Chapter 7
Chapter Text
Trigger Warning.
Mentions and talks about abortion.
"All right, girls are together, and boys are together," Rilla tells everyone. While there is electricity, it is not turned on. There is a propane stove and ice box, Rowena and Oliver you may light kerosene lamps on the wall. Clara, you do not touch them just like you don't touch candles at home," Rilla warns her youngest.
"Come on Clara I'll show you our room," Rowena tells her sister.
Rilla looks around the old summer house. Memories, so many memories, there are still photos on the wall from god knows when. She goes to the kitchen, finding it stocked with basics from one of her siblings.
She sighs, rubbing her stomach the burn still radiating threw her throat. Oliver was still standing in the kitchen, watching her.
"You're going to be all right aren't you?" Oliver says quietly for the first time he acknowledges that he notices his mother being sick. "Last time you were like this…well, it was when you had Clara."
"Of course, I will be," Rilla rushes to tell him. To reassure him that nothing would happen to her. She knows he's plenty old enough to remember how sick she was when she had Clara. Being sensitive as he was, she could only imagine what was creeping up in his memories.
"Then why are you and Dad fighting?" Oliver asks another tough question.
"It's complicated Ollie, and you do not need to know as it doesn't affect you," Rilla tells him, admitting that they were rowing, but she refused to give Oliver anything more than that. He didn't need to know the details. "People fight, you and Rowena fight, it's no different than your father and I."
"You won't…you won't die though?" Oliver asks looking down at his feet and then at her. She doesn't want to frighten him but, she can't guarantee anything either.
"Ollie, these sorts of things…it's hard work. I may be delicate for a while, I may need help for you and Roe with things around the house, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that I am healthy." She tells him sitting down.
"Was it always this bad?" He asks next curiously. "Is it always this bad?"
"For some women yes, but for most, it's not as extreme. When I learned I was expecting you, I was so afraid and happy at the same time and I was fine in the early weeks. Then something changed," Rilla says remembering. "I spent many hours lying on the bathroom floor, and struggled to keep anything down."
"And then I was born almost a month early?" Oliver says knowing that part.
"That you were, and you gave us all fright with your lungs, but you pulled through," Rilla says reaching to run a hand through the dark curls. "You were so little, a little old man, I think I even called you a potato once."
"You called Clara a pretty potato once," Oliver reminds her.
"Well, just because I love you all, as you are all my children, doesn't mean I can't be honest and say that babies aren't always the prettiest things when they are first born." Rilla laughs lightly.
"Still, I lost a lot of weight with you, I faired better with Rowena but not by much," Rilla admits to him.
"I saw the photos from when I was a baby," Oliver says after a moment.
"Don't mean to ruin the lovely talk, but shouldn't boys your age be trying to act so I don't know, run from these sorts of conversations?" Rilla teases him lightly.
"I rather know you're okay, and uncomfortable than, ignorant and seem as if I don't care," Oliver says ears turning red.
"You really are my little sensitive soul of a boy," Rilla says feeling proud.
"Mom," he groans.
"Okay young man," Rilla says laughing lightly.
Ingleside was all but calm when Rilla walked over with the children and Jimmy. It was chaotic was the number of kids running about.
"You made it," She hears from Di first, only four years older than her, her hair was still red and her eyes still their bright grey-green.
"We did," She nods her head. "You remember Oliver and Rowena and this little one is Clara,"
"My you have gotten big," Di exclaims. "Nan comes to see how big Clara is," she calls out to her sister.
The kids come as well, hearing their mother and seeing their cousins.
Di and Jack's children Beau and Elsie were fourteen and eleven respectively. Both with auburn hair and freckles. Nan had another little girl Margaret, who was twelve and resembled much of her elder sixteen-year-old sister Geraldine still affectionately called Deena.
