It's a Man's World
The swish swish of the windscreen wipers provided a counterbalance to the steady thrum of rain on the roof, but otherwise the car was silent as Marilla drove homewards. With a clatter and a final groan, the car glided to a halt. She turned the key and pressed the gas repeatedly but it was no use the engine was dead.
She didn't fancy sloshing her way home through the pouring rain, but the car wasn't going anywhere. She could sit it out she supposed but who knew how long she'd be waiting in the increasingly chilly car. She had just about resigned herself to opening the car door; knowing that she'd be cold and wet mere seconds later when the lights of another car played across her dashboard. She waited for a moment then looked up at a knock on her window. Who should it be but John Blythe? Inwardly sighing she cracked open the window. "Need a hand?" he offered politely holding an umbrella over the door.
John bloody Blythe. Of all the knights to rescue her in her distress it had to be him. Cursing the creator Marilla sighed then smiled up at him, "I suppose so, thank you."
Marilla sat in his car for a few moments collecting herself. It was warm and she reached out her hands to the heating vent to defrost her fingers. Realising that she was being ungracious Marilla turned her head to him aware of the water running down his rain slicked hair. "You're soaked," she said quietly.
John brushed the water out of his eyes and grinned at her, "it's small price to pay for an act of mercy," he said bowing his head towards her. A car flashed by sending a spray of water over the windscreen obliterating the view momentarily until the windscreen wipers did their job.
"Bad time to break down," John said simply.
"It's been giving me some problems for a while," Marilla said. "But I hoped it might last a wee bit longer."
"Do they think it's repairable?"
"Matthew says he's done all he can for it. I think it's time to buy something new or newer at least."
"Matthew was always handy," John said admiringly.
"Mm," agreed Marilla. "If he says it's had it, it's probably done for. I'm sorry I was a bit churlish back there, you really did save me. I am very grateful. I wasn't sure what I was going to do."
"Always delighted to help an old friend," John said graciously.
Marilla was quiet for a moment. "Are we still, that is to say do you still consider me a friend, John?"
"Of course. We may have had our differences, Mar but after all this time I think we can let bygones be bygones. You're happy enough, now aren't you?"
"Oh yes, I am. We are very happy."
"It's funny."
"Mm?"
"You and Rachel. Just never saw it coming. Glad for you both though."
"Thank you. You don't think…?"
John glanced across at her wiping a stray trickle of water from the tip of his nose then placing his hand back on the steering wheel, "think it's a sin? Nah, you're both adults. If it makes you joyful what business is it of mine? There's enough sadness in the world as it is."
Marilla placed her hand on his forearm momentarily overcome with emotion; even after all this time they didn't get much support from their neighbours, "thank you for saying that John. It means a great deal."
"S'nothing."
"No," Marilla sniffed. "No, it means a lot."
"So, the kids," John abruptly changed the subject.
"What? Oh yes, they sound ecstatic."
"Going better than us by any account," John said with another glance across at her.
"Yes, they seem to be," Marilla replied a trifle wistfully.
"Regrets?"
"Not now, not after all this time. But back then I was I admit. Were you?"
"Yeah, I guess. Yeah, I was. I suppose we shoulda worked harder at it, at us."
"But then there'd be no Gilbert which would make Anne sad and Rachel would have no one. I think it all worked out for the best after all," said Marilla musing.
John swung the car along the Green Gables driveway sending a small wave up through the puddles, "you alright to get out through this?" he said peering up at the torrential rain. "Don't think I can get much closer."
"Yes, I'll be fine, and I can get changed as soon as I get in. Might even treat myself to a shower," Marilla replied. "Thank you for the lift, consider it your good deed for the day."
John tipped his imaginary hat to her and watched as she got out of the car and quickly shut the door after her to save his car upholstery.
Despite her best efforts Marilla was soaked through the moment she alighted so she turned and watched him drive away giving a short wave of thanks as he looked across the hood at her.
