Trigger warning for miscarriage
It was a strange feeling. Despite knowing women who had been with child; Rachel naturally, and her neighbours Marilla had never really asked them what it was like. Despite being worried about its future she found herself continually talking to it, even though it was no more than an idea at this stage. What will you be like? She'd ask it. Will you be a boy or a girl? I'd like a little girl, but of course, I'll be delighted to have a boy, she hurriedly reassured it just in case. Her breasts were tender; that and the cessation of her courses were the only tell-tale signs at this early stage. Even her corset could be done up just as tight as ever, so that she doubted anyone could tell.
Just as well, because she did not know how to deal with the guilt that she felt. She had sinned against God sleeping with Gideon and letting him do those things to her. Only a married woman was allowed to act that way and she knew it. It was just, she tried to excuse herself, that it had felt so wonderful and she had never, not ever had anyone make her feel that way. She reasoned to herself, knowing that it was no use. She would be going to Hell, she was sure of it, and when the neighbours found out was bound to be shunned. It was a mess and no mistake.
Marilla did not know what to do, almost she wished she might lose it, then all her problems would be solved. But when she thought like that it made her cry because as difficult as the situation was, she had already fallen in love with her baby.
"Marilla," Rachel exclaimed one morning, "why you're positively glowing. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were with child, you have that look about you. Of course, in your case that's impossible isn't it, but I've never seen you looking so well." Marilla murmured an affirmation thinking that they'd have to concoct an excuse sooner rather than later, she'd been fooling herself if she thought Rachel with her multitude of children wouldn't notice straightaway and now here she was leaping to uneasy conclusions as she was wont to do.
Gideon moved across the room naked but for a signet ring that caught the light that he once told her was from his mother. He walked unclad as careless as any animal while shadows from the blind shed stripes across his torso, his bruises still apparent but slowly fading. Her sheets pulled up across her bare chest she watched him shave in long practised strokes. "Always wondered about that," she said.
"Mm?" he sloshed his razor in the soapy water.
"Don't you worry you'll cut yourself?"
"No, the blade might be sharp but when it's held at the right angle all it cuts is my whiskers. See," he strode over to her. Taking her hand in his he lifted it to his smooth cheek and then around to his rear. "See soft as a baby's bottom." Marilla smiled and continued the caress moving her hands from his cheeks to his cheeks.
When he felt well enough Gideon decided to cook for Marilla and Matthew partly in gratitude and also if he was being honest because he craved some good Jewish cooking. Marilla was most bemused to watch him in her kitchen but agreed to keep out of his way as much for her own amusement as anything. She watched as he combined the flour and yeast, eggs, and sugar, kneading and rising, kneading, and rising, kneading, and rising; intrigued when it took hours and hours for the bread to rise again and again. In between he prepared matzo balls for soup. And while the broth gently bubbled on the stove, they made love. Marilla half expected him to seduce her on the kitchen table, but out of consideration for Matthew they moved their affections upstairs.
Matthew very much enjoyed his soup and the unusual, braided sweetbread that was served alongside it. He did his best to concentrate on his food rather than the couple across the table who may not have been publicly displaying their affection but were in any case flirting like anything. Pushing back his chair and his bowl he heaved a great sigh. "Never had anything like it, but it was delicious, thank you."
Gideon looked up from his own half consumed bowl and smiled, "my pleasure Matthew. These were the sorts of dishes my mother, may God bless her memory, cooked for me. Occasionally, I crave them, and the best thing is to cook them myself. I'm sure I don't do her justice, but ach, I try."
"Very tasty," Marilla said. "I'm sure your mother would be proud. Maybe she's looking down from Heaven at this very moment."
Gideon looked a bit sad at that, "ach no. We Jews don't believe in Heaven." Marilla looked shocked. "There can be no Heaven until the Messiah comes. Until then we rest with our Fathers."
"Oh." Marilla had never given any consideration to the idea that Gideon did not believe in Heaven. It was such a central tenet of her faith that the idea that someone who was devout, in their own way, might never know God's glory was anathema. She was quiet for the rest of the evening as she took that information in.
"Have I upset you?" Gideon asked her later.
"No. I mean you are allowed to believe what you want; it's just I can't imagine not knowing that you'll enjoy eternity in Heaven when you die. Your way just seems so final. I've never met anyone who didn't…"
"I'm still me, ketzele. I'm still your Gideon. I'll love you forever."
