Chapter 23

If the first half of 1916 passed slowly, the days running into each other to form a melee of molasses without beginning or end, the early months of 1917 move swiftly. Long days are followed by short nights, the days filled with studies and schoolwork, the nights mostly dreamless, interrupted only by the now-familiar nightmares.

Out in the great wide world, far away from their small island tugged mostly unnoticed in its secluded corner of the earth, March brings with it two events that have the magnitude to change said world entirely. As they occur, no-one can possibly foresee the magnitude of said events, but as they watch them unfold, there's the distinct taste of history happening in front of their eyes.

The first is a revolution, set against the backdrop of icy, mysterious Russia – now the Russia of tsars no longer.

In the past, Rilla thinks she might not have cared so much about what happened to an autocrat on the other side of the earth, but her courses at Queen's include world history and having learned a little about the rise of the Romanovs, she finds herself unexpectedly interested as their fall unfolds in front of her very eyes. Most surprising, perhaps, is how quickly it happens. After an absolute rule that spanned centuries, the Romanovs are wiped away by the forces of change in mere days.

"What does it mean for the war?" Rilla wonders one morning as she folds the day's newspaper and looks at Shirley sitting opposite her.

"You mean whether Russia will request a separate peace?" Shirley clarifies. He frowns in thought while he considers the question, stirring milk into his tea as he does.

Rilla taps a finger on the newspaper. "They're saying the people went to the street demanding food. If there's a shortage of food, it's difficult to justify fighting a war. War are expensive, aren't they?"

"Very," agrees Shirley.

Of course, they both know that even in their corner of the Empire, food isn't as bountiful as it was in the golden days of peace. They're far from going hungry, but certainly luxuries are not to be had anymore. It's a small price to pay, but if necessities were to become scarce, if no more bread was to be had, who knew whether the voices calling for an end to the war wouldn't become louder here, too?

"And the papers said that the soldiers are part of this as well," Rilla spins her thought further. "They might not want to fight anymore. Without the tsar, who's going to make them?"

"I suppose it depends on who gains the upper hand in the current struggle for power," Shirley remarks. "If the liberals prevail, they might continue fighting the war so as not to lose face in the eyes of their allies. However, the social democrats appear to represent the voices of those on the street, so if they seize enough power… who knows what will happen."

"If Russia stops fighting, the Eastern front will collapse," Rilla points out, frowning. "That frees up a lot of German soldiers to be transferred to the west. Do you think the Allies can withstand it?"

Shirley takes a sip of tea. "Without the Yankees? I'm not sure."

This, of course, alludes the second event of March 1917 and while it preceded the revolution in Russia, its impact wasn't as clear immediately.

On the very first day of March, the New York Times published a telegram from the German government, meant for the German ambassador in Mexico, announcing not only the unrestricted submarine warfare in the Atlantic but also encouraging Mexico to declare war on the United States. Since unrestricted submarine warfare had been taken up a month prior and the German Foreign Secretary confirmed authenticity of the telegram a mere two days later, no doubt remained about the truth of its contents.

What they were left to wonder, however, was which consequences would follow from this most serious diplomatic incident. So far, the United States had withstood all calls to engage in the war, but was that position still tenable now?

"Do you think President Woodrow will declare war?" Rilla queries as she decapacitates a hard-boiled egg.

"I hope he will," replies Shirley practically. "There are 100 million Americans, more than Britain and France has combined. They could make a true impact on the progression of the war. If Russia surrenders, they might be needed."

Rilla sighs heavily and rubs her face. "There are too many 'what ifs' involved in this. It makes my head hurt."

"You will get your answers, one way or another, I suppose," Shirley replies and bites off a piece of toast.

As usual, he proves to be correct, too.

The first answer comes by way of the US Congress declaring war on Germany, if not her allies, on the sixth day of April. Relief mixes with a smug sort of satisfaction at the Yankees finally having to get off their high horse and get involved, though Shirley cautions it took the British months to get a volunteer army into France back in 1914, and that the Americans might take as much time, just as he cautioned earlier in the winter that the German retreat was not a sign of coming victory but merely the German Army evening out its lines and strengthening its defences.

Still, they cling to the news as they have clung to all good news since the war began, and they cling even tighter when news from the western front comes about the British forces launching an offensive near the French town of Arras. As part of that offensive, the four Canadian divisions, for the first time, fight as a cohesive unit, and the name of their objective is one that shall burn itself into the collective mind of a still-young nation.

Vimy Ridge.

To the world, it is but a grassy crest between the towns of Arras and Lens, and the battle to capture it but a small part of the French-led and ultimately unsuccessful Nivelle Offensive. To Canada, however, whose sons captured the ridge and who paid the price, the significance is and will remain that much greater, though the heartache can never be dismissed either.

