Blimmin' heck, what a cornucopia of comments. If you can't catch up with me then I can't catch up with you, how on earth am I supposed to address them all? Can a man be sexy and deal with serious matters? You can if you're Gilbert Blythe. Was Anne triggered over Mr Killick's death, I would say so, but she is wise enough not to want to make someone else's tragedy about her. It's her daughter who is grappling with this lesson now. When Teddy revealed the secret of his childhood and all Rilla could say was, "I can't love you, Teddy" I could have shaken the little fool. He wants to be vulnerable, Rilla, can't you tell? But of course, Ken was still looming large in her heart, so I do understand why she was so muddled. These two are only 20 and 21, they have a lot to work out yet. I have always loved Shirley Blythe so I'm glad that it shows. And yes the Blythes can be exhausting, though loveable with it - I am put in mind of the Schlegels in Howards End. I'm glad you love Teddy, J, since I made him up that means a lot. I know you all love Ken now, but I didn't know that when I was writing this. What I was expecting was a whole lot of Ken never really interested me/ Rilla is too hard to love/ Una and Walter OTP and don't you dare mess with it! Because I do know I have messed with canon A LOT, and I know it takes a special kind of reader to want to see where I'm taking this.
There are so many loose ends to tidy and I didn't want to write something that spanned 200 chapters, so I'm planning a sequel (I think I mentioned that before). Hopefully it will be done by the end of the year. However, winter is over now and that means no more long wet afternoons writing away. The garden is calling, and the house needs painting, and my job is always busier during the warmer months. The object of this story was for these four fools to realise those fallen cups don't matter, you have to trust you'll find your holy grail. And the ending is a good 'un, I made myself cry when I wrote it, isn't that funny? The next story is just a glimmering seed in my head, but I shall crack it. Again, thank you so so much. You bless me. Love, k.
61
Teddy did what Rilla would not have done and took her mother's advice. No subterfuge and stratagems for him, no sneaking into places he had no right to be in. He slept on it, and it was such a deep and satisfying sleep when he woke, he thought it was Monday. He was clear-eyed, focused, determined; this death was just another task. Rilla would help him sort it out. He could depend on her for that if nothing else.
The Blythes were all in their Sunday best that morning, ready for the short walk to church. Except Susan who was using the excuse of watching over Mr Killick's body to prepare a nice hot lunch. Teddy ducked into the kitchen and had the dishes dried and put away before Susan had a chance to put a wet dish down. Then he swept up the wood shavings that had escaped from the fox crate and put another load of wood in the stove.
"No need to overdo it," the Doctor said from over the top of his newspaper, the concealed smirk on his lips evident in his eyes. "If you're sorry, Teddy, then say so - unless you want to make an enemy of Susan."
Shirley looked at Jem, Jem made a brief nod. The room was filled with the sound of two chairs scraping across the floor, and two hands giving Teddy an encouraging pat on the back, and two pairs of boots beating a swift retreat out the kitchen door.
"I am sorry, sir," said Teddy, "I don't know what happened last night, I shouldn't have spoken to Mrs Blythe like I did."
"You may say whatever is in your heart, Teddy. I hope you always shall, but..."
Susan scarpered then. Not even she wanted to hear what came after one of the Doctor's buts.
"I never want you to use foul language in front of my wife again," Gilbert said.
"She told you that?"
"She's a writer, Teddy, and they miss nothing. Anne just thinks it's a shame that you don't try and expand your vocabulary."
Teddy tucked his hands in his pockets and lifted his head. "I know I can never live up to your standards."
Gilbert gave a chuffy chuckle. "Heavens lad, I don't even live up to my standards. No one expects a saint in this family, anyone can see that we're not. We only expect you to try, that's all. "
Rilla entered before Teddy could formulate some sort of reply. She looked as tired and rumpled as Teddy seemed fresh and clean. He had no business looking as handsome as he did.
"Rilla, may we talk?" he said.
"I've got to go to church."
"Oh, I think you might miss it just this once," said her father, who had returned to his paper and so did not see his daughter's expression when he said it.
A sound came out of her throat, a sort of strangled indignation. Gilbert knew what that meant. His wife made it all the time when she was pretending not to want what she clearly, even desperately, did. God above could see that this son and this daughter must be allowed to talk. How that talk ended up, well Gilbert didn't want to think of that - though he couldn't help remembering how it ended up with Anne, and whistled as he left the room.
"You wanted to see me?" Finally, Rilla wanted to add, but managed -just- not to.
"Is there any coffee left, I'd love a cup."
"Did you want me to fetch you some?"
"That would be good. Is my old toothbrush still in your bathroom - no matter, I'll look."
He disappeared up the stairs, taking three at a time. Rilla nearly murdered the coffee bean grinder, and the coffee was not quite accidentally burnt.
She sat at the kitchen table. If Teddy wanted to talk, he could talk within Susan's hearing. But instead of taking the chair she pulled out for him, he took a slurp from his mug and dashed outside without finishing it.
Rilla followed, stiffly, uncertainly, and found him under the spruce. As soon as she reached him, he dashed through the bushes. The valley? He had never taken much of an interest in that place before.
They came to a wide-open meadow; this was where they used to play ball. Ol' Sandy had been known to let his goats graze here, but when she looked she saw that this time everything was clean and clear and beautiful. Thigh deep grasses were bright with poppies and cornflowers, and the shadowy trees stood tall against the morning breeze carrying a grassy smell and the metallic sound of shivering leaves.