"Don't say that; don't say forever," Marilla edged away unsettled by his emotional outburst.
Gideon watched and waited until she came to terms with it. Marilla perched on the edge of the bed unsure if she wanted to sleep next to him. Eventually he undressed and got under the covers without speaking. Throughout Marilla did not move, neither looking at him nor away but rather smoothing and resmoothing the bedspread absentmindedly. "Marilla?" She glanced at him and quickly looked away. "I think if it's alright with you, I'll sleep alone."
"Oh."
"Don't take it the wrong way, I just have to process this."
"Very well, I'll just be across the way, ketzele, if you need me." Marilla nodded but did not watch him gather his things.
No heaven, it made no sense. She knew he worshipped differently but the discrepancy had never concerned her over much. She realised she had never delved too deeply into his faith, and she thought perhaps it was past time to do just that. Rather than fretting over it all night as she expected she might, she called out to him, "are you awake?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you could come back?"
Gideon was there in a flash. If she had not been so preoccupied Marilla would have laughed at his eagerness. "No," she said. "Not like that. I want to know more about your faith. Tell me everything. What would our child face having you as a father, having someone of your faith bringing it up?"
"Well, the first thing to tell you is that Jewishness is passed through the mother, so you would get to bring it up in your faith, if that's what you want." Marilla nodded in understanding. Gideon then went on to explain the history of the Jewish faith because as he explained the two were entwined and could not be separated. As he spoke Marilla pulled back the covers to welcome him back in, so he settled against the pillows as he spoke. After a time, she nestled next to his chest realising that despite their differences the two religions had their similarities. "Maybe," she murmured after a while. "Maybe we could make this work?"
"I hope so, ketzele."
Though she fretted about their future, life with Gideon could never be solemn for long. One afternoon as she rummaged around in the cellar, Marilla happened upon the currants she'd had macerating in their tub, she'd been so busy she'd forgotten all about them. "Are you there?" she called up. Gideon peeked his head down the stairs. "I need a hand here, could you help?"
"Oof," Gideon puffed as he lugged the tub up the stairs. "I'm not as fit as I used to be. All this good living," he winked her way.
"Careful," Marilla warned, but whether she worried for him or for her tub Gideon wasn't sure. "What is this stuff anyway," Gideon asked as the contents threatened to slosh out.
"Currant wine, or will be," Marilla said watching carefully.
"Wine?" Gideon sounded incredulous. "I never took you for a drinker."
"It's for medicinal purposes," Marilla explained. "Usually, I'd have it bottled by now, but something distracted me."
Gideon laughed, "distracted you, huh."
"Oh you," Marilla swatted him gently.
"Watch out, you don't want me to lose this load." Marilla backed away to give him space, directing him where to put it, "just there, thank you."
Instead of putting it on the bench, Gideon could only manage to let it thump to the floor causing a bit to spill out. "Sorry," he said. "It's too heavy for me. Don't forget I'm still recuperating."
"Of course, my apologies. We can wait 'til Matthew comes in for tea." Gideon sat down heavily taking a few deep breaths feeling his ribs complain. "Sorry, it's when I do things like that that I realise how bad that beating was."
"It was, and it's my fault for forgetting. You must remind me when I ask too much of you," Marilla was very apologetic.
"Don't worry ketzele, as a man I won't complain, I'll do as you command."
"You make me sound like a slave driver," Marilla said in mock outrage.
Gideon raised his eyebrows until Marilla bent to kiss him. "But you're my slave driver, that's the difference," he said when she stood back up.
Changing the subject Marilla directed her attention to the currants. "I hope it's not too late for this." She took a small glass and dipped it in. Sniffing and then tasting the mixture, "mm, not too dusty." Gideon held out his hand for a try and Marilla handed the glass over to him. "Marilla," he said after a taste, "this is divine. Got a bit of a kick to it," he added after another taste.
Marilla took another sip, "mm, yes just like Mother made it."
"Ah you're emulating your mother, just as I do."
Marilla took another glass down and filled them both up.
By the time Matthew came in for his tea the two of them were rip roaringly drunk and singing dirty ditties. "Bother tea," Marilla slurred. "Try some of this instead," she sloshed a glass of wine in his direction.
"I think you've had enough, Sister dearest."
