Church remained an ordeal. Marilla attended because she felt it was her right as a Christian, but her aloof neighbours became even more frosty. She might walk up to one of the ladies from the Aid society only to have them turn their circle away from her as if by magic. Marilla refused to let them see how they upset her, but it was hard work to stand outside the church on Sunday mornings, the chill coming from more than the wind. The minister was no better. She couldn't help but think that every moralistic sermon he imparted was directed solely at her and she sat squirming in her pew feeling his eyes and words drilling into her soul.

Gideon noticed that Marilla was quieter than usual one evening. He attempted to speak to her in case he'd upset her in some manner. "Marilla what's wrong, is something vexing you?"

"Nothing." She edged out of his embrace.

Gideon had learned about nothing. Nothing was something alright. "No what is it?" he urged as she held herself ramrod straight in his arms and when she disengaged herself, she walked away to busy herself in the kitchen.

He held her tight in bed that night and was half woken in the night by her sobs. She was still not right the next morning. "Marilla," he said. "What is it?"

She turned from him wondering how to express herself. After a while she said, "I knew I'd encounter resistance to our marriage. I just hoped it would not be so close to home."

"Tell me." She shook her head unwilling to share her hurt. "Marilla," he said, wheedling. "Come ketzele, something's upsetting you." Resolutely she glanced his way but said nothing believing that this was her battle and unwilling to let him in. She knew what his advice would be; to leave the church, but she was not prepared to do that. She believed she had as much right to attend church as anyone.

One morning, much to her surprise there was a new family sitting in her pew. A well-dressed couple and their three children. "Good morning," said the woman with a distinct accent. "I hope you don't mind, there wasn't much room," she motioned towards her family.

"You are most welcome," replied Marilla. It was unusual to be sure but sitting alone on her pew had been quite isolating. Afterwards they had a chance to swap stories. They were the McDougals, recently arrived from Scotland and had heard good things about Prince Edward Island. "I admit, it was a wrench to leave home, but this is pretty country," Mrs McDougal remarked.

They had settled in an old cottage on the Bell's land and planned to work that farm until they had a chance to save some money for their own place. Marilla explained who the main players in town were, how long the minister had been there, and when questioned where to buy groceries. Mrs McDougal laughed a little saying, "of course the worst thing is all the sewing. "Jamie here grows so fast; I feel I'm making him new trousers every month." Marilla smiled, thinking she might be able to help in that regard at least. She invited Mrs McDougal to tea later that week.

Mrs McDougal arrived with a son in tow on the prescribed afternoon. Marilla had not expected children, but on reflection did notice that this child was too young to go to school. She recovered from the shock, she hoped smoothly. They sat down, the boy, Philip accepting a glass of milk and a cookie. He sat on his chair chewing his cookie, legs swinging beneath him. Marilla regarded him thoughtfully, realising that one day the baby in her womb would be this size.

The ladies had an interesting chat. Marilla felt her experience with Gideon equipped her to better understand what Mrs McDougal was going through. She explained that her husband was out of town, but hesitated to explain why Mrs McDougal would not be seeing him at church anytime soon. It came out eventually as it had to do, and she was pleased to see that her guest took it in her stride. "How interesting," she remarked placidly, and Marilla relaxed.

"Now," Marilla said. "You mentioned your son's wardrobe. I might be able to help you out there. She led Mrs McDougal over to her sewing room to proudly show off the machine. "This contraption has quite altered my life."

"Goodness," Mrs McDougal said in her soft Scots brogue, stopping Philip from getting too close to it. "It's a sewing machine isn't it. I have heard of them, but I've never seen one. Do you find it useful?"

"I do," Marilla replied. "Takes the work out of all that sewing. I can show you how to work it if you like. And you're quite welcome to stop by to use it if you like."

"That is a very generous offer, Mrs Hoffer."

"You may as well call me Marilla, everyone does."

"What a pretty name, well in that case please call me Fiona."

Thereafter Fiona, sometimes with Philip in tow and other times alone, came over to sew, the days planned at church. Marilla and Fiona became good friends over their work. Marilla knitting to the sound of the treadle turning.

There was nothing Marilla liked to do more than snuggle against Gideon's warm back during the night. As her belly swelled that became impossible and they found themselves reversing their position so that he slept against her, his hands reaching round to gently cup her breasts in his hands as they slept.

When the baby grew, he could feel it moving around her belly, "so strange," he said one morning.

"Mm?"

"This little thing woke me up last night."

"Welcome to my world."

"Is it that hard to sleep?"

"Kicks me in the bladder or the lungs all night long." She lumbered to her feet.

"Stay a little longer," Gideon said sleepily, trying unsuccessfully to pull her back into the warmth.

"Can't," she said her bladder full to bursting.

"I thought I heard you get up not long ago."