Teddy sat on a silvered old log with his face to the sun, which was thoughtful because that meant Rilla could sit with her back to it. His brown eyes squinted and made a dent between his brows, his full lips were squeezed between his teeth.
"Shirley thought we'd had a fight," he said, as though they were in the middle of the conversation instead of the beginning of it. "We've never disagreed on anything - anything important I mean."
Rilla's response was cautious. "That's because you always let me win."
"You need to win more than I do." He grinned.
"I guess I do. What a horrid little specimen I am."
"Sorry Rilla, I'm going to have to disagree with you there."
Teddy's voice was oh so knowing as he said this, and the grin was pure cheek. Whether Rilla wanted it to work or not, it did. Her guard came down just a little.
"Somehow I think that will still count as a win for me." She sighed, but this was no dramatic sigh. This signalled true frustration. "Don't you want to win sometimes, Teddy - is there nothing worth fighting for, nothing you need?"
"We're supposed to give, aren't we?"
"Give me something then."
"Anything, Rilla, you know that."
"Give me a reason why you would settle for a quiet little Island life - and," she said as he opened his mouth, "I forbid you to mention me in your explanation."
He shrugged. "If that's your condition then I can't."
"So you do have it in you not to give me what I want."
Teddy drummed his hands upon the log. This was a cigarette moment, no doubt about it. But tobacco and patience and the certainty he felt this morning had annoyingly all run short.
"Do you like a fellow to let you down, are you hoping I might hurt you? I have no idea what you want. First you expect me to leave you, then you ask me to stay - I mean where were you last night?"
"You think I didn't want to go after you? When I found out what you decided, Teddy, I was this close to charging out there and making you change your mind."
"What stopped you?"
"I wanted you to have a chance to decide what sort of man you want to be without me making you decide."
"And then you didn't like my decision. You thought I was ruining my life."
"Am I not the reason you're giving up your inheritance because that would mean you'd have to leave the Island?"
"That's not it at all," he said.
Though he could see how it might be; how so much of what they said to each other was always about his leaving - they never talked about what would happen if he remained. He didn't have grand ambitions for himself. What he had right now was more than he let himself dream of. His voice was soft when he spoke next, but his eyes could have pierced her through.
"I've just been handed the chance to outshine Ken Ford. I could give you everything, Rilla. Your folks would never have any fears for your future, but I'd feel like a fraud stepping into another man's shoes - I won't do it, not even for you."
"Don't make this about me, Teddy. We're talking about you now -"
"How I owe it to myself, is that what you're going to say? You know what I was owed? A grandfather whose heart didn't give out an hour before I met him. One person, just one, who stuck around."
If Ken Ford had bared his soul like that, Rilla's gentle, mothering instinct would have taken over. But just when she needed those reassuring words, they wouldn't come. Instead, she sounded a lot like Teddy, the night he found her crying for Walter. Yes, his words made a lot of sense to her now.
"Everybody wants that, Teddy, dwelling on it won't change anything, but you don't have to face it alone -"
"Come on, Rilla, if I asked you to marry me, you'd only say no and you know it. Why else are we dancing around each other?"
"If that's your idea of a proposal then you're right. I want the flowers and the diamond, of course I do, but more than that, Teddy, I wish you would tell me what you think being married is because I don't know anymore!"
That took the lid off the pot, the boil cooled very suddenly to a simmer. Was Rilla Blythe admitting she didn't have all the answers? What strange, new world was this?
"Ah…" he ran his fingers through his hair. "Why, it's taking care of each other, isn't it? Making sacrifices and building for the future and helping out -"
"You're just describing my family," said Rilla.
"And mine…" Teddy realised.
The Killicks and the Willoughbys had done this too. Maybe not the way he wished they had, but no one could say they hadn't tried. It was up to him now. Fuck. That word sounded quite a lot in his head (even if he didn't say it out loud) because he knew it wasn't others he didn't trust to stick around and see it through. He didn't trust himself.
"I don't think I can live up to them, Rilla. I'll never be able to do what they have done. Walter, Ken, even my grandfather - they are great men. I'm not."
"But they're not here, are they? You are. And we're so glad about that Teddy, we love you - I love you. Even if you doubt yourself, you must never doubt that."
"You love me, do you?"
"A gosh darned lot if you haven't realised."
"Oh, I realised a while back. I was waiting for you to know it."
He smiled at her and there was not one hint of charm in that smile. This was the smile of someone who was on the verge of losing it and desperately trying to keep it together.
Teddy squared his shoulders and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He might as well have tried to stop a wave from crashing onto the sand. He reached for Rilla and wrapped his arms around her. The starched lace ruffs at her shoulder went soggy as he rubbed his face against her blouse. Then her lips were in his curly hair, kissing the crown of his head. It was the loveliest, the truest kiss he had ever felt in his life.
"I never knew I could cry from happiness."
Rilla nodded, because she was crying too. Sweet, good tears that needed no handkerchief, how good it felt to let them fall and not need to tidy them away anymore.
"Oh, we all do that in my family - regular occurrence," She smiled at him shyly. "Except Shirley, of course."
"I reckon I could make him cry," said Teddy, "when I tell him he's my new right hand man at Killick Co."
"Oh Teddy, are you really going to look into it?"
"I've got to," he gave a swift nod. "Let's go tell my grandfather."
...
Next chapter to follow...
