Oleander Days - Tinalouise88 - Anne of Green Gables (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Spring 1939

Mrs. Marilla—Rilla Ford nee Blythe often woke well before her children. Creeping through the halls she saw pieces of the past every morning as she swept through her house. In her mind, the memories of first steps, first words, loose teeth and skinned knees were all fresh. Nineteen years of marriage, there had ups and down, children, different houses but most of all there always had been love. This morning was one like every morning for her. A moment of peace and quiet before her day started. A cup of tea on the back porch in her housecoat, as she contemplated her day and life until she heard the first alarms of the day going off.

“Ready for the day?” Ken her husband asks her from the door already half dressed in his suit for work.

“Are we ever?” Rilla smiles and gives him a quick kiss as she passes. Nodding her head while smiling to her housekeeper in acknowledgement of the morning was beginning.

"Rowena, it's time for breakfast!" Rilla called out from the foot of the stairs. "You as well Oliver!" She added.

"Why are they always late mummy?" The small dark hair child asked who was still in her nightgown with braids in her hair sitting on the stairs. She usually comes down after hearing Ken in the morning. In her arms was her stuffed Peter Rabbit, one of her favourite things to carry around.

"Because Clara, they like to sleep," Rilla told her. "Let's go see what's for breakfast?" She told her youngest. Who ran past her to the kitchen to where Ken was already sitting. Clara had been a surprise after many years of careful planning. Still, she was instantly loved by all in the family.

"Daddy!"

"Clara!" He said back as Rilla watched him gather her up and hold her in the air for a moment as she giggled. At forty-five he had seen many things, done many things. His hair was greying at the sides, and the long scar down his face was faded to a pale silver against his tan skin. He lifts Clara into her seat and kisses her on the top of her head.

Rilla herself at thirty-nine was lovely as ever. If anything, her third child had made her a touch plumper than her younger self. Her hair was still ruddy though she had cut it to make it more manageable. Wet it sat a few inches below her collarbone, but when she brushed out the curls it was shoulder length with large fluffy curls. Ones that emulated some of the rising Hollywood stars.

Oliver was the next to come, already dressed in his school uniform and his hair brushed and slicked down until most of the curls disappeared. At fifteen it felt like he was constantly in a growth spurt and sprouted overnight so that Rilla was forever hemming his pants to make them a touch longer. He was a fair mix between his two parents but as he grew older he favoured his father more and more. Dark hair and stormy grey eyes, tall and lean had girls giggling whenever they walked past him. Rilla noticed on various occasions that her little boy was no longer a little boy, mainly when she found him shaving next to his father every few days the fine hairs that were his moustache

"Doe is freaking out in her room about clothing," Oliver said to his parents, his voice deepening with each passing month it seemed. "Oh bacon this morning," He said as he saw what Mrs. Clarke was cooking on the stovetop. "Do you need help with anything?"

"You can set the table as usual," Mrs. Clarke told him. "And make the toast if you wish.”

“Bunnykins please Ollie!” Clara calls out to her brother. She was obsessed with her bunny kin plates. Oliver looks to his mother for permission. Rilla just nods her head and waves permission.

"Mom!" Rilla heard her eldest daughter call out from upstairs.

"I'll go check on her," Rilla sighed. "Just start breakfast without us," she took a drink of coffee before she headed towards the stairs.

"What is it, Roe?" Rilla asked as she stood in the doorway of her daughter's bedroom. It had been papered in a pretty floral a few years back when she had grown out of the previous theme.
Rowena was still in her pyjamas, as she stood by her unmade bed, behind a pile of clothing that she had tossed on the floor. "I don't know what to wear, it's supposed to be a tea party, and we're supposed to dress fancy and not our uniforms and I can't find what to wear."

"Okay, calm down," Rilla sighed. "Your Aunt Lily makes you plenty of pretty dresses to wear, we can quickly steam one before the party."

"But all the girls have store-bought party dresses," Rowena whined.

"You need to check that vanity, there are young girls out there with much less right now Roe," Rilla warned her daughter.

"But, but!”

“No buts, clean up your room, make your bed. Get dressed for school before you will be late," Rilla shook her head.

Rowena scrunched up her nose ready to contradict her mother. "I'll send your father up and he'll choose something for you to wear," Rilla warned her. "Ten minutes," she said before shutting the door.

"The girl is going to be the death of me, she's only turning fourteen," Rilla muttered, it could only get worse in Rilla's mind the hormones that came along with growing up. She was just waiting for the day that she would be called upon to embark on her female knowledge to her daughter. All while being armed with belts and sanitary napkins.

"Mummy, can I wear my pretty dress, like the Shirley Temple one?" Clara asked as she saw her mother.

"Not today Clara, you'll be spending the day with your Aunt Lily,” Rilla told her as she sat down and had another drink of coffee. She didn’t know what to do as Clara was supposed to start school this fall. Polio had run rampant around the past year's city and the last thing she wanted was for her baby to catch it. Clara had barely seen the department store because of Rilla’s reluctance to bring her anywhere that could cause her to get sick. Only a few times a year did she allow it. Otherwise, Clara stayed home or went to one of her aunt's houses if Rilla was working. The older kids would most likely be fine being almost teenagers, but Clara. Clara was much too susceptible to it and Rilla refused to let her potentially catch it.

“But Mummy,” Clara whines. “I have no one to play with there why can’t I go play with Phoebe?” Rilla hears her daughter as she watches Ken fold the paper and throw it aside.

“You always have fun with your Auntie Lily, and Phoebe and Aunt Marianne have things they need to do,” Rilla tells her, frowning at her husband. The rumblings all over Europe and now across Asia it did not settle well with him.

Ken refilled his coffee cup as Rowena finally managed to come downstairs with the red hair that she had pinned back from her face. Wearing a light blue dress with puffed sleeves and a square neckline with a well-defined waistline with a bow in the back.

“You look lovely Bambi," he said with a smile.
"You need to stop calling me that," Rowena made a face. "I'm almost fourteen."

"Yet you'll always be my Bambi," Ken said with a grin and kissed the top of her head. The nickname had come from Oliver's nickname as a child. Calling her Doe as he couldn't pronounce his R's for the longest time. An adorable lisp that his mother battled herself had passed on to their son. It was when Rilla came home with a new book called Bambi when the children were three and five, that Rowena had fallen in love with the story. Down to painting the characters of the book on the wall of her new room when she had been five. Ken had taken to calling her Bambi affectionately as he read to her at bedtime when she had called herself a Bambi.

"Ollie, you're good for cycling to school?" He asked his son who looked up and nodded as he chewed his mouthful of bacon. The young boy nodded as the back door opened and a tired look young blonde-haired man came walking through the doorway. He placed his police hat on the peg and cleaned off his boots.

"Long night?" Ken asked as Jimmy unbuttons his uniform jacket and shrugged it off.

"Night shifts are the worst," Jimmy yawned as he reached for bacon.

"Did you catch any bad guys?" Clara chirped from her spot as she climbed onto her chair meaning to go sit on Big brothers lap. Still holding Peter Rabbit, her little pale legs hanging over one side of Jimmy’s leg as his arm wrapped around her to hold her still for a few minutes

"It was a fairly quiet night Clare." Jimmy smiled at her, "Which is always a good thing for us. It means people are behaving," Jimmy told her.

"How do you know who is the bad guy, and who is the good guy?" Clara asked him as he tries to take a bite of his toast. "Do they just look bad?”

"Clara let him eat please," Rilla told her with a stern look. Clara pouted but sat back down on her chair and picks at her breakfast.

"It's a bit more than that," Jimmy said after a moment.

"Can't I stay home with Jimmy? That way I can wear my pretty dress?" Clara looked at her mother.

"Jimmy has to sleep and then has his paperwork today, and Mrs. Clarke has her afternoon off," Rilla shook her head. "You are stuck with Aunt Lily and me today Clare-Bear.” Clara pouts and pushes around her porridge.

“Eat Clara,” Ken steps in to get her to eat. She looks at him and skims off the sugar from the top and eats it before pushing it away. Rilla shakes her head sighing, and Ken merely finishes the last few spoonfuls so it wouldn’t be wasted.

With the children and Ken off to school and work and Jimmy going to get some sleep for himself. Rilla did a sweep over the house with Clara helping her, picking up toys and running over things with a dust rag. The children each had their chores, having a housekeeper did not get them out of chores.

The house was well lived in, pictures lined the walls of all the childhood milestones and portraits that Ken had taken of them each year. Baby photos, to blossoming young men and women.

Her own diplomas and graduations of the years past. All her hard work and studying throughout the years.

Dr. Blythe. Another doctor in the family, only in another specialty.

Of course, there are photos of Jimmy's high school graduation. Then his commencement from the Police academy, something that still terrified Rilla. He still lived with them despite being close to twenty-three. He had yet to find a girl to want to settle down and get married to and when it came time for college, Ken had sat him down with a short embarrassing talk about being a responsible man. Reminding him that men often got off the hook for such things, but women did not. That he didn't want to hear about some girl crying to Rilla or Aunt Marianne about some boy named Jimmy getting her pregnant and running away.

Wedding anniversaries and family reunions were also present. Portraits of their parents, and siblings. Everyone was there that mattered to them.

"Let's get you dressed Clare-bear," Rilla said to her daughter who was still in her nightgown and slippers. With hands on her little one's shoulder, she directed her to the stairs.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Clara?" Rilla asked.

"Can I wear my pretty dress tomorrow since it's Saturday?" Clara asked innocently.

"We'll see." Rilla sighed.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Clara?" Rilla said as she nudged the child up the stairs.

“Can I wear it to the church picnic or when the ladies come over for tea after church, I'll be good, a good little lady like Doe is when they are over?" She asked, knowing she often got sent to the backyard when Rilla had the ladies over for tea on every third Sunday of the month in the warmer months. A tradition that went back since they moved into the house it seemed to the children.

"If you are good and eat your vegetables at dinner," Rilla told her. "I will think about it, now come on and don't dawdle. Auntie Lily is waiting for us after all."

Sometimes Rilla wondered why she had waited so long for Ken to teach her how to drive. Once she got the handle of the vehicle she found it fairly easy and enjoyable! As the children got older it was easier to haul around the children than wait for public transit. She drives to her sister in laws house. Clara was babbling in the backseat of the car as she hugged her dolly and of course, Peter Rabbit that she brought along. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face into two pigtails tied with pink ribbons. While her dungarees were dark blue denim with a white blouse underneath. A blouse that had pink stitching around the collar and the cuffs of tiny puffed sleeves.

Shirley and Lilian’s house was modest and had an air of Parisian charm to it once inside. They had come back six years previous. They had moved back in the middle of a crashing economy, though at least Shirley had come back with a job at the local university. They found a place a two neighbourhoods west of the Fords. Near to the infamous Casa Loma that had been built and forever changing hands since the hotel went bankrupt and been seized for taxes.

The children were grown now as well. Elodie was becoming a beauty with her strawberry-blonde hair and greenish eyes. While Jasper and Lunette had given everyone a run for the money, twin jokesters. Jasper was light brown hair with skin that tanned in the sun with dark brown eyes. While Lunette was fair as her namesake, silvery blonde hair, lighter than her mother's, with light icy blue eyes.

“Salut, mon cheri,” Lillian says as she opens the door. Swooping in to kiss Rilla on the cheeks and then down to greet her niece.

“Bonjour Aunty Lily,” Clara says politely, using the French word instead of good morning. Lillian kept up their French at home, mostly as the children went to English school and spoke English more and more.

“Come in for a minute?” Lillian asks motioning to Rilla who nods her head. The front room is filled with mannequins and drafting paper, and fabric of course. Lillian had written with an idea when they moved, she explained the idea of a small magazine with tips and tricks. How to refit, and redo clothing. Mend and make-do sort of attitude. At the same time, giving young girls a chance to learn how to sew themselves. She could give her tips and tricks. Create patterns and give instructions on how to make the pattern and then the garment, ranging from easy to more advanced given the month. The booklet would be added to the regular woman's magazine. While paper patterns in various sizes could also be sent in, which is where profit came into play. Over the years it had become a popular section of the magazine that had morphed into its own small subsidized version of the ladies magazine.

“I wanted to show you a sketch for Rowena when it comes time for her first formal in high school,” she tells Rilla.

“Do get a new dress?” Clara pipes up as Rilla looks at the sketch, essentially okaying it, even if the neckline would give Kenneth a fit.

“Don’t be rude Clara,” Rilla warns her gently, but also knows that she and Lillian were already working on her new holiday dress. Rilla made some clothes for her children when she had time, but left the less-than-practical things to her sister-in-law these days. “Now be good for Aunty and I’ll pick you up in a few hours,” She bends to kiss Clara goodbye.

“Thank you for watching her for the morning, I should’t be long I just want to check on a few patients,” Rilla tells Lillian.

“Izz never a problem you know that,” Lillian waves her off and shut the door once Rilla had driven off. “All right Ma Belle shall we make something fun in the kitchen?”

“Please!” Clara says jumping

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford, I’ll make sure to watch out for those,” The husband says to her as she leaves the bedside of a young new mother.

Rilla nods her head. “Remember take a break, step away it won’t hurt the baby to cry for a minute while you take a breath.”

“We will,” They answer back.

Rilla nods her head goodbye before going through the maternity ward. Heels clicking on the tile floor.

“Dr. Ford, if you can, can you check on Mrs. Taibot?” Someone asks of her. “The little one didn’t make it through the night and well…” the young nurse says frowning. Rilla nods her head. This sort of job wasn’t always fun that was for sure.

“According to your chart, you’ll make a full recovery and I am sure you and your husband will have another and you’ll forget all about this.” Rilla hears some medical students say. God these medical students drove her insane. Vain young men usually thinking they know everything even when it came to obstetrics and babies.

The look on the woman's face must shock him as she burst into tears. He just awkwardly pats her shoulder and leaves the room.

“Mr. Cauldwell, are you married or engaged?” Rilla finds herself hurrying after him.

“No? Ms…?” he says shaking his head. “I’m still in medical school after all.”

“Dr. Ford and I am married and have children and yet still managed to become a doctor,” Rilla raises an eyebrow. Granted she barely got paid for this work, but that didn’t matter to her. “Though I can assume that you don’t have children?”

“Well, I’m not married?” He says rather co*ckily.

“Which we all know means nothing in terms of having children,” Rilla rolls her eyes. “If you were married and some just told you to ‘Get over it’ ‘Replace your dead child with another,’ how would that make you feel?”

“I would think I would enjoy the truth.”

“The truth? The truth is you don’t know what it is like to lose a child and if you had any empathy or recollection of what it is like to lose a child you would never suggest to get over it.” Rilla tells him through tense words.

“Have you lost children?” He asks venomously back as he knew better than a woman.

“I have, four times over at various stages of life. I cared for a baby during the war for four years and was expected to just hand him over to his father and new wife as if nothing mattered. I have had miscarriages, once when I didn’t even know that I was expecting and it still broke my heart into pieces. Another was a little later, I only just clued in and wasn’t sure what to think or do and it still gutted me….” Rilla looks at him sternly.

“And the last?” He asks rather petulantly.

“Well, that is when I woke up after an emergency cesarian to find out one of my twins didn’t make it. Do you know what it’s like to mourn a child when you have one absolutely dependent on you? Did you know that the hospitals don’t allow you to hold your stillborns? That they are just taken away as if nothing happened? I cannot just go and have another child to replace her with, having another child can send me to my demise. My husband had to make decisions for me, without my input because I had three other children who needed me at home. Everyone who has never experienced such a loss, thinks that ‘oh have another’ is something helpful to us grieving mothers but it isn’t. It is cruel and uncaring, to think we can just cast off our emotions, and memories of feeling the child move within our bodies. The dreams of who they might be, but we can’t.”

“Then what I am to say?” He rolls his eyes slightly.

“My condolences, I’m sorry for your loss. I know my words mean nothing, but I am sorry that we couldn’t do more. I don’t know! Anything is better than you’ll get over it!” Rilla tells him. “If I ever hear you say that to any patient who will not walk out of this hospital with a baby to go home with…I will have you scrubbing bedpans.” She warns him. Not that she has such authority but the head matron likes her well enough.

Rilla sighs when she gets home, she kicks off her sensible shoes and sits down on the sofa. Clara was already running for her toy box.

“Rough day Mrs?” Mrs. Clark asks as she placed her notepads on the tableau that held household things.

“Isn’t it always,?” Rilla sighs. “I thought it was your afternoon off, yet you’re making grocery lists?” She says seeing the notepads.

“I had tea with my friend and came home,” Mrs. Clarke tells her waving her off. “Just was going through the shopping list.”

Rilla nods her head, hearing a crash.

“Clara?” She calls out sighing. “I’ll go check on her, enjoy your day really,” she tells her housekeeper.

She settles Clara, getting her into play clothes as Jimmy comes downstairs, pulling on his suspenders.

“Come on munchkin, why don’t we play outside?” Jimmy asks, seeing his mother stifle a yawn.

Rilla mouths ‘thank you,’ and heads into her bedroom pulling off her blouse and skirt she falls onto the bed in her slip and undergarments.

She wakes up to Ken kissing her forehead.

“How was the office?” She asks yawning as she sits up in their bed.

“It was good, how was the hospital?” He asks unbuttoning his dress shirt meaning to put on something more comfortable for dinner.

“All right, I got to tell off some Resident today,” Rilla says sitting up and stretching out in the bed.

“Telling off a resident, good thing you’re in the woman’s hospital,” Ken teases her.

“Well, they won’t fire me, they won’t find another person like more and if they did they most likely would have to pay him more.” Rilla reminds him with a sigh. The reality is that she was technically a volunteer, but the one matron seemed to like her. Usually, when the husbands were settling out bills she made sure to add in a line for Rilla, it wasn’t much but it added into something at the end of the month. “How was work?”

“Well, I got the layout narrowed down, I might borrow Roe for some photos tomorrow, the ones we have aren’t working right, and she like modelling for the paper,” Ken tells her.

“Yes, because that is all she needs is a pretty dress that you’ll let her keep afterwards,” Rilla teased him, pulling him closer to her. Eying the closed door, and grinned at him.

“It’s almost dinner and the kids will be home soon,” he gives her a look.

“That has never stopped you before,” Rilla smirks, moving her leg out of the blanket and trailing her foot down the side of his thigh. He catches it, running his hand over the silk stocking, up to the bare of her thigh and her garter elastics.

Ken looks at her, only stepping over to lock the actual door before unbuttoning his trousers. He crawls practically on top of her, kissing her soundly wasting no time on anything. Ignoring the laugh she makes as he does.

The bed squeaks under them, something they long learned to just ignore or go with. They know each other well, after so many years, much like the years have changed her body, babies and breastfeeding, stretch marks,

He pushes her tap pants off to the side, hands diving into warm flesh. “Safe?”

Rilla takes a moment and nods her head, unzipping his fly. Her slip pushed up around her waist, his trousers around his hips. They both groan as he sinks into her, maybe a touch early but it doesn’t take long to make up for it.

Her hands grasp the headboard behind her, his hands and arms beside her.

“Come for me,” Ken whispers huskily into her ear. The bed creaks almost religiously, hand reaching down between them. Some women complain about their husbands, and some complain about the vanilla lifestyle, but Rilla never understood those complaints. Maybe she was lucky? Maybe Ken and she were both lucky?

She muffles her cries because children were still about as Ken buries his own in her neck. Ken leaves the room first, letting Rilla have a moment to clean up.

She stays in the kitchen, her housekeeper who if anything was used to her employer's antics after so many years.

She helps peel the potatoes as she watches from the kind.

“Daddy! When did you get home?” Clara chirps seeing him at the back door. Jimmy is sitting outside watching her, raising an eyebrow slightly as he coughs. “Were you and Mommy napping together again?”

Rilla chokes slightly. That child would be the death of them, she swore it.

“Did you have a fun day?” Ken says asking her, trying not to answer the question.

“I made cookies with Aunty Lily, they are getting a new puppy, can we get a puppy Daddy?” she says chirping as she jumps up onto his back.

“Your mother will have my head if we had on to the household,” Ken laughs.

“Off with your head then!” Clara exclaims racing towards the tree house and going for her play sword. “You will have to walk the plank or lose your head, Sir!”

“I shall do neither of those things, for who will buy you all of your toys then?” Ken chuckles.

“Jimmy will!” Clara declared.

“How much do you think I make little one,” Jimmy laughs out loud. “You would bleed me dry with all of the toys you have!”

“I do not have many!” She stomps her foot. “I am going to be like Peter Pan and never grow up so I can have as many toys as I can have!” She says exuberantly.

“Well you fly like Peter Pan as well,” Oliver says coming into the backyard.

“Do not egg on your sister Oliver,” Ken warns him.

“I can already fly I have pixie dust and everything, Captain Hook will have no chance at making me grow up!” Clara states looking down at her brother.

“Clara,” Ken warns her, but she does not listen as she jumps from the deck of the tree house.

“Clara!” Rilla shrieks, dropping her paring knife and her potato, racing out the door towards her daughter, as Ken races to catch her, and she giggles as she falls into his arms. Rotating her until she was in his arms until she was in will above his head flying. “You shouldn’t jump around like that it’s dangerous.”

“She’s fine Rilla, we were around. She knows better not to do that with me here,” Ken brushes her off. “Right Clare-bear?”

“Uh-huh!”Clara giggles before shouting over what she sees over the portion of the fence. “Roe is talking to a boy!”

“A boy!” Ken says shocked.

“His name is Robert, Oliver says casually and everyone turns to him. “He’s Allen's brother?” he adds on.

“Allen only has an older brother,” Ken says matter-of-factly. “She’s thirteen Oliver.”

“Well, you try telling her that,” Oliver says simply.

Ken looks over at Rilla, putting Clara down on the ground and walking over to the gate.

“Rowena?” He calls out as he opens the gate and she turns around face turning red at the sight of her father.

“Father,” she said rather indigently and he raises his eyebrow at her choice of title.

“Robert Cooper,” the boy says holding out his hand.

“So Oliver has said, what are you in grade eleven?” He asks as he feels his wife come up near them. He pulls her closer to them, wrapping his arm around her waist. “This is Robert Cooper, dear.”

“Daddy,” Rowena hisses and he ignores it was a smile.

“Nice to meet you both, Mr and Mrs. Ford.” The older boy says nodding his head, and Rilla nods her head to him.

“Roe dear, I was at Aunt Lily’s and she has your grade eight convocation dress ready for you,” Rilla mentions.

“Mom!” She whines.

“Gloria is waiting for you to help with dinner tonight,” Rilla tells her with a look.

“I’ll see you around Robert,” Rowena says to the boy and hears her father hum and stays where he stood. Rilla looks at him and follows Rowena inside.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Rowena cries when the front door shuts behind them,

“You’re thirteen Rowena,” Rilla reminds her.

“So he’s sixteen, Daddy was twenty-one when you danced at the lighthouse!” Rowena points out.

“I was fifteen and times were different Roe,” Rilla says through a compassionate voice. “I’m just trying to tell you to be careful. You’re a pretty young lady and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He was just walking me home,” Rowena tries to argue. “He was just being nice.”

“I’m sure he was, but he also needed to know you were thirteen,” Rilla stresses to her. “We aren’t angry with you or him, we just needed him to know that you aren’t even high school and to not get too ahead of himself. Now go change out of your dress and go help with dinner.”

Rilla sighs watching her daughter slug up the stairs as she sees Ken on the front porch with Oliver talking as Oliver himself looks rather uncomfortable himself. She shakes her head and goes back towards the kitchen.

Leaving Ken and Oliver to finish, it takes a long moment before Ken nudges his son.

"There's a girl," he said quietly.

A Girl! God lord what is with this day, Ken thinks to himself.

"A girl?" Ken repeated a grin appearing on his face. "So what's the issue?"

Oliver shrugged not wanting to get into it, though Ken just sat grinning and waiting.

"Every time she says hello to me, I'm a jumbled mess and everyone just laughs at me. She goes to the girl's school across the street. There's a dance coming up and I swear she wants me to ask her but when I try…I mess up, I mean I ran away from her!”

"You know talking to girls isn't that different from talking to your friends?" Ken told him.

“Yet, she laughed when I stuttered slightly and then she touched my hair like it was cute or something. She touched my hair and then I bolted Dad!”

"Well, congratulations you're a love-struck like every other man out there. You know how I told you if you have to make a presentation in school and something happens to you? To just cover it with a duo-tang or book and just pretend like you aren't embarrassed?" He said as Oliver went red and nodded his head bashfully. "It's the same with girls, just pretend that you are talking to a friend. She's probably nervous as well."

"How did you ask out Mom?" Oliver asked curiously.

"Well, things were different back then," Ken said running a hand through his hair. "I believe we called it courting back then. I guess the first move I made was asking her to dance at her first 'grown-up' party. She was wearing this pretty green dress with flowers on it. We danced for a few songs, my ankle was still healing from being broken so then we sat down on the shore at the old lighthouse near the summer house, but I knew she was ultimately only fifteen at the time.”

“So what did you do?” Oliver asked curiously.

"We wrote to each other, she had taken in Jimmy as a baby and I went back to Toronto for school as I couldn't enlist because of my ankle. The next year I managed to swing by Ingleside to see your mother. I believe I asked her not to kiss another until I came back to kiss her again. Which in many ways was asking her to wait for me to come back so I could marry her." Ken said with a nostalgic smile.

"Mom was only sixteen?" Oliver stated. "You told Doe that she couldn't get married until she was like twenty-one, let alone date until she was in high school.”

Ken chuckled, how times have changed over the years, or maybe they thought they were just grown-up back then when they weren't.

"She was and I was twenty-two. I was afraid of your uncles and grandfather finding out more than going to war that night I think," Ken told his son. "The war though, that was three years of being over in Europe. Things were different then, I couldn't have her going off to find someone else. So I asked her to wait for me and she did?" Ken said.

"You always know the right thing to say, I see it when you work and talk to clients for advertising." Oliver groaned. "I don't have that talent, Doe might. She can talk to anyone and be charming about it."

"Rowena can be a snake charmer if she wanted to be, that is correct. What does your mother say? Some people are introverts, while others are extroverts or some sort of thing?"

"Introverts are quieter people, more thoughtful who don't mind being alone. While extroverts are louder and more social creatures who need that interaction." Oliver stated simply. "At least that's what I got from what she was going on about one night.”

Ken chuckled once more. "Does that stop you from knowing what to say?"

"No, it just stops you from saying it at all," Oliver said deadpanned to his father who chuckled once again.

"Do you know where the girl lives?" Ken asked his son.

"She's Timothy Allen's younger sister," Oliver told him blushing. "Her name is Lucy."

"He's a year above you?" Ken asked as he went over to their address book where Rilla kept a book of parents from each of their children's schools. "Call her and ask her to the dance," Ken instructed him. "It might be easier over the phone. For both of you?"

"I can't!" Oliver objected as Ken already started to dial the phone number. Oliver fought for the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Allen it's Kenneth Ford, Oliver's Father, yes yes, Rilla is well. Is it possible for Oliver to speak to Lucy? Of course, he's a little shy." Ken grinned before handing over the phone to his son. "She's been talking about you." He whispered with a grin.

"Dad!" Oliver went beat red, as they heard a voice come onto the line.

"Hello?" A feminine voice said and Ken nudged Oliver to speak before he walked to go braid his youngest daughter's hair as she asked.

"Uhh, Hi Lucy," Oliver said his voice cracking before it went low once more.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Rilla turned into the long driveway of the old house that Marianne and Carl had bought. It was a little out of the way, but it suited their needs. She killed the ignition and grabbed her bag and pulled off her driving gloves. She dusted off her tan wide-legged trousers and fixed her blouse,

"Clara!" A voice called out from the porch that was on the front of the house. A mousey hair girl said from the porch wearing a pair of matching dungarees like her friend.

"Phoebe!" She called back clambering out of the car as soon as Rilla opened the door for her.
She walked to the front door as the children ran off to play. Marianne opened it and leaned against the frame with a grin on her face. Her dark hair was short and curled, she was dressed in a pair of dark wide-legged trousers and a smart blouse.

"Such a pair aren't they," Marianne sighed.

"I still haven't forgiven you for the statue of Aphrodite," Rilla told her friend with a look but smiled as she watches their daughters.

"Oh because I am sure my present from Greece did the deed that got you pregnant," Marianne teased her back.