Marilla pouted and went to fix him a sup but nearly dropped the glass when she passed it over to him.
"No," Matthew insisted. "I'll make us all a cup of tea, I think." Gideon gazed at them both in a drunken stupor laughing when Marilla burped noisily.
Afterwards Matthew gave dinner up as a bad job and escorted Marilla to her room, placing the chamber pot within easy reach. "You stay there, Marilla. Drink the water and get a good night's sleep."
The next morning Marilla thought her head would explode, so bad was the thumping pain. She did not spy Gideon until late but thought sheepishly that she had better get Matthew his breakfast despite her situation. "Good morning," said Matthew annoyingly chipper.
Marilla groaned.
"Looks like another beautiful day," replied Matthew grinning. "Any plans?"
Marilla merely rolled her eyes as she served him, feeling her stomach do little flip flops as the eggs slid on to the plate. She barely had time to excuse herself as she rushed to the privy just getting there in time. Matthew watched her leave with a modicum of sympathy, "but really it's her own fault," he said to himself.
Gideon emerged sometime later. Silently Marilla poured him a cup of coffee and carved some bread from the loaf to toast. Quietly he grunted his thanks and they sat in companionable silence feeling very sorry for themselves. "That wasn't my smartest idea," Marilla said after a spell.
"Mm, possibly not, ketzele." Gideon agreed adding after a pause, "though I did have fun." Marilla smiled and nodded, adding a line from the ditty they'd been singing the night before, "yet other young lasses may do as they will."*
Warranting a guffaw closely followed by a groan from Gideon. "Ow, shh, don't make me laugh." With a start he clapped his hand to his forehead, moaned and stumbled out the front door.
"What on earth?" Marilla said when he eventually returned.
"I must not be thinking straight," he explained. "Got some powders here. Might help."
Marilla sighed, "you might have said."
"Ach, I know ketzele, I know." He drew a couple of glasses of water and dumped his powder into each. "Tastes bitter but should help."
Marilla winced when she tasted it but since she really did feel quite seedy, she downed it in one, gagging a little at the end. She got up to replace the water to wash the taste away. "Better be worth it," she said with a grimace.
"Yoo hoo!" Rachel's distinctive voice could be heard from the veranda. Gideon looked up from his coffee and Marilla who had been sitting close by, moved her chair away as she got up to answer the door.
"How lovely to see you, Rachel," Marilla said, with false cheer.
"I just thought it's been too long, Marilla. Thought I'd pop up for a visit. Oh, excuse me, I didn't know you had company."
"Sorry, yes Rachel. This is Gi er Mr Hoffer, Mr Hoffer my neighbour Mrs Lynde."
"A pleasure," Gideon said rising from his chair. "I am just visiting myself."
"Interesting, I didn't see you arrive?"
"Rachel lives up the lane," Marilla told Gideon.
"They're so secluded up here, Mr Hoffer. I just like to keep an eye on who's coming by, for safety's sake you understand."
"Of course," replied Gideon thinking what an old busybody she was.
Rachel sat down with a puff saying, "I'll just take a cup of coffee, Marilla and a piece of cake if you have some."
For once in her life there was not much in the pantry, except a piece of Gideon's challah. Marilla hesitated wishing she could serve it, but knowing that would only buy trouble. Instead, she pulled out the last of the cookies she had baked the previous week. "No cake, sorry," she announced as she put the dish down. "I, um had a little headache yesterday so I didn't bake." Marilla assiduously avoided Gideon's gaze.
"Nothing serious I hope?" Rachel said.
"No, I'm perfectly well now. I might even bake this afternoon. It's only now that I realise how low we are on supplies."
"And is that a slight accent I detect Mr Hoffer? You don't sound like you come from these parts?
"No, that's right Mrs Lynde I'm from the Continent, The Netherlands or Holland you might say."
"The Netherlands, well fancy that," Rachel smiled at Marilla certain there was something going on but unable to figure it out just yet. "Now let me think, your surname rings a bell. If I'm not mistaken, aren't you the kind gentleman who assisted Marilla when she took a tumble in town a whiles back?"
"You have a good memory Mrs Lynde, I am indeed that very same man."
"Well, we owe a debt of gratitude, don't we Marilla," she nodded Marilla's way and Marilla nodded back. "Thank you for saving my good friend, here."