They create three different groups. Ceci, Walt, Deena, Elodie, and Oliver discuss things like college and more mature things. While the slightly younger teens gather around talking about movies and clothing of course. Jasper the loan boy in a swarm of girls it feels like, as he gravitates to pull towards his male cousins with the prospect of doing some fishing or something at some point. All the girls are in various styles of summer playsuits and dungarees with curly hair pulled up into some fashion with bows while the boys were all in tee shirts and shorts.
While Clara was the odd one out it appear as she flitted around her Aunts and Uncles. Still running about in her little sun dresses with crisscrossed straps in the back and braids in her hair.
"I have no one to play with," she says pouting coming up to her mother crawling into a wicker chair.
Rilla looks around and realizes that Clara was the youngest of a bunch of teenagers, even the second youngest is at least eleven by now. Marianne and Carl wouldn't be here for another few days with Phoebe, because of obligations that made them come later.
"I think Grandpa is inside," she hears her mother says from the doorway.
"Grandpa!" Clara says climbing off the old wicker chair and racing inside. Her parent visits at least twice a year since her father semi-retired, though if you asked him he had retired.
"So you made it," Anne says taking the vacant seat.
"So I did," Rilla nods her head, head swarming now at the amount of control she was trying to have over her body right now.
Her parents were well into their seventies by now. Her father, still couldn't help sometimes helping out with the odd case if it came his way. He comes out with Clara in his arms as she laughs. On his way towards the yard with the other children. Only stopping to give kiss the top of her head before going to the grandkids.
"You must be excited about an empty house during the day this fall. With Clara being finally school age," Nan asks as she hands out the lemonade.
"No not really," Rilla says honestly sniffing the drink carefully, nose wrinkling at the thought of lemon on her sour stomach. She also wasn't entirely sure if Jem had told anyone about her expecting another child. "I don't want her in school at all, but Ken has apparently put his foot down about it whether I want it or not?"
"So you are rowing?" Di asks, looking over her sister.
"Well if rowing means slapping him in a fit of anger then sure," Rilla says sighing. "It's just tense lately. The rumbles on Pacific Asia, and more and more in Europe, he's worried and won't admit it. Then this whole surprise pregnancy thing is just topping everything off.
"You slapped him!" Nan exclaims.
"Oh sure tell the world," Rilla rolls her eyes. "I'm not exactly proud of it."
"I would hope not," Anne tuts her daughter.
"Trust me, I am not," Rilla says taking a deep breath as she feels her stomach roll. It was Ollie who catches on from across the veranda.
"Wastebasket!" He calls out, looking around and it was Di who manages to grab one quickly from the front hall.
"Rilla?" Her mother's voice squeaks.
"Not right now, please," She says sighing. "I don't need anyone freaking out more than I am right now."
"Come on, I'll find you some ginger," her father says from the steps. He was already handing Clara to Jimmy.
"So this is why Kenneth telegrammed and asked me to make sure you were managing?" Gilbert says opening the drawers of his old office, and rummaging around.
"Of course he did," Rilla says under her breath.
"He's worried Rilla, he always is when you're going through this. Though I had thought these days were behind us?"
"So did we, I mean we tried to prevent such things, but we also thought that it wouldn't be that easy to begin with?" Rilla sighs. "I'm forty years old."
"And still not the oldest mother I have seen," Gilbert tells her handing her some ginger chews. Sitting down in one of the old chairs, he watches her sit looking defeated and tired.
"It's just a gigantic mess either way," Rilla sighs. "Oliver is worried naturally, he remembers how it was with Clara. Now my days are up and down and I'm running out of excuses for Rowena and Clara."
"All you can do is take it one day at a time," Gilbert reminds her. " Although, I know when I spoke to your doctor in the aftermath of that day, his advice was never meant to be an end-all Rilla. He just wanted you to have enough time to recover and heal, though I can understand why you may have taken it was more gravity given the circumstances. It's easier to pretend something is not possible when you're afraid. Though I think everyone was more worried that you wouldn't last another pregnancy being ill all of the time. Clara's was rough on you.
