March 1864
Bang! Bang bang bang!
"Who the devil is that?" Thomas Lynde looked up at Rachel. "At this time of night?"
"And such a night," replied Rachel aware of the rain drumming against the windows.
Bang!
"Aren't you going to answer it?"
"I suppose I'd better." Rachel stood behind Thomas as he flung open the door. The sight shocked them. A wild haired, saturated figure from their past stood on the doorstep his fist raised as if to knock again. "John? John Blythe? What on earth are you doing here?"
"Help, have mercy please. It's Marilla I think, oh God! I think she's going to…" He didn't finish, as soon as he mentioned Marilla's name Rachel dashed off the porch and splashed through the rain to the wagon. Marilla lay in the back still and as white as a sheet, a swaddled newborn tucked up in the crook of her arm. "Thomas! Quickly now. Quickly Get her inside."
Marilla Blythe lay white as alabaster on the spare bed. Rachel had ushered everyone out so she and her Marilla could peel her wet clothes off and put her into a clean nightgown. A tell tale slash of scarlet stained the back Marilla's clothes, soaking all the way through her petticoats to her skirt.
Rachel emerged from the room to find her children and Marilla's milling around with John Blythe and a red haired girl who Rachel presumed was the serving girl Anne, sitting on the couch together, the girl was cradling the fractious baby. "Thomas has gone for the doctor," John said with worry in his eyes.
"Good, I'm concerned, she's lost a lot of blood. Is the baby well?"
"Just hungry I think. I ran out of cows milk," replied Anne sadly.
Rachel stretched out her arms, "Give her to me." She settled down with the familiar weight and commenced to nurse, thankful that she had milk to spare. I just hope, thought Rachel, but no in the distance she could hear her little Lexie crying too. Fortunately Marilla went to see to her. She reemerged a short while later with a fussy baby and Rachel nodded to her. She could manage them both at the same time.
"What happened?" Rachel asked once she had the babies settled into position sucking on either side, a curious feeling she noticed absentmindedly.
"It was a fast labour," John explained.
"This is her fifth isn't it?"
"Mm hm," he nodded. "And she was delivered easily enough." Rachel rolled her eyes, only a man could say that so flippantly, childbirth was never easy. John did not notice her expression and continued, "but then the blood came and came and I, I couldn't staunch it. Mar was frightened at first but then she fainted and and..." he had no words to describe the mad trip to the coast, unloading her to a rowboat in a shipping sling and their row across the surf to the lights of the nearest port and thence to Avonlea. If he'd thought about it he would have taken her to a doctor but like a homing pigeon he returned to the one place he knew she'd be taken care of like she was one of their own.
"Has she a name?"
"Yes we had enough time for that, she had one picked out in advance, she's Susanna. I just hope…" but he could not finish the sentence, he hoped that was not all Marilla would give the babe.
They sat in an uneasy silence while they waited for the doctor to come.
When he finally arrived he rushed in dripping water everywhere and Rachel took him directly to the spare room. He examined Marilla with a frown and ordered hot water and plenty of towels. "Do you think you can save her doc?" John asked frantically.
"We might be lucky. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to my patient, Mrs Lynde?" John backed out of the room and sat back on the couch with his boys clambering quietly into his lap. They hugged each other tight while Anne looked on forlornly.
After some hours the doctor left handing Rachel a packet of ergot. Give her tea made with this at least three times a day. I warn you she won't like it, tastes repulsive but it should help. I'll be back tomorrow," and with that he left. Rachel looked at them all momentarily then she turned abruptly without a word and went to see to Marilla. John shifted his sleeping children and followed her.
Rachel whispered to John that the doctor had performed surgery, packing her up with cotton to staunch the bleeding. She shuddered at the memory then turned to pick up the pile of blood stained sheets and made her way out to the kitchen. John sank into the chair next to the bed and took Marilla's lax hand into his own. He would sit with her all night his mind deadened by the events of that terrible day until dawn's first rays lit Marilla's waxen face.
Cracking open the door, Rachel found him perched on the bed lying next to his wife. She tapped him on the shoulder and he woke with a start looking first at Marilla who still slept and then wildly up at her. "Oh." He clambered to his feet and stood in his crumpled clothes running his hand through his disheveled hair and over his unshaven chin.
"The doctor said he expects she'll sleep for a few days as her body recovers, so I'm not surprised she hasn't woken yet. You go and wash up, the butt is outside."
John left as she directed and found his boys and Anne and the Lynde children crammed around the breakfast table admiring Goliath. The monkey was most put out at its changed circumstances. It had nestled by Anne's neck all night and only emerged when forced by hunger. Now it was holding a piece of apple delicately in its tiny fingers and nibbling quickly his bright eyes glancing around nervously confused by all the strangers.
After a quick wash John located Rachel by Marilla's bed. He looked at her fondly and bent down to give her a kiss on her forehead and stroked her cheek.
"I have to go," he said as he straightened up.
"Go?"
"Yes, I have a cargo to deliver."
"Go?"
"Yes," I must get to Montreal.
"Go?"
Why did she keep asking that? "She'll be safe here, and the children. I'll back soon."
He kissed the children goodbye and walked out the door. As Rachel watched him leave the only thing she could think about was Thomas' reaction.
The first thing Marilla noticed was the stillness. Her world usually moved in a constant rocking motion but now it did not. She fell asleep wondering. The silence woke her next. No creaking timbers, no air billowing the sails and the call of the gulls was missing. Again it was too much to ponder.
Eventually she roused to the feeling of someone wiping her face and she moved slightly with a low moan. Instantly it ceased and she moaned again in protest.
