Anne named the baby after both her fathers, Matthew Walter. Marilla burst into tears when Anne proudly told her. "He'd be so proud. They both would be."

"I suppose it's somewhat unconventional to have two fathers, but there it is. So, I decided to honour each of them.

Clumsily Marilla took the baby in her arms and gazed lovingly down at him noticing his black eyes. "he's perfect, just perfect."

"I had no idea it would be this messy," Anne remarked to Marilla after her sheets were changed yet again. "I thought the worst was behind me."

Marilla frowned, "I'd have thought so too."

"It is dear, it is, but I agree this first week is particularly awful," interrupted Rachel as she walked in. "It will die down; you'll be pleased to know."

"Thank goodness," Marilla said as she picked up the sheets to launder. "Just as well or we'd run out."

"I'm sorry to be such a bother," Anne said close to tears.

"Goodness me, it's fine," Rachel said soothingly. "We've all been there. Well almost all of us," she added with a glance at Marilla.

There they go again, Marilla thought as she carried the latest batch of bloodied sheets away. Reminding me of the club I'll never join, will it never end?

"Here you go," Rachel said placing baby Matthew in Anne's arms. "You'll be wanting some lunch, little one," she added placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I do love them at this age, so fragile and gorgeous. He'll grow up into a young tearaway before you know it."

"God willing," commented Anne.

"Yes, yes, I agree, God willing."

Marilla noticed a rather subdued Davy and Dora over the breakfast table the next morning. "I was very proud of you two," she said. "You were out searching for hours."

"I nearly gave up, Marilla," Davy admitted, eyes cast down.

"But I wouldn't let him," Dora added. "I was so worried."

"I don't blame you, Davy," Marilla said patting him on the arm. He looked up hopefully. "You must have been getting quite desperate."

"Uh huh, Marilla," he nodded. "Everywhere we went the doctor had just left."

Dora agreed, "we followed him all around the island, it felt like."

"Well, I have to applaud your tenacity," Marilla said.

"Hear, hear," Rachel added, loading Davy's plate with another couple of pancakes. "You saved the day."

The twins knew in their hearts that Marilla loved them, but it was true to say that declarations of love and compliments were thin on the ground at Green Gables. The way their faces lit up when she did so made Marilla think she really ought to do it more often.

"Hard night, son?" Slumped in his chair Gilbert was too tired to think; an image of Anne in extremis floated behind his closed eyes. At his mother's query he nodded. "Rachel told me what you got up to, she was aghast, but I have to say I'm very proud of you. That can't have been easy."

Wearily he replied, "I had no choice; I had to help if I could. I'm learning all these stuff at university, what's the use of it if I don't try to put it into practice in an emergency."

"But you're still learning, son. No one expects you to take charge of a situation like that just yet."

"Hm."

"Off to bed with you then, you look exhausted."

But instead of bed Gilbert needed to talk, but not to her. He felt it wasn't the sort of subject a boy could discuss with his mother. Stumbling to his feet he sought out his father sitting out on the veranda.

"I saw her, Dad. I saw her, her her," unable to articulate the words he looked pointedly down. "Ah." His father said understanding dawning. "Yes, I see, yes."

"I've seen anatomical drawings in my textbooks but." Anguished, he stared at his father.

"Yes son. I know."

"It's so. So incredibly wondrous. Like nothing I've ever."

"Yes."

"But it wasn't, I mean I couldn't, I don't think I can. And what do I say to her now? I know and she knows I know."

"Hm," John sighed. "Yes, I see, that could be a bit awkward. I hope you can overcome it one day, if you want to." Gilbert cupped his head in his hands and fell silent.

As they got ready for bed that night the Blythes discussed their contrasting conversations. "Our son is growing up."

"That he is. He had a big night."

"So, I hear. Rachel told me he was magnificent though she was somewhat shocked."

"Rachel Lynde lives to be shocked."

Molly sniggered. "I agree with you there. Now it rather felt as though he wasn't prepared to divulge everything to me."

John turned over, "he said he found it uneasy to speak to you about such sensitive matters."

Molly snorted, "he does understand that I've been through it, doesn't he. We women are made of stern stuff."

"I suppose," John said slowly, thinking it through. "I suppose, it's one thing to know it and another to speak to your mother about it. He knows you have the er, anatomy, but he doesn't like to think about it."

Rolling her eyes Molly commented, "honestly you men, you're so sensitive, try living like this someday."

"Yes, well. He said it's all very well to read about such matters in textbooks but quite another to see it in living flesh."

"Particularly I guess, when you like the owner."

John blanched, "exactly."

