MB-Here is your update, I generally will update between Friday and Sunday depending on how busy I am. I hope you enjoy this one!
Charlottetown had always been a treat for Rilla. The shops, treats, and bustling streets always made Rilla excited. This time the train made her motion sick, and while her ring was hidden underneath her tan leather gloves, she felt like everyone knew. They catch a cab to the hotel to drop off baggage and then walk to Shirley's boarding house which was ten minutes away from them. It's the first time she sees Shirley's boarding house, having never been there before, staying home whenever he went to school, whenever her siblings went to school.
"Everyone is going to think we are the twins," Shirley tells her as he looks her over.
It still feels odd to have her skirts swish around her ankles, and her hair up tucked into a low knot at the back of her head. Nothing elaborate, she has no energy to try out the fancy hairstyles that her sisters wear. If she's around the house she mostly leaves it hanging in a long braid or half up with some curls hanging down her back.
"Rather than the real story," Rilla says quietly.
"Well, don't trip over your skirts like someone who isn't used to them and no one will know the difference," Shirley grins at her.
"Is there a bathroom I can use?" She asks looking around the foyer of the boarding house.
"Oh yes, just down the hall," Shirley says pointing to the door. "Guest toilet for the ladies who come for study groups, so it should be spick and span."
Rilla can only roll her eyes at him, but finds a clean washroom and is thankful for it. She relieves herself and washes her hands with the offered bar of soap.
Her parents leave her with Shirley, meaning to talk to the bank and potentially a lawyer for reasons that Rilla didn't need to know about. Not wanting to stay at the boarding house, Shirley brings her to campus. She had been to Queen before for graduations over the years but that wasn't an actual tour. That was the auditorium and picnic lunch at the most.
Queens was larger than she realized by the amount of buildings and classrooms.
"How do you know where to go?" She asks confused,
"Well, they tell you the building and room number, Like Queens Hall room 304, my geography class. It's in the hall, third floor, room 4," Shirley explains to her leading her around the hallways and stairwells.
"Mr. Blythe, what are doing here?" Someone asks stopping them in the hallway.
"Showing my sister around, never know next year you may get another Blythe," Shirley grins joking. "Professor Golden is my geography teacher, Professor this is my younger sister Rilla."
"Younger you say?" He says looking over her done-up hair and longer skirts with a raised eyebrow. She looks down at the floor, but Shirley nudges her to not try and fade away, as she tries to cover the raised ridges of her rings on her gloved hand.
"Not by much, but still younger," Shirley says to her. "Come this way, there is a lovely view down over here. Have a good day sir." He nods his head and takes her arms.
"I should have never let you drag me here, clearly I am easily spotted as someone who is dressing up beyond her age." Rilla shakes her head. "A spoiled damsel…"
She can't finish as Shirley looks down at her, holding both hands in his.
"Just breathe Rilla, and don't think like that. Golden treats all girls like that, he's a prick. So what your skirts are to your ankles and your hair is up. This is two-thirds of the female population when they hit sixteen here."
"Then why teach here? It's Co-ed?"
"I don't know but he thinks geography isn't for women, not his class anyway," Shirley tells her simply.
"Why isn't he fighting in this war?" She asks next, knowing her brother wouldn't be able to answer it.
"Who knows?" Shirley just shrugs. "Probably thinks it's a waste of time or something."
Rilla can only nod his head and looks around. He takes her to the library next, where some girls look up and giggle. Others rolled their eyes at them, Shirley blushed slightly at the ears and neck and straightened his back.
"Regret turning this place down?" Shirley asks quietly watching her.
"This place is lovely, but really I am perfectly fine not being a student and really…what use would it be? Married woman can't teach anyway, just saving Father tuition and boarding costs?" Rilla reminds him quietly.
"Saved him the cost of a wedding as well," Shirley begins to tease her before kicking himself. "I'm sorry that was—"
"The truth?" Rilla says quietly. "He saved on a fancy wedding, tuition and everything else related to that, instead I have Mother circling other things in the Eatons catalogue because I have no interest in it?"
"You could still study one day, married or not you can still go to school. Ken would allow it, I know he would." Shirley reminds her.
"It's fine, I'm all right being the one who didn't care about school," Rilla pleads with him. Her hand runs over her stomach frowning, reminding her how uncomfortable her corset was getting. Shirley nods his head realizing she was ready to clam up if he pushed it to far most likely.
Their parents meet them, or they find their parents reliving old memories on the grounds she watches Father steal a kiss as they stand under an old archway.
Love
Romance
Even to this day.
Would she ever have that?
They head to the lady's wear store her mother and her, while Shirley and their Father head somewhere else. She stands there quietly as her mother quiet explanations of what is needed for her.
