Somewhere in France
"Telegram for Lieutenant Ford!" Ken hears his name be called out at the reserve mess tent.
"Here," he says standing up, his heart beating fast and he takes the message.
22-05-1916
Baby arrived on the 22nd, a little girl. Looks like red hair, a few hiccups but Mama will pull through. Will send photos, and letter, no name yet—Rilla will write.
Dr. Blythe
"I'm a father!" He hollers, jumping in the air and all around him are cheers and high fives of congratulations from the liquor commune tent. "I have a daughter, god help me if she is half as beautiful as her mother."
Someone poured him a whiskey and thumped on his back.
"I'm a father, I have a daughter," he falls in disbelief beside the other lieutenants. Bleaker is included in the bunch of men.
"Welcome to the club of being terrified," Bleaker jokes slapping him on the back. "What else does it say?"
"Looks like red hair," Ken says rereading the telegram. "A few hiccups whatever that means," he adds brow furrowing.
"Most likely had a tough time," Bleaker tells him. "Maggie had a rough time with Alden, the doctor had to intervene, I can still hear her screams, it was worse than the medical tent after an attack. If her father says she'll pull through I am sure is fine. Childbirth, it's no feat I say you find her something shiny next time you're on leave so she'll forgive you one day when you're home again." Bleaker nudges him with a grin.
"That's what my dad said in his last letter," Ken says with a quiet sigh.
"Smart man," Bleaker says taking a drink.
"I suppose so, He didn't want me to marry her but I did so without his blessing," Ken admits.
"And he didn't cut you off?"
"Our families are old friends as I said and that night when the war broke out, I spent the evening dancing with her, enamoured at how she grew up overnight and next thing the news broke and all us men, her brothers as well got distracted. They didn't realize she was missing until they got home. When we found her…I'll just put it this way Bleak," Ken stops for a moment and takes a drink.
"Whenever we walk into a terrorized village and women are crying in a corner, or worse when they are just in shock or dead in their spots. I think of that night because I didn't think anyone could ever be that cruel, she was a young girl who laughed at everything and walked as if she was dancing all the time. I went back and forth for three weeks debating on marrying her. See her so afraid of everyone and things. But she trusted me, and maybe after this war, it could work if she trusted me. So I married her and left her with her family to heal some more, and grow up, neither of us expected to fall in love, but through letters and visits we did and when she asked, when she asked me to show her what it should have been like…I couldn't deny her. She's not even seventeen Bleak. A few hiccups, babies at seventeen, I'm over the moon, but I feel like I Should have at least tried to remember to curb such a thing. What if she died and then I died in this war? What of the baby then?"
"She didn't though, and you can't change things, so there I no point in drowning in a guilty conscience. I've seen her letters, She loves you as much as you love her, and that baby was at the very least born out of love." Bleaker reminds him
Ingleside-PEI
When she wakes up again she feels weak and she can barely understand her confused thoughts. She forces herself to sit up resting on her elbows and then her palms behind her. What had happened? She was already dizzy from the exertion that it took for her to rise from the bed.
"Don't," she hears from the doorway and Father is standing there. "Don't try to do too much just yet, you lost a lot of blood," He helps her recline slowly, checking her pulse afterward.
"Is she strong enough?" Her mother looks to her father.
"It's the best thing for her," he says nodding his head and she is confused for a moment but Aunt Leslie comes in holding the baby. The baby? How could she forget about the baby, they place the bundle in her arms. Reddish skin and downy coppery hair, with a perfectly formed little Romanesque nose and crinkled buttoned eyes—like her own. She doesn't expect them to open, they are dark and in the light of her window, they look deep blue, like most babies have when they are born.
"She has Ken's nose," Rilla says enamoured, tears pouring down her face. She traces the ridges of the little face, and cheeks, over her nose and lips. "What day is it? How long was I asleep for?"
"Only a few hours, it's evening time, she was born in the wee hours of the morning," Mother tells her. "We kept her company, oh look she can smell you," she says pointing to the rooting baby.
"Smell?"
"She's hungry," Mother explains. "Do you want to try and feed her yourself?"
Rilla can only nod her head, and Father ducks out of the room to let them have a moment,
Her mother explains and talks her through the same speech that Mrs. Blythe and Mrs. Lynde had given her years ago and as soon as the child is latched on to her she grits her teeth when she feels her stomach contract. Normal, how was this normal?
"What happened?" She found herself able to ask after her baby fell asleep and she felt as if she could talk and Father was back checking her over.
"Nothing important," Father says softly shaking his head. "Just enjoy your baby we can talk about it when you're on your feet."
"Kenneth?"