"You came back from Greece, miraculously pregnant and then gave me that present. The next thing the doctor is telling me that the test is positive," Rilla sighed. "Trust me Ken buried that statue deep in the basem*nt after Clara was born. “I’m nearly forty Rilla, and you’re turning thirty-three. I love them don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's like we live in a zoo with the three that we already had." Rilla mimics her husband's response as she played with a locket around her neck.

"But look at them," Marianne sighed watching them play.

"I know, I know," Rilla shook her head with a dreamy sigh. Neither she nor Marianne had what she considered an easy pregnancy. For Marianne, it was more emotionally difficult, afraid to become too attached. She kept waiting for the day that she would wake up too and find herself bleeding, to the point she had nightmares about it. Even though the doctor explained that light bleeding, as long as the mother wasn't cramping was fairly normal.

For Rilla, she had just graduated with her final degree. Finally a doctor and began to work when her friend had come back home. Soon enough she felt the same old familiar sickness she always battled. Not as easy as Rowena had been, but not as extreme as Oliver had been. It made her believe that it would be another boy.

They had been due two months apart, Phoebe was born late May, Rilla at her friend's side, as Ken watch Carl pace the floorboards of Meredith's house. Ken had never been in such a position of waiting. Carl had been offered a chance but had already fainted once at everything that was happening.

Mr. Meredith who had come out with Rosemary sat in a chair silently. It was Rilla who had come downstairs when it had quieted down.

"You can go upstairs," Rilla told Carl who was already bounding up the stairs as quickly as he could.

"The child?" Mr. Meredith looked towards Rilla.

"Perfectly healthy," Rilla told him. "I'm sure Carl will introduce you," Rilla said as she sat down slowly at Rosemary came downstairs leaving the new parents to have a moment alone.

"Carl says to tell you that you have a granddaughter," Rosemary told her husband. "Are you sure you all right Rilla?" She asked with a small frown. Ken suddenly looked at his wife, observing her anxiously trying to decide if something was wrong with her.

"Seeing and being the one to give birth is a fair bit different," Rilla said rubbing her larger-than-she-thought possible bump and then paused for a moment.” I am fine though, thank you.”

Clara had been born in a hospital of all places, almost four weeks early. It reminded her of Oliver, who turned out fine, so she didn’t worry she felt the familiar pains but it quickly changed into something else. Rilla didn't remember much, she had been bleeding and in pain. When Rilla had woken up to see Ken sitting in a chair next to her bed, cradling the tiny, delicate little girl.

"The other?" She had asked looking around. Ken gave her a sad shake of his head. His eyes were still bloodshot. "What was, are they?"

"They said identical girls," Ken said quietly. "Mom and Dad are arranging something for her in the family plot." He almost choked out. He stood up and brought her the tiny infant, who was no larger than what Oliver had been through her lungs were loud she soon learned. Letting her hold the surviving infant for the first time who was already hours old.

It was strange to mourn one child, yet still, have the other to love and hold. Her mother held her in her arms, letting her cry and talk it out. While her father stealthily poured a shot for Ken that first night, which burned the back of his throat. Accompanied by a look that said this is between us as men only and doesn't tell your wife. They hadn't even been allowed to see the child. The only thing that had left was a small dark tuft of hair that had been clipped off and tied with a tiny ribbon by a compassionate nurse. A piece of hair had been split into two, a lock for a locket and Ken had the other put into his pocket watch. It was something they didn't talk about much.

They hadn't told the children about the possibility of twins when she had been pregnant. The older children knew of course in the aftermath of that July day. They had been waiting to explain to Clara as she got older, then one day they found her talking to herself in the mirror as a toddler. Pointing and laughing as if it was a game. Rilla had found it strange but babies could be strange creatures. It wasn't until she babbled the name Cora as she stared at herself in the mirror that Rilla knew. Cora was the name they had given to the little one who had been lost.

Ken thought nothing about it, kids have imaginary friends all the time. She would grow out of it as she grew older. They had visited the grave as a family, she most likely heard them say the name there. Still, Rilla worked occasionally, as much as it hurt her or Ken to mention. Giving Clara a chance to ask if she wanted to about why she felt lonely at times, or why she felt the need to have an extra teacup at her parties with her teddies.

"Anyway what's on the agenda today, and please don't tell me, math class?" Rilla asked her friend and Marianne looked at her soberly knowing just where Rilla had gone too for a moment.

"Of course not, just the regulars that Carl doesn't cover for us," she told Rilla and lead her into the house. They walked to the back which was a sunroom turned into a schoolroom where a handful of girls were chatting animatedly with each other. All in various stages of pregnancy.
It felt like a lifetime ago that Marianne had taken in her first girl, a young woman who had been kicked out of her home. In a moment of dire as Marianne came across her five years ago as they had come back from an excursion to Greece.

It had been rather a shock when Carl came home and found Marianne and a strange girl drinking tea.

"I can't just leave her out of the streets," Marianne whispered. "I was her age, Carl. If the police find her hanging around herbalists or those places. They'll bring her to the home of unwed mothers and force her to give up her child. She just needs some help. "

It started as simply giving Brianne a place to stay, then it was continuing some schooling she could try and support herself in some way. Helping her find a job, a place to stay at a boarding house with some woman who didn't mind watching an infant. It was never glamorous, but Marianne had built a small community of women who she could rely on.

"All right, settle down!" Marianne told them, as the girls turned to the two older women. Rilla and Marianne split up and settled into helping the girls with the schoolwork that Carl prepared for them that week.

For Rilla it was less about teaching, it was more or less about talking to the girls about their situation. She was a doctor after all, mostly focusing on women's issues as of late, mostly because it was the only area they really allowed her to practice in. Still, it allowed them to talk to a sympathetic ear. Carefully giving them helpful suggestions on how to deal with what they were going through. A motherly ear that gave them options, and advice if they asked for it. They had to be ready for life, once they left the walls of the Meredith's home. Some girls did give up their babies, deciding maybe it was the best decision, but it was always their decision.

Marianne tried her hardest to find homes for those children, not allowing them to go into an orphanage or uncaring home. Though times were hard for everyone and even Marianne couldn't house everyone that came to her. She made do with what they had, she had her father's estate that she rarely touched, and when her aunt passed away and left her with a tidy sum. Carl had found an old home that had plenty of room to house their family and a few girls who Marianne seemed to find every year, or who found her.

Still, she had to spend wisely, money didn't grow on trees and Carl's professorship meant they had to maintain some sort of air of decorum.

Times were tough everywhere, the Island was no different. Money was scarce, even for doctors. Jerry who had worked for a bank was finding himself working odd jobs. At one point Nan and Jerry had found themselves and the children back at Ingleside to save money. More than once Rilla had sent presents for her nieces in ways of clothing and toys, tucking away a few dollars that she managed to stretch to give to Nan and Jerry who always objected saying they would add it to the ever-growing tally they kept. They knew Rilla would never accept it back. They were family and family helps family after all.

Persis and Joseph with the children had moved back to Toronto, settling in with the Fords. The West had been hit the hardest and Winnipeg between droughts and lay-offs that seemed right and left.

Ken managed to run a tight ship as he tried his best to reduce costs. One-income families were the rule of the city, he had no issues hiring married women as writers for the lady's magazine until now. If their husband works he was expected to give the job to someone who had no employment. He had choices of pay decreases for his freelancers or working with a skeleton crew of editors, writers and photographers who relied on him. The first cut he made was to himself, working out how much he needed to support the family and land taxes and adjusting his own salary accordingly to allow money to flow back into the company.

They had savings, they had more than most once Kenneth's uncle had released his initial investment to the Maritime Division back to him when he was happy with all the progress Kenneth had made under him. It was a safety net, which was something they stressed to their children, ensuring the children knew their allowance was a privilege. That they needed to save, and also think of the unfortunate who had nothing. A penny into the plate at church, a loaf of bread to a hungry family, it all made a difference in someone's life.

"How are you feeling today Annie?" Rilla asked. Annie was on the girl near her own time, slowly withdrawing into herself as the day approached. Still unsure of her choices, wondering if she was making the right choices.

"I had a letter from my family," She said quietly as she wrote something on her schoolwork.

"What did they say?" Rilla asked.

"Mom says they would let me come home if—“ She said stopping herself. "I told them I couldn't do that. I can still hear them calling me selfish."

"Have you had any contact with the Father?” Rilla asked.

"I've tried writing, but nothing comes from it," Annie said shrugging as she shifted in her seat.

"You'll manage," Rilla said.

"Were you afraid to become a mother, of birth?" Annie asks quietly looking at the two little girls.

"Of course, I put it off for almost two years completely when my husband and I married," Rilla said with a nod of her head. "As for childbirth I never had what I would consider a normal delivery. Not so much dangerous, but my children always enjoyed arriving when with a flare for the dramatics. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother, just don’t worry so much.”

"I'm sure you are," Annie said quietly. "You always seem like the mothers I see in the park."

"Well, you don't see me losing my mind when they refuse to clean their rooms," Rilla said with a laugh. "We can only do our best to guide them and to love them. Why don't we have some lunch before starting the next subject?" Rilla said looking at her watch, loud enough for Marianne to look up and agree.

Lunch was mainly sandwiches and cookies that the girls helped prepare for each other. Different tasks for different days as the girls followed a schedule. It would be chaos without a schedule after all.

"Do you need me to watch Clara anytime this week?" Marianne asked as they sat down.

"Mrs. Clarke will this week for me, it has been a slow few weeks at the maternity hospital, though I am sure the full moon will bring in a bunch,” Rilla says sighing. “But that does make it interesting.”

"Sometimes I do wonder about your curiosities," Marianne shook her head but had a teasing smile on her face.

"So does Ken," Rilla said with a chuckle.

"How is Ken?" Marianne asked knowing just how her husband poured over the newspapers about the wars in Asia and Russia.

"He gobbles up the paper every morning and then scowls," Rilla sighed. "Then he's back to helping wrangle kids out the door for school and telling Clara to be good and then goes to work himself."

"Carl does the same, reads, and shakes his head. Then Phoebe tells him something or comes running with her new pet rats that he got her. Without my permission, I should mention, and then his mood disappears until the next morning."

"Should I ask what the animal count is at this point?" Rilla asked amused. She knew vaguely how many animals were around this house, but mainly she stayed on the main floor.

"Two lovebirds, four rats at various ages because they can never be alone, and now Phoebe has two of her own. Two cats run about, and the dog of course. While out in the barn, we have two guinea pigs, three rabbits, three goats and two cows?" Marianne listed off the animals that resided at Ivy Hall. "I drew the line at the snake."

"Clara is dying for a kitten," Rilla said with a sigh. Artemis mainly sleeps in her chair, the poor old girl. While Basil comes and goes with Jimmy at times from the station. Oliver loves him even though he is always moody with Jimmy and no one can figure out why?" Rilla said with a groan.

"He's a teenage boy, is there ever a reason needed to be moody?" Marianne laughed.

"Fair enough there," Rilla agrees laughing. “You okay, usually Carl is around during the day and he seems to have kept himself to the barn lately?”

“He’s just busy, too many females around lately,” Marianne waves off the question but ultimately her mind goes to the week previous, and how she wished she could tell her friend about it.

Carl was working alone in the barn as he smiled to himself. He had everything he could possibly want in life, he had a wife who understood him, a child who called him daddy. Yet the sight of their hired help sent him into a tizzy, a rush of emotions when he turned the corner. How the dark eyes seemed too twinkle as they went through the daily chores.

At first he thought he was just imagining thing, the slight brush of hand when passing something to another. Lingering gazes as they worked, a well timed smile, how the heat seemed to radiate off him when they were near. This was no good, no good at all. This was not how things were supposed to be after all.

“Mary?” He says one night as they climbed into bed. She was already reading her book.

“Yes, Carl? ” she hummed as she turned the page. When was the last time they actively sought out each other for comfort? When was the last time they hadn’t resorted to wine or spirits to enhance the experience? Marianne was busy with the girls most of the time and of course Phoebe, maybe this was just parenthood and marriage? Though the Fords seemed to be very much into each other, love bits hidden by collars when Rilla came over with their youngest.

“I think I am attracted to Sam,” He says quietly, he watches her set her book down and turn to look at him.

“Has anything happened?” She asks so calmly as if she has been waiting for such a moment all these years.

“I don’t know, I don’t know if it’s all in my head,” Carl replied honestly. “There is so much at stake, you and Phoebe, Work. Please don’t think I haven’t been happy, I have been and I love our life. This just happened and I can’t tell if this is real or not?”

“Dearest, I married you knowing this could and may happen one day” Marianne said grasping his hand. “I hope you never thought that I would wish you to be unhappy all these years, I know my first reaction wasn’t the best, asking if you ever acted on such feelings and such.”

“I know what you meant,” Carl said shaking his head.

“The only thing I ask of you is what you have already considered. Be safe and be honest and leave me out of it.” She says with a look before kissing his cheek. “If you decide against it, I can arrange for Phoebe to stay the night with Clara for a sleep over and we can break out a bottle of wine and have some fun ourselves.”

“It doesn’t seem fair to you,” Carl said with a frown. “If I explore this?”

“If you offering me a chance at a lover, I would just stop,” Marianne shushed him. “I have no need for one. Do what you feel like you need to do, If it bothers me I will tell you.” Marianne tells me. “Better yet, just don’t forget that you have a wife and a daughter, everything will be good.”

“You will get large amount of flowers,” Carl said agreeing with her. “You know I really don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you can always remind me,” Marianna smirked at him. “Or thank me, who knows maybe that deity will give you a son for your honesty?”

“As tempting as that is, I feel blessed enough with Phoebe. Unless you are saying something else?” Carl looked her over, when was the last time they even? Marianne laughed and only shook her head before she pulled him into a kiss.

“Just be yourself and careful,” Marianne told him.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

“Mom,” Rowena calls out from her stall in the bathroom.

“Do you need a tissue?” Rilla calls out as she washes her hand having finished before her daughter.

“I think I need more than a tissue,” she says hesitantly and Rilla looks up in the mirror, and then at the woman who was also in the washroom.

"Can I come in for a moment?" Rilla asked quietly by the door. Another lady who was washing her hand gave Rilla a look of sympathy, motioning to her purse. Rilla shook her head and padded her own. Rowena unlocked the door and Rilla stepped in. When the emergency was taken care of with the promise of more talks when they got home. The ladies washed their hands as the young woman wiggled at the uncertainty of what was going on.

“What if it moves?” She asks awkwardly whispering.

“You’ll be fine, panties help keep it in place,” Rilla tells her. “Though thankfully we are at the store, and luckily we have no one underfoot, or your father to explain to.” She tells her daughter.

“I am never telling him!” Rowena exclaims and Rilla laughs out loud.

“Dear, he will realize at some point.” Rilla points out wrapping her arm around her daughter and leading her down to the elevator. The young woman was rather thankful her mother hadn't made such a scene, though she was sure that would come later at home.

Rilla pulled her over to the counter that was filled with trinkets and cosmetics.

"May I offer assistance?" The lady said kindly, looking between mother and daughter as if she saw this moment every day.

“Yes, Thank you," Rilla said smiling back to the clerk. "We need a small-size sanitary belt, and two boxes of the Junior size Kotex, please. Do you have bloomers available or do they catalogue only?" She asked.

"We have some up in ladies' wear, if you ask they will bring them out for you," the lady said before turning to Rowena who is still beet red. "Is there a kind you might like better? With a narrow, or wide belt, white, or beige? The pink ones are rather popular with young ladies your age."

Rowena looked around before she quickly pointed to the pink one. Looking like she was ready to run from the shop. The clerk smiled at her and nodded her head.

"We'll take three of you them, and a package of safety pins as well?" Rilla told her as she watched Rowena play around with a bullet of lipstick that was pale pink.

"I think that would look nice on you," Rilla encouraged Rowena. She always told her daughter to wait and not be in a rush to grow up when she played with her mother's cosmetics. Rowena looked up in shock at her mother's suggestion. "If you have a special occasion," She added on quickly, but the colour would barely show on her daughter.

"Thank you!" Rowena said wrapping her arms around her mother.

Rowena rushed up the stairs, flying past her father with her bags of things. He looks to Rilla who pats his cheek and kisses him.

“I’ll explain later,” she whispers. “Where is Ollie, I have his tie and the corsage for him.”

“He’s been trying to slick back his hair for the past hour,” Ken tells her as their gangly son comes down the stairs in his suit.

"Oh look at you," Rilla said as swept off imaginary dust from the shoulders of her son. "Your first dance.”

"It's just a dance," Oliver went red and groaned. "I don't know why I have to be this dressed up for it."

"Because that is what was said in the school newsletter, and you're not even in formal wear. You're in your Sunday suit, the Winter Formal will be much more formal." Rilla told him as she pulled out the tie she went to pick up that afternoon. “It will match her dress perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Ollie says ears going redder.

“Corsage is in the fridge, don’t forget it.” Rilla reminds him, before kissing his cheek and Rowena comes racing down the stairs, hair freshly brushed out and her new pink lipstick on her lips.

Ken looks to Rilla, who mouths later.

"I remember the time Jimmy went with Violet, oh she was a nice girl whatever happened to Violet?” Ken says looking at the golden hair man in the living room.

Jimmy looked up from his chair, on a rare night off. "She was only with me to try and get closer to Fred Burns," Jimmy said drily.
"Oh right," Rilla frowned. "Who was that nice one with the red hair then? Didn't you take her to dance once?” Rilla's brow furrows, “What happened to her?”

"Lydia didn't like the idea of being married to a cop,” Jimmy tells them.

“So just Constance then?” Rowena asks him. Constance a morality officer turned Children’s Aid representative.

“Yes, escort her to events so her mother gets off her back and you off of mine,” Jimmy explains, trailing off at the end.

"Well, I'm sure you will find someone," Rilla told him before turning her attention back to Oliver as she patted his hair. "I don't understand why you refuse to let your curls show."

"They're childish, I'm not a child anymore," Oliver said.

"So you keep telling me," Rilla sighed. "but you'll always be my baby." She said. "Even if you are taller than me at fifteen.”

"Mom," Oliver groaned.

"Okay, Okay," Rilla stepped back from him. "John's father will pick you and the boys will spend the night at their place?”

"He is and I do," Oliver said nodding.

Rilla smiled and kissed his cheek before she left him be, letting Ken step forward.

"Be a gentleman," Ken said gruffly before looking back at his wife who was listening to Rowena say something about something about lipstick. "If her bag is on the opposite hand while walking, or standing next to you. It means she wants you to hold her hand. No smoking or drinking," he added at the very end. "No funny stuff." He said quietly.

"Dad!" Oliver grumbled.

"Have fun," Ken laughed slapping his back lightly.

"You promised me a dance," Oliver heard as he felt his coat being tugged. Clara was dressed in her favourite dress which was light pink organza with flounces upon flounces with a garland of silk flowers. It had been a copy of a Shirley Temple dress. Lillian had cleverly made it adjustable so it would fit her longer than a year. Even her hair had been styled in ringlets the previous night.

"Very well, once dance," he said as he held out his hands to her. Jimmy reached over and turned on the record player for them. Clara giggled and swept herself into a curtsy the matching ruffled panties showing as she did. Oliver mock bowed and dance around the living room with her.

"It's not fair, why can't I go to a dance, like a grown-up dance not those kiddy ones at school?” Rowena whined from her chair in the corner.

"Your time will come," Rilla told her. "You're only thirteen, don't be in such a rush to grow up," Rilla told her. She saw Ken chuckle to himself, he had heard from Walter just how Rilla wanted to go to that dance that one night. How Walter coaxed his mother-in-law to let Rilla have her night of fun.

"We'll be late if we don't head out soon," Ken said looking at the clock. "Plus it's almost bedtime for you Clara," Ken told her.

"Will you be home to tuck me in?" Clara asked her father as Oliver to stopped dancing and gave her a bow.

"Of course," Ken said as he scooped her up, feeling his back protest slightly. It would only be a little while longer she would be small enough for such things. "Take your bath and be good and I'll be back." He kissed her hair and set her back down as he grabbed his jacket and car keys. He stopped turning to Rilla who was still standing there.

"I won't be long," he said kissing her cheek before he left.

"Rilla nodded and watched Ken and Oliver leave. "Come on Clare-bear," she said to her youngest. "Bath time," she told nudged the five-year-old towards the hallway leaving the other two on their own.

"Jimmy, will you dance with me?" Rowena asked as she leaned against his chair. Jimmy looked at her with a raised eyebrow and hummed for a moment. "Please?" She added.

"Very well," Jimmy said standing up as a new song started on the player.

"Do you think you can take me to your Christmas gala one day? Rowena asked him

"Possibly, depends on Mom and Dad and if I have a wife or not," Jimmy grinned as he twirled her around in the living room.

"Then you're not allowed to get married, you'll live with us forever," Rowena told him giggling.

"What happens when you get married one day?" Jimmy chuckled.

"I'll live down the street and visit often," Rowena told him. "Do you like Connie?" Rowena asked him.

"Constance is a good friend," Jimmy said after a moment.

"But you don't like-like her?" Rowena prodded him for an answer.

"My feelings are none of your business," Jimmy tutted her with a smile.

"Well, I think you two should get married, you go to events together all the time anyway,"
Rowena told him a matter of factly.

"Getting married is more than just attending events Roe," Jimmy said shaking his head. "You should love the other person."

"Like mom and dad?" Rowena replied. "They love each other, it's rather sickening at times watching them as they are."

"It's endearing," Jimmy said correcting her as the song finished. "They have been through a lot together, you're lucky to have had such an example all your life."

"I suppose so," Rowena shrugged as she sat down and swung her legs over the edge of the chair, before remembering her new phase of life and covering her legs with the afghan. "Do you want to go make some fudge?"

"I think Mrs. Clarke would give us a tongue lashing if we use her supply of sugar for such things," Jimmy told her, reminding her that sugar was an economy that not every person had.

"I don't get it, we have money, we go to fancy schools and have this house. Yet Mom and Dad are always going on about saving and helping the less fortunate and I can't even make some fudge." Rowena huffed.

"You're sounding rather self-absorbed and selfish there Roe," Jimmy told her with a look. "All Mom and Dad want is for you to understand why things are the way they are right now. When the economy crashed it was a frightening time for them. Canada fared better than the United States, and a lot of people lost a lot of money. Your Uncles Jerry and Joseph lost their jobs. I got lucky with the police force. Dad counts himself extremely lucky to have managed as he has. As for your education, it's important to them. Mom wants you to know there is more to life than what society expects of you, and Oliver is technically your father's heir to the company." He explains to her.

"What if all I want to do is get married and be a mother?" Rowena countered back.

"Then that is your choice," Jimmy said shrugging. "Just choose someone who loves and respects you."

"Have you ever been in love?" Rowena asked him changing the subject back to him.

"I was once," Jimmy said after a moment, "and that is all the information you are getting from me, missy." He said to the thirteen-year-old.

"How am I supposed to know what love is if no one tells me what it feels like?" Rowena countered back.

"You'll know," Jimmy told her after a moment. "It's one of the most wonderful feelings in the world." He told her.

Rowena made a face and looked toward the clock with a sigh.

"Come on, let's go make some cookies," Jimmy told her. "I'm sure we can get away with that."

"Thank you!" Rowena grinned and jumped up from her chair.

Rilla sighed as she slipped into bed later that night, rubbing lotion into her hands. Ken still pacing from the news she told him.

"How? How is she already grown up enough for this? It feels like yesterday when I first held her in my hands. Red and screaming," Ken let out his thoughts from the day.

"It was going to happen sooner or later," Rilla patted his arm. "I was her age, she's been so moody lately I was just waiting for it to happen. She’s been boy crazy at that.” She said sighing as she patted the bed and beckoned him. "At least we have another seven-eight years before we have to worry about Clara," Rilla told him.

"I really don't enjoy the sound of her dating," Ken cleared his throat.

"But you have no problems with Oliver dating? Isn't that a double standard dearest?" Rilla teased him.

"Oliver can barely stumble his way through talking or dancing with a girl. The chances of having to worry about him with a girl right now are slim, but the boys that Doe is already starting to attract. I am not ready for that nor do I want it in the upcoming years." Ken said. "She has your beauty and the Ford charm. It doesn't sound good in my mind."

"We still have to trust her, the more we forbid something the more she will try to defy us." Rilla reminded him before she made a move to kiss him. Squeaking quietly as she felt his hands find the hem of her nightgown, letting her know that any talk of children could be postponed

"We have probably twenty minutes before we get interrupted," Rilla told him breaking for a breath of air while glancing at the clock on the table.

"Good thing we are well-practiced and stocked up on precautions?" Ken said nuzzling her neck with a smirk.

Sure enough, as soon as Rilla cleaned herself up in the washroom and Ken had managed to find his own bottoms once more. A small dark hair child came scampering from her room holding her teddy bear. Her lip quivered as she said something about monsters and shadows on her walls from the brewing storm. Rilla made room for her as she scooted closer to her husband. Clara climbed in with her own blanket and cuddled into her mother. "I love you,
Mummy, I love you, Daddy," Clara said before she fell back to sleep.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

On the other side of the city in a small hotel, two people lay together in a bed, completely wrapped up in each other.

"Is it ironic that the former morality officer is bedding a police officer?" Constance said as she curled against Jimmy.

They had met at a New Year's Eve party three years back with a few friends. Over the course of the night, they danced and drank together, kissing at midnight before he lost sight of her. He asked around and no one could tell who she had been. He thought he had been seeing things when she had come into the station as a social worker. They were friends, and when they needed a date for a police gala that year so she was the one who suggested they go together. Of course, she laid it down firmly that she needed to work until her brother could finish his trade training. Not having to have him worry about helping the family was her main goal for her family. Jimmy understood and told her he was fine with that. Though by the summertime, they were escaping the city limits for picnics. Necking in the car until the windows fogged up on rare similar days off. They had their understanding and rules.

"Probably?" Jimmy said after a moment before he grinned. "Though what they don't know won't hurt them. You can't get married, you'll lose your job to help support your mother and younger siblings. So we just have to wait until things are better for everyone and your brother is finished with his training"

“Anything about Willow? Did the call to England turn up?” Constance inquired. "Scotland Yard?"

“Nothing new, no leads but then again, they could have changed names since they stopped writing," Jimmy told her.

"How old would she be now?” Connie says asking

“18? I tried getting some information from a nearby school where she used to live. Also tried to check with a few boarding schools but it was a dead end. Unless I can give them a surname that she uses because Anderson is a dead-end or even her grandparent's surnames which I don't know. It's like she just disappeared into thin air, along with Adeline."

"She would have remembered writing to you," Constance told him. "People don't just stop writing, you were her brother."

"Yet I can't find anything about her," Jimmy sighed. "The only hope I get is that when I send her a birthday card or Christmas card. They are never returned."

"You'll figure it out," Constance said kissing his cheek before she rolled herself off the bed as she grabbed her brassiere and panties that were on the floor. "I should get going home."

Jimmy nodded looking at his own watch, "I should as well, I promised Mom that I would mow the lawn this morning. ” He replied as she tossed him his trousers. "Been a pleasure as usual," he teased her.

"Oh hush you," She swatted at him before she pulled her dress over her head and did up the zipper on the side. She leaned across the bed and kissed him before she grabbed her coat and bag. She checked her hair in the old mirror and plopped on her knitted hat. "I will see you later?"

"As always," Jimmy said nodding. Looking around the cheap hotel room they occasionally used. It was the only time they managed to be alone.

“Actually you should stop by Oleander later today the holiday,” he says bravely.

“My sister wants to meet you?” He adds on. “Mom and Dad also want to get to know you better?”

“You want me to officially meet the family?” Connie looks at him.

“Trust me a family picnic is a hell of a lot better than a private family dinner,” He tells her with a small grin.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Connie says after a moment.

“Bring your bathing suit, the pool is the place to be.” Jimmy grins and she shakes her head, as he knows she doesn’t swim.

He was fixing his shirt as he went through the back door, nodding to Mrs. Clarke who was busy in her kitchen already.

"Coffee is still warm," Mrs. Clarke told him.

"Thank you, do you need a refresher?" Jimmy asked looking at her cups as Ken walked in pulling up his suspender. looking up at the ceiling they could hear the commotion on the floor above from the chaos of the kids for a moment who were arguing over something or another. He nodded to the older man who took a drink of coffee.

"You have lipstick on your jaw," Ken told Jimmy who stood beside him pouring himself a cup of coffee for himself. He instantly blushed and tried to rub his jawline with a washcloth from the sink.

"So is it who I am thinking of or someone new?" Ken smirked into his coffee as Jimmy gulped down a drink of hot coffee grimacing. "You're twenty-six I don't care how you lead your life."

