Anne Shirley Blythe-I am glad you enjoyed Bleaker! And I couldn't help but laugh about them being on painkillers, I am sure some of the letters are from being high haha, but also I think Bleaker just has no filter haha.
Hope you enjoy this one as well!
**This chapter contains parts from the actual writing of Walter's letters and is not my writing, but LMM, the bold writing is however the added additions that made the letter fit into this story.
October 5rd 1916
Ken,
I hope you are safe, you're parents are here visiting. I am not sure if you heard or not, I doubt it but…but we lost Walter at the Somme. There…I said it, I wrote. I have tried for over a week and I couldn't get it out.
Ingleside is in mourning, of course, everyone is solemn and Mother hasn't left her bed most days.
It's strange to think Seffie will never know him now, that he will never be Uncle Walter.
I have never been more afraid than that day that telegram arrived. One day I was laughing over Bleaker's letter to me, and praying that you were safe.
I spend my days in a daze, I need to be strong for Walter and in all actuality, Seffie makes it hard to grieve without thought. She demands me things and I have to see them.
The Reds came to pay their respects of course, though apparently Irene Howard went off saying that my wearing white for Walter is a disgrace and uncaring to his memory. I wore white to honour Walter's memory because I rarely wear white and I wanted to be the sister before the war…before the dance and those men. I wanted to be innocent for him once more even just in memories and beyond for him.
It still doesn't seem real, maybe it will never seem real in the sense that the past three years barely seem real at times. The only thing that reminds me that they are my dreams, and Seffie herself.
I love you, stay warm and safe.
Always your wife Rilla
"Is there anything you want for the summer house?" Owen Ford asks and she looks at him in confusion, they were still here three weeks since the news about Walter. It was beginning to feel natural and comforting to have them here.
"I don't understand?" Rilla answers him looking up from her pile of sewing that was little gowns that were short these days with Seffie being five months old and starting to roll about on the floor and from the looks of it begin to creep around as well. Next to the short gowns she also now had a handful of little leggings to keep Seffie warm as the fall weather crept upon them. If you looked at her days, the Red Cross sewing was for the afternoons, and home sewing was for the morning, because while Mother was still upstairs grieving and mourning. Rilla had an infant to care for and other things and the Fords to entertain.
The Reds had come to pay their respects as well, hugging Rilla as she stood there bravely next to her parents during the makeshift memorial. As days passed she fell back into old routines as the hollow in her heart mourned for her lost brother. Leslie, Father and herself took turns sitting with Mother.
"There are a few repairs I need down and since the house is yours and Ken's I thought I would ask you if you had any ideas for it. New wallpaper, or paint colour?"
"I never thought of it," Rilla says honestly laying down her need and biting off the thread.
"Well, browse the Eatons catalogue with Leslie if you wish to, I plan to bring electricity to it and get it wired if I can. I am not sure if it's possible with the war but if I can I want to bring it to the 20th century," Owen explains further as he peers into the basket where Seffie was kicking up feet and arms, waking up from her nap. "May I?"
"Of course," Rilla nods and watches him pick her up and settle her on his shoulder. Blushing at her own memories of that house and how they lead to that baby on his shoulder. He definitely did not need to know about those hours at the old house of dreams. She had carefully made up the bed before they left with a wistful mourning look. No, there is no way they could ever possibly know such things.
Her father-in-law was rather at home with an infant more so than she had thought he might be.
"She seems to like you," Rilla tells him. "She is not always good with strangers these days, though it might have been the sniffles she had as well the other week," she concludes.
"Well if there is one thing I know, all babies love their mother the most," Owen chuckles coming forward with her to pass her. "I believe she thinks it is lunchtime, I will go ask Susan for some fresh tea and be back."
Rilla nodded smiling, he always gave her privacy in such moments the gentleman that he was. Though where Shirley often grimaced and jokingly groaned about seeing her nurse about the house when he was around because what brother wants to see such things, Owen just made himself scarce.
"Mail is here," Father says coming into the room, glancing at her briefly before handing her a few letters and holding one back. "It's…from Walter," he says with a deep breath.
Rilla looks up at him with wide eyes and nods her head slowly.
"I'll read it later," She tells him softly. "Thank you."
Rilla Ford
Ingleside, Morgan Rd
Glen St Mary, PEI
Canada.
September 14th 1916
Rilla-my-Rilla
"We're going over the top tomorrow, Rilla-my-Rilla, I wrote Mother and Di yesterday, but somehow I feel as if I must write you tonight. I hadn't intended to do any writing tonight—but I've got to. Do you remember old Mrs. Tom Crawford over-harbour, who was always saying that it was 'laid on her' to do such and such a thing? Well, that is just how I feel. It's 'laid on me' to write you tonight—you, sister and chum of mine. There are some things I want to say before—well, before tomorrow.