When news of the battle first breaks on the day after Easter Monday, it is accompanied by declarations of the ridge being captured, of the battle being a success. However, for the families of the soldiers involved, it also raises memories of the previous year's fighting at the Somme, and while no Canadians were involved in the initial stages of that offensive, they know them to be fighting for control of the ridge with certainty.

The casualty lists trickle in slowly, as they always do, and while they do not yet know that those perished will number close to 4000 in the end, they wait, anxiously, to hear of their loved ones. In Charlottetown, Rilla and Shirley are no less desperate than their sisters in Kingsport or their parents in Glen to hear from Jem, for now it's Jem only that they need to worry about.

They don't yet have news from him when Shirley returns to Ingleside for the weekend, as he has done intermittently all winter. Rilla doesn't accompany him, hasn't done so since Christmas, and instead spends her time writing a treatise on one of Tennyson's poems under the watchful eyes of Mrs Procter. The finals are looming near and she doesn't share Shirley's confidence in her ability to pass them, so she's working harder than ever on her studies, even when she finds them as frustrating as this particular task.

There's a cruel sort of irony in making them study Tennyson's Charge of the Light Brigade at this particular time, and Rilla feels the cruelty of it keenly. A similar charge cost one brother's life mere months ago and for all they know, another one might have made a causality of a second brother just recently.

Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

Many more than six hundred charged this time, but how many returned? Did Jem return?

It's a gnawing question and it is only answered when Shirley comes back from Ingleside, bearing news about those in France. Their father received a short note from Jem, assuring them that he came through alive, though a telegram received at the Manse bore news of Jerry being injured by a shot to the back.

"Poor Nan," Rilla sighs upon being told so.

She isn't close to the twins, never has been, but she feels sympathy for her sister. Jerry's injury must certainly devastate her, and the lack of further news must leave her anxious and concerned. Of the three sisters, Nan was perhaps least close to Walter, but just the possibility of losing brother and loved one within months of each other must surely be too much to bear.

"Poor, poor Nan," she repeats and shakes her head mournfully.

"Di is with her," Shirley reminds. "She will know to support her through this."

"She will," agrees Rilla.

Twinships means their sisters always shared a special bond, one that was more natural, more instinctive than the connections shared between the other siblings. In the past, it meant Rilla, as the only sister not included in that bond, always felt a little left out, a little left behind, but now such feelings seem fickle and trite.

This, most especially so because there's something about Shirley that gives her reason to pause. He's not excited like Jem was, or despondent like Walter, but there's a quiet practicality about him, a pragmatic finality that aligns with the differing emotions shown by such different brothers.

"Mother and father gave their permission for you to sign up," Rilla observes, for she has come to know this youngest of her brothers quite well in recent months and she can see the decision distinctly on his face.

"They did," Shirley confirms, his voice calm. "Mother was reluctant to, which I understand, and so was Susan at first, but they did not want to hold me back. I signed up with the Flying Corps on my way here from the train station."

How easy it is, to sign up to fight a war!

"When do you leave?" Rilla asks, holding on to practicality to keep emotions at bay.

"In a few days," her brother replies. "I'm getting my uniform first and then I'll leave for Ontario to train."

Rilla nods, breathing in and out deeply to compose herself. "Will you be careful?"

"I will," Shirley promises, plainly but with sincerity.

He accepts the impulsive hug she bestows upon him with familiar calm, and with the same calm, he boards the boat to the mainland a few days later, kitted out in his brand-new officer's uniform, his eyes filled with purpose and a quiet determination. If Jem left in a bright blaze of glory and Walter in a white flame of sacrifice, Shirley goes without fanfare, with only Rilla there to see him off and the wan aura of duty surrounding him.

Thus left behind, Rilla finds, not to her surprise, that Charlottetown is lonelier and duller without her brother's presence.

Without quite realising it, she came to relish their conversations over breakfast and with Shirley gone, the town offers few people she can talk to. Mrs Procter keeps watch over her and her virtue with careful, practiced eyes and provides her with company in the evenings, but while they make small-talk when they both gather in the salon, there's no depth to the conversations. Having failed to connect to her classmates the previous autumn, it's too late now to forge bonds to them, so while she sometimes sits with a few of them at lunch or in the library, they remain strangers to her as she is to them.

The only person in Charlottetown she feels a connection to, now that Shirley is gone, is Miss Oliver, her generous tutor.

Now that there's no-one but Mrs Procter waiting for her at the boarding house, Rilla realises that she has little desire to return there after her lessons in Miss Oliver's office. Instead, she begins conversations once the schoolwork is done, about this and that, and to her surprise, she finds her teacher responding to them with more than polite interest.