"I still rather not talk about it," Jimmy told him.

"Then I will leave you with the same advice I gave years ago, don't get her pregnant," Ken told him with a stern look.

"Don't get who pregnant?" Rilla said from the doorway, in her day dress that she just put on. “You didn’t just get home Jimmy?”

“Aren’t you just getting home?” Jimmy retorts back.

“I was at the hospital thank you very much,” Rilla says taking a drink of coffee herself grimacing and passing it back to her husband. “You know dealing with new mothers and all that jazz?"

"Dad is just being overly concerned," Jimmy told Rilla quickly going red and not wanting to get into his private relationship with them.

"Your life is your life, Jimmy," Rilla told him. "But I do agree with Ken. I am much too young for shotgun weddings and grandbabies," Rilla told him patting his cheek. "You can fool Rowena and Oliver and your co-workers but really you think you can fool us? That perfume is a total giveaway."

"I going to go mow the lawn like you asked," Jimmy said wanting to get out of the situation he found himself in.

"Did he think we didn't know?" Jimmy heard Rilla say to Ken who chuckled before there was a loud crash above them. He chuckled to himself before heading up the stairs.

"Children!" Rilla called out to whatever was occurring from upstairs as they all get ready for the day. "If I find anything broken it's coming out of your allowances!”

There is a moment of silence before more shouting.

Rilla looked at Ken and shook her head. "Have children they said, it will be fun they said," she
says under her breath.

"It's never a dull day?" Ken said with a smirk.

"Mom! He won't stop making fun of my hair!"

"Dad! She won't stop bothering me!"

"Mummy! My teddy bear's tail fell off!"

"I'll take the sewing, you take the older ones?" Rilla sighed.

"I'll send in one of the older kids to help with breakfast," Ken told Mrs. Clarke who only smiled knowingly.

With the crisis taken care of Rilla sinks down the sofa after breakfast, which she didn’t eat much of.

“How are you doing old girl?” Rilla says scratching the old grey ears. Artemis looks up with dull eyes, before settling back on her cushion. “I feel the same way some days.” She jokes stroking down the soft hair of the cat. Artemis was old, yet she always seems to last another year, another birthday, another Christmas.

Rilla sighs stretching out on the sofa and Artemis looked at her mistress, tail flicking to brush against Rilla’s arm. She moves slowly coming to curl up on her mistress's lap. Rilla shakes her head but strokes her down the back methodically as the purrs begin.

“You’ve seen so much,” she says to the cat. “I know you did not like the train ride here,” she says as Artemis looks up with tired-looking eyes.

“All the curious babies and children, though you were all right when it came to Clara,” Rilla muses.

When Rilla woke up Artemis wasn’t nestled into her anymore, though her bowl of food was empty. She put a bit more food in it as she walked through the kitchen.

“Mommy look!” Clara says clambering through the back door of the house. “Look!” She says holding up a snake in her one hand. “I found him in the garden with Uncle Carl while you were resting can I keep him!”

Rilla shrieks. “Out, out!” It must shock her daughter as the next thing she knows is the snake is in her kitchen, on her floor.

She grabs the broom that was near her.

“Don’t hurt it, mommy!” Clara exclaims.

“What is going on?” Jimmy says coming down into the kitchen, suspenders still hanging as he buttons his shirt after another quick shower from mowing the lawn apparently.

“Carl!” Rilla shrieks. Knowing her friend and husband were somewhere.

“It’s completely harmless,” he says popping his head and quickly gathering up the offending reptile.

“I don’t care,” Rilla hisses at him. “Snakes do not belong in my house,” she says as he lets the offending slithering reptilian around his arm and his neck.

“I thought you were dropping by later,” Rilla walks toward Marianne, kissing her cheek as Phoebe skipped over to Clara.

“You said two pm?” Marianne says looking at her watch.

“Is it two already?” Rilla says. “My apologies, I slept longer than I thought I did?” She says.

“It’s all fine,” Marianna shakes her head before looking at her husband. “That is not coming home with us.”

“I’ll keep it—,” Carl starts off, as Marianne shoots him a look. “All right then, come on girls let for find captain scaly a new home shall we.”

“We are not keeping the snake!” Marianne tells him yelling and Rilla shakes her head yawning and laughing at the same time.

“You feeling okay lately?” Marianne asks her friends. “You’re not the one to usually sleep during the day.

“Ken had a rough night, all this talk of war in the east, and the rumblings in European make his nightmares worse lately,” Rilla sighs. “Then I was up late as it was at work, another baby was lost last night.”

“Why do you torture yourself so there?” Marianne frowns.

“Because, at least someone there should be sympathetic towards those mothers,” Rilla says sighing, before turning towards the stove to set the kettle on. Hand on her back. “Doesn’t help I feel like I’m coming down with something.”

“You sure it’s not another surprise,” Marianne jokes.

“You know that's not possible,” Rilla give her friend a look.

“Nothing is impossible, they told you it might be difficult and to wait a few years,” Marianna reminds her.

“I’m practically forty years old Marianne,” Rilla reminds her friend. “Ken is forty-six, a baby is the last thing we need right now, or want.”

“Well, at least you get that,” Marianne says sighing. “I have a feeling we have acquired a new pet.”

“You wouldn’t actually let him keep that thing!” Rilla exclaims.

“Do you think if I truly had a say, we would have the amount that we do?” Marianne reminds her friend.

Rilla shakes her head and passes her friend a mug of coffee.

“I better not be pregnant,” Rilla says sighing, sniffing the coffee and setting aside.

“I mean I would say Christmas came early for you,” Marianne says with a smirk. “But given I know that you and your husband probably have more sex than newlyweds…I’m not surprised you don’t have more kids honestly.l”

“Mommy, what’s sex?” One of the kids says from the doorway. Rilla shoots daggers at her friend.

“It’s something married adults do, it’s all rather boring really,” Rilla says fast on her feet. “Oh look there is your Aunt Lily and Uncle Shirley with your cousins,” Rilla says with a look of relief.

“Uncle Shirley!” Clara goes and runs off.

Lillian who was near the child shakes her head and wipes her feet on the mat and goes to kiss her sister-in-law.

“Anglaise mes Chers!” She calls out to her children who were speaking in French to each other before looking over Rilla's tired pale face.“You look fatigued?” She comments and Rilla groans.

“I think she’s pregnant,” Marianne says as she kisses Lillian’s cheek in greeting.

“Oh dear, really?” Lillian frowns. “I don’t remember anyway anniversary or birthday lately?” Marianne snorts and shakes her head.

“I’m not….” Rilla says through her teeth. “Let us all just enjoy this day, the men are getting the grill ready, and I made the one thing I can’t mess up, salad,” Rilla tells him.

“Well, thank god for that,” Rilla hears Persis who was holding some desert. Looking still fairly young and blonde, “My god you look horrible, you aren’t pregnant are you?”

“Who’s pregnant?” Leslie asks coming through the door.

“No one,” Rilla stressed and goes to greet her mother-in-law. "Owen, there is a cooler of drinks on the table," she tells her father-in-law. She looks through the door and saw all the children splashing around in the pool in their swimsuits on this Dominion Day weekend. George and Amelia Persis’s children were the same as her own as teenagers, both with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “I just had a long night, and they are all teasing me.”

“Well, you do have that look to you,” Leslie looks at her and Rilla groans.

“Mama, Tante Rilla?” Lunette comes rushing in, her long blonde hair in two braids.

“What is it, Cheri?” Lillian asks her youngest daughter.

“Can we have a snack s'il te plaît?” Lunette asks.

“There are vegetables on the picnic table,” Rilla tells them, feeling her stomach flipping at the thought of food, luckily her niece runs back outside.

“You are definitely pregnant, oh another baby,” Persis says grinning. “We need a new baby in this family.”

“Then you can have one,” Rilla tells her sister-in-law with a glare.

“Excuse did we just hear that someone was pregnant?” Ken says in the doorway, with the other men. “I think we are all a little old for that.

“It’s all speculation,” Leslie says patting her son's cheek, going to her husband that was sitting down with a beer in his hand.

“I don’t know I’m on forty-two, I can handle another one,” Shirley says grinning. “Though Ken you’re pushing it at forty-six.”

“Très drôle chérie,” Lillian rolls her eyes and went out in her Parisian flair to go see the children.

“Perse?” Joe her husband looks at her.

“Oh, you know very well that I am not,” Persis tells him and he breathes a sigh of relief. They had barely escaped Winnipeg and the recession, Toronto was fairly better but they had lost a lot of money.

Rilla sighs and looks at Ken who was paler by the moment. “They are just teasing, I just had a long night and coming down with something.”

“Rills,” Ken says carefully.

“Let's just enjoy the day and we can talk later all right?” She pleads with him.

Ken can only nods his head and then goes back towards the grill. Rilla comes out, sitting on one of the lounge chairs, the older girls are all sitting on the edge of the pool.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it? The whole thing?” Rowena says. “Like last week we went swimming at school and I had to sit out like a child. Of course, everyone knows at that point, seriously it's a curse.”

“You get used to it,” the lightly accented voice of the eldest girl of Shirley’s says to her cousin. Elodie was the only one protecting her silver-blonde hair with a bathing cap.

“How? I still created a murder scene last month because it came in the middle of the night!” Amelia exclaims and some of the boys look at her.

“Don’t ask,” Jimmy says shaking his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Why not?” Jasper asks.

“You want to start hearing about cycles, sanitary napkins and cramps?” Jimmy looks at them, and all the boys make a face. “See? Though I will say, grow up and don’t make face one day when you’re seeing someone, or engaged or married you’ll deal with it often enough and some sympathy earns you loads of bonus points.”

“Listen to him, he has some good idea’s sometimes.” Says a new voice and Jimmy turns around.

“You made it!” He says jumping out of the pool. “I thought?”

Constance shrugs lightly, turning her head slightly as he tries to kiss her in front of everyone.

“Mom, Dad, you remember Constance?” He says turning to them not letting it detour him from introductions.

“Of course, lovely to see you,” Ken says as he watches his wife’s face pale over something. “Give her a minutes she’s had a long morning at the hospital,” he says as Rilla manages to shake off the feeling of impending doom that was in her stomach.

“Really it is,” Rilla says. “ Sorry, I must have eaten something off this morning during rounds. It just hit me.”

“I hope you feel better,” Constance says nodding her head.

“You are so pretty!” Rowena says jumping in. “No wonder Jimmy is in love with you!”

“Roe!” Jimmy groans.

“You are very pretty as well,” Connie says in reply with a smile. “You must be Rowena? Jimmy has spoken about you a fair bit.”

“Oh god don’t tell her that. She already has enough of an ego,” Jimmy groans and Rowena sends him a glare.

“What about me?” Clara says looking up soaking wet from the pool. In her little bathing suit, which was bright yellow. She wiggles for a moment picking it out of her bottom.

“You must be Clara?” Connie says bending down slightly. “Oh yes I knew all about your impish ways,” she laughs.

“I’m not an imp I’m Clare-bear!” Clara chirps.

“My apologies,” Connie laughs.

“Did you bring a suit?” Rowena asks.

“I’m not a great swimmer,” Connie says shaking her head.

“Jimmy can teach you, he taught all of us? I’m sure mom has a spare?” Rowena says shaking her head.

“It’s okay, I think I will stay dry,” She says shaking her head, pulling at her floral summer dress as Clara still stares at her. “You must be happy schools out?”

“I don’t to school yet,” Clara chirps.

“She’s only five, and Rilla likes to keep them home for as long as possible,” Ken says quickly, knowing what place Constance works for.

“Well, I am sure you will have all the fun when you do,” She says smiling and nodding her head. “I know theist few years have been hard for all the parents in Toronto, but school is important for children her age.”

“You work for the Department of Children’s Aid do you not?” Ken asks her to confirm.

“I do, I mostly run between station houses and help out when they need a guardian for a child found lost,” Constance nods her head.

“Is that how you met Jimmy at the station?” Rowena asks from the side of the pool as the boys dive splashing them. “Ollie my hair! You’re going to ruin it!”

“You’re in a bloody pool Roe!” Ollie says shaking his head of curls.

“If you start fighting, both of you are out of that pool,” Ken warns them.

“Children,” Constance says with an awkward smile at him.

“So you say,” Kenneth nods his head and focuses on Rilla for a moment. Handing her a drink that was frothy and yellow. “Do you like pineapple?” He asks holding another for Constance.

“I’m good thank you,” she says shaking her head as Jimmy sits beside her on the bench.

The kids play in the pool for most of the afternoon, Phoebe falls asleep on her father's lap mid-day while Clara climbs in between Jimmy and Constance, looking at the young woman with narrow eyes as she cuddles into her big brother. Not see the look of amusem*nt between them as she tries to show her territory, as she refuses to eat dinner anywhere but his lap as well.

It only amuses the adults more to her confusion, until she falls asleep mid-dessert from all her play and running around.

It was the next morning when Rilla woke up to a shriek that sends her bolting straight up to bed with Ken doing the same thing. He is first out of bed, not bothering with a shirt or even slippers as he races down the stairs. As the shrieking and crying continue as Rilla grabs her robe following him.

It’s Clara who is screaming bloody murder at 6:30 in the morning.

It takes a long moment for Rilla to figure out what was going on. There is no tell-a-tale sign of life from the cat on the cushion. She reaches for her old friend, still warm but also stiff.

“Oh, Artemis,” Rilla whispers, tears leaking out of her eyes.

“I’ll take her,” Rilla hears Oliver say to his father. She turns and sees both of her older children, minus Jimmy who was working downstairs as well. Ken has Clara in his arms and another arm around Rowena who still has curlers in her hair.

“I’ll go find a box,” Mrs. Clark says still in her own dressing gown and hair still in curlers.

“Oh old girl,” Rilla says softly and Ken comes up behind her. “I never thought…”

“No one does,” he says wrapping his arm around her waist. Oliver has Clara now, and Rowena is sitting on the stairs.

She watches Ken deposit the old feline into the box, wrapped up in an old blanket that she liked to lay on before tucking it away outside. Clara was still crying, watching from her mother's lap.

“We’ll find a nice spot under the try,” Oliver tells her. “Give her a nice burial and funeral,” he tries to calm his little sister.

It only makes her cry more.

Breakfast is solemn,

“I can’t believe it,” Rilla says quietly into her husband's chest as he rubs her arm with the one around her shoulder.

“She was older than Ollie,” Ken says quietly.

“I know, but sometimes it seemed like she would just be around forever,” Rilla says sighing.

“She was a wonderful feline,” Ken says trying to agree. “We can always get another when we’re ready for another.”

“I just feel horrible that Clara was the one,” Rilla sighs. “I know that feeling, waking up to finding something precious gone.”

Ken frowns, knowing just what memory she is talking about. He kisses the top of her head silently. Not knowing what to say exactly, because what was to say when you felt the same way?

“She’ll be all right Rills, she’s resilient to the core.” Ken reminds her. “Better now with this than later when it is someone else who she may love. Neither of our parents is young,” he reminds her.

Rilla nods her head.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Clara was sleeping when Rilla pulled into the back driveway. Ken was already home, sitting out on the side porch. He crossed over the railing and came up to greet her. "How was your day?" He asked kissing her quickly before gently picking up their youngest from the back seat.

"Same as usual," Rilla sighed. "How was your day?"

"Same as usual," Ken said as he adjusted their daughter in his arm. "I am curious just what she does at the Merediths that has her this tuckered out?"

"Playing with goats?" Rilla replied as she closed the car door for him. "I'm being serious," She told him when he looked at her in disbelief. "Carl had them out in the barn today when he came back from teaching. Playing with the animals and helping feed the kid."

Ken shook his head with a laugh as they walked up to the house. “I made reservations for 7 pm for us.”

“I’ll be ready, just need to get her into the bath and into bed,” Rilla tells him. “Where are Ollie and Roe?”

“Ollie is down over at Persis’s with George and Roe is at her friend Katrina’s birthday party and sleepover”

“That was today?” Rilla panics.

“It’s fine, she already had the gift and bag ready to go,” Ken told her, as he made his way over to the living room and laid Clara down on the sofa and sat down on it.

"Daddy?" she rubbed her eyes.

"Right here Pumpkin," he said with a small smile sitting down and letting her crawl into his lap. He would miss the days when she grew out of these moments. She yawned into his chest rubbing her eyes in the process.

"I got to play with goats today, Uncle Carl let me pet them and there was a little baby," Clara told him of her day.

"Sounds like you had a very fun day?" Ken said acting enthralled. Though his day was spent looking at paperwork, budgets and revenue for the month. Anything was more exciting than that!

"I did," Clara nodded. “Can I have a pony Daddy?” she said mid-yawn.

“I don’t think we can afford a pony sweetie,” Ken says with a chuckle. “But maybe we can look into getting you some lessons next year when you’re a bit bigger.”

“Really?” Clara perks up.

“If you’re a good girl,” Ken affirms before nudging her to where Jimmy was standing in the doorway. Half dressed in his constable outfit.

"I don't like when you go to work Jimmy," she said climbing across the sofa towards her older brother, her legs still across her father's lap though. "What happens if a bad guy gets you?"

Clara was one of the few who actively voiced her worries. Of course, Rilla fretted, but Jimmy was grown up and she had to accept his career choice. Rowena seemed to think it was more dashing to have a brother who was in the police force. Oliver stayed fairly silent on the matter. He was rather serious, more serious than Jimmy had been at twelve and thirteen. He never stated what his issue was with Jimmy's chosen profession, but he refused to talk about it. Even to Jimmy himself.

"Well, I don't let the bad guys get to me," Jimmy said trying to reassure her.

"Come on Clare, you need a bath before dinner," Rilla said from the doorway of the sunroom. "You smell like Uncle Carl's barn."

"Daddy, can you braid my hair afterwards?" She asked looking up at Ken.

"As you always wish," Ken said as she climbed off of him. He got a playful pat on her bottom before she ran off and he sat there for another moment.

They barely made their reservation, as they rushed into the restaurant. Rilla fixed the skirt of her burnish red dress as she sat down. The lights flickered around them and on the silk of her dress. The neckline teased Ken with each move she made as she leaned her elbows on the table, to which he smirks.

“Nineteen years,” Ken says slightly amazed. “After so many decisions and changes. I don’t think anyone would have pictured us here.”

“I thought we would just be Kingsport forever,” Rilla agrees her stomach still flummoxes and he catches that look on her face.

“We need to talk about it, “ He whispers to her. “You need to see a doctor.”

“I already have Ken,” She says sighing. “I don’t even understand how this happened.”

“Well, when two people love each other…” Ken starts off and she shoots him a look. “It happened, we make do.”

“We’re too old of this.”

“Clearly we are not though,” Ken says shaking his head. “It will be okay, you will see.”

“We have no room,” Rilla points out sighing.

“Jimmy will move out eventually, and Ollie can take the attic and we can move around the girls and by the time this one needs a room of their own, we’ll have a free one. Next worry?”

“I die?”

“You won’t die, having a c-section is not the end all, or death sentence for women in future pregnancies. We’ll just make sure you take an easy and not overwork yourself.” Ken reminds her. “You’re better than usual, though. That has a count for something?”

Rilla sighs, taking a drink of her water. “Can we just order?”

“Ignoring won’t make it go away,” Ken says sighing but picking up the menu.

"I know, but I feel alright and we can talk about this later. I just want to try and eat something right now." Rilla tells him.

The summer is hot, hotter than what Rilla remembers. The kids run around splashing in the lawn sprinkler and swimming in the pool depending on who was home to watch them. Rilla had a strict rule of no swimming without an adult present. While Clara’s birthday had just passed filled with fanfare with Phoebe as they rode the Pony that Uncle Carl brought along in the back year.

“Shopping budget, and milk money,” Ken says to himself counting the balance in his ledger

“We’ll need school supplies for the children.” Rilla reminds him.

“Yes, I just got the tuition bills,” Ken nods his head. “Do we need uniforms this year?”

“A few pieces each I think? Shirts for Ollie and trousers, that boy really needs to stop growing. Roe needs some new blouses, her jacket was large enough last year it should be fine this year.”

“Clara will need a uniform,” Ken says carefully and he can feel his wife’s intense gaze.

“Not this year,” She tells him.

“She needs to be in school,” Ken says setting down the school fee pamphlet for Rowena that year.

“She’s not going,” Rilla shakes her head looking out the window to her children.

“Rilla, she needs to go. Not only that Branksome is a safe school, but there also hasn’t been a case of polio there yet that we know about.” Ken reminds her. “We can’t keep her at home, she needs to make friends.”

“No,” Rilla says through her teeth. “I mean it Ken she isn’t going, I’ll teach her at home, surely the government and children's aid will be fine with that.”

“I’m not making it a choice Rilla, she is going to school like every other child, she’s turning six,” Ken says sharply and sternly looking at his wife. “You have too much going on to teach her anyway, she needs to be in school.”

“And I said not yet, Kenneth!” Rilla snaps at him. “You’re going to send her to her death!”

“She will be fine Rilla, you need to get this death sentence out of your head. It is school!” He snaps back.

“She is not going!” Rilla finds herself shouting.

“This is not a discussion, this is my final decision. She needs to go to school and school she will go Rilla.” Ken stresses to her calmly.

“Well, f*ck me for thinking this house was a democracy and not a dictatorship,” Rilla curses at him and goes to stalk out of the room but he grabs her arm. She looks at him red in the face and slaps his face. “Don’t you dare touch me?”

“Limiting Clara's interaction in the world to protect her isn’t going to bring her sister and our other child back.” Ken finds himself saying. “It was out of our hands Rilla you know that. It kills me that Cora didn’t survive. We did nothing wrong, and everything right and we can’t change that and we can’t keep her locked away any more than what we can with this that you’re carrying!”

Rilla just looks at him, before turning on her heel and locking herself in the washroom nearest her.

He hears her be sick, he feels guilty making her sick and in such a state when she’s in fighting all the hormones of early pregnancy.

“Rilla, please,” he says from the door and he stays there until she comes out. She stalks past him, and he follows watching her grab her bags.

“I have to go to work,” she tells him stonily and he watches her kiss the kids goodbye, telling them she had to run to the hospital. Before hopping into the car and driving off.

Ken found himself in the kitchen watching the coffee pot,

“So Mom’s really mad isn’t she,” Jimmy says in passing.

“You heard all that?” Ken says sighing.

“Well, some of it, I was asleep for what I am assuming would have been the first part of it,” Jimmy says shrugging. “You’re face going to be okay though?”

“I hope so,” Ken says sighing touching it gingerly “I probably deserved it, but the fact of the matter is that Clara needs to go to school. The outbreak was two years ago at this point and yeah we kept Clara safe, and the kids out of the school for a while until it calmed down, but it’s no longer such a threat but she is still…also I know you know but I never touched her.”

“Oh I know,” Jimmy says nodding his head. “I don’t think I have ever seen you raise a hand to her, ever in my life.”

“Because I haven’t,” Ken says gruffly. “Not to any of your kids either, though your mother hasn’t either. This is just a rare case with her, I’m sure she’ll apologize when she calms down.”

“And when she does I’ll take the kids for ice cream, or a movie,” Jimmy said with a nod of his head.

“Why do you say that?” Ken asks his curiosity peaked.

“Because they don’t need to hear you making up,” Jimmy gives him a look. “Do you know how many times you forget I am in the attic above you? They don’t need to hear that…”

“sh*t,” Ken curses. “You should have mentioned it before…”

Jimmy just shrugs. “You're married, and it’s not like you argue like that often.”

“Still,” Ken says gruffly feeling embarrassed. “I’m sure we'll have worked it out by the time we head to the island.”

“I’m sure as well,” Jimmy says nodding his head.

They don't though and Rilla refuses to budge and takes the kids without him. She always forgets how long thetrain ride is and is somehow even more torturous with teenagers than children Rilla finds herself believing. You could entertain the children, you could bring coloured books and toys for them. Teenagers, moody teenagers were another thing altogether while battling never-ending nausea.

“I’m bored,” Rowena says from her seat.

“Then work on your embroidery,” Rilla tells her fanning herself.

“I don’t want to,” she complains.

“Then go for a walk, or sit like a lady you’re almost fourteen after all” Rilla shakes her head and nudges her daughter's feet that were over the arm of the chair in the lounge with her hand as she sits down on another chair.

“Why are you mad at Daddy?” Rowena asks her.

“Who says I am mad at your father?” Rilla raises an eyebrow.

“Well, we left without him…” Rowena says bravely.

“He had things at work to do, he’ll catch a train on Friday,” Rilla tells her simply as she sees Clara and Jimmy come into the car, arms-filled things from the candy cart.

“Did you spend all your allowance on sweets?” Rilla shakes her head. "You’ll ruin your dinner and your teeth.”

“That's why I brush them!” Clara giggles. “I got you chocolate Row,” she says handing her sister a chocolate bar.

“Where Oliver?” Rilla asks looking around for her eldest.

“Playing chess with a boy, in another car” Clara chirps and Rilla nods her head. “When will we get there?”

“Tomorrow sometime, we transfer in Montreal tonight and then take a train to New Brunswick to catch the ferry, and then we’ll catch the train in Borden to bring us to Glen St Mary and Ingleside,” Rilla explains to her and Clara climbs onto her lap.

“When does daddy come again?” Clara asks next.

“Dad will be a few more days he had a work emergency,” Jimmy says for Rilla.The fight seemed to sour more when Ken came home the next day saying he couldn’t make the train as planned. He would switch the tickets, they would still spend a few days less on the island. It created another row, that had Rilla yelling at him and telling him they would leave as planned and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. Or go to hell, for all she cared.

She was exhausted by the time they stepped off the train in Glen St Mary. She really did not like travelling she concluded long ago and her predicament made it worse, but everyone was supposed to be here this summer.

It was Jem waiting for them at the station. Jem, who is now mostly white in his ruddy curls with a face of laugh lines and wrinkles around his eyes.

When did they all get so old?

“Rilla!” He stands with open arms. “A sight for sore eyes, it’s been too long,” he says hugging her.

“Who is this?” He says next seeing Clara. “This can’t be the little imp who I saw four years ago?”

“This is your Uncle Jem,” Rilla says quietly to Clara. “You might not remember him as the last time you were here you were just a baby,” she tells her daughter.

“Do you cut people open like Grandpa?” Clara asks loudly and Jem laughs.

“Got a cheeky one have you, I am a doctor yes little imp,” he says grinning. “Ollie, Rowena, Jimmy,” he says nodding his head to them.

“Hi Uncle Jem,” they all say in unison.

“Your cousins are excited to see you,” he adds.

They pile into his truck, with their suitcases, the kids sitting in the back of the truck as they drive down the old familiar roads. He drops them off at the old house, handing them the keys that he had on him.

“Where’s Ken?” Jem asks his sister as the kids all jump out of the truck. Oliver and Rowena take Clara to show her the old haunts of their own childhood vacations.

“He had a work emergency,” Rilla says shrugging. “He’ll be here in a few days, how are the kids?”

“Well Ceci is heading off for Redmond this year,” Jem says. “Walt is thinking about going to medical school, you know carry on the tradition of Dr Blythe. I can’t imagine having a little one going to school for the first time these days.”

“Well, if I had my way she wouldn’t be,” Rilla says under her breath. No need to air our dirty laundry at the beginning of the trip.

“You can’t protect them from everything Rilla,” Jem says sympathetically. “But I understand that Toronto is far larger than the island, but even we haven’t had a case in over a year.”

Rilla looks up at him ready to argue when her stomach flips and she looks around and rushes towards the bushes. Her brother raised his eyebrows, before looking at the kids who seemed to be used to it.

“Are you serious?” He looks at his little sister with a dopy sort of Cheshire grin.

“Shut it,” Rilla tells him.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Trigger Warning.

Mentions and talks about abortion.

“All right, girls are together, and boys are together,” Rilla tells everyone. While there is electricity, it is not turned on. There is a propane stove and ice box, Rowena and Oliver you may light kerosene lamps on the wall. Clara, you do not touch them just like you don’t touch candles at home,” Rilla warns her youngest.

“Come on Clara I’ll show you our room,” Rowena tells her sister.

Rilla looks around the old summer house. Memories, so many memories, there are still photos on the wall from god knows when. She goes to the kitchen, finding it stocked with basics from one of her siblings.

She sighs, rubbing her stomach the burn still radiating threw her throat. Oliver was still standing in the kitchen, watching her.

“You’re going to be all right aren’t you?” Oliver says quietly for the first time he acknowledges that he notices his mother being sick. “Last time you were like this…well, it was when you had Clara.”