Rilla sighs, reading over Walter's recount of missing home and how he can see her and Ingleside so clearly. The moonlight stays the same despite the war, unshattered and clear for a white night. Going on about his piper of premonitions and queer visions.
"Rilla, the Piper will pipe me 'west' tomorrow. I feel sure of this. And Rilla, I'm not afraid. When you hear the news, remember that. I've won my own freedom here—freedom from all fear. I shall never be afraid of anything again—not of death—nor of life, if after all, I am to go on living. And life, I think, would be the harder of the two to face—for it could never be beautiful for me again. There would always be such horrible things to remember—things that would make life ugly and painful always for me. I could never forget them. But whether it's life or death, I'm not afraid, Rilla-my-Rilla, and I am not sorry that I came. I can't be afraid, not with being selfish with my demons, nor can I when I have seen you overcome more than any man here. You have fought your own war, many times over since that night. What do you call your own Piper, Hades himself? You named your daughter Persephone a goddess that brought up the turning of the seasons, and new life, despite yourself being Persephone yourself in many ways.
"Is there laughter in your face yet, Rilla? I hope so. The world will need laughter and courage more than ever in the years that will come next. I don't want to preach—this isn't any time for it. But I just want to say something that may help you over the worst when you hear that I've gone 'west.' I've a premonition about you, Rilla, as well as about myself. I think Ken will go back to you—and that there are long years of happiness for you by-and-by. My only regret is that Seffie will never know me more than anything beyond stories. Tell her about me Rilla, tell all your children about me, and show them my photo and tell them about all the sacrifices and let it not be in vain. I am sure Ken will never forget, but it will be on you as well to keep it alive.
This will be part of your work, Rilla. And if you—all you girls back in the homeland—do it, then we who don't come back will know that you have not 'broken faith' with us.
Tomorrow, when we go over the top—I'll think of you both—of your laughter, Rilla-my-Rilla, keep faith—I'm sure of that—and so—goodnight. We go over the top at dawn.
Walter
October 20th 1916
Rilla
I miss him, and I think you may be the only person who understands how much I miss him Rilla, as a sister and confidant of secrets, I mean you had your own with him as well, I can't believe he's gone.
My teachers are sympathetic, but if they were truly sympathetic to everyone no one would hand in their work on time, or come to class.
Walter's last letter came to me the other day, I'm sure yours will be shortly as well. I cried and lay in bed all morning. You will be stronger I am sure. You are so much stronger than I am. I skipped class not caring.
It's not fair that Walter was taken from us, truly he was the most honourable man and handsome. Now he will never get married or have children of his own. He isn't even buried in the family plot, next to Joy.
I know life is never fair, it wasn't fair to you, and know it wasn't fair to Walter.
I don't know why I am writing this, but I think you will understand my grief the most. Tell Seffie about it for us.
Don't let his sacrifice be in vain.
Love Di
"I have something for you if you want to try it, I had the housekeeper send it along as we were here and I ordered it before we left. ," Persis says holding up a bag while standing in the doorway as Rilla was putting Seffie down for an afternoon nap Walter's letter was still on her nightstand. Late October, it was almost November at this point. "It should be long enough for you, though you may have to wait until spring to wear it at this point given the weather.
"You didn't have to," Rilla starts but stops when Persis pulls out a delicate ivory lawn. One that is sprigged with delicate, but substantial-sized red roses and greenery, with a yellow silk slip underneath. Lace in the front, with ruffles around the princess seams over the armholes, over the shoulders, while the sleeves were layers of ruffles at the elbow hem.
"Ken told me to buy you something pretty for him," Persis says shrugging. "I'm sure you can adjust the bodice for nursing, the seamstress said it would be easy enough, and then you can close it off later one.
Rilla tries it on having Persis help with the hooks and snaps, before tying the ruffled belt back in a rather large bow. The skirt had vertical ruffle U shapes going around the width of the skirt that matched the bodice and belt.
"I really should tell Ken to stop wasting his money buying me things like this," Rilla tells her. "I mean I have plenty of dresses, and he can't even see them."
"That is what photographs are for, and it makes him happy to surprise you with such things," Persis tells her. "We definitely need just a teensy hem, it's a tad long even for you."
"We can do that later on the machine," Rilla tells her. "Maybe I can wear it to the fundraiser this week with the Reds, with an armband of course. It's not to cold yet?" She hums to herself.
"Shall we show our mothers?" Persis asks her and Rilla nods her head. They find both women in her parent's room and Leslie compliments her and nudges Persis out of the room to give the other mother and daughter.
"I used to make a fuss about the length of your skirts, and now they are shorter than ever," Mother says quietly. "But Persis has lovely taste in dresses."
"The skirts are fuller though," Rilla reminds her. "Though I think I understand you wanting to keep us children these days. Seffie's gowns are getting shorter and shorter and I just want her to stop growing somedays. It doesn't seem fair that Ken isn't here to see it all."
