*Child arrives at Bright River station 5.30 today stop*
Upon closing the gate after Matthew, Marilla's thoughts turned to this long awaited boy. There's that's that then. We've made our decision and finally we're acting upon it. Goodness, a boy, we are getting a boy. After all this time, a boy. Whatever are we taking on, is it madness? I pray it will turn out right. Still Matthew needs the help there's no denying it. I worry so when he takes those turns, don't know if that tonic does much good but at least it forces him to rest, but they're coming on more common these days. A boy will help with the farm work, and that'll be a blessing that's for sure and certain. Folks'll say we're mad. I can hear them now, what do those Cuthberts know about child rearing? But I suppose we'll muddle through alright. Rachel'll give me plenty of advice sought after or not, and after all he's from Nova Scotia, he can't be that different to ourselves.
These thoughts and more started to wind around Marilla's mind as she walked back up to the house and they continued all afternoon. She was not much given to deep thought, she kept her mind busy with housework ordinarily, but then she did not often have such significant matters to muse over either.
When she thought about it the last boy she really knew was Matthew, and she suspected he was hardly representative of his gender. She could only hope this boy was as kind and gentle as her brother, but and she barely dared admit it even to herself, she hoped he might have more confidence with her sex than poor Matthew.
What would he be like, she wondered. In truth until this very moment, she had not given much thought to the reality of him. Would he be short, skinny, tow-headed, intelligent or the reverse. What would he eat? Would he know one end of a cow from the other? It was very odd to think of him sitting at their table like a regular family member. She had prepared a couch in the kitchen chamber and went there now to smooth the blankets down, imagining a small head set upon the pillow.
It made her wonder what this boy's name was. Returning to her oven and pulling out the cake she couldn't help but muse upon that. Would he be another Matthew? She hoped not. One Matthew was enough, and another would only be confusing. It was probably too late to change his name. She shook herself, don't go borrowing trouble, Marilla; most likely he has a perfectly sensible name of his own.
And what had happened to his parents? Life was tenuous, of course; in truth anything may have befallen them. She wondered how old he had been when he was bereaved. Did they pass together or one by one. What would be worse?
Flustered she was unable to settle upon any one chore. Ordinarily Marilla loved to dust; there was something so calming in the rhythmic strokes wiping away the dirt, plenty of that on a farm she thought ruefully. But on this day she felt too jittery to settle to any one job instead flitting from one thing to another.
Knitting, that was what she needed, knitting always settled her nerves. Gathering her latest project she decided that she'd get it finished for surely the boy would need one down the track. She'd have started his today, only she had just the vaguest idea what sizes ten-year-old boys might be. No, no, better to keep on with this sweater of Matthew's and get it finished as soon as possible. The boy would bring his own wardrobe, as scant as it might be, and they'd have a little while before he needed new clothes. It was soothing to calm her mind in the click clack of the needles, pulling more yarn up with her little finger, losing herself in the comforting task instead of obsessing over the long awaited and somewhat mysterious boy, possibly at this very moment being met by Matthew or sitting next to him on the buggy seat.
Rachel's ratatatat interrupted her thoughts. Marilla glanced across at the clock, pretty much dead-on time, she had expected her neighbour would be by sometime this afternoon. Surely Matthew's appearance would have got her gander up. There was no one in Avonlea and perhaps out of it with a curiosity to match.
Pleased that she at least appeared calm, she invited Rachel to come in. She was a good friend but even Marilla could admit Rachel had her faults; her inquisitive nature being one of them. The intelligence that Marilla knew something that Rachel did not was, she found, rather delicious. She answered Rachel's enquiries as to their health and Matthew's whereabouts with studied casualness, enjoying watching her neighbour squirm with curiosity. Eventually, Rachel could stand it no longer and understanding that she had better spill the beans Marilla broke the news. 'Matthew went to Bright River. We're getting a little boy from the orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he's coming on the train tonight.' Not since she and John had parted had Marilla been the subject of gossip, but she knew as soon as the last words left her mouth that all that was about to change. It was almost worth it though for the look on Rachel's face as her mouth gaped open like a fish for fully five seconds – perhaps the longest time Rachel had ever been silent in her life.
'A boy!' she gasped 'Not if you had told me, you were meeting a kangaroo from Australia could I have been more shocked. If you had asked me, which I note you did not, I would have advised against it. It's a mighty risky thing you're doing, mighty risky.' Rachel continued in this vein for some time, citing incidences she'd read in the paper of orphans doing unholy things to their adoptive families. Thankfully the last, most heinous one had been a girl, so Marilla was able to head that off at the pass since they were in fact getting a boy, not a girl. There was that to assuage Rachel and to some extent herself.
Rachel's words had sparked Marilla's qualms there was no doubt about it. She admitted when Rachel left, are we doing a foolish thing? I suppose that's what it looks like from outside, but the truth is we do need help, there's no denying it. The arguments on either side were sound, she knew and that was what made it all the harder to justify. Still, as she'd said to Rachel, life is a risk. Can't live your life without taking chances. After all, the boy was on his way, too late to back out now.
The cake looked mighty lonely on the table by itself. Company needed more than one and she had plenty of time. Abhorring idleness she pulled out a bowl, some flour and eggs and set about mixing another. Not her plum puffs, too much work and though she felt the need to welcome their new charge she did not want to go overboard. 'Might frighten him,' and while she had to admit they were delicious they were anything but substantial. 'There'll be a difference in our food consumption, mark my words,' she muttered. 'Just as well there's plenty to eat hereabouts.' The cake made there was nothing else to do other than wait.
Sunlight dimming, she lit a couple of lamps and took up her knitting once again. Who knew when she'd get another chance. She fancied this might be the last quiet night she had for a while. What are boys like, she pondered. Naturally there were numerous boys in town, but she had never paid them much mind. They seemed uncouth and noisy creatures. Casting her mind back to those long-ago school days, they hadn't changed all that much. Would this boy be a quiet, obedient boy or one more boisterous. She had asked Mrs Spencer for a well behaved one, but she supposed it was hard to tell on first meeting. I suppose she thought, he might have been on his best behaviour in the hopes that he'd be picked. Perhaps the asylum matron hadn't much cared either way. Probably overworked and underpaid, keen to offload a child whenever she got the chance. Marilla knew very little about the workings of orphan asylums, but she could only guess that they were not happy places.
Glancing across at the table she hoped they could provide a better upbringing for this boy than he could expect there. She and Matthew had no experience with children, but she prayed they would muddle through, and that the boy would help her brother with the farm. He'll be young yet, but in time he might have the strength to take the larger jobs away from Matthew. 'We mean to do right by you,'' she spoke to the boy surely making his way towards her at that very moment. You need a second chance in life, and I pray you'll help us too.
Her head shot up at the familiar sound of the gate clicking shut. At last, that must be them now. Setting her knitting down she smoothed her apron and made her way to the front door to greet them.