“Of course, I will be,” Rilla rushes to tell him. To reassure him that nothing would happen to her. She knows he’s plenty old enough to remember how sick she was when she had Clara. Being sensitive as he was, she could only imagine what was creeping up in his memories.

“Then why are you and Dad fighting?” Oliver asks another tough question.

“It’s complicated Ollie, and you do not need to know as it doesn’t affect you,” Rilla tells him, admitting that they were rowing, but she refused to give Oliver anything more than that. He didn’t need to know the details. “People fight, you and Rowena fight, it’s no different than your father and I.”

“You won’t…you won’t die though?” Oliver asks looking down at his feet and then at her. She doesn’t want to frighten him but, she can’t guarantee anything either.

“Ollie, these sorts of things…it’s hard work. I may be delicate for a while, I may need help for you and Roe with things around the house, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that I am healthy.” She tells him sitting down.

“Was it always this bad?” He asks next curiously. “Is it always this bad?”

“For some women yes, but for most, it’s not as extreme. When I learned I was expecting you, I was so afraid and happy at the same time and I was fine in the early weeks. Then something changed,” Rilla says remembering. “I spent many hours lying on the bathroom floor, and struggled to keep anything down.”

“And then I was born almost a month early?” Oliver says knowing that part.

“That you were, and you gave us all fright with your lungs, but you pulled through,” Rilla says reaching to run a hand through the dark curls. “You were so little, a little old man, I think I even called you a potato once.”

“You called Clara a pretty potato once,” Oliver reminds her.

“Well, just because I love you all, as you are all my children, doesn’t mean I can’t be honest and say that babies aren’t always the prettiest things when they are first born.” Rilla laughs lightly.

“Still, I lost a lot of weight with you, I faired better with Rowena but not by much,” Rilla admits to him.

“I saw the photos from when I was a baby,” Oliver says after a moment.

“Don’t mean to ruin the lovely talk, but shouldn’t boys your age be trying to act so I don’t know, run from these sorts of conversations?” Rilla teases him lightly.

“I rather know you're okay, and uncomfortable than, ignorant and seem as if I don’t care,” Oliver says ears turning red.

“You really are my little sensitive soul of a boy,” Rilla says feeling proud.

“Mom,” he groans.

“Okay young man,” Rilla says laughing lightly.

Ingleside was all but calm when Rilla walked over with the children and Jimmy. It was chaotic was the number of kids running about.

“You made it,” She hears from Di first, only four years older than her, her hair was still red and her eyes still their bright grey-green.

“We did,” She nods her head. “You remember Oliver and Rowena and this little one is Clara,”

“My you have gotten big,” Di exclaims. “Nan comes to see how big Clara is,” she calls out to her sister.

The kids come as well, hearing their mother and seeing their cousins.

Di and Jack's children Beau and Elsie were fourteen and eleven respectively. Both with auburn hair and freckles. Nan had another little girl Margaret, who was twelve and resembled much of her elder sixteen-year-old sister Geraldine still affectionately called Deena.

They create three different groups. Ceci, Walt, Deena, Elodie, and Oliver discuss things like college and more mature things. While the slightly younger teens gather around talking about movies and clothing of course. Jasper the loan boy in a swarm of girls it feels like, as he gravitates to pull towards his male cousins with the prospect of doing some fishing or something at some point. All the girls are in various styles of summer playsuits and dungarees with curly hair pulled up into some fashion with bows while the boys were all in tee shirts and shorts.

While Clara was the odd one out it appear as she flitted around her Aunts and Uncles. Still running about in her little sun dresses with crisscrossed straps in the back and braids in her hair.

“I have no one to play with,” she says pouting coming up to her mother crawling into a wicker chair.

Rilla looks around and realizes that Clara was the youngest of a bunch of teenagers, even the second youngest is at least eleven by now. Marianne and Carl wouldn’t be here for another few days with Phoebe, because of obligations that made them come later.

“I think Grandpa is inside,” she hears her mother says from the doorway.

“Grandpa!” Clara says climbing off the old wicker chair and racing inside. Her parent visits at least twice a year since her father semi-retired, though if you asked him he had retired.

“So you made it,” Anne says taking the vacant seat.

“So I did,” Rilla nods her head, head swarming now at the amount of control she was trying to have over her body right now.

Her parents were well into their seventies by now. Her father, still couldn’t help sometimes helping out with the odd case if it came his way. He comes out with Clara in his arms as she laughs. On his way towards the yard with the other children. Only stopping to give kiss the top of her head before going to the grandkids.

“You must be excited about an empty house during the day this fall. With Clara being finally school age,” Nan asks as she hands out the lemonade.

“No not really,” Rilla says honestly sniffing the drink carefully, nose wrinkling at the thought of lemon on her sour stomach. She also wasn’t entirely sure if Jem had told anyone about her expecting another child. “I don’t want her in school at all, but Ken has apparently put his foot down about it whether I want it or not?”

“So you are rowing?” Di asks, looking over her sister.

“Well if rowing means slapping him in a fit of anger then sure,” Rilla says sighing. “It’s just tense lately. The rumbles on Pacific Asia, and more and more in Europe, he’s worried and won’t admit it. Then this whole surprise pregnancy thing is just topping everything off.

“You slapped him!” Nan exclaims.

“Oh sure tell the world,” Rilla rolls her eyes. “I’m not exactly proud of it.”

“I would hope not,” Anne tuts her daughter.

“Trust me, I am not,” Rilla says taking a deep breath as she feels her stomach roll. It was Ollie who catches on from across the veranda.

“Wastebasket!” He calls out, looking around and it was Di who manages to grab one quickly from the front hall.

“Rilla?” Her mother's voice squeaks.

“Not right now, please,” She says sighing. “I don’t need anyone freaking out more than I am right now.”

“Come on, I’ll find you some ginger,” her father says from the steps. He was already handing Clara to Jimmy.

“So this is why Kenneth telegrammed and asked me to make sure you were managing?” Gilbert says opening the drawers of his old office, and rummaging around.

“Of course he did,” Rilla says under her breath.

“He’s worried Rilla, he always is when you’re going through this. Though I had thought these days were behind us?”

“So did we, I mean we tried to prevent such things, but we also thought that it wouldn’t be that easy to begin with?” Rilla sighs. “I’m forty years old.”

“And still not the oldest mother I have seen,” Gilbert tells her handing her some ginger chews. Sitting down in one of the old chairs, he watches her sit looking defeated and tired.

“It’s just a gigantic mess either way,” Rilla sighs. “Oliver is worried naturally, he remembers how it was with Clara. Now my days are up and down and I’m running out of excuses for Rowena and Clara.”

“All you can do is take it one day at a time,” Gilbert reminds her. “ Although, I know when I spoke to your doctor in the aftermath of that day, his advice was never meant to be an end-all Rilla. He just wanted you to have enough time to recover and heal, though I can understand why you may have taken it was more gravity given the circ*mstances. It’s easier to pretend something is not possible when you’re afraid. Though I think everyone was more worried that you wouldn't last another pregnancy being ill all of the time. Clara's was rough on you.

“When did you get into psychology?” Rilla says head tilting.

“When my youngest daughter started going off about things I barely understood,” he says with a grin. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really, but I’m not vomiting at the moment so there’s that,” Rilla says simply. “Mainly resigned to the fact that I will be ill until I have this child, because what else can I do?”

The sea breeze doesn't help Rilla who finds herself struggling more each day. Her nieces and nephews come for their cousins, while Jimmy often takes Clara to Ingleside or keeps her occupied, though today Phoebe should be for her.

“Phoebe!” Clara calls out when Carl and Marianne are walking down towards the house of dreams. Rilla looked up from her spot in front of the sink, trying not to be sick. But the sickness had graduated from bothersome, to horrific.

‘Mommy is under the weather, mommy ate something funny, mommy needs a moment.'

How many times would she have to make excuses?

“You look terrible,” Marianne says from the kitchen door.

“Thanks, if I vomit anymore I’ll throw up my own stomach,” Rilla tells her.

“And where Ken? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Marianne looks around, but still no sign of him.

“Somewhere? I don’t know, and I don’t really care right now.” Rilla says before she throws up once more. She takes a deep breath before she turns around. “How’s the manse?”

“It’s the same as usual,” Marianne says with a shrug. “Awkward but Rosemary and John are sweet with Phoebe.”

“Nothing about the girls back in Toronto?” Rilla asks.

“Oh, of course, there is,” Marianne says was a shake of her head looking at her friend. “Luckily Una’s lawyer husband is now doing more and more divorces and that is somehow worse. Really Faith and Jem are their angels, with Jerry and Nan a close second.”

Rilla nods her head, she always somehow forgot that Marianne, was oddly family by some weird way of marriage. She was Jem and Nan’s sister-in-law, though it was too convoluted to ever try and explain in Toronto. Even Ken was related to Rosemary Meredith, and not so little Bruce, a cousin of some extent removed.

“You really don’t look good Rilla.”

“Thanks,” Rilla drawls.

“No really Rilla, you should see your brother or your dad,” Marianne says worried.

“There is nothing they can do,” Rilla says shrugging. “It’s always like this.”

“Wait…Dominion day, I was just teasing,” Marianne rushes to say.

“Well, you were right, and now this is my life,” Rilla turns and bends at the waist, letting her head touch the old wooden counter.

“Is this why you and Ken are having a row?” Marianne asks.

“No, that is because he is sending Clara to school and I blew up at him and the hormones only made it worse for us,” Rilla groans. “Sure we fight now and then, who doesn’t but I actually slapped him, Mari. I slapped him across the face.”

“I’m sure he understands and forgives you,” Marianne says. “But this baby…this is big news.”

“You’re telling me, I don’t even know what to think or feel and frankly I am too sick most of the time to even have time to figure out how I feel about it.”

“You should really talk to Ken about this Rilla,” Marianne frowns.

“We have, he’s just we’ll make do and adjust like everyone,” Rilla says forcing herself to stand back up. Looking at the two little girls running around the yard with Carl who was chasing after them.

“Go lie down, we’ll watch Clara for a little bit for you. Where are the others?” Marianne asks looking around the old kitchen.

“They went out to the valley I think, with their cousins?” Rilla says as she walks slowly towards the old sofa in the old room. The old telephone is ringing, she didn’t even realize that someone turned it on.

When Ken made it to the island he found her hunched over the toilet in the small old bathroom. Ollie was nervously pacing the hallway. Wanting to try and be helpful, but he doesn’t know quite how to help.

“I sent Roe to Ingleside with Clara, but she won’t stop Dad,” Oliver says hurriedly. “She just keeps getting sick and I don’t know what to do,”

“You don’t have to do anything, that’s not your job and you should never have to worry like that. Go calm down and I’ll take care of this,” Ken tells me. “Thank you though for looking out for your mother, you are a good young man for not running at the sign of illness.”

“I couldn’t just leave her,” Oliver says shaking his head.

“I know,” Ken says squeezing the young man's shoulder, turning back to his wife who still heaving in the old toilet.

Gagging, in a different way as she wipes her mouth only to find streaks of what appears to be blood on the back of her hand. The taste of bile and copper in her throat, when had she ever thrown up blood?

“I’m calling your father,” Ken says when he saw what was happening. Soon everyone is in the little old house, though one of her sisters took the kids back to Ingleside.

Except now it’s just Jem and Faith in the room with her and Ken, watching her be sick intermitted.

It was Faith who approaches the subject first, as Jem looks over her vitals. Whispering in her husband's ear who can only nod his head after a moment solemnly.

“This…this wasn’t a planned pregnancy was it?” She asks and Ken who is looking at the most useless person just looks at Rilla.

“Clearly,” Rilla says hoarsely. “What it wasn’t,” she says to Ken who makes a noise.

“Do you want me to end the pregnancy?” Faith asks and the room is silent.

“Excuse me?” Ken says for himself.

“I can end the pregnancy, the sickness will stop and there won’t be any worries,” Faith explains to him.

“That is…illegal and wrong on so many levels,” Ken says sputtering.

“Well, so was drinking for a while and everyone still did it,” Jem reminds him with a glare. "If I remember correctly you did it a bit too much and my sister kicked your ass for it."

“You cannot just…” Ken tries to grapple with the idea.

“She’s throwing up blood man! This is the only option if we don’t…If we don’t stop this now she won’t make it through this pregnancy, let alone childbirth most likely. I know she got lucky with Clara because generally hyperemesis only gets worse with each pregnancy and this time it’s caught up to her. ” Jem says looking at his wife and then at Ken. “This is your option, remove what is killing your wife, a baby that you neither planned for nor met yet, or you’ll be looking for a stepmother for your children next year. So get off your high horse, and realize we are only trying to save a woman we love?”

“Isn’t that just as dangerous?” Ken asks, his stomach feeling like lead as Rilla throws up once more.

“In the hands of an idiot or greedy uncaring doctor. But Faith…Faith is knowledgeable,” he says looking at his wife who is helping Rilla. “We both are but I think or I know that Rilla would not want me to be the one,” Jem says. “If we don’t, you’ll be mourning a wife and child, and having to explain to your children that their mother is dead.”

“You can not be considering this,” Marianne says to her friend who had come into the door with some ginger tea and candies and warm water for Rilla’s throat.

“This isn’t your situation Marianne,” Ken says through his teeth. “If you think I like these situations…the decisions is Rilla’s but if I have any say I would always say save my wife,” Ken says darkly.

“I’ll explain what it takes,” Faith says quietly. “Will you go back home and get my special bag though Jem?”

Jem nods his head.

“I don’t like this any more than anyone else Ken, but sometimes it’s the only way to make things right?” Jem says to Ken on his way out.

In the end, it’s just Faith explaining what will happen and how she does it. It sounds all too familiar to what the hospital does for miscarriages that do not pass. Still, the knowledge weighs heavily on Rilla's mind, though not as heavily as she thought it would because despite being afraid, she just wants to scream do it, yes please, just make me healthy again. She can't though, because she has million other things running around in her head.

“What will I say to others?”

“Just say you had a miscarriage, though hopefully, people will be respectful enough to acknowledge that something clearly happened and won’t ask about it,” Faith tells her. “It doesn’t take long, but I need to make sure you don’t aspirate on me because I am going to have to knock you for this. Mostly for your own good, once it’s done, you’ll bleed for a few days. Not as much as after birth, maybe a week or two? You’re here for a good few weeks so I can at least check in on you and how you’re feeling?” Faith tells her.

Rilla can only nod her head.

“It’s your choice though Rilla,” Faith reminds her.

“I have four children who need me,” Rilla says quietly, pressing a hand to her stomach in a moment of mourning and not throwing up.

“I’ll send Ken in?” Faith says looking at her sister-in-law and Rilla can only nod her head. When he does come in, they can’t manage words but they both cry, his arms going about her tightly.

“I’ll always choose you,” he reminds her.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

For Rilla, it’s hard to describe how she felt. Besides the initial soreness from when she woke up, and the cramps that happened, she already losing the sickness. She didn’t want to be relieved, but she felt it. Her stomach was still sensitive, and her throat was from all the bile and stomach acid. Magnesium and whole milk helped. By the end of the morning, she put on her best face and faced her children.

“I’m already on the mend,” she says hugging them.

“What happened?” Clara asks still confused by the whole thing.

“Mommy was feeling well, and needed Uncle Jem and Aunty Faith to help her,” Oliver says to her.

When Clara was sent off to play, she looks at her two older children. “I’m okay, truly I am.”

“So there is no baby?” Rowena asks, and Rilla didn’t realize she had caught on. “I remember you being sick with Clara somewhat?”

“No, not this time,” she says quietly with a shake of her head.

“I’m sorry,” Rowena says quietly.

“It’s okay, these things happen,” Rilla manages to say with a small smile. She looks over at Ken who looks like he has had no sleep in a decade.

“Let your mother rest,” he tells the older two They kiss their mother, before leaving the room and Ken sinks down into an old chair. Looking more older than before, the grey at his temples seemed more prominent. Still thinking about the early hours of the morning when Rilla woke up.

“Are you all right?” Kenneth asks, unsure what else to say. “Never mind that was a stupid thing to ask.” He spent the better part of the night pacing around and worried out of his mind. When Faith had come out of the room, drying her hands, his hair had been standing up and his face pale. A far cry from the man who had been there for the births of his first children.

Faith squeezed his forearm.

It’s for the best, she’ll rest for a day or two and then be back on her feet.

It was Jem that tells him of any warning signs to look out for. Fever is the first one, and then of course blood loss. He sits with her as she wakes up from whatever Faith has given her to knock her out. The room looks barely used but slightly changed, he caught sight of what looked more like torture devices than medical and wanted to throw up himself.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” Rilla tells him.

“Seriously Rills?” Ken blurts out when he realizes his wife is still carrying her grudge against him. “Can we not just let it be water under the bridge? Why are you still holding on to this after everything last night?”

Rilla struggles for a moment, trying to sit up more, but her head swarms. She sighs, but Ken silently gets up and helps her fix the pillows so she can recline better.

“For once I am happy we were on this island because Toronto...Toronto would have told you to deal with it.” Ken says shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t even believe…” Rilla begins, she still has hormones coursing through her body and it's enough to make her stomach turn.

“I never thought I would ever be in the position that someone I loved would ever…need one. I wasn’t lying last night when I would always choose you.” Ken shakes his head.

“The kids?” Rilla says quietly.

“They knew you were ill,” Ken says with a nod of his head. “I believe a lot of cocoa was made at Ingleside last night.”

“My parents…they don’t?” Rilla asks frowning.

“I think Faith told them that you were having a miscarriage, I’m not entirely sure if your father bought it or not. I’m not entirely sure who knows about their knowledge in such things?” Ken says. "Do you need anything?"

Rilla can only shake her head.

"Your family will watch over the kids tonight for us," Ken says. "I have to go call my parents, or write them a letter or something? I'll be out on the porch."

"So you're going to have a smoke and a drink then?" Rilla asks opposing the idea.

"If it helps me clear my head, then yes I will." Ken shoots her a look not caring what she thought or not. "Call if you need anything."

“I should warn you, Mom is convalescing,” Jimmy tells Constance when gets off the train.

“What happened? Should I have not come?” Connie asks.

“Long story short, she lost a baby. She probably won’t say anything about it to you, but I just wanted to warn you if things are…well a-bit odd or tense?” Jimmy explains with a kiss. “And you are very welcome, we have you set up at Ingleside, you know for propriety's sake. I don’t think Mom and Dad would care if you stayed with my room at the summer house, but the kids are around and all.” Jimmy tries to explain.

“I get it,” Constance squeezes his forearm.

“But no one will say much if I walk you home late or something?” Jimmy grins. “There are some decent haunts for romantic rambles and trysts” he whispers stealing a kiss.

“Be good I’m here to meet your extended family,” Connie warms him.

“Yes, but they are understanding and nice,” Jimmy says with a grin.

“So Ingleside is where Rilla lived when she took care of you?”Connie asked.

“Yes, actually, It’s on the way, I’ll show you where I was born,” Jimmy says putting her things in the back of the truck she borrowed for the day. “The train was all right though?”

“Oh it was fine,” Connie tells him still looking around the small village. She had only lived in Toronto her whole life. It was strange, but somehow it matched the man she had fallen in love with in a way she never imagined.

The house is old, and smaller than what she had imagined. It was run down from afar, and all but looked abandoned the closer they got.

“I was born there, an early August morning,” Jimmy says stopping the truck and jumping out to open the door for her. He leads her through an old path, towards an old grave marker.

“Wilhelmina Anderson,” She reads on it. “It looks new?”

“I got it made a few years back when I graduated from the academy,” Jimmy explains.

“You know when we first met, I thought Rilla was actually your mother?”

“You’re not serious?”

“But I am, I thought she had you young and managed to keep you? That the sister you were looking for was actually your father or something?”Constance tells him.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Jimmy finds himself laughing with his arm around her.

“I mean think about it, an Upper Canada boy, graduating from the police academy. You could have done so many things. Instead, you used the name, Anderson, when you can use Ford. You live in Rosedale of all places. It sounds implausible at the very least.”

“Fair enough, I suppose it strange, but Rilla nor Ken are related to me by blood,” Jimmy reassures her. “Not to mention I am blonde while they are clearly not.”

“But they are the people who matter most to you?” Connie nudges him, “And the kids of course.”

“Without Rilla, I would have mostly died as an infant, and if not for Ken accepting my and Rilla’s bond…I wouldn’t have ever met you?” Jimmy says with a nod of his head.

“I’ll have to thank her one day and get her some flowers when we go over. Miscarriages can be rough,” Constance says quietly, frowning enough that Jimmy looks at her.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He asks cautiously something.

“It was long before we met,” Connie says shaking her head. “I was young and stupid and luckily it ended as it did, and now don’t look at me like that.”

“Look at you like how?” Jimmy asks, still slightly shocked.

“Clearly I was no virgin when we met and you knew that,” She gives him a look. “You on the other hand were rather green, but you learned fast.” She pats his face with a gloved hand and laughs at his indignant look.

"I was not..." Jimmy says huffing.

"Maybe not, but you were still clueless." Connie laughs again at him.

Ingleside is filled with people of course.

“This is Doctor Blythe and Mrs. Blythe,” Jims introduces them.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Connie expresses. “And thank you for allowing me to stay here for a few days.”

“It’s nothing, what is one more?” Anne says waving off the inconvenience with a light laugh. “We have plenty of room, even with extra people around.

“Well thank you again, Mrs. Blythe,” Connie said as she followed Jimmy up the stairs. Looking at the old photographs on the wall, old black and white and sepia tones. “This is your room for the day and fun fact, it used to be my room once upon a time when I lived here with Rilla,” Jimmy explains the little white room.

“Oh so if I

“Jimmy!” Someone calls out to him and he looks back seeing three girls of various ages.

“Connie these are my cousin so to speak,” he says. “Deena and Maggie areAunt Nan’s girls who live here at Inside and the redhead is Elsie, Aunt Di’s daughter. There is also Beau running about this place as well.” Jimmy explains.“It’s lovely to meet you,” Connie says.

“Were you kissing?” Elsie asks.

“No we were not,” Jimmy says shaking his head. “Now, why don’t we all get suited up and we spend the afternoon by the shore?”

“Oh yes please!” The girls say before rushing off.

“You know I don’t swim.” Connie looks at him.

“Well, you are going to learn today.” Jimmy grins. “I’ll grab you a towel, dress in a cover-up, we’ll most likely walk down.”

“Should I not say hello to your parents?”

“It’s fine, the kids are here when can stop by later to see them if you wish,” Jimmy tells her.

“Stay still,” Connie hears as she walks downstairs, a redheaded woman says to her daughter as she braids and what appears to be sewing the braids down around the girl's head who was dressed in her playsuit.

“What are you doing here?” She hears and she looks down to see Clara. Who was not looking impressed?

“Clara!” Jimmy calls out reprimanding her. The older redhead looks up, and the brunette was fixing her own daughter's hair.

“Clara, don’t be rude,” her Aunts call out to her.

“Constance is here as my guest,” Jimmy says to Clara shooting Constance an apologetic look. “If you can’t be polite I’ll leave you here and tell Mom and Dad that you were being rude, you know they don’t like rudeness.”

“You are not fun,” Clara glares at him and runs off, only to be caught by her other brother.

“She’ll get used to it,” Constance tells him. “Really she’s six and adores you if she wasn’t jealous it is more worrisome.”

They make it down the shore, the older kids sitting their things down on logs, and some of the girls pulling swimming caps over their hair now at the beach. They aren’t afraid of the vast ocean, and while Jimmy makes sure that Clara stays close to the kids and does not go in too deep, she focuses on Connie.

“It’s just the ocean, nothing to be afraid of,” he says pulling off his shirt and then undoing his trousers revealing his swimming trunks that were short and fitted without being overly tight of course.

“Stop starring,” Jimmy winks at her. “Come on we don’t have all day,” he tells her with a wink. She shakes her head and undoes the button to her skirt and pulls off her blouse, it's a simple yellow swimsuit, but the back was cut low with various straps tied together.

Jimmy watches her dip her toes in rather skeptically at first. He laughs shaking his head before picking her up as she yelps.

“Let me down, James Kitchener!” She uses his full name.

“Never,” Jimmy laughs. “Remember if you make me drop you, it’s the water for you.”

“You can always throw her in!” Walt says gleefully as he lets one of his cousins stand on his shoulder before he stands up quickly and the girl jump off at the same time, cannonballing into the water and splashing everyone, where Ollie has Clara up on his shoulders, dunking here and there.

“Don’t you dare!” Connie says. “What if a fish touches me!”

“Well, it is an ocean, but it’s far too close to the shore for that to happen,” Jimmy says laughing.

“You should be in bed,” Ken says as he finds Rilla up and making something in the kitchen after spending a day in bed. She was dressed in her robe and a pair of Ken’s pyjamas.

“I’m not an invalid, I can make tea,” Rilla tells him thinly. “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m hungry and not wanting to throw up?”

“Of course I am, but your brother also warned me that your stomach might be still sensitive or sore. You were throwing up blood after all.” Ken tells her.

“So I’ll have some oatmeal, even I can make that for myself.” Rilla rolls her eyes.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to, or do so,” Ken stresses and takes the pot from her hands and puts it on the stove. “Is this going to be our whole summer, fighting? Because of some silly thing about Clara going to school? What do you want me to do ask for the tuition dollars back? Can I can have that hundred and fifty back please?”

“She’s my last one, Ken,” Rilla says sighing.

“And she’s not my last?” Ken retorts back with a look before quickly stirring the pot that was quickly bubbling. “Though look at us talking for the first time in two weeks?”

Rilla shoots him a glare.

“How did you even manage the train?” Ken goes on.

“I barely did, and I had both girls with me and Jimmy and Oliver next to us,” Rilla says holding her head.

She eats slowly, trying to remember the last time she actually enjoyed food. Ken mainly sits and watches her. Looking just as exhausted and tired as she felt.

“Why do I feel relieved?” Rilla says quietly after a short sigh.

“Probably because you know you won’t be sick anymore or have to worry about another traumatic delivery?” Ken tells her honestly. “And if it was me feeling this way you would most likely say that it was completely natural to be relieved?”

“Ollie must have been fretting to no end?” Rilla says quietly.

“He was beside himself,” Ken says with a nod of his head. “I believe a lot of cocoa was made at Ingleside last night.”

“My parents…they don’t?” Rilla asks frowning.

“I think Faith told them that you were having a miscarriage, I’m not entirely sure if your father bought it or not. I’m not entirely sure who knows about their knowledge in such things?” Ken says.

Rilla looks up at him, setting down her spoon at the sound of children talking loudly up the walkway to the house.

“Mommy is feeling better,” Clara exclaims and Ken catches her before she can jump on her mother.

“Not quite, but I am getting there,” Rilla tells her. “Constance, I forgot you were coming!” She says suddenly aware of how she looked and wanting to brandish Jimmy for bringing the young woman here.

“Please, don’t not for me,” Constance waves her hands in stopping her from getting up or feeling like she needed to be presentable. "I just want to say thank you for allowing me to join Jimmy on this. He showed me around today and it was...well, I just wanted to thank you for raising him as you did." Constance says looking at Jimmy.

"Does this mean you're going to get married soon? Do I get to be a bridesmaid?" Rowena asks interjecting. "Are you engaged now? Is that why you are here?"

"Jimmy is not allowed to get married!" Clara cries.

"Okay, I think someone is tired," Ken says grabbing his youngest, giving Constance a look of an apology. "I think we need a lesson in proper etiquette and manners again?" He says to Clara who is trying to wriggle her way out of his arms. He taps her butt with the lightest of spanks, trying to get her to behave.

Jimmy just looks at Constance and smiles. "I think it takes a very deep love to marry into this circus of a family?"

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The hospital is sterile and cool as ever as she makes it through the tile hallways.

“Mrs. Ford, back from vacation are you!” The nurses call out to her. “I hope it was relaxing?”

“It was…it was chaos as it is with children,” Rilla settles with and the young nurse laughs. “Matron is doing rounds, if you wish to catch up and figure out what to get into.”

“I will thank you,” Rilla says nodding her head. She takes a deep breath going back behind the doors that bring you to the nursery and recovery. Crying babies hit harder than she used to, and her stomach cramps slightly at the memory.

“Rilla! You are back,” she sees the matron almost look at her with relief. “How was the island?”

“It was good thank you,” Rilla tells her pausing, looking at a chart, heart stinging at the words as she put it down.

“Good, let's go sit in my office for a moment. Talk over things will go for the upcoming months?” She beckons Rilla to follow her.