"Your husband is in the war?" Someone asks her and she is unable to respond at first so she nods her head after seeing her mother say it is all right to lie if she wants to.
"A lot of these wartime weddings lately, you must have loved him greatly to marry him before he left."
Rilla merely nods her head blushing.
"And a little one to remember him by? How lucky what a thing for him to ensure his return." The salesperson says as she takes Rilla's measurements to decide what would fit her best.
If only it was his.. she doesn't even know if she wants this… continuously growing thing in her stomach. She pushes it from her mind as they try on a corset and shows the different lacings for it. It automatically feels more comfortable, holding her snugly but it had more space in the bust and less dramatic of a waist curve.
She asks if she could wear it out of the store.
They pack her old one with all the other little pretty dainty things she buys and wish her all the best in her future. While her mother looks at the adjustability of the dresses they had on display, for the future.
They walk down to another store, a slightly more affordable store for little things and she spends the money that Mrs. Meredith and her father collected for layettes and baby things for Mrs. Anderson.
"For a friend," she always tells the shop attendant, pretending like she wasn't ever going to need this for herself sooner or later.
She doesn't want this for herself, she doesn't want any of it but she doesn't know how to stop it.
They get tea as they assess their purchases Mother finds a private little area in a tea room as Father is visiting another doctor at the hospital and Shirley begs off to go see a friend and then to be seen in the lady's tea shop. She sees herself in a mirror, her dark coat, her green dress with a let-out hem. Her straw hat was pinned into her hair that was curling around her face to frame it slightly, the rest was pulled up into a loose knot that was coming loose.
She looks away from the person she barely recognizes and drinks the tea brought to them.
"You are so quiet," her mother remarks. "I can't seem to read you at all these days. You are doing all right?"
Rilla doesn't know quite how to answer the question but tries for the first time in a while to give her mother an honest answer.
"I think so? I guess it's all overwhelming with everyone going to school. It's quiet at home and I feel more lonely than I expected. I don't have any friends from school to visit with, I just have Minnie lately and Una."
"You do spend a good amount of time with Mrs. Anderson," Mother says smiling.
"She's nice, and she doesn't make me hold the baby either," she informs her mother rather jubilantly. "Well I pick him up on occasion to hand him to her, and change his nappy to help her, but I don't hold him otherwise." Rilla corrects herself. She didn't want her mother to think she wasn't being helpful.
Her mother laughs lightly and shakes her head, almost forgetting all that happened before she remembered and frowned.
"You'll have to hold one at some point?" Her mother tells her quietly and Rilla's stomach flummoxes and looks down on her plate. "How is everything else, you don't seem to be as nauseous?"
"It comes and goesth," Rilla says quietly. "I just find my certain areas aching and sore at times, and well, getting bigger?" She says blushing.
"All completely normal," Her mother nods her head.
"What Minnie sayth," Rilla says quietly her lisp coming out once more. "It's all still fresh in her mind, she just asks the most randomth things. Not that you and Dad aren't helpful, it's just…"
"Easier and different with it coming from her?" Mother says nodding knowingly. "You should try holding the little boy though, I know it can't be easy but…it will help in the long run of things."
Rilla looks down at her teacup, emotions flooding her head and body.
"I know…I know it's not fair to Ken given the circumstanceth," She begins.
"Ken knew what he was offering Rilla, don't let yourself feel guilty over that." Anne tries to reassure her.
"I'm noth….I'm not talking about thath" Her voice is shaky and uneven resorting to her old lisps. "What ith…what if I don'th want…I canth…the thought of havinth too…I donth want ith…that remindeth…I'll never be ableth to moveth on."
The colour from her mother's face drains, but it's also filled with worry and concern.
"You do not have to keep this child for the sake of doing the right thing," Anne rushes to tell her. "Ken knows that as well, your father made sure that that you would not be expected to…"
"But yourth childhood?" Rilla sobs, chest heaving.
"My childhood…my childhood could not have been helped but I am aware enough to know that the situation my parents left me in and this, and these choices are far and vastly different."
"But it was still hard," Rilla says meekly.
Mother sighs. She can't say she doesn't remember the teasing, the names children were called were born from similar circumstances to the one unborn right now. It was always made known, the headmistresses always made sure the child knew their origin, even if it was cruel.
"I'll get Mrs. Meredith to look into a private home, surely someone would want a helpless little soul?" Anne says quietly. But she knew that any child born of circumstances would always be judged for their parentage.
They spend the night in the hotel, and Rilla doesn't sleep even as she curls up between her parents in the bed. Her mother brushes her hair from her face multiple times through the night, as her Father shakes her awake from time to time.