"We sent out a telegram this morning to him, letting him know," Mother tells her sweetly. "Though I suppose the question of the hour is what are you calling this little one?"
Rilla looks down at her daughter, brow furrowing at the uncertainty that came with naming infants.
"I don't know?" Rilla tells them honestly.
"It will come to you," Mother reassures her as Rilla yawns.
"Let's get you toast and tea in you before you rest again," Father tells her. "If you get another headache, let me know as well, it will take a week or two before it returns to normal."
Rilla can only nod her head and when her dinner is brought up she finds herself suddenly famished. Someone takes the baby for her and she eats with relish before sighing at her full stomach asking for her baby back and cuddling her in her arms.
"I don't think I can sleep when she's here in my arms," Rilla tells her mother after her tea. "Can I at least wash?" Rilla asks, still feeling the sweat of labour on her. Mother looks at Father who after a moment nods his head.
It takes a few minutes, Mother draws a shallow bath and sprinkles Epsom salts into it before coming for her. Father turns his back as Mother helps her stand up on shaky legs, keeping the towels snuggly between her thighs. She glances back at the bed…shocked at the amount of blood on her bed.
"It's normal," Mother whispers as Rilla feels her body shake. "Gil, can you help?"
Father turns nodding and moves to carefully pick her up, hands going around her father's neck, and his arms under her knees.
He lowers down on the toilet and moves to let Mother take over, stripping her waist down, but leaving the old nightgown on. She carefully steps into the bathtub and lowers herself into the shallow water. Hissing at the warm water hitting delicate areas still recovering from the birth, she sits in the water for twenty minutes before she removes her chemise and washes with the warm water that Mother pours over her.
Afterwards, Mother helps her stand, and dry off, before putting on a fresh flannel cloth and nightgown and as they get her back into a fresh bed of new towels her baby is mewling in her bassinet.
"Let's try and see if she'll nurse and then you can both have a rest?" Mother reaches for the baby and hands her to Rilla. Going through the same steps and explanations as the first time to get the little one to latch.
"I need to write Ken," Rilla realizes she still hasn't written it down in a letter yet.
"You can write to him later Rilla, give yourself a small break and rest," Mother says shaking her head.
"Please, it won't take me long," Rilla pleads and Mother sighs and hands her over a lap tray and her stationery.
"Thirty minutes, and then I coming back to make sure you are resting," Mother tells her.
May-1916
"You have a daughter, Kenneth, she is asleep next to me. I should be sleeping as well but I need to get this letter out to you as soon as possible.
The whole thing is an ordeal, but truly she is worth even a minute and an ounce of excruciating pain. The idea that how one comes to be with a child, vs how the child is born was truly thought of by a man. Truly, I mean that I don't care if I am cursing God by saying so.
Father delivered her, at first I was nervous about it, but in the end, I didn't care. I just wanted it to stop. They call it a ring a fire, and fire is barely the word for it, she was holding her cord in her hands when she was laid on my chest.
It's all a blur, really, it's all a blur in my head even after everything but I have a clear moment of when she was born. She was the oddest-looking thing I had ever seen, covered in things I will never repeat. She had your nose though, and a splattering of what looks to be reddish hair so far. It's strangely more blonde than I thought possible.
She is asleep, her letter half-written when her mother comes back to check on her. She doesn't see her Mother shake her head or feel her move the tray and letter and tuck her in once again.
She wakes up to crying, and she reaches out wincing at the pressure of her lower region as she does. She lifted the swaddled babe from the bassinet, remembering her mother's instructions in the low light of the light that was still on.
It was like this all night, up and down at the first sound of discontent. Her mother comes in occasionally to help change either one of the flannels. Father once checked to make sure she had no temperature or hypertension.
In the morning she was basking in the morning sunlight. The baby with her as she stares at the baby unsure how she was mother to this squiggly, squished pink-skinned piglet laying on her chest. Skin to skin in the dew of the morning, she smelled like something she never smelt before, and all the crinkles and rolls of a newborn slowly burned into her mind.
Susan brings up breakfast and changes the baby for her as she eats, and Mother comes afterwards, with more clean flannels, towels, and a jar of potpourri to keep the room smelling fresh. She has another shallow bath, Father carrying her down the hall once more when she struggled to make it to her door, turning the colour of a piece of paper.
She tucked back into bed, freshly made up and hair braided with her baby as her sisters finally decided to look in on her for the first time. They knock gently, and their faces show the trepidation of not knowing what to expect to see.
"Dad told us we can say hello, but not keep you for too long," Nan says coming in.
Rilla nods her head and turns the bassinet towards them and they both crowd around in awe, as they look at their niece.
