ethel Reese sighed to an unsympathetic Betty Mead, then turned her gaze to the Blythes, who were coming down from Ingleside.
The Merediths paused to wait for them. Faith's eyes searched the little group for Jem – ah, there he was, with Dog Monday at his heels, and laughing over something Rilla was saying to him. He did look magnificent in his uniform – it was no wonder that so many people had such romanticized views of soldiers. Mrs. Blythe was walking alongside him, hardly seeming to take her eyes off his face. Susan brought up the rear with an extremely painful smile etched on.
"Faith," said Nan, stopping before her. They clasped hands. Nan was smiling valiantly, but there was a look in her eyes that was sadder than any tears would have been.
They walked together to the station, which was teeming full of people who crowded around Jem and Jerry the moment they entered. Nan gripped Faith's hand and pulled her away to the fringe of the crowd, where they stood observing the scene.
"Faith, this is so hard," Nan said in a low voice. "What if I cry?"
"You won't cry," said Faith with a steadfast conviction. "You have too much spunk to cry."
That tender moment was soon broken by plenty of well-wishers who came up and hugged them to show that they cared, little knowing the torture that they were inflicting.
"So now that they'll be gone, how are you going to cope at Redmond?" demanded Kate Drew of Faith.
"I don't understand how you can endure it," whined Mrs. Jim Howard. "I live in fear everyday that my Jim will enlist."
Irene Howard gushed over Jem and Jerry in the most exasperatingly sweet manner, and with more than her usual sprinkling of italics. "They look so handsome. The two of you must be so proud of them. Oh, I'm not saying that you really want them to go, it must be terrible thinking that they'll be in so much danger, why, they could even be killed! But you two seem to be taking it quite well. I'm sure they are just as proud of you for being so brave. Isn't it thrilling to have soldiers for sweethearts?"
"I hope you'll never find out," said Nan shortly. Faith thought she would have smacked that silly, simpering face if, much to their gratitude, Irene had not had the gumption to leave soon after that. But others kept coming.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen to you even if something happens to them," said Jen Vickers.
"The war'll be over before they can get near it," said Miller Douglas, evidently repeating what Mary Vance had said in order to stop him from enlisting.
"I'm glad my beau is not in khaki," said Sissy Flagg, who had carried a torch for Jem for eight years, and never quite got over her resentment that he had not chosen her.
"Just sit tight and wait for the news," advised Miss Cornelia.
It was like being pelted by bullets from all directions. Faith began to wish desperately that she had not come. What did she come for, anyhow? She had already said her own goodbyes to the boys. Even if she was there simply to provide the tears, there were plenty of others who were more than willing to do so – like Ethel Reese, who was all dressed up and crying for goodness knows who. If she was so affected over Jem and Jerry going, how many tears would she have left when…if…one of the Reese boys went? Stupid girl!
Through the haze of thoughts, she heard everyone crying, "The train is coming! The train is coming!"
"Oh," Nan cried. She hurried forward, pushing her way through the throngs of people, and Faith had enough time to see Jerry putting his arms around Nan before her vision was obscured by Jem's face. She looked up at him, momentarily speechless.
Jem took her hands in his. "You look beautiful," he said, looking at her as if committing to memory that image of her, pale and holding her head high with a sort of queenly dignity, in a pink dress that gave her the colour she lacked just then. He lifted their linked hands and laid his lips on them for a moment.
Her eyes, now devoid of any sadness or bitterness, now held the ageless look of love as they looked at each other. That look said everything that could not be said at that minute, with people cheering and the train chuffing and the conductor yelling. In that teeming, crowded, chaotic station, they shared a private, eloquent moment that was more intimate than any embrace. "Wait for me," he said.
"I'll be right here waiting for you when you get back," she said.
Jem smiled. "I love you, Faith Meredith," he said, before tilting her chin up and kissing her in front of all those eyes looking at them. "Very, very much."
And then he was gone. Jerry speedily took his place with a tight hug and a whispered "Take care of yourself, darling" in her ear, but she vaguely comprehended it. The men were cheering away…the conductor was shouting, "All aboard!"…the two mothers were gripping each other's hands…Jem and Jerry were on the train, waving…she barely understood the wave…why were they waving?...Nan was still smiling, as one would smile after discovering that everything had been lost in an earthquake…and then the train was off, chuffing down the line as it headed towards the bend…the children were running after it, and she would, too, only she couldn't move…she caught one last glimpse of a face, hazel eyes shinning, red curls beneath the khaki cap…and then they vanished round the bend.
"Gone," her mind whispered to her, as she stood on that platform, looking at the empty train tracks. The waiting had begun. Over the next few years, she, together with everyone in the Glen, would be standing there without rest, watching the tracks – watching, watching, watching – for the trains that took so long in coming back.
