John sighed as he forked hay into the cow byre. He'd willingly given up the seafaring life to be with Marilla, but the problem was they were here on land for her sake yet were still separated. Outside trees were thrashing in the wind. It was the sort of day he always loved at sea when the sails were stretched taut against the wind and the ship was ploughing through the surf. He'd be standing up on the poop deck yelling out orders to the mate. The satisfaction of seeing his orders being carried out and the ship increasing speed was exhilarating. He felt as though he were the master of all he surveyed, bright happy and full of confidence. Here wind merely meant more work and potential crop loss as the orchard was battered.
His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion outside. Setting the fork down he followed the sound of squawking chickens. John emerged from the barn and was surprised to see Marilla disappearing into the house. Hurriedly he followed her, and the aggrieved chickens were disturbed once again.
"Just getting some milk," said Marilla gesturing at the squirrel. She explained what she was doing and why they were out at Green Gables. John's heart melted a little but once the squirrel was sorted, he took her in his arms, "good to see you," he said gently.
"What? Oh yes," she replied relaxing into his embrace. He took her wrist in one hand, turned it over and pressed his lips upon it. She stood stock still hardly daring to breathe and then stepped back without breaking his grasp. He reached out to cradle her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips feeling his way inside. Then he pulled back and guided her upstairs. Once in the bedroom she took the initiative and undressed him, peeling off layer after layer and smoothing her hands over his chest.
Afterwards they lay together with all the warmth and companionship only good lovemaking brings. Marilla smiled languidly at John, "mmm." He trailed a line of kisses up her shoulder as he caressed her bare back with his finger. "Missed you, missed this," he whispered. She sighed and looked at him with sleepy eyes. "Shh now, sleep," he urged and watched as she relaxed with deep breaths. Feeling sated and completely happy for the first time in a long while John did likewise.
He woke when the sun's rays slanted in through the window catching his eye and bathing Marilla in a golden light. Once in London they had visited an art gallery. They had paused before the painting of a completely naked woman recumbent upon a dishevelled bed. Marilla tried to urge him along, but John was fascinated not just by the image which stayed with him for a long time, but by the model's insouciance. Eventually just before his stance became noticeable, he let Marilla pull him away. It had scandalised and disturbed yet strangely excited him. Marilla reminded him of that painting now as she lay bathed in the golden sunlight, her bare breasts spilling down her chest.
He'd missed her as he'd said. Missed her mothering skills, her company and missed her in his bed. Their cabin may have cradled them in the sea's rocking embrace, but it had to be admitted space was tight; today they had made the most of the wider mattress as they enthusiastically made up for lost time.
He glanced out the window and noticed the angle of the sun. "C'mon sweetheart, we should get up," he said rousing her. Marilla wasn't sure where she was when she opened her eyes, still groggy from her post coital nap. John leant over and kissed her sweetly then said somewhat regretfully, "the children will be home from school soon. We had better get dressed."
"Just a little longer," Marilla murmured, pulling John closer unwilling to spoil the moment.
"No," John protested half-heartedly as unbalanced he fell awkwardly half across her chest.
"Yes," insisted Marilla holding him tight.
Downstairs the clock chimed the half hour and John was alerted back to the task at hand, "come I'll help you get dressed," he said. "Afterwards though," he winked and kissed his fingers lightly.
The children tumbled in from school surprised to find their mother standing in the kitchen. "Mama," Johnny and Jacob cried as they flung themselves into her arms. Laughing she twirled them in her arms, and they all fell onto a chair together all limbs and lap. She breathed in their boyish scent deeply noticing absentmindedly that they now smelt of hay and the rich red earth whereas before it was salty sea air. "Are you staying Mama?" Jacob asked.
"Don't go back to Uncle Matthew, please," Johnny urged.
Matthew! Marilla had clear forgot about him. "John please tell Matthew where I disappeared to, he must be worried."
John winked surreptitiously and headed out the door.
"She all right?" Matthew asked when John found him in the barn.
"Yes sorry, she's fine. We er had a bit of a um reunion so to speak," John stammered feeling no need to go into details. Matthew sniffed and shifted on his feet he got the gist all right. "Come for dinner," John said.
"Tomorrow night maybe," Matthew replied. "Give you some time to yourselves. Don't want no bachelor barging in just yet."
John insisted but Matthew would not be persuaded. In the end Anne joined him feeling like an intruder too. She wandered into the kitchen with the monkey riding easily on her shoulder. "Jus' like old times," Matthew said calmly as he laid another setting on the table. "Good to have you back."
Life settled down then. Marilla moved her things back into the Blythe house and started the business of making a home for them all. It had been years since she had cooked every day, but she found her mother's old cookbooks all dog eared and stained. The process was soothing and it measured out her days. Too much time was hard to cope with but by keeping herself busy she felt happier.
One day Marilla dug out her old sea chest full of treasures. Deep down at the bottom was the sampler she had discarded when she was at her lowest, when the thought of picking up something as small as a needle seemed too onerous. She had given one to Matthew after Susanna was born and often glanced at it when she stayed with him but this one was for her oldest friend. In a quiet moment when Susanna napped, she sorted out her yarn and threaded a needle to tidy up the loose strands and soon lost herself in its colourful strands.