The shower cascaded down, the hot water thawing her frozen limbs. Later sitting in a dressing gown, her damp hair tied up in a towel she thought about her life. Funny how things turned out. At the time she thought her life had come to an end when John Blythe left her, how very wrong she had been.
A red pickup truck caught Marilla's eye in the Chevrolet sale lot. She needed something that could manage the back roads in all weathers. Wandering around she opened the door and peered inside. She had been there for some time before a salesman wandered over and introduced himself, "we have a lovely little sedan over there madam," he said pointing.
"No, I need something with a bit more grunt than a sedan," replied Marilla still peering inside the cabin. "Can you pop the hood for me. I'd like to look at the engine."
"The Impala is very popular with grandmothers," the salesman, M. Petit tried again. "Plenty of room for the grandchildren." He thought he knew Marilla's type, he was wrong.
"Look," said Marilla impatiently turning to look at the man. "I need something that can cope with country life. I'm not interested in a sedan I live on a farm. Now can you show me the engine, please?"
Sighing heavily M. Petit reluctantly opened the hood for her fully expecting she would have no comprehension of what she would see so he was stunned when Marilla started grilling him on the workings of the engine and what she could expect from its performance. Eventually, satisfied that it would meet her expectations, unlike some cars she had already seen Marilla started talking prices. Yet again the salesman was bested and eventually they agreed upon a price which Marilla was happy with, even if he was not. "Do you offer finance?" Marilla asked in the end.
"Mrsss Cuthbert," M. Petit accentuated the sibilant s's, to make her know her place. "You must know we cannot lend money to a woman as we need a man to act as surety in case they abscond."
Marilla glared at M. Petit in his cheap powder blue suit and wide orange tie. "No use looking like that Mrs Cuthbert, just come back with your husband."
"And if I'm not married? I don't believe it's illegal for a woman not to marry is it now?" Marilla replied waspishly.
The salesman pressed his fingertips together and smiled at her condescendingly but refused to budge. Marilla was so angry she contemplated not buying a car at all, but she wanted and more to the point needed one.
Shopping around was useless as all the car dealerships on the island gave her the same story. No finance without a man's support. Eventually, reluctantly, Matthew drove her to the least officious showroom and signed the papers on her behalf. Wisely he never mentioned it again.
"Anne," Matthew said over the dinner table one night when she came for dinner bringing her usual ebullience with her.
"Yes," replied Anne as she picked up her chicken leg.
"I have something I need to tell you."
"Oh?" said Anne, looking at them all in turn. "Is anything the matter?"
"No, not the matter exactly," Matthew explained carefully. "Just something we think you need to know. It was a long time ago," he began. "Rachel came up to the house for a visit one day. Our parents were still alive, but Marilla was out visiting. Rachel was upset, weren't you?" Matthew said looking across at her.
"I was," she nodded her eye glistening with an unexpected tear at the memory.
Anne looked at Matthew, chicken leg dangling forgotten in her hand, "what are you saying? Why are you telling me this?"
"Anne, I am Lucy Lynde's father," said Matthew flatly. "She was conceived…"
"No! No don't tell me where she was conceived. I don't want to know, urgh," Anne stood up, her chair squeaking noisily against the floor as it was shoved backwards. "You disgust me! How could you? Rachel was married at the time," she rushed out of the room.
"I'll go," suggested Marilla as she got to her feet. "Anne?" she knocked at the door of Anne's childhood room.
"G'way," Anne sobbed.
"Anne, talk to me. I know how you feel. Remember that time you found me crashed into the snowbank, that was the night I found out."
The door opened a crack and Marilla took it as an invitation to enter.
"You overreacted somewhat then?" Anne said with a smile.
"I did," admitted Marilla as she made her way over to Anne's bed and sat down on the bedspread. "I was jealous."
"I feel a bit that way myself. I thought I was his only daughter."
"The thing about it is this Anne. Love is not finite. His love for Lucy can in no way effect his love for you. You can love more than one child."
Anne snuggled into Marilla's side, "that's true I guess," she conceded.
