AnneShirleyBlythe: I oddly enjoy writing Mary Vance in this, she is such a back-and-forth of insults, helpful hands, and being a decent friend. She is no-nonsense and a good friend when people need her to be.
Rilla is particularly close to both of her parents in this, they give her space but they also continuously check in and make sure she is doing alright. Anne for everything from baby things, and womanhood. With Gilbert for the medical side of things and Morgan as well, I do have fun with them debating about it in the background of letters.
I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as others, even if it is sad!
September 14th 1916
Ken
The newspapers are reporting about the Somme and all the battles. I cannot…I cannot think of such things and you, Walter, Jem, even Jerry. The pictures, the horror, I know I need to be brave, but to see it…to see the aftermath of what you have written about. I wake up from nightmares that once used to me.
So I write this at some hades forbidding hours as I watch Seffie sleep.
Seffie has taken to rolling over, it is the most amusing thing to watch her do these days. Sometimes she does it without meaning to and is so surprised by what she accomplished and looks at me with her big ever ever-changing eyes, they are looking lighter and greyer by the week, maybe a touch of green—anyway, rolling! She can roll from her stomach to her back but still hasn't mastered from back to tummy yet.
She has taken to sleeping on her back, I always lay her down on her stomach to sleep as Morgan says, and they say to flip her back if she rolls, but don't see the problem if she can breathe perfectly fine. She spends enough time being held and playing about when awake that her head is perfectly shaped and not flat at all.
She's starting to grab things, mainly my hair and necklaces, sometimes an earring if it's near enough to her. Though occasionally she will reach out if you hold a toy in her sight; though hasn't quite gotten the concept of actually holding on to it.
She learns so many new things it's always a new day with her.
The audacity oh, I want to slap her silly, I am so angry! That blasted Irene Howard waltzed into our Reds meeting. I mean she was allowed out of reluctance of mothers forcing up this one time because two groups were meeting up and it was not at Ingleside, but I decided to venture out for it as everyone said Seffie being there was no issue, but that is beside the point.
She came late also and beelined for Seffie who was sleeping peacefully in her bassinet and lifted her, waking her!
Waking a sleeping baby and….I am still seething. She kissed our daughter!
All over her face.
How dare she do such a thing! She has no right!
She laughed in my face and teased me about being overprotective. Babies deserve to be kissed and of course they do, by family! Not strangers!
Morgan highly disapproves of babies being kissed. I mean by strangers. He doesn't advocate neglecting a baby in its want to feel loved. So he makes it well known that only immediate family should kiss an infant. If they are well enough too anyway, a mother kiss is always allowed and a father(with exceptions if they have smoked recently). Still, how dare she kiss Seffie before you even do, she should have never!
I could not believe it as I reached my baby and tried to settle her. I knew nursing would be the only way in these instances and I am not comfortable doing that in front of her! I had to leave the living room, Kenneth. Miranda followed of course as she brought me up to one of the spare beds as were at her aunt's place for this, and Mary Vance gave Irene a talk about hygienic practices with children.
I swear if Seffie gets a cold, I will hunt her down and make her pay for it in some way, would it be wrong if a dirty nappy was found on her window sill?
Monday is howling for some reason, I have to go check on him.
We love you,
Rilla and Seffie,
Rilla finds Monday at the back door.
"Monday," She shushes him and opens the door for him. Susan came out of her room and Rilla mainly shrugged and grabbed her sweater, telling Susan that she would take care of whatever this was.
As Monday is suddenly howling at the moon, over and over again.
"Monday you're going to wake Seffie," she hushes him, but he ignores her, going for the garden, as he howls even more at the bush that Walter once helped plant.
Cold washes over Rilla, and she shivers.
"Monday, come inside please," she begs him.
Hades…
Hades was playing chess tonight she could feel it in her bones. Her brothers, and her love, everybody, husbands, sweethearts, sons, they were all in a game of chess.
Rilla can only shake her head and shuts the door, he can stay out there if he wants to, and of course,
She is still waiting…as news trickles through the papers. Courcelette, the battle of Somme, and the photos of the tanks, made her sick to her stomach.
Ken had to be discharged at this point? Was he there? Jem and Walter, Jerry as well where were they?
A letter comes, dated September 3rd. They must come faster depending on where they came from. She didn't think she had ever gotten a letter in less than fifteen days, though oddly enough there was another one that was addressed to Mrs. K Ford, with a return that looked like Ken's comrade in arms.
She opens that letter first, mostly out of curiosity, her brow furrowing slightly as she tries to decipher the script.
Mrs Kenneth Ford
Glen St Mary, PEI
Canada
Dear Kenneth's Little Wife
Have no fear your husband is the squarest Lieutenant we know and has no interest in any French woman we have ever come across. I hope you don't get angry at him for telling me about your friend. It's just such good comedy to hear about in a way. Young women can be the funniest things if you ask me, and your Mary Vance is definitely something else.
However, I have something to ask of you. Your man has a literal shrine to you and your little one, who is adorable by the way, but can you ask him to keep the baby talk to a lesser extent?