“There is no need for that,” Rilla tries to explain without explaining.

“Of course there is, one cannot have you showing on the floor. I saw your file after all, looks like the sickness isn’t as bothersome this time?”

“Rachel, please—,” Rilla starts. “There is no need…it…it didn’t stick.” She whispers as they were in a room of mothers who have been through hell.

“Oh!” the Matron says feeling like she stepped on a snake. “My apologies, I should have waited for you to come to me, or not for me to come to you.”

“It’s fine, I just…I don’t want to talk about it if it’s all right. I had excellent care while on the island and it’s all over and has been dealt with.”

“Of course,” She says nodding her head as they continue on the hall. “I suppose being who you are makes it easy to work through such things.”

“It doesn’t make it easier at all, I had no choice, so I accepted it for what it was,” Rilla tells her.

“At forty I believe one would call that a blessing,” Rachel laughs lightly. “Christmas coming early is never fun or exciting. Men, you think they would just leave us alone?”

Rilla just harrumphs and shrugs a shoulder.

“Oh there is cake in the break room, and by the looks of it you can use some meat on your bones,” Rachel tells her. “Just do your usual, room thirty-two has a mother with a stillborn, and fifteen is a young mother, honeymoon baby, who is terrified of having her first child. She actually asked where the baby comes out of?”

“What did you tell her?” Rilla's eyes and brows raise….surely…surely mothers prepared daughters better than this?

“Oh you know, the same way it got there My Dear,” she says with a small crooked grin.

Rilla laughs lightly. “Really, I’m sure she wasn’t terrified enough that wedding night and you tell her that?”

“She’ll be fine Rilla, she’s eighteen and a strong girl,” the matron waves her off.

Eighteen…..four years older than her teenage daughter. Rilla could only wonder if this was a true honeymoon baby, or someone saving face. Rilla shutters at the thought of Rowena being married at fifteen, even Ollie! He was nearer to that age than Roe was!

“You should have taken a few days off and not gone back in immediately,” Ken tells her as he watches her scrub at the blood in the bathroom sink later that day. “Clearly your body isn’t ready for that yet.”

“It’s just some spotting, it happens.” She tells him wringing out her underwear and rolling them into a towel.

“Faith told you to take an easy though.” He reminds her gently.

“I’ll spread out my shifts or make shorter ones,” Rilla tries to compromise.

“Thank you,” Ken says kissing her forehead. “Now can we talk about other things that need to be talked about, mainly school uniforms and start-of-the-year packages?” He asks cautiously.

Rilla sighs nodding her head, sitting down on their bed, pinning a napkin to a pair of clean panties before wriggling it over her hips as she stood up.

“They changed the uniforms and Rowena needs a bunch of new things, it can be mixed-matched for the year. Juniors are the same pinafores and blouses, sailor shirts and bloomers for physical education and play days.”

“I’ll get Lillian to help me,” Rilla says simply, pulling on a new house dress and tying it at the waist. Looking at the old pillow that Artemis used to frequent, before sighing.

“We can get another cat,” Ken says noticing. “When you’re ready for one?”

“I just thought…I just thought she was there for a moment,” Rilla says sighing. Pushing her hair back for a moment.

“Come here,” Ken says trying to comfort her.

“I don’t need…” Rilla growls at him.

“Fine then,” Ken says stepping away from her, hands in the air. “I’ll tell the children to be up and ready in the morning so we can get their school supplies over dinner tonight.”

“Whatever you wish to do,” Rilla tells him before leaving the room. She finds herself in the kitchen, Mrs. Clarke looks at her and passes her a teacup.

“Anything you wish for dinner?” She asks simply. “Now that you are appearing to feel better?”

“Anything you planned on is fine, you know I am far from picky,” Rilla tells her. “I hope you didn’t stock too much on things?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t be used up for various things either way,” Gloria waves her off as Ken comes into the kitchen. Children follow him as they fill him on their days.

"Are we going to go school shopping soon?" Rowena asks him as she hangs off his arm.

"Most likely, I believe Clara will need a bunch of new things," Ken says smiling.

“You mean I get to go to the store!” Clara exclaims.

“Of course,” Ken says, eyes drifting towards his wife who set down her glass, almost too forcefully.

“Does this mean I get to go to school?” She asks clambering up to stand in her chair excited at the idea.

“Sit down Clara,” Rilla tells her.

“I can’t wait! Do you think I’ll get to make Mr. Ribbit?” Clara says plopping down on her bottom once more.

“One day sure,” Rowena tells her as she takes a bite of her breakfast. Making Ribbit the Frog was a rite of passage for young girls learning how to sew at Branksome Hall after all. In embroidery for their things, and as an easy plush toy to have for at home.

“Can I wear a pretty dress?” Clara asks.

“You can wear one of your tea dresses,” Ken tells her, sneaking a look at his wife. “If your mother allows it.” He adds on looking at Rilla.

“You can wear your polka dot one,” Rilla relents with a sigh. "now eat dinner and then you can play outside for a bit before bathtime," Rilla tells her.

"It doesn't look good between the Chinese and Japanese that is for sure," Ken says from his spot at the table a few days later on a warm August morning.

"That doesn't sound good does it?" Rilla asked quietly.

"It's not ideal." Ken agreed with her as Oliver who was still in his pyjamas walked into the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched over as he made his way to the orange juice.

"Have you been up all night?" She looked over at her son that had dark purple circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept.

"No," the teen shook his head. "I got at least four hours of sleep, I was reading A Brave New World," he said yawning.

"While I'm not entirely sure what that book is and I am sure your father is glad you enjoy reading. But staying up all night isn't good for you." Rilla tried to explain to him without sounding like she was trying to control his life.

"I'm up aren't I?" Oliver said under his breath as he took a bowl from the cupboard. Deciding at that moment he would start making pancakes. Mrs. Clarke was nowhere to be seen, but she had a sixth sense whenever someone tried to use her kitchen.

"The issue is that you need your sleep," Rilla gave him a look.

"Just leave him be Rilla," Ken said from behind his paper. "If he wants to spend the night reading, he's old enough to deal with the consequences, plus it’s summer after all.”

"I mean at least I'm not reading your Lady Chatterley's Lover or something?" Oliver said back to his mother as he measured out the flour into the bowl.

Ken folded his paper looking at his son. "I would watch that mouth young man," Ken told him as he tossed the Tuesday morning edition paper aside. "You know that talk isn't allowed in this house."

"Sorry Mom," he said to his mother albite it seemed painful for him to do as he was cracking an egg into a smaller bowl.

Mrs. Clarke who was patting her hair came in from her quarters. She briefly looked at the clock wondering if she had mistaken the time but it was only 7:30 in the morning.

"What are we making today young sir," she asked Oliver looking over his ingredients.

"Pancakes," he said yawning. She nodded her head and grabbed her large skillet and turned on the stove as you heard the scampering footsteps of Clara come down the stairs and into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of panties as she went straight to collect the milk from the back door.

"Hello dear girl, what have we told you?" Rilla caught her daughter.

"To not run around naked?" Clara said tilting her head. "I'm wearing underwear, I didn’t want to get my dress dirty before we go shopping.”

Ken choked down a laugh before he stood up and picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder. "I believe your mother means, that you need to wear at least wear pyjamas at the breakfast table and collect the milk?" he told her as he made his way back upstairs with her.

He brings her back down in her nightgown.

Clara was in amazement as Ken led them into Eatons, “Mommy it’s so big,” she says in amazement as she preens in her red and white polka dot dress. Her patent shoes tap on the tiles as she bounces as she walks.

“Come along, and don’t touch things,” Rilla says taking her hand, her hang bag in another. Rilla had dressed in one of her Sunday summer dresses, emerald green with polka dots with a matching belt. While Rowena was wearing a mint green delicate floral, cut with lace details around the neckline and pockets.

“Can we come here every weekend?” Clara says still in awe.

“There is no need to come here every weekend," Ken says laughing. “Your mother and sister would bleed me dry.” He jokes.

“Oh yes, blame it on us,” Rilla says rolling her eyes.

“Come along Clara and do not touch anything without asking,” she says taking her child’s hand.

“I’ll go with Ollie to men's wear, you take the girls and we’ll meet you in ladies' wear when we're finished?” Ken asks her.

“Sounds good,” Rilla nods her head.

“I’ve never seen such a place, is there a section just for toys?” Clara asks in amazement as she looks around in wonder as Rilla beckons her along.

“There is, they have rows and rows of dolls,” Rowena tells her. “And teddy bears, and of course all the Mr. Rabbits you could ask for.”

“New shoes, underthings and stockings for you girls, a new school dress for when uniforms are required for something.” Rilla rattles off mostly to herself.

“Can I have pink panties again?” Clara asks loudly, though luckily within ladies' wear. Where other mothers and ladies all chuckled to themselves at the loud declaration.

“Can get a satin bra?” Rowena asks hopefully. “All the girls have them lately.”

“We’ll see,” Rilla tells her sighing. She understood the importance of pretty things, truly she did, but undergarments are far more scant these days compared to what they were when she was Roe’s age and couldn’t decide if girls Rowena's age needed such things.

When Ken finds her at the counter, with a stack of purchases.

“Do I want to know the total?” He asks raising an eyebrow.

“Never,” Rowena laughs.

“I got new panties,” Clara tells him tugging on his coat.

“Clara, one does not go around telling people such things,” Rilla says shaking her head.

“But it's daddy,” Clara says tilting her head lightly.

Rilla sighs. “Still, Ollie you got everything on your list?”

“I do, we even looked at a new razor,” Ollie said nodding his head, and for the first time, Rilla realizes how tall her son is. She always knew that he was tall, but she realizes at that moment he is towering beside her. To think she would have had another baby in a few months when her eldest natural born was already so grown?

The radio is on that morning, as it usually is these days but it's turned on to the CBC and Ken listens to it with dark shadows under his eyes. Rilla looking not better as she tries to get breakfast on the table for her children for the first day of school, the day after labour day.

War

War is all you hear about now, war is all you will be able to think about now.

The older children who are usually chattering are solemn and quiet, only Clara doesn’t quite understand what war means truly and how the world is turning upside down.

“We don’t have to go do we?” Clara asks.

“Only Men go to war,” Rowena tells her as no one else seems to be answering her sister.

“You can’t go, Jimmy! Please tell me you’re not going!” She scatters to the young man and climbs into his lap. Hugging him as if it would make some sort of difference.

“Unless they call on me personally,” Jimmy starts. “But right now Canada is not in it, so you don’t have to worry just yet.”

“No talk of that today please, Son,” Ken tells him looking over from his adoptive son to his younger son. Knowing it was only a matter of time before Canada declared it would send men to help Britain. This time, he was not filled with some sort of need for glory, and the thought of his children living through a war did not make his feelings any better.

“No, you and Mum need to know that unless they draft me I will never join the war,” Jimmy says shaking his head.

“I gotta go,” Oliver says looking at the clock breaking into the talk of war. Then at almost sixteen, he didn't know what to make of it or how to feel about it yet. “See you when I get home mom, down at two-thirty this year, so I’ll be home early,” he says grabbing his things “Have a good day Clare-Bear,” he tells his youngest sister with a ruffle to her hair before skipping out the back door.

“Come on, let’s go get ready for school,” Rilla tells her daughter as they push away their plates.

Rowena dresses herself of course, but Rilla does the tasks of braids and buttons to the plaid pinafore that was her youngest’s uniform.

“You’ll be good? Don’t go around licking things and be polite and raise your hand,” Rilla reminds her.

“Why are you crying?” Clara asks her mother confused.

“Because squirt she won’t have you at home anymore,” Jimmy says from the hallway.

“I don’t like uniforms,” Clara says looking in her little mirror. “Can’t I wear my other clothes?”

“Sadly Branksome Hall prefers uniforms for their students,” Rilla tells her as she ties the small necktie. “You’ll have casual days, and weekends for other clothes. Come on we’ll put ribbons and shoes on downstairs. Roe you almost ready?”

“Just fixing my hair,” she calls out from her room.

“Leave the lipstick at home,” Rilla reminds her knowing her daughter.

“Hold up there!” Ken calls out as Rowena comes rushing through the kitchen in her school bag and tucking her feet into her shoes.

“Is something wrong with my hair!” She says looking towards the mirror by the doorway. Her white sailor blouse and it’s still undone and untucked.

“Where is your skirt!” Ken asks her and Rowena looks down at her thin cotton stockings that go and disappear under the skirt and her skirt.

“We shortened the hems?” she says reaching for another piece of toast at the table and chews loudly. She wipes her buttery hands on her skirt after licking them and moves to tuck in the shirt. Ken still in disbelief flips the skirt with his hand, seeing the familiar old white bloomers and the elastic of garters made him feel slightly better, but still! The skirt was far too short to be proper, it was well above her knee by at least four inches. Surely if she did anything other than stand her bloomers would be on display!

“Daddy!” Rowena shrieks, patting it down.

“Excuse me for making sure you still had bloomers on,” Ken huffs.

“Ken leave her be,” Rilla says trying to tie Clara's hair ribbons while walking.

“You cannot be al all right with that skirt?” Ken asks his wife almost dumbfounded when the children leave the house.

“It’s a school skirt, and if they find it acceptable it’s fine,” Rilla says shrugging.

“She’s fourteen, or well in two weeks and that skirt is practically indecent!” Ken says vehemently.

“She’s a little girl and it’s a school skirt,” Rilla brushes him off grabbing her own thing to head off to the hospital after she drops off Clara of course.

“She’s nearly fourteen, if anyone called you a little girl at fourteen you would have been indignant about it for a week,” Ken give her a look. “Or are you saying you were a little girl when I kissed you all those years ago? You were only a year older?”

“That was twenty-five years ago and times have changed since my teenage years,” Rilla tells him, rolling her eyes at his gruff father moment.

“Not by that much,” Ken grumbles.

“Of course, I mean if you want to explain to her how you kissed her mother at fifteen and asked her to wait a war of four years. Then go ahead, dear but my main goal in life had been to get married, not school, not college. Rowena can do so much more than I could at practically fourteen which makes her ultimately younger than who I was at her age.” Rilla tells him.

“No one was going to marry you at fourteen, let alone sixteen. Seventeen, eighteen? Possibly but I know boys her age and those skirts are just going to be problems.

“Well, that's their problem, not Rowena’s,” Rilla tells him kissing his cheek. “The skirt is fine.”

“Mom come on! We’ll be late,” Rowena calls out from the front of the house.

“I’ll see you later,” Rilla looks at her husband.

“Wait a minute,” he says crossing the tiles of the floor until he’s there with her. He turns to his daughters and kisses Rowena on the forehead and crouches down to Clara.

“Have a good day sweetheart, listen to your teachers, and I’ll pick up all right?” Ken says and then hugs her.

“We gotta go,” Rowena urges them looking at the clock.

“I’ll be one second, go outside,” Rilla tells him looking at Ken. “If she gets sick—,”

“She won’t get sick,” Ken tells her. “Just enjoy this day, and take an easy please.” He says quietly before he kisses her soundly, and rather surprised she allowed him to.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

The phone is ringing in the middle of the night, Rilla thinks hazily as it rings her out of her dreams. Ken is not beside her, in the bed, but his spot is still warm. She doesn’t bother pulling on her robe as the phone stops ringing. Library, she thinks as she hears his voice. She decides to go pee, and in one swift moment, safeguards herself to remember all the times they sought comfort from wartime nightmares through touch.

He looks at her, ashen and grey, that old familiar haunted look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

She knew what this phone call said without even words. She cradles him, pulling his head to rest on her chest.

Canada was at War with Germany.

It’s not a shock, they had expected this since the news broke about Poland, but still, it hit a tonne of bricks in their system. Memories of brothers who went, the ones who never came home and never were quite the same flooded to the forefront of her mind.

“Do you have to fix the magazine?” Rilla asks unsure what to say, or if should she say anything at all.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Ken says shaking his head. “Someone from the Globe and Mail got the memo, it’s been being passed around to the papers and magazines.”

“Maybe it won’t last long?” Rilla tries to reassure them both. They both know that most likely isn’t true.

“Ollie is sixteen in a few months,” Ken says sighing. “Two years…god thank you for making us wait.”

“Jimmy though,” Rilla frowns.

“He’s a copper, he’ll be fine, he can be exempt by job alone if he wants to. This was never supposed to happen again Rilla, our children were never supposed to know War as we did.” Ken says like a broken child.

“Jem,” Rilla frowns. Walter Jr—Walt was as boneheaded as her brother, his father. He would off without a care for his parents.

The shock is radiating off their bodies, making them grapple for any sort of comfort. Rilla finds herself staring at her husband but only seeing the younger version of him like a ghost. Long ago that night in August when the war ruined her first dance.

Fingers entwine, held up just to the side of their faces, as if they are both trying to decide if these ghosts are real or not to the other person.

“Green dress, pink garland flowers,” he says. “You were so beautiful, so young but beautiful, I wanted to kiss you so much that night but I couldn’t…” he breathes out.

“You can kiss me now,” Rilla reminds him.

So he does, he does more than kiss her. He claims every part of her body beyond her lips for his own. It’s desperation, it’s want to feel something and it makes her feel something beyond the gut-wrenching knowledge that their world, their children’s world would change.

They cling to each other as the bed creaks and their bodies refuse to part from one another. They come together, for what is an uncountable time since they’ve been married, gasping, sighing in all the right moments. Their entwined hand never unlocks above her head.

Visions of trains and goodbyes, no tears, never tears, but there was teasing. Now tears are mixing into their kisses, wet and salty. Just the same the teasing was drawing out the delicate enthralling, intoxicating need from her.

“My heart is yours,” he whispers. “It’s always been yours since that night, even when I tried to deny it.” He whispers, holding himself slightly above her. When he does fall off to the side he still pulls her close, not caring about the fluids leaking from her body, as his leg sneaks between hers.

Neither of them truly sleep, how can one sleep?

War.

Another War to live through, and this time they weren’t young enough, they weren’t naive to the world to believe it is over within months of its beginning. A feeling an unknowing settle in their stomach, how long? Two years, another four years, could it go beyond the great war?

Cigarettes and smoke loiter on the back porch. Where did they even come from, Rilla thinks to herself as she fills the kettle.

Mrs. Clarke see’s her two employers, upon entering the Kitchen from her room. The radio told her all she needed to know.

Canada had declared War.

She remembers them young and nearly married, war is gone and over with but still fresh enough to impact their lives. The drinking and nightmares, it was like the ages years but not at the same time. War still haunts them, but now more than ever.

The phone is ringing off the hook, so much so that Rilla gives up on her earrings. Kens business partners, and other papers and of course family and friends. The children were still sent off to play outside with friends; neighbours dropped by to talk about it and which boys would be heading as soon as they could. Rilla tried to entertain none of it.

She picked up the ringing phone once more. Already having a headache.

“My god, does your phone ever stop being busy?” She hears Jem’s voice through the line.

“Not today no,” Rilla tells him sitting down. “How are you doing?”

“That was my question for you,” Jem says instead of answering her.

“It’s not so much of a shock given the past year, but it hit a lot harder at 3 am than I thought it would.”

“You found out at 3 am?” Jem asks and Rilla can see his brow wrinkle

“Someone called Ken, being in the business of news,” Rilla says simply into the phone.

“Of course,” Jem agrees with him.

“Though again how are you? I mean you have children old enough for this sh*t?”

“Ceci is, but Walt is still only seventeen in the new year. But she’s already talking about joining the nurse's corp once her first year is complete.” Jem says sighing. “Girls were supposed to be safe from this sh*t Rilla and yet my baby is racing off like she’s a man.”

Rilla sighs. “Di is lucky with Beau, being young as he is at fourteen.”

“No, they’ll just have him in cadets and training for fun,” Jem says bitterly. “Jimmy though…I suppose he and the lady of his will get married sooner now?”

“Jimmy a constable which is still needed in Toronto, and if you think Ken and I are against war. He opposes it more than even we do. He will refuse at all costs.” Rilla tells him sternly not wanting to even consider such a thing for them.

“Turned him into a pacifist have you like you?” Jem chuckles slightly, despite his voice being understanding.

“I never needed to, his actual father did that for me,” Rilla said through her teeth. “And I am not a pacifist.”

“You oppose war and spent half of your life trying to help men deal with the aftermath of it,” Jem says and she can hear him roll his eyes. “You’re a pacifist, and nothing is wrong with that.”

“I just don’t like my family being torn apart by such things,” Rilla counters.

“Same thing, I’ll let you, I’m going try Shirley in a few. I’m sure he’ll have something interesting to say about this.” Jem tells her with a sigh. "Have you heard from him yet?"

"Not not yet," She says shaking his head. "If he does I'll let him know you are meaning to call." And with that, they both hang up the phone and Rilla sighs. She goes back and sits out at the poolside. Kids playing in the neighbourhood, as parents most likely grappled with the news. She doesn’t get a phone call from Shirley though, instead, he shows up as she sitting on the patio still in shock. She looks at him for a long moment; before she realizes.

“Don’t say it, it’s been said one too many times to us already. Aren’t you glad you left Paris when you did? France is going to be destroyed again?”

“Are you though?” Rilla asks him.

“Of course I f*cking am! We may miss Paris and that life we had but it was never forever and when we visited Germany the last time before we left.”

“Didn’t you work in Germany?” Rilla looks at him.

“Sure, I did a few contracts over the years, the last was before we moved. The whole place just felt different and who this Frau Hilter is…he was strange from the start and I didn’t like him then, and now I can see why. “ Shirley says angrily. Before realizing there might be children around, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Clara isn’t around,” Rilla says. “Also isn’t Frau lady?”

“Maybe I don’t know?” Shirley says shrugging. “God let this be over before Jasper comes of age, he is way too sensitive for this sh*t, more than Walter was. I love him of course, he’s amazing, but he can’t even throw a ball.”

“And we’re all too old for it now,” Rilla says sighing.

“I’m forty-two,” Shirley reminds her, looking down at his hands.

“No….no don’t you dare,” Rilla shakes her head. “You have a wife and children!”

“Well, don’t worry Lillian feels the same way, but I need to do something Rilla. I’m sure they aren’t going to send an old man like me anywhere. But I can help, I can do something worthwhile and I plan on it. Ken might be fine sitting back, but he did his time, far more than I did.”

Rilla glares at him intently. Not even like the idea that Ken could potentially think the same thing.

“You won’t keep Oliver back if he wanted to go would you?” Shirley asks. “He’s a smart boy, sensitive, wicked sense of humour when he wants to speak but he’s much more than the boy you see him as,” Shirley asks her.

“I…” Rilla stammers unsure of what to even say. “Mother watch all three of you go and it killed her Shirley. I saw it….I watched watch you all go and Walter….Walter never came back. I am not that strong.”

“You’re strong enough to do what you did on vacation,” Shirley's eyes narrow.

“Don’t you dare compare that, to my son enlisting!” Rilla snaps at him. “How do you even?”

“You would have been much more torn up over a loss if it wasn’t expected. Plus Lillian, she has helped Faith bring things from France over the years.” Shirley says after. “Not that I care about your choice Rilla if you were that sick…I understand it and don’t worry no one else knows from what I know.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” she reiterates.

“I know, and as I said I understand and not saying a word about it. I doubt it was an easy decision and one neither of you wanted considering I know how Ken can be fairly conservative in his decisions.” Shirley says.

“Mummy!” Rilla hears from the gate of the yard, both she and Shirley look at it and eventually and he gets up to open it as he was closer. It revealed Clara crying with scrapes on her knees and ankles.

“Oh come here,” she says rushing for her baby. “Let’s get you all cleaned up shall we?" She says looking at her brother who waves her off.

“I’ll just go raid your kitchen for those biscuits your housekeeper makes,” Shirley tells her simply as Rilla brings Clara to the bathroom.

“Want me to get that?” He calls out as the phone rings.

“Please,” Rilla calls out as she struggles to clean out the scrapes on her daughter's knees without her crying daughter fighting her. “Clara, if you don’t hold still.”

“It hurts!” Clara cries.

“I know, but it needs to be cleaned,” Rilla says sighing as Shirley comes by.

“Do you want me to try? Di is on the phone,” Shirley says from the bathroom doorway.

Rilla sighs pushing back curls from her face. “Please, Uncle Shirley is gonna clean you up, Mummy needs to answer the phone.” She said handing over her child to him.

She watches from the hallway, her brother was always a good father, always patient with the kids around and also tended to be fun chasing them around the yard and swimming with them as well.

“I mean Beau is still too young, and Jack lost a leg in the last one, it just seems so surreal that it's happening all again. Nan has never been more thankful that Deena and Mags are girls, I know she and Jerry tried and wanted a boy but that never happened. But my god, all of the kids are so young to be living through this. Like how does one explain this to them?”

“Di I was there age when the war broke out last time, and well, no one sat down and asked if I was okay, hell you all left me at the dance without looking for me and I ended up at Mary Vances for the night. Then I was taking care of Jimmy at fifteen, and living through a war, they’ll be okay just don’t hide it from them and if they do ask questions just answer them.” Rilla says slightly on edge.

“Sure, but fifteen back then was so much more different than fifteen these days. I mean you weren’t even in school,” Di contradicts her. “They are like babies these days.”

“Di, I was a baby. I was dead set on being more than the baby of the family and finding myself a few beaus and having fun, but I was still a child and I survived it.” Rilla massages her temple.

“Who spent most of the war secretly engaged to someone,” Di reminds her.

“We were barely that,” Rilla growls. “Di, really I don’t have time for this if this is what this phone call is going to be. If you want to talk about how horrific this is, and not pretend to ask for my thoughts on this only to ignore them. I will hang up because I have other things to do and a husband who is practically wigging out of this. Hell, we both are because they were never supposed to happen again. We were never supposed to see our boys be faced with war as their fathers have been. Or our daughters to wait at home for their fathers and brothers and maybe do their part now because according to Jem wanting to go as well and might have the ability to do so. As he already knows Ceci wants to go be a nurse if she can when she finishes her first year.”

“Rilla,” Di says sounding almost shocked.

“I know you had another experience of our war while at school, but I was young and I was told to be brave and I was but I also watched Jem, Walter, and Shirley leave and yes I even watched Ken walk away dressed in khaki when no one even knew he came to see me. I never wanted to see it again. I didn’t get to grow up and have a carefree fun time going to parties and you barely cared about that twenty-some years ago, but now because it’s your children suddenly aware of what it must have been like for me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Di exclaims.

“But that’s how it came across,” Rilla reminds her. “I have to go now, someone is trying to get through and I need to check on the kids.”

She hangs up before her sister can say anything else. Shirley looks at her after hearing everything.

“Was it that bad?” Shirley asks cautiously. “I know I was at Queens at the time but I was still home on weekends and summers.

“You were around, and you were there until you weren’t,” Rilla tells him before turning around to the kitchen and going over to the fridge and grabbing the lemonade and pouring herself a drink and offering him some.

“You know that works better when there’s liquor in it,” Shirley chuckles and Rilla glares at him, “or not apparently.”

“You know how I feel about alcohol,” she reminds him.

“We all know how you feel about alcohol, and we all feel like if you just had a drink and relaxed a little you might I don’t know relax?” Shirley teases her slightly. “But I get it, it’s a thing you don’t do or like. I was just teasing, I would never push you to drink.”

"I know and thank you for that," Rilla says sighing as Clara comes running back towards them, clearly holding something in her hand. "Mummy look what Jasper caught me!" she says as the other kids come through the back gate, covered in various layers of dirt and grime. Elodie was the only one who seemed vaguely clean looks at her aunt, with a giant I am sorry look on her face.

"They were gonna drown him, can we keep him?" Clara asks him.

"Not it!" Shirley exclaims, beginning to herd his children to the car.

"Don't you dare!" Rilla calls after him, and she just looks at the half-drowned kitten and sighs.

"Can we give him a bath Mommy?" Clara asks hopefully, and Rilla shakes her head wondering just how her children have managed to do this to her.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

“Don’t tell me you are going, I could not bare it if you are,” Constance says launching herself at Jimmy was still drinking his morning coffee. The house was deserted his parents were at work, the children at school, and Mrs. Clarke was running errands.

The woman in question had meant to be at work as well, but instead, she is in his arms.

“What is wrong?” He asks knowing that she knows how he feels about the war.

“Caleb, Caleb told us that he is enlisting he’s just a boy Jimmy! He just began his apprenticeship, but the army is a better source of pay, but from what I read they won’t give him separation pay for Mother as I have been the one supporting them all these years…if he can’t…then we can’t…”

“What do you mean we can’t? Connie…we have waiting for this day.” Jimmy says taking a step from her. “If you don’t want to get married…you don’t have to make excuses.”

