I feel like I should have more to say up here? Or at least some kind of lead-in before I get to responding. Well, anyway. Thank you guys who are reading, and thank you for the reviews!
Marz: Thank you! As always, ~you'll see~, haha.
Guest: Yeah, the idea of Una getting with Shirley sort of strikes me as odd, because he's Walter's brother and...I suppose always just thought of Shirley and Una as being quiet awkward bros (as this chapter indicates). I'm also a fan of the "Savvy Guy, Energetic Girl" trope, so I think I'd like taciturn Shirley to end up with someone more...exuberant, maybe. I'm really glad you like that line, it was actually pretty directly ~inspired~ by the photos of WWI battlefields nearly a hundred years later - the landscape is pretty permanently altered and so many markers of the war(s) remain, but so much has also managed to grow back. It's super cool that you've actually been there.
Title from "Between" by Vienna Teng.
third one between
Una has never been busier in her life.
It's odd, she thinks, that she should spend so long lamenting her lack of purpose and direction, and then suddenly find herself saddled with a hundred obligations within a few months. She has her piano lessons, the Junior Red meetings, taking care of Bruce, and any spare time now is given to Walter. For the first time, sleep comes easily, stealing over her exhausted body without any struggle. It's a relief.
April turns to May, and Una knows the first mayflowers are blooming somewhere in Rainbow Valley. In a few days, Walter will bring them to Mrs. Blythe - the ground is becoming firmer now that the rain has stopped, and walking is not such a chore for him.
She shakes her head as though she can physically scatter her thoughts. There's work to be done - a Junior Reds meeting later in the week, although there isn't much to do anymore - they've stopped putting on concerts or speaking at recruitment meetings. There are too many rumors - of men scarred inside and out, even worse than Walter - men who tremble and cannot stop, who refuse to speak at all. Besides - most of the men who could go have already gone.
Which leaves sock-making, mostly. That job falls to Una; she suspects she's the only one of the Junior Reds that actually enjoys knitting. There's something pleasantly mindless about it, and she can let her thoughts wander.
Not that she has much to think about - her train of thought these days only ever seems to go in one particular direction, and lately, even thinking about Walter Blythe makes her nervous. Or excited. She can't quite tell. It's a welcome distraction, she supposes - thinking about how Walter hadn't pulled away when she touched his hand helps distract her from the fact that Jerry and Carl aren't writing as often, and Bruce keeps asking questions she doesn't have answers for.
On Monday, Rilla Blythe invites her to town again.
"Today's not a good day," she admits as they walk through the streets.
Una blinks. "What? Why?"
"Walter's been trying to read the newspaper," Rilla murmurs. "Since talking with you - he's been feeling a bit better, and he thought he could do it. But he went up to his room, and hasn't come out all day. I think - I heard him crying."
Una's heart wrings in sympathy - for Walter and for the Blythes. "It must be hard. For all of you."
Rilla nods. "I won't ask what you two talk about," she says, in one of her startling displays of perception. "But Una, we're his family. I wish he would talk to us, too."
Una wishes she had something she could toy with, to avoid meeting Rilla's eyes. "He doesn't want to upset any of you."
Rilla raises an eyebrow. "He'd rather upset you?"
Oh, when did Rilla become so - concerned with other people? She had always been more observant than people gave her credit for, but at least she'd been too self-absorbed to voice her concerns. But no - part of Una is grateful, she supposes, that Rilla cares.
"I suppose - because I'm older," Una lies. She feels guilty for invoking Rilla's age - after all, how many times had Jerry and Faith kept her out of the loop, because she was younger than them? But Una is not ready to tell Rilla - anything.
Rilla sighs. "When will I ever be old enough for anyone? I'm not a baby. I'm practically - " here she breaks off, and Una gets the feeling that Rilla is keeping secrets, too. "I'm different."
You're still innocent, Una wants to say, but she doesn't. Rilla is sweet and Rilla is caring, but there is so much she doesn't know, of loss and guilt. Una will not deny her own naivete, but she is nowhere near as sheltered as Rilla. She suddenly understands what Walter means when he says he wants to protect her.