Reaching out to caress her husband's shoulder Molly snuggled in close lifting her body to allow his arm to reach under her back. "Thank goodness, we can't create another one now," he said sleepily.

"But there's no harm in trying," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

Baby Matthew started fussing. Still bedbound on doctor's orders, Anne had to wait for Marilla to hand him over. With limited experience babywise, Marilla still felt wildly uncomfortable holding him in her arms, worried that she might drop him. Her voice betraying her concerns she placed him in Anne's waiting arms, saying, "there, there little one." Yanking her nightgown down, Anne placed the baby at her breast and waited until he found the nipple. By this stage the baby was screaming full bore and, in his distress, unable to find relief. Marilla looked on hopeless and turned around to search for a solution. "Rachel," Anne called out. "Rachel, I need you." Words that however true, cut straight to Marilla's heart.

Bustling in, Rachel leant over Anne's chest smushing the baby into Anne. Into the sudden silence, broken only by the sound of the baby swallowing, she remarked, "you must be quite rough sometimes. They need reminding that their sustenance is right there." Glancing up at Marilla she smiled, satisfied that she had been able to help. Sometimes, Marilla was a little bit haughty, and it felt good to be the expert for once.

Since the baby was now content Marilla picked up her knitting needles. Anne said, "now that I think on it, it must have been quite challenging when I turned up."

"Well."

"Not just the fact that I wasn't a boy. I don't mean that. But you'd never had children."

"Famously."

"No, but that's not what I mean. I mean looking at Matthew here, I get to enjoy him from the very start, but you had one child, and then two more, arrive semi-grown with personalities of their own. Can't have been easy to adjust."

The click of the needles stilled as Marilla struggled to keep focussed. "It was hard, at first. I mean Davy and Dora brought their own challenges of course, but yes, I'll agree adjusting to having a child about the place wasn't easy."

"It's not as though you were selfish, of course," Anne stroked Matthew's head as he suckled, the pull and pause causing her nipple to squeeze. The baby let out an audible fart, which Marilla politely ignored though Anne smiled.

"Well, it might have been, partly. I wasn't used to sharing my house with another person, besides your namesake, young man," Marilla said fondly. "I don't think I ever told you, but I hadn't really considered the 'boy' except as a concept. I'd only set up a cot by the stove for him. That's why I had to make the bed when you arrived. It didn't seem a fit place to put a girl. But in hindsight it was barely enough for any child, boy or girl. I really had no idea what I was getting into."

"I feel exactly the same way, you know. I'm completely out of my depth here. What do I know about bringing up a baby?" Marilla quirked her eyebrow. "Well, I might have experience feeding them bottles and changing diapers, but I'm clueless when it comes to older children, at least when it comes to giving them a good upbringing."

"God will show you the way, Anne. Though, if you want my advice," Marilla's voice dropped lower. "I wouldn't rely too heavily on Rachel."

Anne sniggered as Marilla spoke, understanding all too well what she meant, "Marilla!" she said in mock outrage. "She's the font of all wisdom with regards to children, don't you know."

"There's something about her advice that always makes me want to do the exact opposite."

"She's been very helpful lately," Anne replied loyally.

"Oh, I know. I shouldn't be churlish. She has been wonderful, and goodness knows I'm completely useless in that regard."

"Not useless," Anne said softly, her eyes reaching out while her hands were occupied.

"I know I haven't been able to do much."

"You're here. You're keeping me company. That's the most important thing you know. We can journey down this path together."

"Not really."

Gently Anne asked, "would you have liked to have children?"

Marilla pulled out her handkerchief to dab her eyes. "That was my plan, yes. But strangely enough I could never picture them. Rachel always used to imagine her brood. She wanted even more, you know, if you can imagine such a thing. We'd lie in the meadow, and she'd recite their names and their quirks, but my future children were a blank slate. Maybe that was God preparing me."

"You never imagined a redhead?" Marilla glanced across to see Anne smiling compassionately.

"No," she smiled back. "I never did."

Anne's words pacified Marilla, but there still existed a chasm between them, one that Marilla alone of all the Avonlea women had no hope of breaching for she had never, and would never, bear a child. Much as Anne might say that she, Marilla was important, there was the fact that Rachel possessed unlimited experience in bringing up babies. Each time Anne called out for her, Marilla felt slighted.

Gazing fondly at baby Matthew, Marilla felt a rush of love but also of sorrow that he'd never meet his father. On a whim she made her way to the parlour and pulling out a sheet of writing paper she penned a quick note to his other grandmother. Anne may not have agreed, but Marilla believed she deserved to know.