Thomas Lynde left the milling congregation to fetch the wagon. Once he'd loaded the last of the children into the back and helped his wife into the front seat Thomas took up the reins and chucked the horse on. Glancing sideways at Rachel he commented, "did you see Marilla?"

"Cuthbert?"

"I'm sorry did I miss the other Marillas living hereabouts? Yes Cuthbert."

"I did."

"Did you congratulate her?"

"Thomas Lynde, you surprise me. No, I did not congratulate her. As it happens, we didn't speak."

"Really? Your best friend got married and you didn't congratulate her?"

"Best friend," scoffed Rachel. "She's no friend of mine. Would a friend skulk away in the night to elope with a stranger, and a Jew at that?"

"Didn't see many Christians beating down her door," replied Thomas placidly.

"Hmp," Rachel grunted. Did no one commiserate? How dare Marilla leave her bereft by marrying that man. What did she think she was, nineteen or something eloping at that. Rachel tried to imagine what the older generation of Cuthberts would have said and came up short, no she couldn't, she just couldn't. And what must poor Matthew have thought, his sister disappearing like that, leaving him with the farm to tend with no support. It wasn't right, that's what.

Rachel had been snubbed when Marilla had disappeared with that man, she refused to name him even in her mind. As far as Rachel knew Marilla barely knew him. She was shocked when the minister Mr Phillips had enquired as to what she knew, "you're close, Mrs Lynde," he had said. "Do you know anything about their whereabouts? They came to me expecting I'd marry them which naturally I refused to do. I can't imagine what came over her."

They continued their drive home from church in silence with the children bickering in the back.

Sometimes Marilla went with Gideon when he went out to sell his wares and other times she stayed home. Green Gables was familiar whereas the road could be exhausting, but she adored time spent with Gideon. He was so warm and attentive, funny, and kind. He had seen the world and shared his many tales so that time with him passed quickly. But the farm and house could not be ignored either and she felt for poor Matthew being left on his own so long.

On this occasion she had waved Gideon farewell with some sadness. However, they hadn't been home long, and she felt an inexplicable yearning to stay home. The seasons were changing and that always made her feel a closer bond with Green Gables.

Expecting her courses, Marilla ensured her bundle of rags were laundered and in easy reach just in case. But the days passed, and they remained stacked on the shelf unneeded. After a time, she did the math counting back on her fingers to their last night together when he had taken care of her in his usual delectable manner. Absentmindedly rubbing her stomach, she realised with a gasp what those clean rags signified and sat down on her bed. Really, she thought, I shouldn't be surprised. Didn't Rachel fall pregnant easily enough. Her heart skipped a beat, for all her faults, she did miss her good friend. If only Rachel could forgive her. She had taken it to heart when Marilla had confessed, letting the door slam on their long relationship.

With no one to share her news, Marilla sighed and got on with the housework deciding to wait until Gideon returned before she said anything. This was his baby, he deserved to be the second one to know. If it hadn't been for the obvious signs, she'd have almost been able to ignore it, except that her breasts were exceptionally tender. It had taken her by surprise and tears had come to her eyes when the first short sharp pain flashed across her chest. Panting she leaned against the bed and took a deep breath, determined to tie up the corset as she usually did, but the pain defeated her, and she'd had to do it up looser than usual. Thankfully Matthew hadn't noticed at thing or at least it wasn't his way to comment, either way Marilla felt safe with him there.

Marilla clung onto Gideon tight when he did return, half sobbing with relief. The secret had been weighing upon her. "Sh, sh, ketzele. I'm here," he patted his chest. "I'm safe." His bravado disappeared when she confessed her reasons, remembering only too well what had happened last time. "There's no reason to suppose it'll happen again," he reassured her. "We'll be careful, yes. I'll take good care of you." Marilla nodded, thankful for his words, for despite herself she had been slowly working herself into a lather. "Come, come, you sit down, and I'll make the tea."

"Fiddlesticks. I'm perfectly capable," she retorted, worry making her short.

"Ach yes, you are, but I'm going to do it anyway," Gideon said pressing her back into her chair. "You spend all your days tending to us men, let us take care of you now." He got up to make the coffee and when he set the pot down on the table asked, "have you told Matthew?" she shook her head. "We'll tell him soon, yes?" She heaved a big wobbly sigh incredibly grateful despite herself to let him take charge. Gideon sat down beside her and took her hand in his. "Are you alright?" Marilla did not trust herself to speak, instead she leant into the warmth of him acutely aware of his muscles and the strength that emanated from him. When it was evident no reply was forthcoming Gideon stretched his arms around her to hold her close, and they sat in silence while the water in the coffee pot cooled.

Her back cramping somewhat Marilla eventually shifted and said quietly, "thank you."

Gideon bent down to kiss her cheek gently, "we're in this together ketzele. I'll always be here for you." Marilla nodded, aware though that it was never as straightforward as that. "Now where's my coffee?" she said cheekily if only to break the sombre mood. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all.

Putting aside their qualms they celebrated with their usual rapturous fervour and afterwards Marilla lay beside him her face silhouetted in the moonlight. Gideon lay naked beside her, breath heaving, tracing his forefinger across her stomach. "Amazing to think we've started a life in there." Dreamily Marilla said "I just hope…" Gideon nodded; words were unnecessary.

Matthew took the news well. His face lit up with unusual delight as he pumped Gideon's arm and hugged Marilla gently. "Uncle," he said. "I'm going to be an uncle." Marilla smiled at him, delighted by his reaction. "Yes, you are," she replied. "The best one there ever will be."