"He'll tell you," Una says. "I'm sure."
Rilla lets it go, and turns the conversation to the Junior Reds - "Irene Howard is talking of coming back - even after she said she'd never return to a society that 'snubbed' her so awfully - but the Lowbridge crowd has had enough of her, apparently."
Una allows herself a smile. She doesn't like Irene Howard any more than Rilla does, but she has never been one to voice her opinions, either.
"She called you hateful once, if you can believe that. Honestly. I don't think you've been rude to anyone in your life."
Una flushes. She thinks perhaps she knows what Irene was talking about - at a Sunday school concert, she had lost her temper and had been rather - curt - with Irene. And Irene's opinion doesn't bother Una very much, but the fact that Irene talks about her stings.
"Did that upset you?" Rilla asks. "I'm sorry. I won't give her the satisfaction of repeating the things she says. I simply have to complain every now and then, though. I can't tell anyone else, you know. Well, maybe Walter, but - not now. And everyone else - Nan and Di and Mother and Susan - even Miss Oliver - just laugh and cast it up to me that I used to be friends with her. You're so good, Una. If you're judging me, I can't tell."
"I'm not," Una assures her. What room does she have to judge anyone? "We all - do that, at times. Jerry is still friends with Bertie Shakespeare Drew."
The last part slips out before she can stop herself. She immediately berates herself - who Jerry is friends with is none of her business - and it's foolish of her to hold on to the memory of Bertie smashing her first batch of unburnt cookies. (Jerry swore up and down that Bertie hadn't meant to; Una had to admit it was silly of her to put the trays on the floor.) Besides, it's not as though the Glen thinks highly of her friendship with Mary Vance.
To her surprise, though, Rilla laughs. "Jem is, too. I suppose - for all that he's bothersome - he's not malicious." She wrinkles her nose. "Oh, we're back on the subject of malicious people again. When was the last time I talked about something happy? I can't say."
"What about Jims?"
Rilla waves the suggestion away. "I don't want to gush about him. I simply can't stand people talking about their babies. I refuse to bore anyone with all of his little milestones. Oh! Are you going to the MacAllisters' party?"
Una frowns. "I don't think so. I can't dance."
Rilla shrugs. "But you could come. And - see people."
Una laughs gently. "It's all right. I'm busy at home, anyway." It's not entirely a lie, although Una has given up her responsibilities before to attend some dance or another. But that was before, when there was still Shirley to keep her company, and Di to sit with when they ate ices and cake, and the vague hope that Walter would take some time to talk to her between dances. And all of that is gone, now.
Rilla seems to read her thoughts. "If you say so. But don't stay home because of Walter. He might be away"
"Why?" Una asks. She immediately bites her tongue, hoping she hadn't spoken too quickly.
"There's a long weekend coming up. Di thought it would be nice if he visited her at Redmond, and Mother agrees."
"That's good," Una says. "Isn't it?"
Rilla shrugs. "I suppose. He can see some of his old friends." She gives Una an odd, sideways look. "Do you know Alice Parker?"
Of course Una knows Alice Parker - the Parkers invite the Blythes to all of their social doings, and where Nan and Jem Blythe go, Jerry and Faith go, and where Jerry and Faith go, Una and Carl tag along by default. Alice is lovely and sweet and beautiful, and gossips have murmured about her and Walter ever since he taught at Lowbridge - the parties they attended together, what a picturesque couple they made, how nice it would be if the doctors' children were romantically involved. Una hates herself for caring.
"Yes" is all she says. Rilla is still looking at her, as though she's expecting another response. "She's nice."
"Mm," Rilla says. "Well, anyway, she's at Redmond, too." She chews her lip. "I suppose I'm worried. Di and Nan just don't - they don't understand him like I - we - do."
"Perhaps it's good that he's visiting them," Una points out, against her more emotional response. "Then they can learn to understand."
"Mm," Rilla says, again. "Have you heard from Shirley?" The question comes out of the blue.
Una blinks. "Yes. I had a letter a few days ago. Why?"
"No reason," Rilla says. "Hmmm."
"'Hmmm' what?"
"Nothing," she says. "Just thinking."