“Excuses, I want nothing more to marry you, but you know that I have to think of my mother and little sisters James!” Her voice raises slightly.

“Your sisters are old enough to work after school now, and the war has kick-started the economy which means there are plenty of jobs and the rules about one job per family have been revoked, Constance. Hell, you can get married and still work if I allowed it could you not? I’ll whatever note they need if they need it. It’s not like I haven’t seen a working woman before, hell I was raised by one practically if you could the amount of school I saw Rilla—Mom do over the years?”

“Really?” Constance looks up at him.

“Really Con, we can make it work some way, somehow,” Jimmy says sighing. “But unless they send me off forcefully I am not going. I am not doing that to myself, or my family and least of all you.” He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her forehead. “It will be okay, but I’ll talk to Caleb maybe I can get him to wait a bit, finish his apprenticeship and work a bit. I don’t know how it works but if he can prove that he supports your mother and sister for the year he might be able to get separation pay for them, especially if you’re married to me in that time?”

“Would you?” Connie looks up at him. “I don’t think he realizes what he’s going into. I was born after the war of course, but I remember Pa’s nightmares and how Mama would try and hide it from me until she couldn’t. I don’t want him to end up…” She stops talking, she doesn’t like talking about the fact that her father had killed himself when she had been younger. Leaving a wife to support three children. Constance had learned to balance school and work long hours or work after it to help her mother and her sibling survive during the depression. Then she managed to become a morality officer when she was eighteen before the whole thing was turned into the office of social workers that worked within police stations.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jimmy nods his head and draws her closer to him. He kisses her before he pulls her into the house and up the stairs toward the attic.

“Your parents,” she breathes. He’s already unbuttoning her blouse.

“Are at work, and the kids are at school, what they don’t know won’t hurt them,” he says not caring at this moment. Sure they had one rule for him No premarital relations in the house, they weren’t that sort of house. Outside of the house, it was his life, inside was another story, but the house had children in it, and they didn’t want them walking in on anything that couldn’t be easily explained in the confines of marriage.

They weren’t home though, and the wanting need was strong. Their clothes came off and her hair escaped its combs. They fall on his bed, her in his lap, sunlight highlighting her body through the windows of the attic room he had. The curve of her waist and hips memorized him, and he lost all comprehension until much later when she curled up into him, taking her post-coital cat nap.

“What’s going on up here?” Ken says from the doorway of the attic announcing himself and the two people who were lying in bed half naked. It takes a moment for them to wake up enough to realize.

“sh*t,” Jimmy says looking at the clock as he made sure Connie was covered.

“sh*t indeed,” Ken says with a raised eyebrow. “Kids will be home soon, I suggest you make yourself presentable, and not let your mother find you up here as you are. You know the rules.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Jimmy says as Connie hides in the blankets blushing deep red.

“I can never show my face here again,” she hisses at him.

“It’s fine Connie, he doesn’t care,” Jimmy, tells her trying to make her feel better. Though even that was a guess. Ken liked rules and structure, one thing he retained from his time in the army even if he would never admit it.

“Jimmy had Connie upstairs this afternoon,” Ken tells his wife as she changes out of her hospital clothes.

“Did he? That’s unusual for them I wonder if she came over without warning,” Rilla hums as she pulls the combs from her hair as she sits in her underthings at her vanity.

“Probably, I warned him to be presentable by the time the kids come home,” Ken replies.

‘I mean we don’t mind his relationship, but that doesn’t mean we want it happening within our house and he knows that?” Rilla nods her head. “You didn’t scare him did you?”

“I may have alluded that you would be angry at them canoodling as they are,” Ken says with a crooked grin.

“Oh, I would be angry?” Rilla raises an eyebrow at him. “Sure make me the bad cop parent.” She rolls her eyes.

“And if Clara had come early and burst into his room it be a whole other conversation,” Ken reminds her as he watches the window, to see Jimmy now outside with his girlfriend. “He’s walking her home again,” Ken says gruffly. “That skirt is truly indecent,” he says under his breath.

“Who is walking who home?” Rilla asks as reaches for one of her house dresses and pulls it on and does up the zipper. “Where is Clara though?” She asks out loud as you could see their youngest appear with their son, riding on the handlebars of his bicycle. Which she did not approve of either.

They were all unbothered by the news of war now, too young to worry about it when no one seemed to be going from their little family.

“He’s a nice boy Ken, leave them be,” Rilla tells him, patting her cheek. “She’s fourteen this weekend remember that.”

“Trust me I remember,” Ken says grumbling. “To mature for her age.”

“Yet she still calls you Daddy,” Rilla reminds him. “She’s still very much a little girl underneath it all.”

Rowena’s Fourteenth Birthday came much faster than Ken could ever imagine. He remembers her when she was younger, toothless and with wild hair. Now she was wearing make-up and looking more and more like a young woman that she quickly became.

She’s still sleeping, in floral pyjamas with bloomer bottoms as one leg is outside of the blankets. Hair in curlers and some sort of green cream spotted on her face.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispers kissing her forehead. He’s done this for as long as he could remember. Years ago when she was a child he would cuddle with her, these days it's more about breakfast in bed. He waits a moment, as she stirs before he lets her present dangle in front of her

She opens her hazel eyes looking up at him, eyes, adjusting to the swinging pendant.

“You got it!” She clammers as she tangles in the blankets trying to sit up in bed and reach for it at the same time. A gold heart locket with a painted porcelain stone, with etched vines around it.

“Don’t I get a Thank you?” Ken says pulling it back.

“Thank you, Daddy!” She says and turns around as he slips the chain over her head. It takes him back slightly, to how grown up she was, yet still clearly very much had years of maturing left.

“I can’t believe you're fourteen, it feels like yesterday I caught you in my hands, screaming at me with your little red face,” Ken says with a long sigh.

“I know, you tell me this every year,” Rowena rolled her eyes slightly.

“Well of course,” Ken grins. “I have to remind you of it so you never forget it for the future one day when you’re angry at me over something.”

“Dad,” Rowena rolls her eyes and waves for him to move and he doesn’t move. “Please! I need to go pee,” she tells him and Ken chuckles lightly and moves to stand up

“Breakfast is waiting,” Rilla says from the doorway still in her robe. “There are pancakes.”

“Who made them?” Rowena asks cautiously,

“Oh come off it,” Rilla chides her. “You know well enough that I leave the cooking to others, come your siblings are waiting and you have more presents downstairs.” Rilla tries to hurry her along. She catches her daughter though before she can pass through the doorway and kisses the top of her head, “Happy Birthday Rowena.”

“Thank you, Mum! But I need to pee!” She says skipping to the bathroom.

There is a course of Happy Birthday for the birthday girl when she arrives in the kitchen. Pancakes are piled high on a platter, along with jams and syrups and breakfast meats.

“Open mine first!” Clara exclaims scampering from Jimmy’s lap to go pick up the wrapped box. “Mummy helps me wrap it.”

“Thank you,” Rowena says taking it, she opens it carefully completely unsure what her little sister might have gotten her. In the end, it's a set of new curlers and a silk scarf in pink of course.

“Mummy helped me pick it out as well!” Clara chirps.

“And pay for it,” Oliver says as he reaches for his and hands it over to his sister.

“And you paid this on your own?” Rowena raises one of her arched eyebrows.

“Course, I have a paper route do I not?” He says simply and watches his sister open the gift. It was delicate silk ribbons and threads with a few new patterns. “You said you ran out.”

“I did, this is perfect,” Rowena says nodding her head.

“All right, all right eat while it’s hot,” Mrs. Clarke tells the children sitting down at her spot at the table after placing a stack of sprinkle-laden pancakes at the birthday girl's spot. She doesn’t always set down with the family, but birthdays of the children she always seemed to take a moment with them. Though later that afternoon she was leaving for a wedding out of town.

“Thank you, Mrs. Clarke!” Rowena chants reaching for the whipped cream and jam.

Rowena was still licking her finger when Jimmy produced an envelope and a small box long narrow box. “The card is from me, and the gift is actually from Connie,” he tells her explaining ignoring the look that Rilla gave him.

She opens the card first, it's a pretty card and has a lovely message in it, but inside there are tickets to see a show.

"Swan Lake! You’re taking me to see Swan Lake,” She says rushing to hug him.
thank you thank you,” she says bouncing on her heels.

“Open the other one,” Jimmy says shaking his head amused and she starts tearing at the table.

“Perfume samples! Oh, tell her thank you!” She hugs him again, not noticing the look her mother gives Jimmy.

“Perfume Jimmy?” Rilla asks later on, once alone in the kitchen as the children left to go change for the day.

“Connie thought it would be nice for her to find a youthful, age-appropriate scent,” Jimmy says shrugging. “She’s fourteen, you let her wear light scents already I didn’t see the harm in it?”

“You know if you just made a means to an end with the situation it wouldn’t be as hush-hush,” Rilla tells him. “Instead you come home at random hours smelling like Chanel, pretending like you were at work. ”

“There are things to consider and figure out before we even think about setting a date,” Jimmy tells her gruffly not telling them about the conversation that was happening behind closed doors between him and Connie. “I’m twenty-five I don’t see the point of rushing down the aisle. Even you and Dad weren’t married by the time he was twenty-five.”

“Well, there was this thing called a war happening,” she gives him a look. “And before that well, it wouldn’t have been allowed anyway.” She reminds him.

“I can’t believe you got a copy of Gone with the Wind,” Rilla says shaking her head in disbelief as Ken sets up the projector in the old basem*nt of the magazine. The girls were camped out on the floor with pillows and blankets, dressed in birthday dresses.

“I work for a magazine, I have connections and if they want a review of it I need to see it,” Ken says with a grin.

“Well, I cannot wait to zee it,” Lillian says settling down on one of the sofas.

“At least that makes one of us,” Shirley says under his breath. “How did I get stuck watching it if Jasper is with Ollie watching Clara and Phoebe?” He asks as Carl and Marianne had come for the movie as well.

“I am asking myself the same thing,” Carl says. “Are you sure the little kids are fine?”

“Between Oliver and Jasper they’ll be more than fine and Jimmy will be around as well,” Rilla tells them.

“Clarke Gable is dashing isn’t he,” Rowena says sighing deeply when they get back to Oleander End.

“Really Roe, Ashely is a much better choice,” Elodie says matter-of-factly.

“Neither of them are, Wade her first husband is the dreamiest,” Lunette says dreamily. “Though Clarke isn’t half bad even if he is old.”

“He isn’t old,” Rowena counters back. “He is no older than Dad.”

“You hear that Rilla,” Shirley snickers. “Rowena truly is your twin.”

“I heard it,” Ken grumbles. “She is no longer allowed to date ever.”

“The more you restrict her, the more she will fight you on it,” Rilla tells him. “It’s a crush on a movie star dear. It isn’t real.”

“I mean…that whole film isn’t real…let alone interesting?” Carl whispers to Shirley and Ken who both look at him and silently agree.

“Daddy!” Phoebe comes running towards Carl. “Can Clara and I ride ponies one day after school?”

“We’ll see,” Carl laughs looking over at Rilla.

“Well, I am going to light up the fire pit,” Ken says standing up, patting his pocket for his cigarettes to the men who nod their heads.

“But cake!” Rowena shouts out.

“I think we can wait a few minutes for cake,” Ken says chuckling and moving to kiss the top of her head.

“Well, don’t take too long, Tante Lily says she’ll pierce my ears for me!” Rowena says grinning and skipping her away.

“Pardon she will do what?” Ken's voice boomed in surprise.

“Earrings Daddy, you know that Mom said you agreed to it!” Rowena bounces in excitement as Ken looks at his wife with no recollection of her mentioning it at all to him.

“I told you before bed one night, you thought it was a lovely idea,” Rilla says with a cheeky smile.

“It doesn’t count if I’m half asleep or spent,” Ken whispers shaking his head and kissing her swiftly.

Rilla merely grins at him and goes towards the women.

“It always counts, how do you think I got that new kitchen,” Marianne says quietly to the other women.

“Or those shoes I saw in the window,” Lillian adds with a smirk.

“But isn’t that wrong?” Elodie asks raising an eyebrow and hearing the older woman. “Wouldn’t that be cheating the system?”

“One day sweetheart, you will be married and realize the same thing we all have,” Rilla wraps her arm around her niece’s shoulder. “If you want anything from a man you have to find the most opportune moment to ask for it.”

“Yes, the man may be head of the house, but the woman is the neck which controls the head,” Marianne explains.
“But Papa…,” Elodie says objecting.

“You’ll understand one day Cherie,” Lilian chuckles and pulls her daughter to her. “Lunette cherie, Do you want yours done as well as we are doing this?”

“You want to me stick needles into my ear lobes? Merci Non,” she says shaking her head from her spot near her brother.

“Can I have one?” Jasper asks, “ I can be like a pirate or a sailor?”

“You’re not getting an earring,” Shirley barks from the outside, clearly hearing his son. “Earrings are for girls, or la feé’s,” he adds on in French.

Rilla looks at her brother sharply through the screen of the window. “Pardon?”

“What?” Shirley replies gruffly. “He’s not getting an earring.”

Rilla eyes narrow at him and shows her disapproving feeling for her brother. . “Cake is ready so quit the smoking and come sing happy birthday all of you.”

The men sigh and squash their darts and head back inside where Rilla is waiting with the pink cake that only needed candles to be lit.

They go through the ritual and Rilla cuts the cake and gives the first pieces to her daughter and hands out the rest.

“Mom, did you make this?” Rowena asks face blanching.

“Of course I did,” Rilla says. “It tasted fine and I followed the recipe and the scrapes,” she says as she looks around to see everyone suddenly weary of the cake. She takes a piece for herself and takes a bite.

The taste hit her mouth.

“I swear it tasted just fine last night when I made it,” Rilla sighs defeated by the cake and sits down in a chair. Gloria had asked for the weekend off to see a friend and Rilla gladly let her have the time. She was always welcome in family celebrations of course, but she had friends and family of her own.

“It’s fine,” Marianne speaks up. “You tried that is all that matters.”

“Mummy, next time it’s my birthday can you just buy me a cake,” Clara says coming to sit on her lap.

“I mean, it’s not a birthday unless mom tries to make something and it doesn’t turn out,” Oliver says grinning.

“Hey, that's your mother,” Uncle Shirley warns his nephew. “Though it is a true statement,” he grins at his sister.

“Oh, Thank you,” Rilla glares at him. “Anyone else going to tease me?”

“I mean if you’re asking I can bring up…” Jimmy starts but sees shoot him a look. “Or not.” He says looking down at his teacup.

“Wait what happened?” Rowena looks at her mother. “It can’t have been that bad?”

“Yes! Tell us please!” The cousins join in for a chorus.

“Well if there is no cake can we walk down and get ice cream?” Rowena asks looking at her father.

“How about I run out and grab a few pints and come back?” Ken says looking at the clock. “I feel like your Aunt and Mother had other things they wish to get over and down with.”

“Oh right!” She says.

“Well, I got chocolate, vanilla and strawberry for safe choices,” Ken begins as he stops to watch his wife and brother in laws wife sterilize needles as he comes back with a large box. “You waited for me, didn’t you? This is barbaric."

“Really Ken? She wants her ears pierced she’s fourteen and it's a lot better for me to do it for her than for her to sleep over at one of her friend's places and do it in the middle of the night,” Rilla hushes him. “I have earrings, and Mother and Susan did it the same way in the kitchen when I was her age and there was literally nothing to it.”

“It still doesn’t feel right,” Ken huffs.

“Darling, how did you think ear piercing came about? They mysteriously appeared one day. No, we beg our mothers until they relent and then sit nervously until it’s over with it.”

“What if it becomes infected?” Ken counters as Marianne leans against the counter.
“Scoop some ice cream out will you, I am sure the kids are restless?”

“Oh they are,” Marianne nods her head.

“Of course,” Rilla nods her head to her friend before turning to her husband. “She’s old enough to remember to clean the area until they are healed and not play with them. Seriously Ken you are overreacting, she asked for this. Lillian and I will do it at the same time so it will be two seconds of pain and then she will have her earrings.” Rilla pats his shoulder. “Boys, do you think Rowena getting her ears pierced is barbaric?” She looks at her two sons.

Jimmy looks up from his spot and Oliver from his comic book. “I think they will suit her and will give her future husband something to buy for Christmas each year. It is a solid plan for women to have.”

“Oh hush you,” Rilla shakes her head at him.

“I just don’t understand who thought sticking a needle through the ear lob was the best way to wear earrings,” Oliver says. “But girls are strange.”

“Oh really, weren’t you complimenting Mindy King's earrings the other day,” Rowena taunts her brother who flushes down his neck.

“All right are we ready?” Lillian asks and Rowena nods her head, while still holding pieces of ice to her ear.

“I can’t watch this,” Ken grumbles as Rilla takes one of the apple slices from the counter.

“Un, deux, trois,” Lillian counts for them and with a deep breath from the ladies and the teenager the needles poked their way into the apple.

“You can breathe now,” Rilla tells her husband teasingly. “Heavens your teenage daughter took it better than you.”

“Earrings,” Lillian asks and Lunette holds the plate they had placed the earrings after dosing them in alcohol.

Lillian carefully withdrew the needle and placed the earring in the new hole she had made. Screwing the back on before she moved to the other side.

“Tout fini ma Cherie,” she tells her nieces and holds up a mirror. “Tres Magnifique!”

“Look, Daddy!” Rowena calls out grinning.

Ken only shakes his head. “They are lovely, even if barbaric.”

“Can Elodie and Loon sleepover?” Rowena asks looking at her cousins.

Rilla looks towards her brother and then her husband, and both shrugs.

“Can Phoebe sleep over too!” Clara jumps in.

“Might as well make it an even group and have Jasper stay as well,” Rilla says shaking her head. “If he wants anyway? I’m sure the boys won’t mind bunking together in Oliver's room?”

Shirley......he's being a bit hom*ophobic...yes he is because it's the 1930s. I don't take pleasure in writing such things because it is the time. I don't agree with him, but that is how he feels in this.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

A small break from the usual and we look at Ken in this one.

Late October 1939

News is slow, it always in the beginning.

Often before the war, he would often wake up to two tiny feet near his face as he opened his eyes. Sometimes Ken did wonder how Clara managed to sleep in such precarious ways. Rilla had always believed that past a certain age, children should sleep in their room. She trained Oliver and Rowena from a young age to sleep in their room as the books had told her to. With Clara, she found herself reluctant to have her out of her sight. This meant the infant spent her first year in her parent's room and consequently often found still between her parents any chance she got. This morning she was on top of the quilts with her blanket, thumb in her mouth as she clutched her teddy bear. He looked over to his wife who was still sleeping on her side with a shake of his head and a sleepy smile. He slid out of bed, as he grabbed his robe to ward off the chill of the morning.

Making use of the washroom and checking the weather in the front window in the library he could hear the other children come out of their rooms. He knew that Rowena would often try to downplay her need or want to cuddle at fourteen years old. How Oliver would tiptoe in, eyeing the bed before he settled to lay across the foot with his blanket and pillow.

He would give them a minute before he would come back, then yawning as he would motion for one of the children to push over, allowing him a small space to lie back down. Rowena would curl up against him on a rare occasion, her pin curls poking his arm despite her hair being covered by a silk scarf and her new earrings poking into his skin slightly. She generally chose her mother when it came to cuddling since growing into the young lady that she was. Rilla warned him often just how wrapped around his daughter's fingers he was. Though he merely shrugged it off with a sloppy grin. He didn't care how much he turned to mush when it came to his daughters. Rowena was a picture of Rilla with her reddish hair and hazel eyes, while all the charm and personality of a Ford. Clara was a Ford in looks but had the Blythe spirit from the beginning and he loved them to death.

It was a rare morning when Jimmy would join them, either he was just getting back from his overnight shift, ready to start work. This morning he was home and when he heard the other get up he decided to join them. This prompted to Clara climb over her parents with a blanket and teddy bear to cuddle with him.

Jimmy remembered too vividly the weeks following her birth, dark days when Rilla barely left her room. Grandma Anne stayed to help with the house and the children. Whispers about what to do, and how to help them survive. He also remembered Ken walking around the house, unshaven and quiet, spending any moment he could in the old cellar that was his darkroom. Watching him in his misery he took up smoking in the back yard once more for a few months. Before he got angry at himself enough to throw them out once more.

Later there was always a rush to get out the door with shoes and coats. Rowena would be fussing with her hair that didn't set the way she wanted it. Oliver would suddenly be complaining that his trousers were too short again, or his jacket felt tight around his shoulders. Clara would be posing prettily in the hallway mirror, preening at her pretty dress and hair ribbons as Rilla tried to get her into her coat and scarf.

"We're going to be late," Ken would tell them looking at his pocket watch, tapping his foot. He didn't stop mentally counting until they were all piled into the car.

Except for Jimmy who took his own that he got for himself used with some of his inheritance left from Mrs. Pitman as he had his plans later that day.

Church never interested him, not truly between all the kneeling and standing and sitting. Catholic these days, and not the Presbyterian or even Anglican because it was closer and Rilla enjoyed the sound of the choir and it was an hour on the dot mass, and Shirley and Lillian would be there as well with their children, who were raised primarily in the catholic faith.

They never spoke about it, they never told the family either but it also gained Rilla a small amount of favour in the Catholic hospitals when she was called to them.

Instead, they did mass, and then often had picnics in the summertime or they did before the war broke out.

These days Sundays are more sullen. These days it was more sombre, names of men—no boys who enlisted were prayed for out loud, names spoken and acknowledged.

He didn’t want to hear it or think about it. Each passing week, each new poster he sees feels like a punch to the gut. So he does the only thing he knows how to do and Rilla doesn’t like it.

He wakes to Rilla shaking him and he feels sweat on his pillow.

“You were dreaming and calling out,” She tells him, caressing the side of his face. “What were you dreaming?”

“Something I hadn’t dreamt about in years, I’m sorry if I woke you?” Ken says sitting up in their bed.

“I was up already,” Rilla tells him quietly. “I thought I heard one of the kids were up but they were all asleep, but then I couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

“Still, sentiment is the same,” he says sighing. He was itching for a cigarette but knew she would have his head if he smoked in the bedroom.

“I’m going to raid the fridge,” he tells her. “I think some cheese or something will help my dreams a bit. Don’t wait up for me,” he says kissing the top of her head before crawling out the bed.

Rilla frowns, watching him go. She lays on her pillow, thinking about the latest news that had come from Europe.

She’s still awake when Ken comes back smelling like smoke and mouthwash. She pushes him down into the bed kissing him deeply. This sort of thing always made them forget and sleep for a little while.

“Not now,” he says quietly and Rilla sighs moving off of him. Because trust was based on respect and she knew if she told him the same, he would do the same. “I can’t think let that right now, I’m not twenty-five with mental and physical capabilities to separate that stuff right now.”

“Of course,” Rilla says nodding her head. “I just…got ahead of myself. Do you mind if I open the window? It’s just unbearably warm right now even for October?” She asks trying to hide the flush on her body, which is still humming despite the disappointment and understanding.

“I’ll do it, stay,” Ken tells her getting back up to crack open the window and looking at her through the moonlight of the lace curtains she had made and hung up a few years back.

He greeted Mrs. Clarke who was cooking before he wandered the house and found Oliver sitting on the sofa writing in his notebooks silently.

Oliver had grown into a quiet phase this year as he scribbled out poetry. He reminded both Rilla and Ken of Walter in many ways, with possibly a touch more of an edge to his personality of course. Both Rilla and himself had the same sort of edge to them, it would only make sense that their son would have the same. Though where Walter had been self-assured, calm and collected about his writing. Oliver was almost the opposite, no one was allowed to read his poetry. His English teacher praised him for his words, but his notebooks were his own and they respected that. Beyond that, he played his emotions out on piano when writing wasn’t working or when he was bored in general.

"How was school?" He asked sitting down in his chair.

“Awful," Oliver said looking up.

"You know if you elaborate I can potentially help you?" Ken reminded him.

“What’s there to elaborate? I hate most of my classmates, my teachers play favourites, and I hate school in general.” Oliver says under his breath.

“UCC is a wonderful school and you are extremely lucky to go there,” Ken says simply. “You can do anything you want when you graduate from it. I had an amazing time there when I was your age.”

“Of course you did, you were popular,” Oliver says bitterly. “You try being the strange kid, or did you even have a friend who wasn’t in your realm of popularity? Of course not, if you have a choice to bring Rowena or me to a work function Mom can’t go to. You always pick Rowena because god forbid you have me for a son, who can’t play a lick of sports or any accomplishments that mean anything to your career.”

“Listen to me son, I have not been proud to call you my son, and will always be proud to have you as my son,” Ken takes him by the shoulder. “I take your sister because she always seems to enjoy that stuff more. Give her a pretty dress to wear and she’s good to mindless talk for hours. You would be bored senseless in twenty minutes, thirty minutes if there was a piano around, forty-five if people listened or requested something, maybe an hour if we let you bring a notebook.”

Oliver looks at his father flinching as his father's hand squeezes the bruise that was beneath his white school shirt.

Ken watches his son, noticing the flinch and then a tinge of purple on his jawline. Looking down at his son’s hands his right is also bruised.

“Who did this,” Ken asks him gently.

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t need your help,” Oliver tells his father. “I don’t need you to butt in and make things ten times worse.”

“Ollie, if someone is hurting you,” Ken reiterates as best as he could. “I cannot let that go, just the same if a teacher did this to you, I do not pay what I pay for them to abuse children.”

“See this is why I never say anything, you always try to fix everything and you’ll only make it worse. I’m sixteen I can look after myself, I don’t need daddy’s help or money.” Oliver says moodily, wrenching himself out of his father's grip and grabbing his things. “Only two more years and then at least I can choose my university? Or is that predestined like everything else in my life.”

Ken mainly looks at him, holding his hands up in defeat. “Well, don’t forget to help with dinner, if you’re not going to talk about it,” he says standing up, feeling his body protest. He walks to the porch off of the dining room they only use for holidays, using the side porch to light up.

He sighs and inhales the smoke.

“I thought mummy told you to stop smoking?” Clara chirps at him in surprise, her hair in two braids that Rilla has put in her hair that morning and her pinafore a bit more wrinkly, but she climbs over the railing with ease.

“Yes, well, sometimes things aren’t that easy,” he says sighing. Putting it out, but while he craved the smoke, he didn’t like doing it in front of any of the kids. “How was school?”

“We did school things?” Clara says after a moment. “I don’t like numbers, numbers are hard and I was tired.”

“You like numbers well enough to forever be counting things?” He says sitting down she so could climb on him. “Why were you tired, also were you colouring today?” He asks as he licks his thumb and tries to rub off a faint pink pot on her temple.

“I like counting, but adding them up is hard, it makes my head hurt which makes me tired?” She tells him honestly. “Peggy spatter red ink by accident.”

“Ahh math, yes math can be difficult at times, but you will get the hang of it. You learned to read didn’t you not? Math will be the same thing.” Ken says, shaking his head at the ink. Maybe she would need a bath tonight?

“But I can’t see what she writing sometimes. The whole chalkboard goes blurry and then I get yelled at?”

“They yell at you for not being to see?” Ken frowns. “They don’t believe you?”

“I don’t know. I asked to sit closer because I see it better, but she won’t let me either.” Clara says shrugging a shoulder. “I thought school would be fun.”

“I’ll talk to your teacher, and we’ll make you an appointment with the optometrist and see what the doctor says about your eyes. Why have you never said anything?”

Clara merely shrugs not knowing

“Mummy complains when she’s driving that she can’t see things sometimes?”

“What do you mean mummy has trouble seeing things while driving?” He asks eyebrows raising.

“I don’t know. She says bad words about signs and tells me to never repeat them.” Ken sighs listening to her.

“Go change out of your uniform for dinner,” he says lifting her off of him and patting her behind in the process and she runs off. He relights his cigarette and finishes it off.

Rilla would be late, having been called in according to the housekeeper. He wanders back into the room, hearing Oliver at the piano this time. He never had a formal lesson but he played like he did, learning a little from his Aunt Persis when she moved back to Toronto as she taught Amelia how to play on the old parlous piano at his childhood home.

It’s dark and moody this time and something Ken doesn’t recognize at all but knows better than to ask about it right now. Though the stack of Chopin, Debussy, and some Bach sat in the old piano bench for when he wanted it. He shakes his head, going up the stairs slowly, towards the library where he sits at his desk. He wants a drink, he always wants a drink these days and his bottle of rye that is hidden away in his cabinet calls to him.