"I never thought I'd ever know my way so well around the geography of Northern France," Rilla sighs as she lets her finger move over a map of France in one of Miss Oliver's atlases.

"What are you looking for?" asks her teacher, leaning over the desk.

"Fresnoy-en-Gohelle," replies Rilla.

"Of course." Miss Oliver nods, understanding. After all, Fresnoy is the last place they know the Canadian Corps to have been engaged in, a short battle at the beginning of May that concluded the larger Battle of Arras that began with the Canadians taking Vimy Ridge.

"It's near the river Scarpe, I believe," Miss Oliver supplies and while she keeps her voice light, Rilla feels that her teacher knows exactly where the village of Fresnoy is located.

She herself finds it moments later, just east of Arleux, which the Canadians had taken only days earlier. She lies her finger on the little dot on the map, wondering whether Jem is there and whether he is alright.

"Do you have someone important to you in France, Miss Oliver?" she asks her teacher. The words leave her lips without her quite thinking about it and are spoken before she realises that their directness could well be mistakes for rudeness.

Thankfully, Miss Oliver is not someone who puts much importance to social niceties. "My fiancé is in uniform," she replies, evenly, before her intelligent eyes focus on her young student's face. "What about you, Miss Blythe? Is there a special young man you're waiting for?"

"Oh, no! No!" Rilla quickly assures. "There's my brother, Jem, and Shirley, once his training is finished. They're the only ones."

She refuses, quite plainly, to think of the man who is father to her son. The boy is never far from her mind, the memory of him returning to her most clearly in the quiet hours of the evening when she is alone in her room and there's nothing to distract her mind, but she is very deliberate in thinking about his father as little as possible. He's out there somewhere, she assumes, and she doesn't wish him ill, but the memory of him is complicated and evokes feelings she does not know how to unravel.

"Is your brother well?" Miss Oliver asks carefully. She knows, Rilla is aware, about the loss of Walter, even if she's sensitive enough not to address it.

"As far as we know, Jem is fine," she replies, swallowing heavily against the memory of Walter. "My sister's friend, Jerry, was injured at Vimy Ridge, but his family was assured that he'll live. Jem escaped unscathed so far."

Unspoken but plainly obvious is her fervent hope that he will remain so.

Miss Oliver nods, her expression solemn. "So has Robert. There was a moment last year when we feared… and I thought… but it was a mistake. He was fine. He is fine."

A shadow passes over her face and Rilla sense that whatever happened the previous year, the mistake her teacher mentioned was a moment of terrible anguish for her. She knows that very anguish, of course, and she knows how deeply it cuts. She wishes it upon no-one.

"He's a major in the army now, but before that, he was a lawyer here in Charlottetown," Miss Oliver tells her, composing herself. "His widowed mother doesn't live far from the academy, and I see her once a week for supper."

"How nice," Rilla comments, though she inwardly isn't sure how nice a weekly supper with the mother of one's absent fiancé truly is.

Her teacher smiles, just a little sarcastically. "I'm not sure Mrs Grant would agree. I was her son's choice, not hers."

"Then her son is better in choosing than she is," Rilla remarks, impulsively but sincerely.

This time, when Miss Oliver smiles, it's surprised, but lacks the sardonic touch it held earlier. "I would like to believe that."

Rilla inclines her head curiously. "Don't you?"

With other teachers, she knows she'd be on thin ice with personal questions like these, but with Miss Oliver, she can't help feeling that the older woman might not have many people to talk to either. While Rilla herself was a normal girl until just one and a half years ago, she doesn't think Miss Oliver ever quite fulfilled the norm.

There's a moment of pause, before her teacher answers. "I never had many people who wanted me," she says, thus confirming Rilla's suspicions. "When Robert asked me to be his wife, it seemed a little too good to be true. When our wedding had to be postponed and he then left for France…" She breaks off and shakes her head. "But I shouldn't burden you with these matters."

"It's not a burden," Rilla assures quickly. "I hope Mr Grant comes back to you."

Miss Oliver's smile, now, is wistful and a little sad, despite Rilla's supportive words. "That is kind of you to say. I must apologise to you for my moods. Even as a girl, I was always told not to bother others with my superstitions, but sometimes, I forget."

Superstitions, Rilla thinks, sound very much like something Susan would frown at. However, Susan isn't here, and Rilla herself thinks they sound decidedly interesting.

"My superstition is that Mr Grant returns to marry you and that you will live a very long and very happy life together," she declares. She cannot know this, of course, but she wishes for it, and if wishes could make something come true, Robert Grant's return would thus be guaranteed.