Matthew was not forgotten. Most nights found him either up at the Blythe farm surrounded by the family or with the boys and Anne sat around his table. Despite being better Marilla still needed a break now and again and they were happy to oblige for they loved their Uncle Matthew and he them. Little Johnny in particular had a real knack for storytelling and he told the tale of their voyages with such gusto bringing it all to life so that sometimes Matthew felt decidedly bilious. "easy, easy," he'd say, and Jacob would laugh at his green gills.
It was not only Marilla and John who had to adjust to life on land. Even little Jacob missed the rolling of the sea. He liked to borrow an old flat which usually lay tied up on Barry's pond. The gentle lapping water was a far cry from the ocean, but it was better than nothing. If they could not locate him at home, they soon learnt to look for him there and he would be found drifting in the middle of the pond fast asleep.
Back in Australia Zhang Wei picked his way through the blasted Ballarat landscape to the street of scribes. Almost every spare scrap of ground had been dug up and poured over in an attempt to prise the gold out of the earth. It may have been lucrative, but it damaged the land. Zhang Wei used to wonder what it looked like here before gold was struck.
Scribes were the educated men who wrote your letters home for you. They had that rare talent of taking your fumbled phrasing and turning it into dutiful prose. Or at least that's what you paid them for, you could only assume that's what they did. On this occasion Zhang Wei had to cobble together more money because he had to find a scribe who wrote English, he planned to write a letter to Canada.
He asked around and eventually was directed to a middle aged man sitting on the side of the road behind an old wooden box covered in papers, "sit down, sit down, I am Number One English Scribe. What do you need?"
"Good morning, I need a letter in English, I want to write to some old friends."
"In English? Who do you know who speaks English?" The man peered at him closely, "don't tell me you were the one who brought the ghosts to the city bathhouse?"
"That's me," said Zhang Wei proud his reputation had preceded him.
"My sister said she saw them, all pink and hairless like big ugly grubs," said the scribe shaking his head in disbelief.
"Yes, well anyway I need to write to them, I have money," said Zhang Wei placing his coins on the desk.
"Very well," said the scribe biting down on one of the coins. "What you want to say?"
One cloudy morning Marilla went to town to run a few errands and naturally she popped into the post office to pick up the Avonlea mail. There was an old and rather battered package addressed to Captain John and herself which she investigated thoroughly. No one called John captain anymore. As she opened it out fluttered a page of close written words. When she unwrapped the rag, two objects fell to the ground with a dull thud. Upon bending to pick them up, she realised it was two nuggets of gold. Hastily she rewrapped them to keep them safe from prying eyes. The letter was hard to read in the gloomy light so she folded the page back up and put it back in the envelope to deal with when she got home.
Mari would be interested she expected so she stopped into Lynde Hollow. "Is Mari home from school?" she asked Rachel. "I have something to show her."
"Remember Little Pete?" Marilla asked the girl as she placed the letter on the kitchen table.
"The oriental baby minder? of course I do," said Mari. "I'd almost forgotten about him."
"What's that? Who are you talking about?" Rachel asked sharply. Orientals were untrustworthy as far as she knew; which quite frankly was not far.
"He was amazing wasn't he, Mari. Quite a wonder with the baby."
"Yes, I recall one long night he just plucked her from my arms, and she was asleep in a flash. Never understood his secret, but usually by that stage I didn't care."
"Absolutely," laughed Marilla. "Anything to have her quiet down."
"And what about the bathhouse?" Mari reminded Marilla.
Marilla flushed bright pink and giggled, "oh yes!"
"Bathhouse?" Sometimes Rachel almost resented their relationship; they had shared so many experiences and a quick comment could have them both reminiscing.
"Wasn't that odd. I felt like a fish in a bowl, all those eyes gazing upon us," Marilla added.
"This gentleman," Marilla pointed at the letter, "showed us to the oriental bathhouse. I don't believe I've ever been as clean."
Rachel had to sit down in shock. "When you say bathhouse," she asked carefully, "do you mean you were...?"
"Well you have to be to bathe," Marilla told her. Secretly she rather enjoyed jolting Rachel out of her comfort zone.
"But but I don't understand. Why do you need a whole house to bathe in?"
"It's a public bathhouse, Rachel. All the women go there together."
Rachel gulped and went a little pale, "together?" she said with furrowed brow.
"Naked," Marilla said by way of clarification.
"Oh my," said Rachel going paler if such a thing were possible. "Oh my, oh my."
"Anyway," Marilla turned her attention back to Mari, "Little Pete seems to have written a letter. I'm having a bit of trouble reading it, you have a look."
Mari closely examined the page and sat down with it and another piece of paper to transcribe. "I think I have it now," she said after a little while. "Here goes,"
Venerable Captain and Wife,
I am writing this letter for Zhang Wei passenger upon your esteeemed vessel from city of Singapore to Melbourne. He say he happy in Australia. He made many money. He sends wishes to family. He like you all very much. He say he hope he see you again won day. Noisy baby must be walking now he sends good luck to her and this little piece of gold. Big nugget for Captain as payment for passage.
John laughed when Marilla and Mari showed him the letter. "Do you suppose the letter writer advertised his skill by saying he was an expert at English."
Mari smirked but added after a pause, "well his English is better than my Chinese at any rate."
Sobering John had to agree, "you've got a point there."
Marilla gasped when she heard about the larger nugget, "we can't possibly accept it John. It's far too generous and in any case the passage should be paid to the company, not us."
"I don't expect they care all that much, Mar. We'll keep it by I think, just in case we need it one day."