Instead, he looks at the photos on his desk, the roll of film that needs to be developed from Rowena’s birthday still. Shouldn’t she be home soon? He gets up going towards the bedrooms frowning when he sees coming from the master bedroom, seeing him she looks panicked and hides her hands behind her back.

“Can I help you?” He says raising an eyebrow.

“I just needed something from mom’s vanity….uhh…I used all of mine?” She blushes and it clicks in his mind and he nods his head.

“Do we need to go to the pharmacy? He asks looking at his watch. Oliver could watch Clara and they could make it before they closed.

“I’ll be okay…” Rowena shakes her head, still blushing and turned, her skirt flying up slightly, showing off the cream-coloured bloomers. “Can I stay home tomorrow if I don’t feel good?” She stops quickly to ask him.

“You know your mother doesn’t believe that such an event should impact your life,” Ken says after a moment.

“Well, she’s lucky then,” Rowena says under her breath before going towards the bathroom.

Ken sighs, heading back down the stairs, he could hear Clara in the Kitchen chatting around. Already dressed in a pair of pyjamas, something he didn’t feel like arguing with given she had a bath the previous night. The doorbell rings and he looks towards the door, Ollie ignores it, and Clara looks at him and he goes to it.

“Persis,” he says seeing his sister. “Did I forget something?”

“No, I was just in the neighbourhood and wanted to drop off a few things that I borrowed,” She shakes her head. “No Rilla tonight?” She asks looking around as he lets her into the house.

“She got called out,” he says simply taking her coat for her. “Coffee?”

“No thank you, but thank you,” She says wandering towards the sound of the piano. “That's wonderful Ollie, I hope you wrote that one down?”

“Wrote what down?” Ken asks slightly confused.

“He wrote it,” Persis says before Oliver could protest about keeping it secret. “I think if you went down a step in the middle in the bass, you would fill it out wonderfully.”

“Thanks, Aunty,” he says quietly, too embarrassed to continue with them around.

“How do you know he wrote that?” Ken asks as they walk away quietly.

“Well, I teach enough piano to recognize songs,” Persis tells her brother with a simple shrug as they continue toward the kitchen. “Is Rowena around, I want to pass along her birthday gift. I feel bad that we were away when she had her party, and that I missed Gone with the Wind.”

“I should be coming soon enough to Toronto officially, so I am sure you will get to see it. I would offer to show it to you but I did have to send it back within that week. It just worked out that it was Roe’s Birthday, and yes she is around. She was upstairs dealing with a few things not too long ago.” He explains.

“Is Oliver joining the cadet that is being set up?” Persis asks awkwardly after a moment. “George is, he’s…he already told me that he will be enlisting when he’s finished high school?”

“Cadets, I doubt it, Rilla would never allow it even if he wanted to,” Ken blanches. “Georgie though….That can’t be easy for you?”

“I was rather him go asking my permission to go, than for me to tell him to go do his duty?” Persis says quietly.

“Duty…it’s a funny word,” Ken says sputtering. “There is plenty of duty in this world that shouldn’t involve death.”

“So if he wants to go, you’ll refuse to be your only son?” Persis looks at his brother sadly.

“I,” Ken looks down at his fight. “That is his own choice and I will not stand between it, but we both know my wife Persis. She would rather die a thousand deaths than watch him go. Jimmy has already been excused on behalf of his employment unless he decides or they come to the bottom of the pile and draft.”

“So you will just not have your boys go?” Persis asks him lowering his voice. “You went and did your duty, you don’t expect your son to take your place this time around?”

“You don’t know what I saw, or did Persis and if I can save him from that I will,” Ken snaps at her. “As for my wife, she lost a brother to the last war. You lost nothing but having a good time. Forgive us if we want to spare our children and selfish ourselves from doing this all over again.”

“Aunt Persis! I didn’t know you got back?” Rowena comes breezing into the hallway, dressed in a house dress and slippers.

“Oh yes, I stopped by to leave these and tell your father that your grandmother's birthday plans have been arranged,” Persis tells her handing over a bag.

“So you were talking about the war, Robert says he’s going as soon as he can and will write to me when he does. He told me when he does leave he doesn’t want anyone to even look my way. I made the joke that Daddy ask Mum to promise to not kiss anyone until he returned…which is so romantic don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you go open your gift and thank your Aunt before she leaves and before dinner?” Ken clears his throat gruffly. “Clara, what are you up to?” He calls out next deciding it was too quiet.

“She is helping me, Mr. Ford,” Gloria calls out before stepping into the hallway. “Though she is feeling a little warm and looking peaky has she said anything about not feeling well?”

"I know and has ink all over her," Ken says shaking his head.

Persis kneels looking at her niece with a quizzical eye moving her bangs out of the way. “That's not ink Ken, that looks like a case of the measles that have been going around. German measles, but measles all the same though. The others have had them?" Persis asks.

"They did before she was even born," Ken says sighing. "Why didn't you say anything about not feeling well?" he asks Clara who shrugs.

"We were going to learn about Ribbit, I didn't want to miss it," Clara says quietly.

"Rilla is going to freak out over this." Ken shakes his head. "Come here," he beckons Clara and lifted her into his arms.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

"Clara, what are you doing in here?" Rilla asked as she found her youngest sitting, still in her Sunday dress on the floor in her parent's bedroom. She had gone upstairs to find a doll to play with not too long ago, still home from school recovering from her latest bought of illness. Measles, colds and fevers had taken over the house and every time Clara got sick Rilla looked at Ken with this is your fault, but I’m the one having to give up work to stay home.

"I found some pictures, Mummy! Why do you have a box of pictures under your bed?" Clara asked.

"Clara, these are private," Rilla said trying to remain calm. Internally panicking trying to remember what exactly some of those old photos were. Rilla sighed in relief when she saw the scattered photos. While embarrassing they weren't the ones that she never wanted her children to see or find.

"Why are you so big?" Clara asked curiously.

"Well, I was having a baby," Rilla told her. Gathering up some of the photos that she didn't want Clara to see and discretely pocketed them.

"Was it me?" Clara asked looking up at her mother. She had enough knowledge that babies grew inside a mummy's stomach from being at Auntie Marianne's often enough. Rilla was just thankful that she was happy with that answer and not asking anything more just yet.

Rilla sighed and shook her head, taking the photos from her daughter. "That was with Oliver," Rilla told her looking over the picture, knowing just from how skinny she had been.

"What about Doe or me?" Clara asked. "Why are you in your nightie?"

"Your father likes to surprise people with photographs?" Rilla tried to explain to her daughter.
"This was with Rowena," Rilla said flipping through various photos and passing her the one that was the most appropriate. "This would have been you and your sister,” Rilla said trying not to choke up.

"Is that why it's hidden?" Clara asked looking at her mother. "It makes you sad?"

"Yes, and no," Rilla said after a short deliberation. "It's more that these are private, and we like respecting each other's privacy don't we?" She waited for Clara to nod her head. "It's why we always knock on the bathroom door when it closed, or when any bedroom door?" Rilla reminded her. "These photographs are private to your father and me. We don't display them because we don't want other people to see them, or us as such."

"But you're pretty mummy," Clara said rather confused.

"Thank you, but one generally does not display photographs of such nature to other people," Rilla explained to her daughter.

"Is it because I can see your boobies through your nightie?" Clara asked her tilting her head as she asked. Rilla laughed Clara often found her way into any bath that Rilla tried to have when she was still awake.

"Yes, which is a large portion of why they are private," Rilla sighed. "Come here," Rilla patted her thighs and Clara crawled over and settled into the dip of her mother's crossed legs.

"All these photos were taken by your father because we're husband and wife we share a special connection."

"That's love right?" Clara asked innocently.

"Yes, we do love each other very much, but these photos are between the two of us. While your father enjoys being cheeky with his camera, he always makes sure I am all right with photos such as these." Rilla tries to explain. "What I am trying to say is that one day when you're much, much older than you have a right to tell anyone no if you don't feel comfortable with something. Much like as I tell you it's all right if you don't wish to hug your aunts or uncles when you're being shy. Or when you tell Daddy you don't want to be photographed when you're not feeling like your best self?"

Clara nodded. "You always say that if something happens that makes me uncomfortable to tell you and Dad?" she said picking at her sock.

"Very much so," Rilla agreed. "Now, what were you doing in our room?" Rilla asked her.
Clara shrugged, still picking at her sock. "You don't like it when Rowena goes into your room when you're not around?' Rilla told her.

Clara only shook her head.

"Well, the same goes for Mommy and Daddy's room, and Oliver's and Jimmy's room. Sometimes we have things that we don't want other people to see," Rilla stresses. "These photographs were hidden because we didn't want anyone finding them."

"I didn't mean to find them," Clara whispers. " I couldn't find Peter Rabbit wondered if he got caught underneath your bed."

"Yet you still looked at them?" Rilla raises an eyebrow.

"You looked pretty," Clara said simply with a shrug of her tiny shoulder, clutching her Peter Rabbit she clearly found with one arm. She still held the photo that Rilla showed her from almost seven years ago. "Did Cora look like me?"

"We were told you looked alike," Rilla says quietly. "You both had dark hair, and one day when you're older this locket will be yours," Rilla told her showing her with one hand while the other brushed over her daughter's hair.

"Why am I here, but she's not?" Clara asks for the first time.

"I can't answer that sweetheart," Rilla sighed. Of course, she had a medical explanation, lack of oxygen, and placenta abruption that caused her to bleed heavily. A rather large scar ran around her lower stomach as well as proof of what had happened as well. "It's just the way it worked out?"

"Sometimes it's like I miss her, but I can't miss her since she was never here," Clara tried to explain what she felt.

"You were together for nine months I think that counts for something," Rilla shook her head. "Auntie Di and Nan spent some time with us when you were born. They said that all their
lives felt like the other half of them was in another person. So I think whatever you feel, or do is perfectly natural and normal for you," Rilla said before kissing her hair.

"Can I keep this one?" Clara asked holding up a photograph this was completely decent. "I'll just keep it in my room?"

"I'll get you a frame for it," Rilla told her with another kiss to her hair. It was a simple photo and if it made Clara feel better, she would frame dozens of them.

"Why are the box of photo's out?" Ken asked quietly as he kissed Rilla's cheek as she helped Mrs. Clarke finish lunch.

"Clara found them," Rilla told him just as quietly. "She didn't find the other bunch, just a few loose photos that were floating around the top which weren't as bad?"

"I'll find a new spot for them," Ken said with a nod of his. "I can assume you talked with her?”

"We had a lovely little talk about respecting people's privacy," Rilla told him with a nod of her head. "Along with a small refresher that it's all right to say no if you are uncomfortable with something."

"I'll try to talk to her as well when she comes to the office with me on Tuesday," Ken told her.

"You will be strong won't you, you won't come back with a dozen dolls?" Rilla looked at him like she was expecting the worst when they came home.

"I bought one for her for the store if she does ask, if not it will go into the donations. Though she hasn't asked, mostly just excited to help assign toys that can help me with Christmas lists that the welfare society gave us." Ken told her.

Rilla knew Clara would go for a doll. You couldn't bring a six-year-old to see a tower of dolls without letting them have one after all. He did the same thing with Oliver and Rowena growing up until they were old enough to comprehend and understand what the event was about.

"I also think she would scream bloody murder if I told her no," Ken added on.

"She did once, and in a regular store" Rilla reminded him with a smirk.

"She's generally well-behaved in public now," Ken shrugged. "I'll be fine, Doe said she would come by after school to see the other displays and for her to help with the older children.”

The toy drive had been going on for most of Rowena's life, she always helped with some age bracket, along with Oliver up until the past year. Ken collected toys through donations from wealthier families and advertising sales. Parents would sign up at the local welfare office and he always managed to acquire just the right amount of toys for the event. A special event to sit on Santa's lap, and leave with a toy to open on Christmas morning in a rented-out hall. In the weeks leading up to the event, there would be photos with the toys for the sponsors and donors who helped bring the event to life. Along with flyers for the children to look at for free.

"I'll go see what the children are up to. It almost seems too quiet right now," Ken said before kissing her before he headed upstairs.

‘How are the children?” Anne said to her youngest as they spoke on the phone after Rilla had called her mother.

“The usual,” Rilla sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how you managed six of us, I can barely manage three of them,” Rilla said sighing. “Thank goodness, Jimmy, pretty much takes care of his things these days.”

Anne laughed through the receiver. “Patience, a lot of patience,” she told her daughter.

“I don’t think I have any left,” Rilla sighed. “Roe is growing up so fast, it seemed like yesterday she was still Clara’s age. Still prancing around in frilly dresses, not complaining that she doesn’t have enough store-bought dresses and complaining about cramps”

“Oh the poor dear, still so young," Anne said sympathetically. “Though you were the same with store-bought things, that green hat you bought yourself?”

“I try not to ever think of that hat,” Rilla confessed with a sigh. “I was so…I thought I was so mature.”

“Everyone grows up in a blink of an eye, I didn’t realize how much you had grown until you told me about your promise to Ken.” Anne reminded her. “Suddenly my baby was a woman with men wanting to kiss her?”

“Now I look back, knowing I was only Oliver's age and my life was already being planned out in the sky,” Rilla sighed.

“How’s Oliver doing?”

“Moody,” Rilla sighed. “He does it so well as well, we can’t argue against him because he still does his chores, and helps Gloria without being asked. He is just so hard to read at times, all I want to do is poke at him until he just admits whatever is going on, but I know that's not good for him.”

“He’ll come around,” Anne reassured her. “He’s just at that age, Beau is driving Di crazy at times as well.”

“Well, that makes me feel better it’s not just my boy,” Rilla laughed. “How is everyone?”

“Ceci is excited to be graduating this year, while Walt is starting to decide what he wants to do after high school. If college is manageable for Jem and Faith?” Anne told her. “Deena and Maggie spend more time fighting with each other than being friends. Which Nan is disappointed at, but I remind her you girls didn’t necessarily always get along. Elsie spends more time with Jack in the shop than at home to Di’s dismay, and you already know about Beau.” Anne ran through the list of grandchildren. “Of course, you see Shirleys’s broad more than we do,” Anne said.

“We do, but they visit you as well. Most of the time it's shop talk between Ken and Lilian while Shirley and I just sorta chit-chat.” Rilla agreed.

“Well, I am excited to see them in the springtime,” Anne told her. They alternated holidays with all the kids. Her parents visited at least once or twice a year between the two Toronto families.

“We are as well,” Rilla told her as she heard some clanging around in the kitchen. “I should go see and check on what Roe is making in the kitchen,” Rilla told her mother.

“Baking is she?” Anne laughed.

“Possibly? I’m not entirely sure,” Rilla said honestly. “Give Dad my love, and to Nan and Jerry and the girls,” Rilla told her.

“Of course have a good day dearest,” Anne said, and they both hung up the phone and wandered into the kitchen.

“What in the world did you make?” Rilla asked looking at Rowena's strange jelly concoction that was chilling in the refrigerator.

“I was reading about how to use up leftover fruits and vegetables to make a jello salad,” Rowena grinned. “Though mine is all fruit.”

“Then why are there marshmallows in it? Is that cottage cheese curds?” She asked

“Fruit and cheese?” Rowena said with a shrug. “They said to just toss whatever you had in it.”

“Well, I hope for your sake it’s something tolerable?” Rilla said closing the fridge. “Though you’re already better at cooking in general than I am.”

“I think Clara can cook better than you,” Rowena said saucily to her mother. “But we love you anyway, and we love that you don’t even try most days.”

“Oh thank you!” Rilla said in mock appreciation. “I’ll remember that when we are decorating Christmas cookies.” She wrapped her arm around her daughter, noticing for the second time how tall she was got. Rowena had been a petite but chubby child, who seemed much like her brother shoot up overnight. She leaned to kiss the top of the red curls.

“You managing everything?” Rilla asked quietly. “With all this growing up business?”

Rowena shrugged. “Can’t escape it, but those booklets that booklet you found and read with me helped a lot.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Rilla told her. “If you have any questions never be afraid to ask and if I don’t know if I can always ask someone for you.”

“You wouldn’t ask Grandpa would you?” Rowena said suddenly afraid.

Rilla chuckled. “Well, he is a doctor, retired or not, but I understand I often found myself embarrassed by it. It wasn't until I was expecting you I can to the conclusion that a doctor is a doctor. Though he was the one to always reassure me when I was worried about something. He was so excited to come to meet you that Christmas after you were born.”

"Was he?" Rowena asked.

"Of course," Rilla chuckled. "He would spend any moment he could holding you for me."

“They spent a lot of time here with us after Clara was born?” Rowena mused. “They kept us busy but also tried to explain what was going on. ”

“They did, and Auntie Di and Nan came at one point as well for a week.” Rilla reminded her.

“Grandmama and Grandpa, when they were first married they lost a baby a few hours after she was born. They wanted to be there for us knowing just how hard and isolating it can feel.” Rilla explained.

“It’s not fair when things happen like that to families,” Rowena said quietly. "How one of my classmate's brothers died of polio?”

“It never is,” Rilla agreed with a sigh. “Come, I should get you to try on your Christmas dress so I can finish it for you.”

Rowena nodded and followed her mother to the small sewing area she had set up in the corner of the large library. Much to Rowena's dismay, Rilla had gotten a deal on lovely yellow floral embossed silk rayon that had enough meterage for two dresses.

Rowena had picked a pattern that was a knee-length skirt belted at the waist with a high neckline. Rilla cursed over the three lines of decorative stitching in a V shape with each stitch she carefully made. Rowena's favourite part was the sleeves were made in a cape-like style. Fluttering with a small amount of smocking for detailing that attached the sleeves to the bodice.

Rilla then made Clara's in a classic style that was short with three flounces on the bottom of the skirt. Adorning it with a red ribbon under the chest and tiny puffed sleeves. In the end, Rilla had finished it off with a triple ruffled neckline. She knew her daughter would never take it off once she was given it. She had been working on the dresses intermittently all fall.

While her own had been taken by Lilian taking over, strategically cutting on the bias the dark green with yellow flowers silk so it remained slinky and skimmed her figure. A long ruffle on the edge went all up the back seam of the dress down across the hem to the side seam. The low back and fluttering neckline were high enough to make the square neckline modest. More of a dated style, but one that flattered her.

The day after Ken brought home the tree was always joyous as the children impatiently waited to decorate the tree. It also meant Christmas was around the corner and that it would soon be time for presents and carols at school and church. It almost meant that Oliver's Birthday was generally days away as well.

“Mummy I got the popcorn!” Clara exclaimed as she held the bowl of popped corn, ready to be strung and wrapped around the tree. Dressed in one of her fancy dresses for the occasion, despite Rilla telling her it wasn’t the best thing to wear for the evening.

It was a cold and snowy night but inside Oleander End was warm and merry as the tree was fluffed out and the scent of pine was wafting through the living room.

“Why thank you!” Rilla matched her enthusiasm taking the bowl from her young daughter. “Get comfy and I will set you up with some string and a needle.” She told her daughter. Clara climbed into a chair and Rilla placed the bowl on the small ottoman and gave the ball of solid thread to her daughter and one large needle. “Don’t eat all the popcorn,” She warned her daughter with a smile who was already threading the needle. Rowena was already working on her garlands of cranberries and popcorn. In contrast, Oliver and Ken were untangling the string of lights for the tree.

Mrs. Clarke who had followed Clara with her bowl of popcorn settled down into her chair. Picking up some of the fireplace stockings that seemed to have come undone over the year in storage to mend.

“I can’t wait for Christmas,” Rowena sighed dreamily. “Can we go shopping this soon? I have some money saved up for presents that I still need to get?”

Rilla looked over to Ken who nodded as he played around with his camera. Taking pictures of the kids decorating the tree, and Rilla of course. “I’m sure we can manage something,” Rilla told her as she petted Rowena's head.

Rilla settled down on the sofa as she went through the ornaments as he snaps another photo of her to which she rolls her eyes at her husband.

“When does your daughter arrive for Christmas this year Gloria?” Rilla asked Mrs. Clarke.

“I believe she said the 23rd,” Gloria replied. “I’ll have to check the letter she sent to me.” She said.

“If you need a read to the train station just let us know,” Ken reminded her. “No point in struggling on transit with luggage.”

“We’ll most likely get a taxi, but I will remember if something happens,” Gloria told him.

“Can I help you make the fudge Mrs. Clarke?” Rowena asked the older woman.

“Are you going to give up two minutes into beating the fudge?” Gloria said clearly amused by the question.

“I promise I won’t!” Rowena told her.

“I will hold that to you miss,” She says with a grin, looking at her employer who was also amused because they both know she would not last.

“Daddy takes my picture,” Clara tells her father as she climbs into and sits primly in the big wing-back chair that was in the corner of the living room.

“Is there a please or thank you in that?” Ken asks turning to her.

“Please take my photo?” She asks politely and Ken raises the camera, capturing the moment.

“Why do you like taking pictures?"

“Daddy used to take pictures for a living,” Rilla says from her spot automatically.

“Really? When?”

“Back long before you were even born or thought of,” Ken says looking through the lens. “Smile for me Clare-bear.

“I need Peter Rabbit!” Clara jumps up in the chair, her voluminous skirt bouncing as she jumps off the chair and up the stairs.

Ken chuckles and shakes his head waiting for her, motioning for Rowena and Oliver to pause for a moment and pose for a photo by the tree until she comes bounding back and hops back into the chair and smiles cheekily for her Father.

“How do cameras work?” Clara asks him afterwards.

“Well, it’s something about light from an object and how it passes into the camera through the lenses. The lenses focus the light onto film stored in the camera and burn it into it. That way when you send it in, or when I process it in the basem*nt the photographs can be developed,” Ken tries to explain simply to his daughter.

“Well, you teach me one day?” Clara asks.

“I can teach you now,” Ken says motioning her to push over on the chair. She climbs on his lap looking up at him.

“You never want to open the back when the film isn’t finished. It will wreck the film before you even get a chance to develop it,” Ken explains. “But all you need to do is hold the camera up your eye, and close the other one, when you’re happy with the photo you hit this button and it will capture the image onto the film.”

“Mommy look at me,” Clara exclaims holding up the camera and Rilla does what she asks.

Ken whispers in Clara’s ear and helps her talk the photo, and then another of her sibling pulling funny faces at her, and another of Mrs. Clarke who was still stringing popcorn and cranberries as she talked to everyone.

If you enjoy this please let me know what you think of this story! I do love hearing what my readers think!

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Christmas is days away, but before Christmas there was Oliver’s birthday. A day that Rilla always tried to make separate, to make sure they celebrated him and not just Christmas and him pushed together.

When he was younger she would creep into his room and watch him sleep wondering if he look older or not. He was already up when she made it downstairs, he looks at her for a moment when he hears her footsteps.

“Happy Birthday,” Rilla says to him, pulling him down so she could kiss his cheek and hug him.

“Thank you,” he says gruffly blushing.

“My first baby,” Rilla whispers. “Such in a rush to come into the world, you gave us all a scare but you made it through and now you’re sixteen.”

“You tell me this every year,” Olivers groans.

“Yes, well, be glad you don’t have Rowena’s story,” Rilla reminds him that it could potentially be worse for embarrassing stories.

“Clara, you need to wear the glasses to get used to them,” You could hear Ken plead with his youngest. He had raised a bit of hell at her school when it came to her teacher not informing them of her sight issues, which mean a trip to the eye doctor. For all of them not just Clara to ensure they could see well enough.

“Ollie doesn’t wear them,” She pouts.

“Ollie can see just fine without them,” Ken says. “Now what do you say to Ollie?”

“Happy Birthday,” she says grumpy still not wanting to wear her glasses as she sits at her seat pouting.

Ken sighs and looks at his son with a smile on his face.

“Happy Birthday, are you too old to hug your old man these days?” He asks with a grin and Oliver moves towards him and hugs his father gingerly. Ken squeezes him before letting him go, “We’ll up to the government building of transportation and we can get you your license today after school?” He tells his son.

“Can I drive home?” Oliver asks hopefully.

“You can drive around the neighbourhood,” Ken tells him with a look. “Last thing we need is an accident downtown. I'll pick you up after the third period, I just better not find you with any new bruises or hear about any more fights whether physical or verbal.”

Oliver looks at him trying not to be shocked.

‘What you think the school doesn’t tell me things,” Ken tells him.

“They start it,” Oliver says gruffly.

“So don’t let it bother you,” Ken reminds him.

“I like your glasses Clare-bear,” Ollie says to his sister trying to get the attention off of himself sitting down at the table. “No school again for you?”

“She’s been out all week with a fever and cold, no point in sending her for one day,” Rilla says handing out plates of food. “Don’t worry I didn’t even try cooking it,” she tells her son who looks at it questionably.

“Roe! It’s breakfast!” Ken calls out by the stairs before going towards the coffee pot looking at his wife who was still fussing about. While Rowena tended to make birthdays her special day, Oliver had long forgone the traditional breakfast and presents. Rilla still tried to entice him into something of a celebration.

Much to his word Ken was waiting at the gates when Oliver slinked out of the school boundaries in his heavy wool coat and toque on his head. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and when he opened the door to throw his bag, Ken said bruised knuckles.

“Really Oliver?”

“The piano lid fell onto my knuckles I didn’t put it up fully.”

“I highly doubt that,” Ken says sarcastically. “Do I have to go in there, Ollie? I may have taught you not to fight Ollie, or to start fights. But this isn’t…I can’t sit here and watch you be subjected to this behaviour without saying something or waiting for the call when you finally hit them back.”

“It’s the truth, really,” Oliver says shrugging. “Can we go?”

Ken sighs nodding his head and puts the car into gear and drives down to the licensing office.

“When you were in the war did you ever do something questionable?” Ollie asks out of the blue from the passenger side.

“What do you mean questionable?”

“I don’t know, you don’t talk about the war, Mom hates hearing about it, but you were in the first one. I saw your medal in Mom’s jewellery box.”

“Ollie, war is beyond comprehension and questionable, hell right and wrong make no sense to you in it,” Ken tells him biting his tongue, a cigarette would be lovely right now.

“So you killed people?” Ollie asked quietly.

“It was a kill-or-be-killed situation Ollie… didn’t have a choice which means you just didn’t think of it. You just thought about keeping alive so you could go home one day, hoping that some girl of your dreams was waiting for you still.”

“But one should fight though? For patriotism at the very least?” Ollie asks further.

“One should do as one thinks is right,” Ken responds after a moment. “Is that your notion for after graduation?” He prepares himself for the worst answer he never thought he would have to hear.

“Mother would never allow it,” Oliver tells him.

“Your mother will understand if you explain it to her,” Ken says quietly. Leaving off the part where she would cry in their bedroom for days on end as he pulls into a parking spot in front of the government building. “But maybe leave that conversation for after the holidays?”

Ollie just nods his head and follows his Father into the building. It was a Friday afternoon so it was filled with more women than men, but then again so many men had already left. They take a number and wait until they were called.

He pulls out the old birth certificate that has Oliver grandfathers signature on it and proceeded to help Oliver get his license and paid for it.

‘You’ll have to pass the driving test for a full license, until then you may drive with a fully licensed adult until then,” the lady told him. “Congratulations and happy birthday!”

“Thank you,” Oliver says quietly, ears turning red. They head home afterwards, promising to give Ollie a lesson the next morning.

Rowena wasn't home yet, but Clara and Rilla were about the house.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Oliver asks as he kicks off his boots.

“Of course,” Ken says looking toward his son. “There are no foolish questions in this house you know that.”

“Can you read something over for me?” Oliver asked shyly. “It’s for creative writing, I just need some feedback on it.”

“Of course, Oliver. What's it about?” Ken asks intrigued, Oliver didn’t allow him to read much usually.

“It’s about a mythical realm, it's different from The Hobbit, but it pulls in some different mythologies and mythical creatures. They end up in our realm looking like humans. They try to understand humanity and all the rules by which society runs.” Oliver explained.

“Interesting concepts, go on,” Ken says with an upturned smile on his face.

“Well, I guess they learn to make lives, deciding if they agree with the rules and regulations that humans tend to abide by. Some end up wondering if they should go back to their own home where they can be free. Only realizing each realm has its issues and problems and neither world is going to be perfect.”

“Sounds like you have been thinking about things,” Ken said sitting aside his ledger. “Just leave a copy on my desk. Do you have more than one copy?”

“I have my original,” Oliver says with a nod to his head.