Bruce comes home one day with the rosy triumph of someone who has achieved something that they have waited a long time to do.
"The mayflowers are blooming," he announces. "And I get to pick them this year."
"With Walter," John Meredith calls, entering the house behind his son. He smiles when he sees Una in the kitchen, making lunch. "We went up to Ingleside. Bruce was quite - enthusiastic about fulfilling Jem's duty, so Walter invited him on the search. After lunch," he adds to Bruce, who is idling by the door, as though he expects to set off at any minute.
"What were you doing at Ingleside?" Una asks.
"I was bringing him some of my books," her father says. "I thought he'd like the writings of St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, some of the Catholic writings on contrition. I would've lent him the works of St. Paul, too, but they're on loan to Elder Clow, and..."
Una decides to speak up before he delves into a detailed list of all the books he has ever lent anyone since coming to the Glen. "That's good. Lunch is almost done, if you'd like."
He gives her one of his usual, not-entirely-there smiles. "Ah, Una, what would we do without you?" He pauses, then comes over to gently place a hand on her shoulder. "You're becoming a wonderful lady. Your mother would be proud."
Una doesn't know what to say to that. Father rarely talks about Mother. "Thank you."
"She was always doing what she could for others," he says. "Always thinking about them." Her father gives her a searching look, his voice becoming serious. "Walter said you two have been talking. He says you've been very kind to him."
Una flushes, looks down. "I'm only - trying to listen."
"Sometimes," John Meredith says, his voice returning to its usual dreamy tone, "that's all a human being really desires. To be heard, understood." He blinks. "I should write my sermon before I forget it. Will you take Bruce back to Ingleside?"
"Of course," Una says. "Bruce, come eat your lunch. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can go looking for mayflowers."
Bruce finishes in record time, and pulls at her sleeve as she tries to eat. "Can we go yet?"
Una nearly chokes down the rest of her food. "All right, all right. Go put your jacket on."
Bruce practically drags her down the hill to the road to Ingleside, chattering all the while.
"It's a good thing I'm nine now," he says as they approach the big house. "Then I can go and take Jem's place, and maybe he can come back. Is Europe very far?"
Una bites her lip to keep from laughing - or perhaps crying. If only Bruce knew that it doesn't work that way; that hundreds of thousands of men have gone and only a few have come back. Perhaps only a few will. She shivers, then puts a smile on for her brother.
Susan greets them at the door. "I knew you'd be back, you munchkin," she says, patting Bruce's face. Bruce basks in her attention; he is still young enough to enjoy maternal affection. "Walter!" she calls. "Bruce is back. And Una is with him." She clucks her tongue. "Honestly, as if you two don't see enough of each other."
Una knows that Susan doesn't always mean half of what she says, but still she quails in nervousness. Does Susan - disapprove - of her, somehow? Don't be ridiculous, she scolds herself. She has been friends with the Blythes for a decade now; Susan would have said something if she truly didn't like her.
"Father was busy," Una says, trying not to sound too defensive.
Susan shrugs. "I suppose anything that gets him out of the house is well enough. When the doctor's new automobile comes in, I expect he'll be gallivanting around as much as he used to - "
"Susan," Walter says as he comes in, his voice a warning. Then his eyes fall on Una. "Una!"
"Yes, those are our names," Susan grumbles, taking her leave. "Don't stay out too long. Your leg will get a pain, or so the doctor tells me."
"Father's busy," Una says, accidentally squeezing Bruce's hand so tightly that he gives a yelp. "So I brought Bruce instead."
"I'm glad," Walter says, his voice warm. "Shall we?"
Walter leads them on a path that Una has never visited before. The branches of the trees here hang low - so low that even Una has to duck slightly. Walter's face twists in pain as he bends to pass under them. Una wants to ask if he is all right, or comfort him somehow, but there is a sort of determination on his face that tells her that such a thing would not be wise.
"Jem showed me where the flowers bloom," he says. "Before he left."
"And you showed Shirley," Una muses. It's only an aside comment, but Walter gives her an odd look.
"Yes." It's an unusually curt answer.