Miss Oliver, upon hearing Rilla's words, hesitates for a long moment, as she considers the young woman closely. Finally, looking as if she has come to a decision, she speaks, "You will think me mad, but I have dreams sometimes that have a certain quality to them. Often, I don't understand them, but some of them are clearer than others."

"Did you have a dream about me?" Rilla asks, intrigued, and while she doesn't say it, what she really means is whether Miss Oliver dreamed about her and her son. It's a straw to cling to in the absence of any certainty, as she is well aware. Certainly, Susan would call it nonsense and so would her father, but maybe, she thinks, her mother might understand.

"I did," confirms Miss Oliver, her expression pensive. "You only flitted into my dream briefly, but it was long enough to see you with your family."

"Family?" Rilla asks frowning.

Miss Oliver nods. "You were together with your husband and two children, a boy and a little girl. I know you said there's no-one you're waiting for, but if there's someone in your heart, perhaps this is a sign that he will return to you, too."


To Joanna:
Thank you for your kind words =). This isn't the place to be more specific, but I got some bad news last week and as I was still processing it all, I decided to ask for a touch of sympathy from everyone. I'm grateful that most readers seem to have decided to oblige. More importantly though, I'm very sorry to hear that you're struggling as well and I very much hope that things will look upwards for you very soon!
With Rilla and Shirley, you'd think they'd be closer in canon, right? We know that the older four are pretty close during their childhood and spend much time together, so as the youngest and those often left behind, it would make sense for Rilla and Shirley to stick together. Canon doesn't suggest that they do, instead implying that Shirley spends his entire childhood in the kitchen with Susan, so I like to take it upon myself to tweak that a little and have them grow closer in my stories. So far, I've mostly focused on their teenage and young adult years, but I love your vision of Shirley doing crafts while Rilla chatters at him and creates chaos. Outwardly, I believe Shirley would show annoyance, but I think that in truth, he wouldn't really mind her and would even show her how to do her own little projects. At least that's what I'd like to think ;).
I definitely do think that you're spot-on when describing Shirley as an achiever instead of a dreamer. One is not worse than the other, just different, and those differences are so well-encapsulated in the Blythe brothers. Walter definitely is the dreamer and Shirley is the do-er, whereas I believe Jem falls somewhere in the middle. He's definitely someone who acts and tackles problems head-on, but from his childhood dreams of adventures, we know he's also capable of imagining and dreaming big, so in that respect, he's got both aspects combined within him.
I started wondering about Shirley's reaction to receiving a white feather when I decided to tweak his age to be consistent with Rilla's. Per canon, he turns 18 just three months before she does, which makes no sense at all, so I aged him up a year. (I like things to make sense.) That, however, meant I'd have to keep him behind for a year before he signed up, so I not only needed a convincing reason for him to stay, but I also started thinking about how society would react to him delaying his 'duty'. In the same situation, Walter felt this so keenly and when he received a white feather, it was a very pivotal moment for him. Thinking about it, I figured that Shirley would be much more matter-of-fact about it, and also wouldn't care so much what society thinks, since he has a plan in front of him and is following him, undeterred by what others say. He's really quite mature like that, and I can't deny that I enjoyed also writing Rilla's burst of immaturity in contrast to him. Her situation made her much more subdued in this story, but as she's faced with protecting a loved one, her old temper rears its head, showing that beneath it all, it's still very much a part of her, just as other traits are that are just waiting to slowly make their way to the surface again.

To Anne Shirley Blythe:
Thanks, you're very kind! =) It does, indeed, find me improved, as I've had time to grapple with the news I got last week and come to terms with them, to an extent. I hope that you, too, are well and that life is treating you kindly.
I very much enjoy writing the dynamic of Rilla and Shirley! His quiet, no-nonsense persona provides a good contrast to Rilla in any iteration. He grounds the more fanciful version of her, and can support this other version through her struggles by offering help in a gentle and unassuming way. Anything more brash and she might have pulled away, but Shirley manages to strike just the right chord in helping set her on the path ahead. He definitely played a role in the direction her life has now taken and in the development we see in her personality now. She has certainly matured and yes, she's also growing stronger. As of now, her life is still somewhat serious, but there are lighter times ahead of her as well, which she wouldn't have reached without Shirley's support. I must admit that I'm almost a bit sorry to prise them apart by sending Shirley to war, but there are other adventures ahead of Rilla and even from afar, Shirley can still be a supporting, guiding presence for her - and, with time, she for him as well, because relationships are two way streets and as Rilla finds some of her fancies and her lightness again, that's something Shirley can benefit from as well.