"Yes, and I expect I'll be going all day. This not so little thing is pressing down, I need to pass water," she said lifting her nightie over the almost full chamber pot. "I'll get you to empty this shortly."

She sat back down on the bed with an oof and contemplated climbing back in, but there was work to do.

"Come, lie down."

"Matthew needs his breakfast," she said glancing around at him.

"Just for a moment," Gideon wheedled. "Get in ketzele, I want you."

It was too good to resist, against her best plans Marilla clumsily swivelled around and let him envelop her in his arms. She sighed.

"What is it?"

"I worry."

"About the baby?"

"Well yes, that too."

"Too?"

Marilla was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts before whispering, "I worry I won't be a good mother."

Gideon took a breath to respond but Marilla having unleashed her thoughts was now on a roll. "My mother wasn't the warmest of women. I worry I might be like her," she said in a rush as though it had been weighing upon her.

"May I say something?"

"Mm." Marilla replied disbelieving he could help.

"Just asking the question, just worrying about it, means the likelihood is low. You know what didn't work, you know how having a harsh mother affected you, ketzele. If you ask me, that'll stop you from being the same. You are a warm and loving woman, Marilla."

"Not everyone hereabouts would agree with you."

"Maybe not, but I know better."

"I won't be long," Gideon said. "Just have to pick up some goods and collect some sewing machine money. Should be home in a week or so."

Marilla watched him go wishing it were otherwise, but accepting as she always did, the necessity. She rubbed her burgeoning belly, still he wouldn't be gone long. He'd be back in plenty of time.

Marilla's absence had been weighing on Rachel. It had been a while since she'd even been to church. Rachel knew she was with child, but it did seem her confinement had started earlier than usual. Thus, it had been some weeks since Rachel had spied her on the church lawn. I'll just wander up and see how she is. Surely, we can bury the hatchet, Rachel mused, or maybe I can make her see sense.

Once upon a time Rachel would have walked right in calling out 'yoo hoo' if necessary, but since relations had been somewhat frosty, she felt it right to knock on the front door on this occasion. Rachel got quite a shock, Marilla's belly was quite swollen, and it was evident in the way of women in the family way, that her centre of gravity had shifted. "Rachel," said Marilla warily.

"Thought I'd bring you some cake," Rachel said by way of peace offering.

"Thank you." A pause, then, "Would you like something to wash it down?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

Marilla slowly made her way around the kitchen, rubbing her back as she fetched the tea things. Rachel looked around the room, noticing a new contraption out in the sewing room but otherwise noting that it all was pretty familiar. "How is Matthew?" Rachel politely enquired.

"He is quite well, thank you. Working too hard, but I suppose there's nothing new in that."

"Has his heart been troubling him again? I remember last year."

"No, that seems to have settled down. I make sure he rests easy at night."

Once the teapot had been filled Marilla took a seat at the table and waited for it to draw. "And your family, how are they all?"

"Very well. It looks as though the harvest will be a good one, that always takes the pressure off."

"I'm sure, with your large family."

Rachel smiled, "indeed."

Deciding that this formality wouldn't do, Rachel determined to dive right in.

"Marilla I'm worried about you."

"Oh, there's no need. I am quite well."

Rachel waved that away, "I don't mean physically. I mean the way you've left our community."

"I haven't gone anywhere," Marilla replied, maddingly.

"Ugh, you know what I mean."

"I am sure that I do not."

"This man, this Mr Hoffer. He must have woven a spell over you. That a good Christian woman could marry outside the faith."

"Spells, Rachel! Fiddlesticks! We fell in love."

"Love, what would you know about love? Just because you settled for him doesn't make it right."

Marilla slammed her cup down so hard the dregs sloshed out onto the saucer. "Settled? Settled! No one settled for anything. I love Gideon and he loves me. I think you had better leave." Marilla leapt to her feet to make her point but hardly had the words left her mouth than she felt a long low rip in her nether regions, at once she staggered and moaned.

Rachel's righteous indignation left her in an instant and she was by Marilla's side in a flash. "What is it? What is it?" But Marilla was nearly beyond speech she could only glance at Rachel with terror in her eyes whispering, "not again."

"Oh, my dear, oh my dear!"

Ploughing out in the back field Matthew heard the bell dimly not sure what it was at first, but dawned on him soon enough. Blood running cold he unhitched the horse and leapt on its back.

"What is … oh!" he cried as he ran into the house, leaving the horse to fend for itself on the lawn. Matthew turned to sit and fret at the fireside, but Rachel stopped him, pulling his arm towards the bedroom.

"What? Oh no, I can't."

"Why not? You've birthed plenty of animals in your day."

"But this is different."

"Well yes," she said shivering in exasperation. "This is a human."