At the very least he doesn't need to show every one of the photos you send to strangers. Proud Papa I get, I am one as well but he takes it to a whole other level. I am not kidding though, he was delirious from being too close to a shell attack and even in the medical tent he was trying to show the nurses the photos in his cigarette case.
This is another thing altogether because he doesn't even smoke, but it is a good place for safekeeping, I may need to start coping with him!
Your Husband is a good man, a brave man, he saves many because of his diligence and keen eyes.
Congratulations on the baby though!
Lieutenant Beakers
Rilla Ford,
Ingleside, Morgan Rd
Glen St Mary, PEI
Canada
September 3rd
Rilla,
Dearest
I almost choked on my coffee with I read your latest letter. Sometimes I want to throttle Mary Vance, but at the same time, you write about her in a way that makes me glad she is around to put people in their place to stand up for you. Not that you can't do it for yourself, and I know you can when you wish to, but it's nice that she will do it for you as well.
Still, please rest assured as I said last August I take my vows seriously. I wanted to be a husband, I wanted to create and cherish memories that only belonged to my wife and me. I may be a man and miss you at night, but I never wish to disgrace your place in my heart. You gave me things that only you could give me and I will honour those gifts. The only children I will ever have will be by you sweetheart. I know a lot of bachelors don't care, but I do know that most married men love their wives enough to avoid or not seek out those temptations. Also, nothing is more embarrassing than having to go to the medical tent for
My arm is almost healed enough to go back, still sore at times but such things are minuscule in the light of war. The news filters through what is happening, I saw Walter not long ago, in a cross-section of regiments and battalions crossing paths in reserves and hospitals. He is, good, he was just bathing supplies.
He congratulated both of us and we talked until the nurses scared him away, brother-in-law or not visiting hours are visiting hours to them. He had such an aura around him, that reality didn't seem to frighten him at all. Your Hades doesn't seem to frighten him, and maybe that is a good thing, maybe one day we will all be together again when peace is achieved. Still, I can't help but…be restless.
I am restless to do my part, and not be some petted injured man. I am restless to come home to you and to see my child. I am restless as men come and go as I sit here as I wait to heal, many would welcome this, but it feels superficial at this point. At least Bleaker is with me, and our Captain and further major have also been around.
I think…I have a good shot at promotions one day, be a captain? Though, simultaneously, I see my captain go through hell every time we are in the trenches. A lieutenant is good enough for now I think, even for an ounce more safety that will bring me back to you one day.
I will end this here, the nurse is here to change my bandage and give kisses to Seffie for me. I love you both to the world's end and back.
Love Kenneth.
It's a cool September day, five days after Monday's late-night episode when Rilla notices the man coming up through the gate as she holds Seffie, bouncing lightly on her heels. A military official holding a black banded envelope.
Her world falls beneath her as she hides in the curtain.
No no, it's not possible. Ken said he was fine…Ken wasn't in combat just yet? Or maybe he was already?
The knock rings out, Father's footsteps go for it, and there is silence until she hears Mother cry. In a sharp, sad-sounding cry.
Not him, Not my baby,
It's not Ken…they would have asked for her. She gulps air trying to push aside that feeling of despair and she is still standing there in shock when Father opens the door of her room still holding the telegram.
He looks ashen and grey and hazel eyes glazed over and red.
"Who?" That is all she can manage.
She shouldn't feel this relieved knowing one of her brother's fate was told in that letter.
She crawled into bed with Mother who held her tightly and they both cried, and when Seffie cried for her, Father was the one who brought her to Rilla when she was hungry.
Walter, Walter was gone, taken from them it didn't seem real.
He would never see another sunrise or sunset, he would never meet his niece and see her grow and learn new things with each passing day. She imagines wholeheartedly the pain her parents feel now, she couldn't imagine losing Seffie in such a way, a cruel torture of never seeing their son again, to be buried in mud and poppies.
Courcelette is a place that will never not be a stab in her heart going forward.
Jem must be told, and if anything he might already know about his brother. They don't mention Ken, leaving that to her own accord what she wishes to do with such news. After all that they realize they must tell the twins and Shirley. Shirley was at school, courting his sweetheart, who was not far from home. Could one court in mourning? Truly court or seek out someone to court? The Twins, however, are at school, and Father decides to tell them in person.
She wears white for him to the memorial, with a black armband as she stands in between her Mother and Father, Seffie in her arms, quiet as a clam which is strange as she always vocalizes her discontent about church. Shirley and Clementine were there as well, she had never met Walter but came to pay her respects to her sweetheart's brother as a pillar of support Shirley looked pale and held her hand not caring about her saw. Nan and Di were on the other side of a parent, standing solemnly as they wiped tears away from their cheeks.
It was a small wish that he would remember her as she was before the war. Carefree and full of life, of course, white doesn't go well with her daily life as she narrowly catches spit up and whatever else that Seffie somehow manages to get on her, but for today for Walter, she would.
The Fords come to pay their respect, they look tired and grey, and more afraid than ever at the reality that loss was around them. Leslie cuddles Seffie whenever she can, and Owen looks at her softly.
"Ken will be all right," Rilla tells them, that this gut feeling is real to her and believable. "He has to come home."
"No one can promise that," Leslie tells her with a shake of her golden hair.