"Shh, shh," said an unfamiliar voice, "I'm just giving you a bath now. I'll be finished in a moment." Rachel noticed that Marilla winced when she washed her chest, she pulled back to appraise the situation and heard the baby cry in some far off room. Hmm, she paused for a moment thinking it through. It proved a difficult balancing act, not helped by the distress of the hungry baby and the unresponsiveness of the mother, but when the pillows were placed just so the baby could latch on and then the only sound was gentle sucking and swallowing. It felt right to have Marilla feed her own baby at last.
The rocking, the rocking was missing why was she so still? Thinking made her dizzy and exhausted and she passed out from the effort.
"Are you there Marilla, are you there? Come along dear, take a sip of this, it'll make you well again." That voice again? Whose was that voice? The answer to the mystery flickered at the edge of recognition but it was too exhausting and she lapsed into unconsciousness again.
Marilla lay in that liminal space between life and death watching the dust motes dance in the shaft of light like constellations in the night sky. She became aware of someone sitting by her quietly and turned her head. Still clouded by confusion it was a while til their blurry features coalesced into a discernible face and even then still she thought she must be dreaming. This face looked like an older version of a person she once was close to; but she was far away. There was no way she could be here now. Marilla started to cry with longing, tears stinging her cheeks. She had once deserted her and now felt a terrible guilt. "Shh shh, it's all right I'm here now. Shh," the face soothed her. Lulled by the words Marilla felt herself drifting off again.
Rachel sees her eyes are open watching seeing. "Are you with us then? Are you back? Have you decided to join us?" But the words are meaningless to Marilla they bounce around in her brain like a rubber ball Johnny once failed to catch and bounce out of reach over over over into into into… Rachel watches carefully and sees as Marilla flicks her eyes momentarily towards hers then slide past into nothingness. But it is not nothingness for Marilla, if she had the wherewithal she would cry at the difference as what was graceful before is now a frenetic swirl. It is too much and Marilla lets her eyelids slip shut.
A storm is brewing in her mind at least. She can hear John's cries above the screeching of the ship. She turns and traces over the timber that makes the wall of her cabin the wood all lippity lappity over and over she feels it, the motion and texture calming her.
Rachel can see the fingers of Marilla's right hand make waves ceaselessly though all else about her is still. That motion and her steady breathing let her know her long lost friend is still alive; fighting some inward battle.
Marilla is racing around the deserted ship. She runs from deck to deck, the ship heeling and yawing in the rough sea frantically looking for John, for the children, for Anne, for the monkey, the crew, a cat would do or even the red glinting eyes of a stray rat but the vessel is completely empty. She chases along corridors to nowhere, up ladders that lead to dead ends, tripping over her skirts in her increasing agitation. Her search is fruitless.
When Marilla next awakens room is dark and a yellow point of light draws her eyes, as it comes into focus she sees that it is a candle flame wavering in the quiet room. She watches it for a while and then is aware of breathing, is it her? No someone else is with her, with some effort she moves her eyes towards the breathing and finds a figure in the gloom. "Whhh."
The figure hears her and moves towards her slowly, "hello there," they place a cool cloth at Marilla's brow and wipes her hair away. "Thirsty?" A hand is placed at the back of Marilla's head and it is raised causing sparks to fly off in her head as if the universe is now internal, she shakes briefly as if to send them off. The water is the most delicious elixir as it courses around her mouth and a little down her throat. She opens her mouth eager for more but the hand has levered her back down and she lets out a noise of protest. "Not too much yet, Ma said."
"Hhh." Marilla tries again when the breath catches in her throat. "Who?"
"I'm Marilla."
Marilla looks at her in confusion. If this apparition is Marilla then who is she? Has she died and come back as a young girl? Has time gone backwards and she is now her mother being tended to by her daughter Marilla? She felt herself all over with a shudder, she still felt like herself. The girl said she was Marilla, but she was Marilla, wasn't she? The panic makes her breathe faster, better to be asleep than to be hallucinating. She closes her eyes and feigns sleeps until it was a pretence no longer.
Young Marilla sat back and watched this other Marilla sleep. Her namesake; she had always hated it, hated the stupid name. Why couldn't her mother have called her Margaret or even Mary? Some normal name, not this this abomination which everyone mocked, which she had to explain over and over, which no one could ever spell. Ugh Marilla what a stupid name. But now seeing another one, she felt different, as though she did not want to share her name. She had never ever not once in her life met another Marilla and she wasn't sure she liked it. Somehow now being unique did not seem so terrible.
When next Marilla wakes it is her brother sat by her side. His familiar sandy hair long now and in his eyes, he sweeps it back and glances across at her shocked when she looks back alert and lucid. Matthew takes her thin pale hand in his rough browned one and squeezes gently, "good morning," he smiles. "Want a drink?"
Marilla blinks slowly so that he knows she is communicating. She feels his strong hand at the back of her head, so different to her other Marilla self. Perhaps their weakness was something they had in common? Her hand being smaller it was more of an effort for her. But Matthew holds her firmly, her head cradled comfortably in his wide palm. He lets her have a couple of sips and if she never loved him before, and she did. She loved him all the more now for the water tastes like ambrosia, she can feel it coursing through her whole body enervatingly.
"Sorrrrr." it's barely more than an exhalation.
"Sorry, is that what you're saying? What have you got to be sorrowful for?" Matthew looks at her with so much love it breaks her heart.
"Lllll."
"For leaving me? Is that it?"
Marilla blinks once.
"Well here now you've got nuthin to apologise for. You went out and lived Em. You lived and judging by your letters you really sucked the marrow outta life. I'm so proud a ya. If you'd a gone and done nuthin' I'd a been sad, but I read your letters and close my eyes and imagine I'm there too." He lapsed then looking back at his sister he realises all this talk has exhausted her and she's asleep again. He smiles at her fondly and settles back in his chair feeling it creak under him as he shifts his weight.