"More than that it's my sister. I've never even seen …"

"Well, you'll be seeing her today. I need you Matthew and she needs…" Their urgent whispers were interrupted by a moan so guttural they felt it through the balls of their feet. Rachel ceased talking. Grabbing Matthew, she pulled him through the door. Glancing down at his hands, she winced. "But first go and wash those hands, thoroughly."

Even if he had not known Green Gables' layout intimately Matthew could have followed the sound of Marilla's groans blindfolded. He paused by the bedroom door taken aback by the sight of her sweaty nightie clad body bearing down upon itself her brown hair straggly in her face. Not since they were very young children had Matthew seen his sister unclothed. Momentarily he was taken back to bath-times when they had stood together as their mother sluiced warm water down their backs. A practice he realised that had stopped the day he'd commented on their different anatomies.

"Any sign of your mother?" Thomas Lynde asked the children when he came in from the fields. He too had been ploughing and was mightily keen for his dinner.

"I think Ma went up to visit Miss Marilla, but she never came home."

"Hm?" Thomas was surprised, as far as he knew the two former friends had not spoken in months, ever since Marilla had disappeared with Mr Hoffer. "How long has she been gone?"

"Hours," replied Maggie, his oldest.

"Better check everything's alright up there. You feed the children," Thomas directed as he put on his coat.

Slightly worried since it was unlike Rachel to disappear at dinnertime, Thomas strode up the lane praying that everything was alright. The screams that came from Green Gables informed him that the situation was certainly far from well and he decided against politely knocking. Cries came down the stairs. "Rachel!" he called up. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Fetch the doctor!" a most relieved Rachel called down. "Marilla's having the baby."

Reflecting on it all later, any squeamishness Matthew initially felt was swept away as he got caught up in the process. There was a job to do, easing his niece or nephew safely through the birth canal and to be honest nothing else much mattered. At the first sight of a damp black slickness emerging, he said, "I can see hair, is the head supposed to come through first?"

"Of course."

"Doesn't happen that way with the stock. You see their hooves first."

Rachel shuddered, "yes, well this is a person remember."

"I'm unlikely to forget, ever," Matthew muttered.

Hours of pain, shrieks, mopped brows and encouragement later Matthew eased a tiny baby through Marilla's legs and into his waiting hands. So small he easily cradled it in the palm of his hands, small, pink, damp, and thankfully, screeching.

Thomas escorted the doctor into the room just as Rachel was swaddling the infant. "Sorry," he explained. "Doc Smith was out on a call. Had to go up to Bright River."

"It came on sudden-like," Rachel explained as she handed the baby over. "Matthew here delivered her. Do you think…?"

Doctor Robinson examined the little girl, listening to her heart and looking into her eyes and nose and ears. "Five fingers and five toes, she may be small, Mrs Lynde, but I think if we keep her warm and well fed that she may pull through." Rachel had been worried; she'd never seen one so small and deep in her recesses she felt partly responsible for it all. Letting out a long breath she said, "what a relief."

The doctor nodded, caressing the baby's arm, "yes, might be a bit touch and go, but I think she'll make it."

Afterwards Matthew was a little shy remembering what he had seen and where he had been. "Sorry," he said to his sister. "Felt a little strange seeing you like, um, you know…"

"Fiddlesticks!" retorted Marilla at once softening. Still very weak she nevertheless summoned the strength to hold her hand out. Matthew bridged the gap to clasp it at once. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Now I hate to break up the party," Rachel said bustling in with fresh towels, "but I think the mother needs a rest." She plucked the baby from Matthew's arms and shooed him out of the room. "If I know anything, you'll need a wash Marilla. Let me." Exhausted Marilla settled back against her pillows as she cast a fond look at the baby. There was a chill on her legs as Rachel pulled the blankets back but thankfully, she used nice warm water and Marilla felt much more comfortable.

"I thought I'd lost you," Marilla said to Rachel afterwards.

"I thought you had too," Rachel replied. "But I couldn't leave. You needed help and who better than me to provide it, that's what. I was pleased to see that brother of yours is wiser than I gave him credit for."

Marilla smiled, "he is at that." She took the baby into her arms gratefully and said sheepishly looking down at her breasts, "how do I…?"

Rachel smiled, remembering her trepidation the first time, "happy to help."

Once the baby was contentedly suckling Marilla looked up shyly saying, "Rachel."

Rachel sat down on the edge of the bed and patted her leg. "Yes, well I must apologise. I shouldn't have said those things."

"Could you get me a pen and paper." Rachel looked at her quizzically. "I should just record this for prosperity," replied Marilla with a twinkle in her eye. Rachel smirked then roared with laughter. "Marilla Cuthbert, I have missed your sense of humour."

"Hoffer."

"Hm?"

"It's Marilla Hoffer, not Cuthbert."