"I was upset because I thought Rachel was unfaithful to me, but on reflection of course I realised I wasn't even in a relationship with her at the time. She was unfaithful to Thomas of course, but it's not like I cared about that. He was um… not a nice man."
"Is Matthew angry with me?" Anne asked.
"Not at all. He just hopes you will forgive him. Do you think you can?"
"I guess so, it's a shock that's all. I never really thought of him in that way, with a woman."
"Mm, I know what you mean. He never seemed the type somehow. In a way," added Marilla musing. "It makes me happy to know he did have one fling in his life." She raised her eyebrows at Anne.
"Mm," Anne agreed.
"Do you feel ready to come back down?"
"Just give me a moment or two, alright?"
"Of course, we'll be down there waiting for you," Marilla got to her feet and looked back at Anne when she reached the door. "Think of it this way, now you have a sister."
"Oh," said Anne wonderingly. "I hadn't thought of that. I always did like Lucy," she smiled.
"Oooh," squealed Marilla over the telephone as Rachel and Matthew looked up in shock. It took a lot to get Marilla so excited. She cupped the receiver with her hand and mouthed, "they're engaged" at them. "Details darling, tell me more."
Grinning from ear to ear she eventually sat back down at the table and sipped her wine before continuing. "Gilbert proposed over dinner and Anne accepted. They want to get married here in the garden."
"When?" Rachel asked, already starting to make plans in her head.
"September, just before school goes back, she said. They'll be coming over for dinner on Saturday to discuss it."
"Class was interesting today," Rachel said that night. "We looked into the reasons women stay with their abusive husbands. It was a bit uncomfortable because of course some people were asking how foolish women could be, and well you know…" Marilla patted her hand. "At lunch Juliet was discussing it. I had to keep quiet, but she thought women who stayed had to be crazy or stupid or both. Then in the afternoon we looked at different forms of abuse, it's not all physical. Ever hear of gaslighting?"
"No."
"I reckon that French chap you went out with John Thumb gaslit you. He sounded like a textbook case. They make out their cruelty is your fault."
"So, in a way we've both been subject to abuse?"
"Yes, I guess that's true," Rachel laughed sardonically.
"It makes me a bit sad," Rachel said later.
"What does?" asked Marilla laying down her magazine.
"Their getting married. I mean I'd love to marry you if it were legal."
"Ah, yes," agreed Marilla as she hugged Rachel close. "I see what you mean," she sighed deeply. "At least we're not living in fear of being locked up and I suppose we're lucky it probably wouldn't change anything anyway. My commitment to you is secure."
"Yes, that's true, but still, I'd just like to have it on paper, so the world knows we're serious about each other."
"Serious," smirked Marilla. "I'm seriously in love with you, that much I know and nothing else matters really." She picked up her magazine again and continued reading an article with interest. "Mm," she murmured after a few minutes.
"Hm?" Rachel said.
"Oh, it's just this article is talking about female sexuality; apparently the clitoris is more sensitive than the tip of the penis."
"So?" Rachel wasn't much interested in penises.
"Well my darling," Marilla explained as she caressed Rachel's inner thigh. "It means that we have more fun than any man could. It means," her fingers caressed deeper, "that you're enjoying better sex than that bastard who abused you ever did." Her magazine dropped to the floor unnoticed as Rachel's legs parted in anticipation. "That's a delicious thought," panted Rachel before she was swept away.
A big storm was brewing and traffic snarls meant that Rachel was home later than usual. Rain came down horizontally in the stiff wind, Matthew was out in the fields bringing in the cows and Marilla could hear the window shutters banging incessantly. Putting her raincoat on and pulling on her boots she dashed out into the looming storm. The clouds had a strange green tone to them, the sort that announced the weather would soon deteriorate. Marilla rushed around securing the shutters barely noticing the violently shaking tree branches. She had nearly got them all closed and was just securing the last one under the old oak tree by the back of the house. With a loud crack a branch came away from the trunk, Marilla fervently hoped it would miss the house, which in the end it did. But a minor though still large limb broke away from the rest and landed a glancing blow on the back of her head.