They walk in silence for a while longer, with only the chirping of the birds and Bruce's oblivious humming to accompany them. Walter seems to be lost in thought, and Una has learned that it is best to let him think, and then speak.
"Here," Walter finally says.
The grove is thick with green, carpeted in sweetgrass and encircled by leafy trees. Sunlight filters through the canopy created by the leaves and branches. There's something secret about this place. Una doesn't feel right speaking in anything above a whisper.
Bruce senses it too. "Thank you for showing me this," he murmurs to Walter.
"Of course," Walter says. "Here, why don't you go look for some flowers? Picking them is a bit - difficult - for me, now."
Bruce quickly acquiesces, hurrying off to hunt for the blossoms at the base of the trees, between the mossy stones.
"He's glad to help," Una says quietly. "He told me he'd like to go to Europe and take Jem's place."
Walter's face twitches, but he nods. "His heart is in the right place."
Una bites her lip. "You don't think the war will last that long." Bruce will be eighteen in - nine years, she calculates. It seems so far off, but then - three have already passed, and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. Perhaps the war will drag on. How can any of them know?
"No," Walter says slowly. "It must end - for no one wants to be fighting it anymore. I think soon someone will give up, simply out of exhaustion. But 'soon' is - relative. Especially - afterwards." He shakes his head. "Perhaps we could talk about something else today."
"Of course," Una says. She pauses, trying to find a new topic. "Have you written a poem about this place?"
Walter's mouth quirks in a smile. "How did you guess?"
"It's beautiful," she murmurs. "How could you have not?" She looks around, at the peaceful loveliness of it. "Oh!"
There is a tiny patch of mayflowers, blooming only a little ways ahead. Una picks a flower, twirling it between her fingers. "Here's - " She turns around and stops.
Walter is looking at her, staring as though he's never seen her before. For a moment Una wonders if she has made some terrible trespass, but no, there's something distant in his eyes, as though he has gone off to another one of his worlds.
"Walter?"
He blinks and comes back. "Sorry. I only - I was reminded of something."
By what? Una wonders, spinning the flower idly. "Something pleasant?"
"A bit," he says, his face thoughtful. "You were right, you know."
"About what?"
"Things surviving." He looks at her. "There's still beauty in the world, sometimes. But - it's still hard."
"I know," Una says softly. "I think - it will always be so. But things heal. You know that - now."
"Rilla told me you heard from Shirley," Walter says abruptly.
"Yes," Una says, confused. Is Shirley not writing to the Blythes? It is the only reason she can fathom for why they all seem so interested in her correspondence with him. "He's doing - well enough."
"He doesn't write much," Walter says. "Only to Susan, and she won't tell us what he says."
Una shrugs. She and Shirley have always been friends, the quiet ones in their loud families. When he had gone to Queen's, she had cried a little before sleep at the thought that soon he would be just as accomplished as their siblings, would leave her behind. She wouldn't betray his confidences, though, not even to Walter or Rilla.
"It's hard," she says. "Being - in his place. I think he's used to not saying much."
Walter gives her a sideways look. "You know him better than we do," he says, a bit ruefully.
Una smiles at the memories suddenly drifting through her mind. "We always ended up together, I suppose," she says. "Because we were so quiet."
Walter touches her hand, just for a moment. "We forgot about you two, didn't we?" he asks.
"Only sometimes," Una says quickly, not wanting to make him feel guilty. "It was all right. I didn't much like the things Faith and Jerry and Carl liked, anyway. Shirley and I - understand each other, in that sort of way. That's all. That's why I hear from him more often, I suppose. He does miss all of you - he's said so."
"You miss him."
Una blinks. "Of course I do. I miss - everyone."
Walter watches her for a moment, then turns away. They fall quiet, listening to Bruce's cries of delight whenever he finds a patch of flowers. Una feels that she must say something to break the odd silence - for this silence does feel odd, not the comfortable quiet that they usually share.
"Thank you, by the way," Una murmurs.
Walter turns at her, blinks. "For what?"
"Bringing me here," she says. "I know - it was always such a secret, for you and Jem and Shirley. Thank you for letting me in."
Walter looks at her, right in the eye. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. "Perhaps I should have done so earlier."