"It was more than that," Mother says after a moment. "I didn't have a chance to be a child until I almost wasn't one, Marilla kept lengthening my skirts as I got taller and the more I mourned my childhood that I never got. I wanted you to be carefree and girlish for as long as you let me let you be."
Rilla frowns, hazy flashes make her flinch in her skin and she sees her mother catch on and grimace.
"It's a very lovely dress though, Persis has good taste as I had said," Mother concludes reaching out to grasp her one hand. "Have you heard from Ken since…"
Rilla only shakes her head. "I'm sure something will come soon enough. No news is good news these days."
"True," Anne says quietly, looking towards the photo of Walter.
By the end of the day, Rilla sank into the bathtub after Seffie had her bath in the kitchen sink. She was beginning to enjoy splashing about in the water at five months old. Relishing in the warm water, hair pinned up as it wasn't wash day. But for now, she could just sit and cry if she wanted to, and cry over everything from the war, Walter, and Hades. She crawled into the bed under her warm quilt after Seffie had her late night fill from her and looked at the photos on her bedside table. She silently said goodnight to her brother and blew a small kiss to Ken before curling up on her side and hugging her pillow.
Rilla woke up with a start as she gasped in horror at the clock and felt the tightness of her chest. When did Seffie sleep through the night? When did she sleep through the night? She reaches for Seffie in a panic, who is startled awake and lets Rilla know she isn't happy about it either.
But was willing enough to take the offered breakfast and latched on quickly. She goes through one side, before switching to the other and Rilla sighs in relief but as chubby hands knead into her flesh she yelps and looks down, examining herself more carefully. It still hurts when Seffie deems herself finished.
"Mom?" She goes knocking on her parent's door, Father answers it, suspenders not even up over his shoulders, and shirt half-buttoned.
"What's wrong?" He asks seeing her in her nightgown and hair still in its braid, eyes running over her body for anything hurt, being the doctor he is.
"Mom first," she says waving him off and Mother looks up from her breakfast in bed and beckons her over. Rilla goes to her and shyly pulls at the neckline of her nightgown showing her the painful bump under her skin, just above the dark pink-coloured flesh.
Mother touches it gingerly and Rilla hisses and when they both look up Father is standing there ready to be a doctor and Mother waves him off telling him she got this.
"Warm compress off and massage it, try to move it along while nursing. Sometimes, when it's stubborn you can stand over a sink and try to express it with a bit of pressure; if you notice a plug, you can try to pull it out yourself to get relief. Sadly the easiest way to deal with such things isn't available to you as he isn't here," Mother says laughing softly for the first time in a long before sobering.
"Do I want to know?" Rilla asks covering herself up.
"Sometimes if a clog is particularly stubborn and the infant isn't strong enough to clear it for you, a husband can," Mother says wickedly tired despite her tired mournful appearance and Rilla looks up horrified.
"Anne really...?" Father shakes his head at his wife. "If you begin to feel feverish come to me immediately," Father tells her gruffly not wanting to hear that sort of talk between mother and daughter, about his daughter.
Rilla can only nod her head, and she goes about her day with the given suggestions to help her along. Father hovers over when he's at home and she can't help but roll her eyes, at the same time she grimaces every time a nursing session doesn't resolve her issue. Leslie tries to offer her advice, but it is the same as what Mother told her that morning, but it adds nothing but sympathy to the young mother's plight. Every mother goes through this and it will work itself out, just patience. Owen once realizing it wasn't a day for conversations, goes out to do work on the house taking Persis with him.
She resorts to digging out the pump that Father had in his office after sterilizing it for her the other week after she had used it for another reason.
"Will you let me look at it now?" Father says from the doorway, "I'm sure the women of the house are well above me in their knowledge especially your mother, but I am still a doctor," he reminds her.
Rilla sighs. "If you must," she tells him and adjusts her blouse, holding her hand over herself to cover her nipple for some sort of modesty. He assessed the issue while frowning slightly when he felt around the redness.
"Take a bath, hot as you can while using the pump, keep a cloth on it. She didn't wake up last night did she, though come to think of it, neither did you for once," Father notes that he still keeps track of her sleeping habits.
"We both slept through the night, it was jarring to wake up as I did. I thought the worst until I saw her breathing." Rilla says quietly.
"That's good for both of you though, it means she's growing and hitting her milestones and for you, it means you have finally felt safe enough to sleep without interruption." Father reminds her. "Your body will adjust to her not nursing during the night and hopefully you won't have to deal with more clogs or caked milk issues."
Rilla nods and pulls up her blouse. "Let hope not," she laughs a little. "I feel like I just managed to get used to nursing and the routine and smell of lanolin."
"It's a journey, just remember if you feel feverish to come to me immediately." Father reminds her. "I should go check on your Mother now though."
She watches him change back into a grieving father, and worried husband rather than a doctor.