Feeling happier about the state of the larder, Marilla decided to accompany Gideon when he went out the next time. She'd missed the road and found herself greeting each turn and hill as familiar friends now, reflecting on how different it seemed from her first time. They visited several towns and setting up their wares together as if they'd been working alongside each other for years. Marilla relished demonstrating the sewing machine knowing that Gideon was watching on proudly.

And so they slowly trundled around the island enjoying the journey and the experience of working together. If Marilla had her misgivings about the future, she kept them hid. When they turned the corner one afternoon a familiar sight came into view. Marilla felt her heart light at the sight of the first caravan. It was Ethelinda's, the old woman who'd known what they'd been up to that first night. Marilla had formed a close bond and jumped from the wagon before it had quite come to a halt. "Steady there," Gideon called after her. But he was pleased at the way she had come to regard his friends. She might have been less than enthusiastic the first time they met, which was my fault, he reprimanded himself; but time had more than made up for it.

Marilla knocked on the door and was admitted by one of Ethelinda's many grandchildren. "Granny will be pleased to see you," she said. "She's poorly."

Tucked up in her bed, the old woman had a certain grey pallor, but she smiled her toothless smile at Marilla when she came near. Marilla took her hand and held it gently and then helped her when she made moves to sit up. "I'll leave you two alone, if it's alright," the child said. "Need to use the lavvy anyways." Marilla nodded back at her but turned her attention to Ethelinda. "I've missed you."

She had never heard her spoken voice, but they communicated without words well enough. Ethelinda looked at her with a questioning stare at her stomach. "Yes," replied Marilla patting it. "You guessed right, I'm with child." Obviously sensing some hesitation, Ethelinda looked up at Marilla, staring at her with such a knowing look. Marilla sat back in her chair with a sigh. "You'll call me ridiculous and maybe hypocritical. It happened before you see. Before we were wed. I shouldn't have done it, but well… things got out of hand I guess." Ethelinda smiled ruefully and nodded. "Initially I almost wished I'd miscarry because a baby out of wedlock was far from ideal. Not only for me, but the epithet bastard would have followed it all its life and I earnestly wished it to avoid that fate. Then despite my initial misgivings, I fell in love I felt the quickening, Ethelinda. I felt its love within me. Some might argue that I lost it too early to really tell, but I felt it." Ethelinda patted her hand. "I suppose it was barely anything, but it was awful hard and I had no one to share the heartache with since it shouldn't have existed in the first place. And now, oh now I feel so differently. Now instead of hoping that I might lose it, I pray so fervently that nothing will go wrong. Maybe God will punish me and take this one from me too. I don't know if I could bear that. I know I've sinned; we should not have lain together. I was naïve," she paused with a big sigh. "I may not deserve this one, but I want it so much."

Suddenly she found herself pulled towards the other woman in arms surprisingly strong. Her chair tipped forwards spilling her against the bed and she landed on the woman's chest nearly crushing her in the process. Once she got over the initial shock, Marilla found herself in a surprisingly peaceful spot with the lub-dub of Ethelinda's heart against her ear and the warm smell of whatever they used for soap. Much to her surprise for she never did it as a rule, she found herself sobbing against that ancient bosom and felt the weight lift as the old woman accepted everything she had confessed and showered her with so much love. Love she knew would not have been forthcoming from her own mother had she still be around and which her own community would not have conferred either, being as she had married outside their faith.

Truth be told, Ethelinda had not understood much of what Marilla had said, her knowledge of English was scant, but she had picked up on her anguish, nevertheless. It was evident regardless of language that the younger woman was in pain and alone, Gideon did not count, all she could give was her unspoken support and she found she had plenty of that.

Eventually Marilla's sobs died down and she pulled herself upright. She had evidently exhausted the old woman who let herself be settled back down in her blankets, Marilla held her hand until she fell asleep. Strange, isn't it, Marilla thought, where you find help in this world. If you had told me months ago that I'd find it amongst these people, my eyes would have rolled out of my head.

Gideon had set up camp while Marilla had been busy, so she was pleased to find everything sorted when she found him. "Sorry," she said taking a saucepan from him.

"What for?"

"I just up and left you."

"You seem lighter."

Marilla stopped to take stock of herself. "I suppose I am. I just needed…"

"A woman."

She sighed and reached out to stroke his arm. "I suppose so."

"I understand."

"It's not that you…"

"I'm not jealous ketzele – much."

Marilla looked at him sorrowfully her expression changing when she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. "Oh you," she swatted him gently, pulling him in for a hug and a long kiss. Once she would have shielded herself from view but honestly, she didn't much care who saw them displaying their passion, and what's more she knew their neighbours didn't either. "they're just happy we're happy," Gideon once explained. "They don't go in for recriminations where that's concerned."

"I understand though," he admitted later. "You need different perspectives. Ordinarily you'd have your friends and neighbours around to help you process it all."

"Mm."

"Instead, you're trying to do it alone."

"Mm."

"And there's only so much I, a mere man, can know."

She hugged him tightly, "mm. You are a great support to me, know that."

"Ach, I do my best, but sometimes only a woman can help."

"I suppose so. I hate for you to think you aren't important to me."

"I don't. We fit together, as odd as it might seem to the outside world."

Marilla stirred the pot for a moment somewhat overcome with emotion. She swallowed hard before turning to him gesturing, "hungry?"

"Always," he replied holding out his bowl, caressing her thumb briefly when he took it back.