Her night dress seems to twist around her as she tosses and turns through her dreams and nightmares. For brief moments her Father would hold her, a firm and warm hand to remind thatch was safe. Rubbing her back until her sobs quieted down.
It was early when she gave up on sleep and dressed in her woollen skirt and blouse. The skirt is tighter than before, but it fits for now. They eat breakfast in the hotel, or her parents do while she nibbles on toast that barely settles her stomach.
They catch the early train and the Father promptly opens his medical journals and Mother slips into a light sleep. So Rilla wanders the train, these strangers don't look at her pity, they don't gawk and whisper at the state of her waistline despite Mother's glares. The only thing that makes her uncomfortable is the looks that might have once made her blush from passing young men whose eyes ran over her body in a way that made her shiver.
Despite that, these people had no care in the world and no care to gossip about her.
They didn't know and it was rather relieving to not feel at guard. Then someone from the glen boarded the train and looked at her and whispered something to another and the stranger's face told her everything she needed to know. The air felt stiff and stifling by the time they unbounded the train and gathered their parcels. Carl Meredith was waiting for them as promised with their buggy and Rilla barely managed a smile at her old friend.
Carl lets her father drive, and he sits in the back with her. He was teaching again, but home for the weekend.
"Do you miss home when you're teaching?" She asks speaking for what seems like the first time in a long time.
"Sometimes sure? Though I don't miss Jerry's snoring or night talking," Carl says with a shrug. "Are you going to go to the big city one day?" He asks.
"I don't know," Rilla says quietly.
"Is it weird being married? I'm not much older and I can't imagine it?" Carl asks her next, just as curious as ever.
"I don't know?" Rilla frowns. "What is marriage when you are in one place, and the other person is provinces away?"
"But you are a Ford now? Carl reminds her.
"It's just a name." She tells him simply, trying to believe it herself, looking down at her gloved hands as they pull up to the house.
"You know…if I had known...?" Carl says to her helping her out of the buggy after her parents were already up the stairs of Ingleside. "Sometimes I think if I could have danced?"
He's the first person outside of her family and Ken to even bring up the subject of their guilt.
"I would have married you if I could have…I mean I'm just a teacher but…it's a job" he finishes looking red at the ears.
"You did nothing wrong and really the idea of kissing you two years ago was full of ick, I don't think I would have…" Rilla tells him honestly. "Ken…Ken is different to me."
"You always did follow him around when he was here for the summer," Carl says handing her her parcels. "You deserve the world and don't let him ever forget that."
Rilla can only look at him sadly.
"Thank you," She says quietly and Carl nods his head and tops his hat before walking away. She walks inside and puts her things up in her room, to see a letter from Ken waiting for her.
October 1915—
Dear Rilla-My-Rilla
Think of it this way, I would have never offered myself to you if I felt that I could be proud of you or this child. But it pains me to know you feel this way, I wish I could understand better and I'm trying. The choice is yours alone, if you feel like you can't be the mother to this child that you think you should be then that is your answer.
I rather you be happy than put in more of a position that makes you hate your life.
Just the same Dear Rilla-My -Rilla, of course, my friends know about you! Not all the circumstances of course but they know that I married you. They naturally are curious and made me show your picture to them. They say you are much too pretty for me. They tease me by calling me Prince Charming these days, but I take it with a grain of salt.
If you come for Christmas maybe you'll get to meet them? If you feel up for the trip? Though Mother said you may not wish to travel such a distance in your condition, but we shall see. My mother would like to see you and my sister of course, though I am sorry about her letter. I asked her what it said when she said you hadn't replied…and I called her careless in her writing and unkind. I can understand her reasoning, hoping, thinking it would be easier to talk about if it was something fun like shopping, but I told her it is loads more complicated than what it seems for you.
Meanwhile, Mother is going on about wedding china. I wonder if she feels like she missed out on planning a wedding that imagined for me. Thought really, it would have been my bride's wedding. Then again one day we can one day if this war allows me back to you we can always redo this should we feel the need.
Though I can understand if you don't wish to see or meet anyone given the circumstances and how far along you might be. Forgive me, I have little knowledge of how this all works, I asked Dad about it and he just patted my shoulder and told me to leave it to the women folk. I may have no inclination to be a doctor, like your brother, but surely knowing a little to be at least sympathize to your plights would be? I don't know helpful in some fashion?
I know everyone expects me to go into writing like my father in some way or form, and I am decent at it. But I have taken a few more classes at school and I think I like it more. Maybe if I survive this war when I do enlist, I think I'll become a lawyer, maybe become the sort of person who writes bills for the dominion of Canada?
I hope you are well and not staying in your room all the time. Fall sunlight can be beautiful before winter sets in.
I miss you
Yours Kenneth