"My apologies, Marilla Hoffer of course. It'll take some getting used to." She busied herself for a moment taking care of the linen and tidying up the room before sitting back down in the bedside chair with some knitting. "Now, I never heard about that wedding of yours."

Marilla laughed, "well let's just say when I envisaged a wedding growing up, I never imagined anything like it."

Rachel's eyes nearly popped out of her head, her booties sitting forgotten in her lap as Marilla described their nuptials. "Oh, my goodness gracious me, and you say they all danced?"

"Yes, well the men are so skilled, so athletic, and the women just dance in time with their antics. Quite extraordinary," Marilla could hear the music in her head and tapped her fingers in time. "But you know as odd as it was what I truly recall was the shape of his eyes, the contour of his face, the way he gazed at me."

Rachel smiled, "sounds like a regular wedding then, for Thomas' gaze is what I recall most too. Sounds like he's truly in love with you."

Marilla smiled shyly, "as am I."

"Good. I'm glad. Rachel added brusquely hiding her emotion, "missed you. Glad to have you back."

Upon his return Gideon was surprised to find Marilla not out welcoming him. "She's abed," Matthew explained drying his hands on a tea towel as he walked out the door to meet him. "The baby came."

Gideon's heart fell and his blood ran cold. "Is she…? It's too early, they alright?"

"Right as rain, though she's small, I will admit."

"A girl? I have, I have a daughter?"

Matthew smiled. "That you do, Gideon and she's right beautiful."

Deciding it might get rather emotional Matthew escaped out to the barn to give the new family some space.

The baby having fallen asleep on the nipple, Marilla drowsily put her back between her breasts. It had been Rachel's idea. "Keep her warm down there, that's what," she'd said. "I read about it somewhere, works a treat for these little-uns." It made sense somehow and since she was going nowhere for a while, Marilla was happy to oblige. It felt strange to have the baby still so close to her, yet outside the womb.

"That looks like a nice spot," Gideon said looking at the tableau through the bedroom door.

"Gideon!" Marilla reached out to him.

"May I?" he asked tenderly after they had kissed.

Marilla nodded as he plucked the baby out and nestled her in his arms. "So small?"

"Mm, but the doctor thinks she'll live."

"What happened? I thought we still had some time."

"I did as well, but it just started by itself. Thankfully Rachel was here, and she helped, and Matthew too of course, as I suppose he told you."

Ignoring the matter of Rachel for the moment, Gideon said, "Matthew?"

Though she had mostly been out of it, Marilla was able to fill Gideon in on Matthew's involvement. "I don't think it would have gone so well without him here."

Gideon straightened and placed the baby back where he had found it, "excuse me." Marilla watched him leave fondly before redirecting her attention.

Sequestered in the recesses of the barn Matthew turned upon Gideon's approach. Overcome with emotion Gideon gave him the warmest hug he had ever bestowed upon another excepting his mother or Marilla. "Want to thank you," Gideon murmured in Matthew's ear.

"T'weren't nothin'," Matthew said, embarrassed by Gideon's outburst.

"Come up to the house," Gideon clapped his hand on Matthew's shoulder, and they walked back up together. Glancing fondly at Gideon as he cradled their daughter in the crook of his arm Marilla thanked her brother. Tears shining in his eyes, Gideon echoed her sentiment, "yes, thank you, Matthew, for everything."

Lying together was easy once more without the bulge of her belly forcing them apart. Now the baby lay snug and warm between her parents. They were discussing her name.

"Should we call her Ethelinda?" Marilla suggested, half joking.

"No ketzele, we don't want death to mistake them, take the wrong one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ach, it's a Jewish superstition. Especially since the older one's so close to death herself."

"Ah." There was a pause then as they marvelled at tiny fingers tenaciously gripping Gideon's finger.

Marilla smirked and then despite the gravity of her friend's situation she let out a small snort.

"What?"

Marilla could no longer hold it in, she started giggling uncontrollably. "Sorry. I. I. I love Ethelinda, but she has a truly terrible name." She held her stomach, it positively hurt to laugh.

Gideon joined her, taking care not to crush the baby.

"What should we call her then?" Marilla asked.

"Something just for her, she's got her whole life in front of her. I don't want any ghosts reminding her of our past."

"Victoria?"

"Like the Queen?" he said.

"Mm hm."

"Maybe. How about Eleanor?"

"I've always liked Adelaide."

"Of course, our rule means we can't call her Marilla."

Marilla looked him square in the eyes and rolled her own, "well it's not such a bad thing then. I'd never saddle a child with such a ridiculous name."

"It's a beautiful name, ketzele."

"Ugh."

"It's the name of the woman I love, so obviously I'm right."

"You're incorrigible." She would have said more, but the baby chose that moment to yawn and stretch so they both stopped to gaze at her in wonder.