"It was my pleasure, Mrs Lynde. I am always more than happy to save damsels in distress."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," murmured Marilla, embarrassed at the turn the conversation was taking.
"You mustn't downplay it Marilla, from what I remember Mr Hoffer was very gallant. I'm sure you were appreciative at the time. And so, you've returned to visit Miss Cuthbert have you Mr Hoffer?"
"Yes, that's right, Mrs Lynde. Previously I was not as aware of Avonlea as I now am, and I have decided to add it to my roster. I'm a travelling salesman, perhaps you would like a private viewing?"
"Well, well, that sounds positively delightful if you don't mind. I'm always interested a spot of shopping now and then." As Gideon went to his wagon to collect a selection Rachel turned to Marilla, "well this is a turn up for the books. Your own private viewing, Marilla. Does he give discounts to neighbours of friends as well?"
"I wouldn't know Rachel," replied Marilla wearily, wishing fervently that her neighbour would leave.
"Here we are," Gideon announced when he returned, reverting to salesman. Rachel watched with keen interest as he laid his wares out in front of her and spent a happy hour discussing, haggling, and buying a selection of homewares. Eventually her money spent, she sat back with a sigh. "Aren't you purchasing anything Marilla?"
Caught unawares Marilla fumbled for a response before pointing to a couple of bolts of material, "um, may I have those, please."
"Oh, very nice, Marilla. You have such an eye for these things," Rachel commented. "I hadn't even noticed those. Well, I had better be going, are you coming too, Mr Hoffer?"
Gideon shot a look at Marilla, but she merely looked at him coolly with a question in her eyes. She turned to Rachel saying, Mr Hoffer will stay the night, Rachel. I expect he will be on his way tomorrow."
"Er, tomorrow, yes that's correct Miss Cuthbert. Well Mrs Lynde it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope we see each other again."
With a smile Rachel gathered her purchases and departed. "Oof," Marilla sighed as she sank to her chair.
"Ach, she's um, an interesting person."
"Interesting is a good way to put it. Oh, I shouldn't be unchristian. She is a good friend, but she has eagle eyes. If there's anyone I have to be wary around, it's her. She's a notorious gossip."
"And you say she lives up the lane?"
Marilla nodded, "yes and not a person comes or goes from Green Gables without her knowledge. I'm surprised she hasn't been up before. Maybe one of the children is unwell."
Gideon raised his eyebrows, "I hope that's not going to be a hindrance, ketzele."
"Well, what will be, will be, I guess. We'll just have to make the best of it."
Gideon came over to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, "do you really want me to leave tomorrow?"
Marilla laughed, "no, never. I want you to stay with me always but now that she has gone though I had better get on with the baking."
"You're not doing it because of her, I hope?"
"Not at all, but I am a bit light on. Maybe it's time for some plum puffs, and what's more you can help with the beating." Gideon raised his eyebrows and grinned.
Eventually Gideon felt strong enough to leave. "Wish you didn't have to go," Marilla said fiddling with her apron strings.
"Mm?" Gideon replied, neatly packing his things into his bag.
"Go. You. Wish. Didn't."
"Ketzele, you know I must. I have work to do out there. Things to sell, money to make. As much as I'd like to, I can't spend all my days drinking with you."
"I worry is all."
"Ach, I know you do. But a man must earn his living and this, for better or worse is what I do. In any case I need to speak to someone about our wedding. I'm not sure if they'll perform the ceremony, but I'll ask."
Marilla grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in tight, "I've been thinking on that. I doubt I'll be able to do it here. I want," she sighed, "oh how I want to. I just, I just…"
"Shh, shh, ketzele. It will all work out." He caressed her belly kneeling to kiss it. "We will all be together soon, I promise."
Marilla waved him goodbye, tears in her eyes. He had never stayed so long and though she hated the reason, it had been wonderful to have him with her for long. It cemented her love for him, she just wished he never had to leave. She hoped they could sort out the marriage, maybe someone would perform the ceremony so they could live and love together, she sighed thinking; surely, it's not too much to ask?
She'd been walking up the stairs with the clean laundry when the pain first hit. Jagged across her belly and down her back, so painful that she staggered and nearly fell. Gasping for breath she straightened and made her way up another couple of stairs before it struck again. More painful this time so that she collapsed, clinging onto the balustrade for grim life.
* My Thing is My Own, Tom D'Urfey