"Whatever are you going to call her?" Di asks.
"I am not sure yet," Rilla says with a sigh. "I will figure it out, run through what Ken said he liked, and what I liked and see if any suit her. Father has the rest of the birth certificate made out for now."
"She looks too tiny, but yet so big to have been inside of you," Nan says in disbelief as she holds her niece.
"Nan said when you were in labour she is rethinking the whole handful of children thing that Jerry said he wanted," Di teases Nan and grins at Rilla.
"I highly suggest that," Rilla agrees. "I feel like I have been run over by a horse, I highly do not recommend childbirth to anyone."
"You did give Dad quite a scare, there was so much blood Rilla…" Nan whispers. "I thought you were going to—," She couldn't finish the sentence.
"I didn't…I didn't live through Hades, to be brought down by my child," Rilla says after a moment.
Both older girls nod their heads solemnly, as the baby stares at them with wide eyes, vocalizing with a high-pitched sentiment at her Aunts that she was being neglected.
"Oh, she is totally your daughter," Nan laughs. "Already begging for attention," she coos at the little one.
"Dad wants to remind you to not overload Rilla," Shirley says from the doorway holding a pitcher of water for Rilla for her room.
"Do you want to hold her?" Rilla asks head tilting. "She needs to meet one of her uncles?"
Shirley thinks quietly for a moment before admitting. "I don't think I held a baby before?" The twins laugh and beckon him over. In a moment Nan transfers the bundle to him as he sits down in the rocking chair.
"It seems fairly unbelievable that she was, well to be indelicate. Inside of you?" Shirley says after a moment.
"Miracle of life, even more considering how they come to about," Di says with a grin, while Nan swats at her twin, and Rilla chokes on an awkward laugh and yawns at the same time.
"I thought I told you three to let your sister rest?" Father says announcing his presence.
"We are just talking," Nan objects.
"And here your sister is getting paler by the moment," Father remarks and they all look at her, worry on their faces, and a touch of guilt when they realize that their father is right.
She awakens in the afternoon, sounds of the Fords below in the living room and the mewling cries of her daughter. She reaches to settle her and not a moment after she does she hears footsteps on the stairs and Aunt Leslie is in the doorway, Uncle Owen following close behind her.
"How are you doing dear?" Aunt Leslie asks.
"Sore, drained and tired," Rilla tells her truthfully and Aunt Leslie nods her head knowingly.
"Well, she is precious," her mother-in-law gushes as she peers into the bassinet. "She reminds me of Ken of course in certain ways."
"Does she?" Rilla asks, not knowing what Ken looked like at all as an infant of course.
"I have a few photos somewhere. I'll have to dig them out next time for you so we can compare." Leslie tells her reaching to pick up her granddaughter. "A good weight on her as well."
"She's eight pounds," Rilla says from her spot on the bed, watching her father-in-law stand in the doorway. The window was open to let in the fresh air of the afternoon, but still, the room smelt like a tinge of earthy copper and baby powder.
"She looks a little bit like Persis," Owen says after a moment. "I think it's the hair mainly."
"I never would have imagined Ken would pass it on. Though it might change over time it is hard to say." Leslie says.
"You can hold her as well you know," Rilla says to her father-in-law.
"Only if I am not disturbing the young mother," he says looking at Rilla.
"You're her grandfather, I just woke from a nap I have enough in me to make it two hours before tiring," Rilla tells them as you could hear Persis's laugh filter up the stairs and within a moment she was fresh-faced in the doorway.
"Oh, I brought you this!" She says handing over a small gift to Rilla who is confused but opens it with curiosity to find a small lacy bonnet and booties with pink ribbons and embroidery on them.
"It is lovely thank you," Rilla says breathlessly and lets Persis hug her gently.
"I am so glad it is a girl," Persis says brightly, before setting up her brownie to take a photo of her father holding the baby.
"One for Ken as well," Persis says instructing someone to pass the baby to Rilla.
"I look a mess," Rilla objects but every shush her and she settles her baby into her arms and cuddles her.
Tired, pale, and messy hair, but the sweetest smile on her face as she gazes at her baby. She can stare at her forever, and she does. Every waking moment she spent gazing, enamoured by the baby that had grown inside of her for nine months.
She doesn't know why she chooses it, or even the time when she decides on the only name that makes sense to her, but the sun is slowly rising.
"Persephone, the light in the middle of darkness that Hades cast on his world. Maybe your daddy was right about the name even if he was joking." Rilla whispers to her. "My Persephone Beryl Ford, you'll have your photo taken today for Daddy and you'll have to look your best for it." She whispers, kissing the downy head.