"When did you get into psychology?" Rilla says head tilting.
"When my youngest daughter started going off about things I barely understood," he says with a grin. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Not really, but I'm not vomiting at the moment so there's that," Rilla says simply. "Mainly resigned to the fact that I will be ill until I have this child, because what else can I do?"
The sea breeze doesn't help Rilla who finds herself struggling more each day. Her nieces and nephews come for their cousins, while Jimmy often takes Clara to Ingleside or keeps her occupied, though today Phoebe should be for her.
"Phoebe!" Clara calls out when Carl and Marianne are walking down towards the house of dreams. Rilla looked up from her spot in front of the sink, trying not to be sick. But the sickness had graduated from bothersome, to horrific.
'Mommy is under the weather, mommy ate something funny, mommy needs a moment.'
How many times would she have to make excuses?
"You look terrible," Marianne says from the kitchen door.
"Thanks, if I vomit anymore I'll throw up my own stomach," Rilla tells her.
"And where Ken? Shouldn't he be here by now?" Marianne looks around, but still no sign of him.
"Somewhere? I don't know, and I don't really care right now." Rilla says before she throws up once more. She takes a deep breath before she turns around. "How's the manse?"
"It's the same as usual," Marianne says with a shrug. "Awkward but Rosemary and John are sweet with Phoebe."
"Nothing about the girls back in Toronto?" Rilla asks.
"Oh, of course, there is," Marianne says was a shake of her head looking at her friend. "Luckily Una's lawyer husband is now doing more and more divorces and that is somehow worse. Really Faith and Jem are their angels, with Jerry and Nan a close second."
Rilla nods her head, she always somehow forgot that Marianne, was oddly family by some weird way of marriage. She was Jem and Nan's sister-in-law, though it was too convoluted to ever try and explain in Toronto. Even Ken was related to Rosemary Meredith, and not so little Bruce, a cousin of some extent removed.
"You really don't look good Rilla."
"Thanks," Rilla drawls.
"No really Rilla, you should see your brother or your dad," Marianne says worried.
"There is nothing they can do," Rilla says shrugging. "It's always like this."
"Wait…Dominion day, I was just teasing," Marianne rushes to say.
"Well, you were right, and now this is my life," Rilla turns and bends at the waist, letting her head touch the old wooden counter.
"Is this why you and Ken are having a row?" Marianne asks.
"No, that is because he is sending Clara to school and I blew up at him and the hormones only made it worse for us," Rilla groans. "Sure we fight now and then, who doesn't but I actually slapped him, Mari. I slapped him across the face."
"I'm sure he understands and forgives you," Marianne says. "But this baby…this is big news."
"You're telling me, I don't even know what to think or feel and frankly I am too sick most of the time to even have time to figure out how I feel about it."
"You should really talk to Ken about this Rilla," Marianne frowns.
"We have, he's just we'll make do and adjust like everyone," Rilla says forcing herself to stand back up. Looking at the two little girls running around the yard with Carl who was chasing after them.
"Go lie down, we'll watch Clara for a little bit for you. Where are the others?" Marianne asks looking around the old kitchen.
"They went out to the valley I think, with their cousins?" Rilla says as she walks slowly towards the old sofa in the old room. The old telephone is ringing, she didn't even realize that someone turned it on.
When Ken made it to the island he found her hunched over the toilet in the small old bathroom. Ollie was nervously pacing the hallway. Wanting to try and be helpful, but he doesn't know quite how to help.
"I sent Roe to Ingleside with Clara, but she won't stop Dad," Oliver says hurriedly. "She just keeps getting sick and I don't know what to do,"
"You don't have to do anything, that's not your job and you should never have to worry like that. Go calm down and I'll take care of this," Ken tells me. "Thank you though for looking out for your mother, you are a good young man for not running at the sign of illness."
"I couldn't just leave her," Oliver says shaking his head.
"I know," Ken says squeezing the young man's shoulder, turning back to his wife who still heaving in the old toilet.
Gagging, in a different way as she wipes her mouth only to find streaks of what appears to be blood on the back of her hand. The taste of bile and copper in her throat, when had she ever thrown up blood?
"I'm calling your father," Ken says when he saw what was happening. Soon everyone is in the little old house, though one of her sisters took the kids back to Ingleside.
Except now it's just Jem and Faith in the room with her and Ken, watching her be sick intermitted.
It was Faith who approaches the subject first, as Jem looks over her vitals. Whispering in her husband's ear who can only nod his head after a moment solemnly.
"This…this wasn't a planned pregnancy was it?" She asks and Ken who is looking at the most useless person just looks at Rilla.
"Clearly," Rilla says hoarsely. "What it wasn't," she says to Ken who makes a noise.
"Do you want me to end the pregnancy?" Faith asks and the room is silent.
"Excuse me?" Ken says for himself.
"I can end the pregnancy, the sickness will stop and there won't be any worries," Faith explains to him.
"That is…illegal and wrong on so many levels," Ken says sputtering.
"Well, so was drinking for a while and everyone still did it," Jem reminds him with a glare. "If I remember correctly you did it a bit too much and my sister kicked your ass for it."
"You cannot just…" Ken tries to grapple with the idea.
"She's throwing up blood man! This is the only option if we don't…If we don't stop this now she won't make it through this pregnancy, let alone childbirth most likely. I know she got lucky with Clara because generally hyperemesis only gets worse with each pregnancy and this time it's caught up to her. " Jem says looking at his wife and then at Ken. "This is your option, remove what is killing your wife, a baby that you neither planned for nor met yet, or you'll be looking for a stepmother for your children next year. So get off your high horse, and realize we are only trying to save a woman we love?"
"Isn't that just as dangerous?" Ken asks, his stomach feeling like lead as Rilla throws up once more.
"In the hands of an idiot or greedy uncaring doctor. But Faith…Faith is knowledgeable," he says looking at his wife who is helping Rilla. "We both are but I think or I know that Rilla would not want me to be the one," Jem says. "If we don't, you'll be mourning a wife and child, and having to explain to your children that their mother is dead."
"You can not be considering this," Marianne says to her friend who had come into the door with some ginger tea and candies and warm water for Rilla's throat.
"This isn't your situation Marianne," Ken says through his teeth. "If you think I like these situations…the decisions is Rilla's but if I have any say I would always say save my wife," Ken says darkly.
"I'll explain what it takes," Faith says quietly. "Will you go back home and get my special bag though Jem?"
Jem nods his head.
"I don't like this any more than anyone else Ken, but sometimes it's the only way to make things right?" Jem says to Ken on his way out.
In the end, it's just Faith explaining what will happen and how she does it. It sounds all too familiar to what the hospital does for miscarriages that do not pass. Still, the knowledge weighs heavily on Rilla's mind, though not as heavily as she thought it would because despite being afraid, she just wants to scream do it, yes please, just make me healthy again. She can't though, because she has million other things running around in her head.
"What will I say to others?"
"Just say you had a miscarriage, though hopefully, people will be respectful enough to acknowledge that something clearly happened and won't ask about it," Faith tells her. "It doesn't take long, but I need to make sure you don't aspirate on me because I am going to have to knock you for this. Mostly for your own good, once it's done, you'll bleed for a few days. Not as much as after birth, maybe a week or two? You're here for a good few weeks so I can at least check in on you and how you're feeling?" Faith tells her.
Rilla can only nod her head.
"It's your choice though Rilla," Faith reminds her.
"I have four children who need me," Rilla says quietly, pressing a hand to her stomach in a moment of mourning and not throwing up.
"I'll send Ken in?" Faith says looking at her sister-in-law and Rilla can only nod her head. When he does come in, they can't manage words but they both cry, his arms going about her tightly.
"I'll always choose you," he reminds her.