“Is this just writing or a school thing?” Ken asked him, flipping through the large stack. He
wondered when Oliver managed to type it up.

“It will be the final project of the school year,” Oliver told him. “It’s the lead into creative writing two. I just want to know what you think of it if it makes sense and maybe one day in spring we can take some photos to make a book cover for it?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ken said with a smile as he watched his son fidget already ready to leave the room out of embarrassment. “For what it’s worth Oliver, we’re always here for you.” Ken reminded him. “Whenever you feel like need to talk about whatever is going on in your head.”

“I know,” Oliver said quietly walking up the stairs to change out of his school clothes and find his story to put on his father's desk.

“Ollie? Will you come to play with me?” Clara asked her brother from the doorway of her room.“I need a prince for the princess,” she explained.

Oliver sighed. “Fine,” he said following her into her room and settling his long limbs on the small chairs. It must have looked utterly ridiculous to anyone who passed by, but he had a soft spot for his little sister.

“Well, you write me a story one day?” Clara asked him. “One that you can read to me at bedtime?”

“Won’t you be too old for that?” Oliver asked her as he drank the pretend tea.

“Then I’ll read it myself,” Clara chirped. “Daddy makes the best stories, and you’re always writing in your notebooks, so you must be good as well!” She told him. “Plus aren’t you supposed to take over for Daddy one day at the magazine?”

“That's the grand dynastic plan,” Oliver said rather sarcastically. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run a company. Grandpa managed to get out of it and wrote books about travel for most of his life. He later turned to nursery time stories in his later years. For his grandchildren at first, until his publisher looked them over and decided it might be a profitable expansion. Not that it would be forced on him, but Oliver knew that his father wanted to pass it down to him. The reality he thought Rowena would be a much better candidate for the magazine.

Clara frowned. “Don’t you want to be a daddy one day? I want to be just like Mommy?”

“There’s a bit more than imitating someone,” Oliver tried to explain to her. “You’ll understand when you are older,” he told her.

“That's what everyone tells me,” Clara frowned as she poured more imaginary tea for them. “If it’s your birthday, shouldn’t you be more happy about it?”

“I…” Oliver begins. “I am happy, it’s just different when you’re not a girl,” he says as they were called for dinner.

Dinner was Chinese take-out, one of Oliver’s favourites and a cake the Rilla promised to not try and make herself. Presents of new ties, cuff links and a new sweater, things more usual than festive themed that would most likely come in three days. Where Rowena had been filled with teenage whimsy and gossip, Oliver opted for a quiet night in, quiet as it could be once Monopoly was pulled out and hot chocolate was poured and games played.

The Toy drive was on Christmas Eve, followed by the staff party, but the toy drive was something Ken was most proud of. Watching his family all take part, of course, Rilla was mainly looking after Clara was known to run off, but Rowena who was dressed as an elf in striped stockings in Red and green, green skirted dress with a red belt. Her red hair was pulled into two pigtails with a jaunty little hat, mingling with the younger children, while Oliver retreated to the place he felt most comfortable, the piano playing every Christmas song he knew. Blushing whenever some girl came close to him.

Of course, Santa was there, giving out gifts and candy canes to anyone who had signed up for it. Less than last year, but still a great deal wasn’t it a good thing if a family could afford a gift from Santa this year?

“Robert!” He hears his daughter exclaim, blushing at her costume most likely.

“Don’t you make the most adorable elf,” he comments with a grin. “Complete with freckles,” he says leaning close to her ear.

“Rowena!” Ken calls out for her and she looks at him indignantly and pulls the boy further away from her parents.

“Please tell they are not…kissing,” he says gruffly.

“Not that I know of dear,” Rilla says patting his arm. “Though is it that big of a deal? If it was Ollie and a girl you would be rejoicing.”

“I would not be,” Ken tells her.

“Oh you would be though, you would be congratulating yourself on raising a perfect boy’s boy,” Rilla says quietly. “Even when he is the furthest thing from how you were at that age.”

“You were ten when I was Ollie’s age, you don’t even know what I was like then,” Ken gives her a look. “I just worry about him…he’s so quiet and sensitive about things and doesn’t talk, it’s a miracle we even know he has an interest in girls.”

“Ollie is perfectly normal, not every boy has to be a lady killer like his father before him. What scares you more? Is it the fact that Rowena is more like you than Ollie? Or is that she is the type of a girl you most likely bothered when you were seventeen?”

“I did not bother girls,” Ken gives her a look. “They all lined up for me thank you very much.” He says huskily in her eyes.

“Save it for later,” Rilla gives him a look. “I did not line up for you either.”

“He’s holding her hand,” Ken spies his eldest daughter.

“Okay, come on,” Rilla pulls him away from them.

Eventually, Santa left to go back home to deliver more presents and they cleaned up some of the children's mess and made room for a table of food that was brought in. It was catered and had a flowing fountain of punch that children enjoyed watching.

Rilla helped her girls change in Ken's office into their party dresses before she wrestled them into her own, complete with her special occasion girdle that she needed with it. It was the first time she was wearing it. She was making rounds when she spotted Jimmy and Constance

He looked slightly out of breath when he showed up with Connie on his arm. Rilla raises an eyebrow at him. “We couldn’t find parking and it’s cold,” he says correcting her.

“I wasn’t saying anything, You look beautiful Constance,” Rilla kissed both of their cheeks as she observed the young woman, golden hair with blue eyes that were sharp but doll-like at the same time. She was tall in her high highs and her features were something that Rilla could never place, strong in places but soft in others, but had a fine nose and small ears. While Jimmy was in his good suit and his blonde curls were greased back in a slight wave.

“Oh! Thank you,” Connie says blushing, smoothing over the deep coral dress she had thrown on for the occasion. Your dress is divine,” she says complimenting the dress that Rilla was wearing back.

“What did you get up to today?” She asked

“We mainly worked, my family went to see family down in London,” Connie tells Rilla. Looking around the Christmas party with interest and nervousness.

“You aren’t spending the night alone are you?” Rilla asks at the news of her family not being home.

“Sadly I am on call tomorrow much like Jimmy as we pay our dues,” Connie says with a weak smile.

“Well you must come at least for dinner when you finish,” Rilla tells her. “You can at least be around for games and food in the evening if I had known I would have invited you ages ago, but this one never said a word so I assumed you were with family.”

Connie looks at Jimmy who mainly shrugs a shoulder telling her to do as she wishes.
“Thank you, that sounds lovely.” She says.

“Don’t worry about bringing anything, we have plenty and we don’t drink in the house,” Rilla tells her. “Now enjoy the party and have fun, enjoy the food and the punch,” Rilla tells them both.

The entire party is mingling and various dancing, teenagers grouping as their parents are busy talking business or leads. When the younger children are sent home or in offices to sleep as they wait for their parents to go home. Of course, the older teens are trying their hand at sneak sips of sparkling wines and champagne that Ken had brought in for the occasion.

Oliver was busy trying to not be a stuttering fool in front of some girl who kept trying to touch his dark hair, while Rowena was giggling over something with a group of girls. Ken had never been more relieved that whatever boy she had been giggling about earlier was not a child to an
Employee as more than once he had seen daring girls go up to unsuspecting boys and kiss them without any warning. He watched his son clam up as he sat on at the piano when a girl dared to sit next to him and touch his hand, only relaxing slightly when another boy his age sought refuge at the piano as well.

For a moment Ken watched his son and his demeanour change from awkward to slightly less until a larger group came over demanding more Both boys practically sprang apart from each other. Ken frowned to himself, shaking off the feeling that floated in him watching the moment before downing the rest of his drink.

It’s late when they all come through the back door. Ken carrying Clara in his arms and the older ones still wake but slowly fade. He sends them to bed as he layers Clara down on the bed, peeling off her dress and shoes before covering her up with a blanket and putting Peter Rabbit near her. She sighs in her sleep and instantly reaches for him to cuddle.

He kisses her sweetly on the forehead and makes sure the older children are on their way to bed. Faces washed and teeth brushed before sliding into their beds.

“Cookies for Santa—for Clara of course,” Rowena tells him half asleep.

“I’ll make sure they are out,” Ken chuckles and kisses the top of her hair before going downstairs.

Still dressed in their finery, the faintest blush over her cheeks from the cold and the smallest amount of champagne she drank for the occasion. She pulled out the presents from their hiding spots to show that Santa had come to the house. Placing them carefully, and fixing the tree whenever a bobble was dangling or ready to fall.

“Kids are asleep?” She asks him looking at the clock.

“I think so,” he says as his hand trails down the open back of her gown.

“Mistletoe,” she points upwards, turning towards him.

Ken chuckles and kisses her soundly. They learned long ago that any sort of Christmas fun was carefully planned. Especially with Clara who climbed into their bed most nights, even on Christmas and for the fact they would all be up early banging on their door.

“I need you,” Rilla whispered pleadingly, which set his blood on fire. He kisses her once more, his jacket is already off, and her little fingers are already undoing the buttons of his shirt. His hands are on her waist moving upwards, feeling the softness of her body that the girdle didn’t reach, he cupped her breast in his hands, flicking over the nipples to make her groan.

“You’re going have to be quiet,” He whispers cheeky.

“I can be quiet,” Rilla gives him a look.

Ken chuckles deeply, and kisses her once more, distracting her as he finds the fastenings of her dress one by one until the straps come away and he can work his hands from the side to feel the soft skin and the stiff slightly bumpy feeling of her nipples after nursing three children.

She shimmies out of her dress, leaving her in her girdle and slip, that hid her garters. Before reaching for the button and fly of Ken's trousers and pushing them down. They settle into the large chair her knees on either side of his lap as he pulls her close, placing wet kisses down her neck and collar bone and breastbone, teasing slightly as his stubble scratches her slightly, sending jolts of pleasure and pain down her spine as he goes over a nipple.

She grinds into him without out thought, feeling his erection at her core. She peeps quietly as she feels his wet kisses enclose the peak of her breast. Tongue swirling around, mimicking the old feeling of suckling.

“Shh,” Ken says pulling her closer. Her hands grip his bare shoulders, shirt pushed down. Her nails press in as her head falls backwards. Her hips rock against him and you can feel a rattle of a groan in his chest. Hands through his hair this time, and she sighed quietly as his hands wandered down the lines of her legs to her knees, up again as hands kneaded into the flesh of her bottom, underneath her slip. He felt the metal clips of her garters and the ribboned elastics but felt nothing else going upwards, until the silk of her tap pants, His hands grasped the silk, feeling, praying for what he was looking for, knowing it was most likely there because it made using the toilet easier in such get up.

When he finally found the small snaps he popped them about, relishing how they were already damp with her warmth and need. The coarse, but trimmed curls teased his fingers as he probed and explored the flesh that brought life into the world. She cries quietly into his shoulder, biting softly trying not to make a sound but muffled sobs still escaped around the room. He can feel the rubber of her diaphragm in his search, teasing him that she is always prepared in some way or form. Not wanting to have to make such a decision again hurt her more deeply than he knew she did.

It hurt them both, but a mother who was alive was a mother sick and slowly dying. They knew they had done right, but still, he watched her pray every Sunday for forgiveness for putting her health about the divine plan.

He nudges it enough she reacts to it this time, she looks at him with her hazel eyes, kissing him as her tongue finds his. Short panting breath in between kisses that made his head fuzzier. She was so slippery that it stuck to his fingers in a way that could only be explained in medical terms, but it explained her mood perfectly after so many years after he learnt her body’s feminine cycle.

Their eyes meet as he runs his fingers across her slit, spreading the viscous fluid around until she was writhing in his arms and into his neck. He pulls himself out of his trousers, pumping himself a few times to ensure he was entirely ready as the waves around his wife calm down, she pushes his hand away, doing it for him as she rubs the droplets of his seed around the tip of his co*ck. It’s like coming home, when he feels her lower self into him, encasing him in slick wet heat. The chair creaks slightly as she moves her hips, they don’t think about it until it creaks louder. Finally, he grasps her and stands up in the glow of Christmas lights and silk slips and falling trousers. Somehow, they make it to the old bay window seat with the curtains drawn shut, knowing it makes no sound as they find their pace once more.

It is just the quiet noises as they move in unison. Sounds of wetness as they push together to feel the deepest parts of her, his hands on her hips guiding her until can’t anymore. Wanting to feel her crash around him, and milk him dry as he slips his hand between them, finding the place that makes her cry out loud enough that he clamps his other hand on her mouth to keep them from being found out.

He feels her body tense around him and pull him into the waves that overtake her but he manages to hold out until he slips out of her body far enough that majority of his seed hits the outside of her and not near her womb.

They hold each other for a moment, panting before she moves away from him, reaching for his shirt to put over her bare chest.

“Oh cookies,” Ken says as he rights himself, helping himself to the Santa cookies as Rilla shakes her head. He watches her fix the tree and the final presents they had laid out.

“I love you,” he says quietly standing up and embracing her, still smelling the scent of their lovemaking around them.

“I love you too,” She responds as she takes his hand and they walk up the stairs to their room.

They wake up to laughter and children arguing if they could wake up their parents and Jimmy telling them to be patient.

“Merry Christmas, shall we allow them their reprieve?” Ken asks kissing her forehead.

“I suppose so, if not they are liable to break down this door,” Rilla laughs and reaches for her robe to pull on her housecoat over her nightgown.

There is no news on the radio this morning, it plays carols, though every break made the adults jump slightly. Ken remembers the first war Christmas before his enlistment, and then the others where he had been in the trenches for. While Rilla remembers the fears of worries and rationing that surrounded her holidays. The children didn’t though, as they ripped through the colour wrapping paper. Jimmy only stays long enough to say marry Christmas to everyone and open his gifts before he is off to work. Thanking Rilla and Ken for the new books and the watch that he needed, while the younger kids pooled together and got him a new tie bar. Clara had a new bisque doll that was almost life-size and came with a matching dress, Rowena gleamed over her portable turntable that had a variety of music for it. Something she had been asking for all year, Oliver got a new fancy typewriter he had been drooling over.

Of course, there were the usual little things, a few books, crayons and arts and crafts, paper dolls, sheet music and everyday clothing like new socks and underwear, new hats and mitts that had been knitted on all year.

For Ken, Rilla found a new watch with a leather band and a rather interesting face on it, while he had plunked down some cash and presented her with a new pearl necklace after her last one had broken on her.

Gloria and her daughter filtered in eventually, refilling the coffee pot for the adults and the adults exchanged small packages and cards. Forgoing church all together for the day, to be able to enjoy family at home.

It was afternoon and the turkey was placed in the oven by the women folk. Rilla helped where she could as she chatted with Gloria and her daughter who arrived the day before when the doorbell rang Shirley and Lillian came over with their children and shortly after Marianne and Carl who had an empty house this year had come over with Phoebe for a change. If they had any girls they usually made dinner at their own house, not wanting to leave anyone alone on Christmas. The children broke off into groups and scattered to play with their new toys and show off their gifts with their cousins.

Jimmy was home again with Connie at his side, slightly late and flushed but happier by dinner time. They settled for dinner at the long table in the formal dining room that was barely used.

“So any plans on joining this circus of a family?” Shirley asks Connie who looks at Jimmy in slight shock as they all sit on the couch later that night.

“When we feel ready,” Connie says holding Jimmy’s hand. “It’s a lot to figure out, especially with the War now and my brother wishing to enlist and what it means for my own family.”

“Of course,” Shirley nodded his head before looking around the room as the children were not around. “I should have an interview with the forces in the new year. I figure with my building expertise I can be useful enough to them.”

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

“Tea tomorrow sometime?” Constance asks as they walk out of the constabulary, she had stopped by with some form of a business.

“Just tell me where to show up?” Jimmy tells her with a grin.

“Oh well then actually the Royal York is supposed to be doing an afternoon tea and you owe me an afternoon out,” Constance grins.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows but nods his head, she is never quite so outspoken about it, especially while at the constabulary. He kisses her briefly, ignoring the whistle coming from his partner's desk,

“We are going to get an invite to the wedding one day are we not?” Someone asks him.

“Sure, one day when we go to the court house you’ll all be invited,” Jimmy rolls his eyes sitting down.

“Your mum will allow that? I would think she would be the one demanding a wedding to plan.”

“Mom will just be happy we are making it legal,” Jimmy says under his breath looking over his paperwork. “Tea though, that probably takes a reservation?”

“At the Royal York probably and not just for the tea?” Someone says to him and Jimmy sighs and picks up the phone some snicker before he puts it down as it rings on another phone and looks at the clock.

“I have an appointment I have to run to, I’ll be back within an hour,” he tells his desk mate before leaving.

He walks down the street, paperwork in his hands as he heads down to the lawyers. A few hundred signatures later he sighed.

He did it, the first step in this was finished and the plan was in motion. His trust fund from some old lady he managed to charm according to Rilla, when he was four was paying off. Much as Ken wanted it to, refusing to use the money for school would be a good nest egg for him when he wanted to get married.It would be perfect, he just had to wait out a few weeks and have someone give it a good scrub down before he would show it to Constance. Though now he had to get back to work, at least it wasn’t the night shift and just the evening.

"Constable Ford" Jimmy heard his name being called from his desk.

"Yes, Sir?" He stood up and waited for instructions.

"We got a complaint about a group of high school boys messing about in an old warehouse," he said passing an address on a piece of paper. "Bring Davies along with you."

"Right on it," Jimmy said with a nod of his head as he grabbed his hat and his overcoat from the back of his chair. Grabbing his keys and pocketing them, come on Basil!" He said whistling to the dark-coloured lab who trotted up to him from his bed on the floor.

"Constable Davies we have a call, some kids in an old warehouse apparently?" he said to his co-worker who was coming out of the men's washroom.

"Sounds good, I'll grab my things," he said nodding his head and went to grab his hat and jacket.

"Kids these days," Davies said shaking his head. "What do they see in old warehouses?"

"A place to drink and smoke without their parents finding out?" Jimmy retorted.

"Isn't your brother getting to that age?" Davies asked quietly.

"Oliver is sixteen, he's a good kid," Jimmy nodded his head. “Helps that mother doesn't allow alcohol in the house. Ken smokes from time to time and goes out for a beer once in a while with some friends but I rarely ever seen him drunk?”

"You were raised partly on the Island?" Davies said remembering what his partner had told him. "Prohibition is still there, makes sense your parents are a bit straight-laced.”

"We moved here when I was turning twelve, a few months before my one sister was born," Jimmy said as they got into the car. Basil jumped in and sat in his spot in the back seat. Jimmy turned on the engine and backed out of the parking space.

"I still don't understand how an Upper Canada boy ends up in the police academy," Davies said out loud.

"I wanted to do good?" Jimmy explained at a short pause as he drove, signalling and turning the corner as he made his way to the old warehouse. "I didn't particularly enjoy Upper Canada but I had some good friends. I was a good student and I could have gone to college but with the economy as it was, Police Academy was cheaper and I could graduate with a job. I could and can save money to buy a house of my own. While at the same time, I could help my parents out."

Fair enough," Davies said. "I think this is the place?" He asked looking around the abandoned old building.

"I think so," Jimmy said with a nod as he killed the engine as they went to go check out the complaint. Jimmy said getting out of the car and leashing Basil who hopped out after his master. They pulled open the old creaky door and turned on their flashlights. "Toronto Police, whoever is in here I suggest you show yourself.

"It's the coppers!" One shouted as they looked over the railing as they heard the door open and the flashlight swish around. It was a rush of commotion, as the two men went into action. He caught one of the kids trying to escape.

"I have two of them!" Davies called out.

"I have another!" Jimmy called back to his partner before he looked over his delinquent. His blood boiled when he saw the dark curly hair.

"What are you doing here?" Jimmy said as he dragged his younger brother out of the warehouse. "You were trespassing!"

"We were just having a poetry session," Oliver stubbornly crossed his arms huffing.

"Really? Just poetry? I won't find any hidden liquor bottles or cigarettes lying around. No girls' stockings that randomly went missing. "

Oliver snorted, "What girls? Like a girl would come here with us. We're all a bunch of quiet morbid poets?"

Jimmy groaned "Lord if I have to bring you home and have your father talk to you. I'm just goddamn glad I don't have to take you to the station. A trespassing warning is a one-time thing, I won't be able to save you or your friends next time if you do this. I get it Upper Canada is hell at times. You all want to just let loose and forget about school, but hiding out in old buildings doing whatever you are doing is not going to help you."

"Oh come off it, you sound like Dad," Oliver spat out.

"Be glad I'm not your father, though I wouldn't worry so much about your father. You want a tongue lashing just think about what your mother will say?" Jimmy told him. "But here is the real wake-up call Oliver Gilbert, outside of our house, I am a police officer. I am above your parents," he said reminding him. "You don't get to speak back to me as you do at home. I'm not sure what had your drawers in a twist lately, or why you let others bother you at school, but if it's part of this then I do suggest smartening up. Maybe I should bring haul your behind back to the station and make you call mom and to come to get you?"

"You wouldn't" Oliver cried out.

"I'm thinking about it right now. Do Mum and Dad know where you are, did you sneak out? I should haul you all home one at a time. I think I will just prove my point," he said.

"Please," Oliver exclaimed. "We weren't doing anything bad, we were just reciting from Poe and we wanted the atmosphere!"

Jimmy sighed. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind if I ever catch you again—," he said warning the younger boy. "I will do everything I just promised. Now I will follow you back to your friend's house, and if you make a fuss I'll drag you by the ear to your parents."

Oliver huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine.”

When Jimmy made it home after a long shift, he found Oliver's door closed, but the light was on, meaning he was reading or something. He sighs shaking his head, heading towards the bathroom, before his attic room.

It was early when he was up, dressed and shaved for the morning, and at the breakfast table, he found a grumpy curly-haired teenager who openly glared at him as he sat down.

The girls were missing, something about something at an aunt's place, or Rowena slept over at a friend's? While Rilla had gone to work by way of an early morning telephone call he heard the phone ringing as he did.

"Okay, what is with the two of you lately?" Ken said folding his paper and looking at his two sons who were silent toward each other to the point one refused to pass the salt, or plate of bacon that Ken had made for them on the table.

"Nothing," Oliver said shoving some toast in his mouth. He glared at his older brother, in the process who was still tired from a long night.

"I highly doubt that," Ken said looking between the two. "You've been in a stink over something for a while now Oliver. Whatever it is, it needs to stop and stop now."

Oliver pushed back his chair and stood up before he carried his plate to the sink ignoring his father, getting a glass of water.

“Am I allowed to go down to the library and get some books?” He looks to his father.

“Of course,” Ken says simply. “Why wouldn’t you be?” He says raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know?” Olivers says after a moment. “Other plans?”

“None that I know of?” Ken says shrugging. “Just keep warm?”

Oliver nods his head and within twenty minutes he is out the door to the point his father is even shocked.

Ken looked over at Jimmy who shrugged. "I'm sure whatever bugging him will come out eventually," Jimmy told him.

"Of course," Ken nodded with a smile.

"Thank you," Jimmy said with a nod of his head. "I'm not exactly sure, but I sometimes wonder if me being a cop is what makes him act as he does," Jimmy mused for a moment.

Ken's brow furrowed, looking towards the door. "He never had an issue before though? I know your mother was worried and still does worry. Also, I haven't said it in a while, we're all proud of you."

“Thank you,” Jimmy says nodding his head and eating another piece of cold bacon.

“Actually! The lawyers, how did it go?” Ken asked remembering.

“It’s done and signed for,” Jimmy says grinning: “She’s going to be so surprised.”

“You sure about that,” Ken chuckles. “You bought the right house?”

“I couldn’t muck this up if I wanted to Dad, it was the only one for sale on the street when she saw it. It’s perfect. Three bedrooms, and two bathrooms, close by the office for her once she transfers to it. Her mother isn’t far, and you and mom aren’t far either.”

“Is that an actual selling point?” Ken says teasing him. “Rilla was more than happy to not be near your aunts or uncles and her parents?”

“Either way with what you and mom kept saved for me and my wages saved, the mortgage is far less than what I thought it might be,” Jimmy says. “I can manage it by myself along with expenses. I know Connie wants to work but at some point…”

“You have golden-haired monsters for your mother to spoil, or go into conniptions about being a grandmother at her age,” Ken grins.

“Eventually, we’re in no rush,” Jimmy’s ears go red.

“Yes, well, sometimes they happen when you don’t plan it,” Ken reminds him. “Nothing is foolproof.”

“Yes, yes I know. I don’t need another talk,..though you and mom could have used one after the summer.” He says a tad insensitively. “sh*t I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re not wrong though,” Ken says after a moment. “But never repeat that to your mother or she will not be as forgiving, now Will I allow it.”

Jimmy just nods his head solemnly.

“I am proud of you though for the house,” Ken changes the subject. “I am sure she will have great fun decorating and draining your account by doing so.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Jimmy says shrugging. “Don’t you essentially give Mom all the money and she does what needs to be done with it?”

“Pretty much,” Ken says with a crooked grin. “And passed on her love of clothing and pretty things to your sisters…it only gotten worse.”

“Isn’t that your fault then?” Jimmy chuckles amused by his adoptive father.

“The first rule of marriage you’ll soon learn Jimmy, is it's always your fault and it’s never your money, it's our money and her money.” Ken clasps his shoulder, pulls out his cigarettes and walks towards the back door, despite it being a cold late January day.

“If you see Oliver when he gets home, tell him I left a draft on his bedside table, I should be done my reading of it before he gets back?” Ken tells him. “His story, it’s interesting, but I feel like it has done nothing to clarify what is going on in his head.”

“Well, sixteen isn’t exactly a fun age to be,” Jimmy says. “Is it that that odd of a topic for him to write about?”

“He just wrote some things that surprised me, he let me read it, of course, but I’m still unsure of how to approach the subject he’s writing about.”

“Well, I remember our awkward talk about things and given he’s far more…well sensitive than I was,” Jimmy says after a moment. “Maybe just let him come to you about it? I mean if he’s not running around with the wrong crowd or getting girls in trouble what’s there to worry about?”

“Nothing like that, I’m sure it’s nothing and he’ll tell me that when the time comes,” Ken said humming, not wanting to break any more confidence that his son had put into his hands. “Do you have plans today?”

“Picking up Constance and spending the afternoon together?” Jimmy says simply. “Tea and sandwiches, walk in the park?

“Sounds enjoyable,” Ken says nodding his head. “So don’t expect you for dinner?”

Jimmy mainly shrugs impishly, and Ken chuckles.

“So, I’ll check in while you use the lady's room, and I’ll walk by to use the men's room and tell you the room number,” Jimmy says as he helps her up the stairs to the hotel.

“Whatever in the world are you talking about?” Constance looks at him. “We’re here for Tea Jimmy.”

“Yeah, Tea is usually or code word for afternoon fun,” Jimmy says suddenly confused.

“No, it is not, afternoon tea means I want fancy tea,” Connie looks at him. “Really Jimmy not everything in is a code word or euphemism for sex.”

“It has been before?” Jimmy's brow furrows. “You just wanted tea?”

“I’m starving, and want scones and tea, so yes James Kitchener, I want actual tea,” Constance says slowly.

“Well, I suppose it's a good thing I didn’t pay for the room yet then?” Jimmy says laughing awkwardly.

“Oh you are keeping the room,” Constance shakes her head. “But first you are feeding me tea and scones and then I’ll think about letting you have your fun,” Constance whispers in his ear, as she watches a man in uniform…not a police uniform a CAF one pass them by and it still sent chills down her back.

Jimmy shakes his head but leads her towards the dining room, hoping and praying he doesn’t need more reservations but manages to get them a table.

“I have something else for you actually,” Jimmy says when she has a mouthful of cream and scone, holding out a box to her.

Connie manages to swallow the lump of scone, looks up at him and takes the velvet box from him. “I told you I don’t need it.”

“And I told you that was nonsense,” Jimmy grins. “We’re getting married this year, at some point whenever we manage to get the same Friday off to manage city hall, you need a ring.”

“Well, twist my arm then,” Connie says shaking her head and opening the box. It was simple, gold with an emerald and pearls around it.

“Pearls are a family thing,” he explains. “They seem to have brought many people in my adoptive family many happy years.”

“It’s beautiful, truly,” Connie looks at him with glistening eyes.

“I just hope I am right by not making a spectacle of a moment?” Jimmy asks cautiously. “You didn’t tell me for years you weren’t one for grand gestures and didn’t want that sort of thing and make me believe it, only to actually want it?”

“If I wanted it you would know, this is perfect,” Connie says shaking her head. “Grand gestures can come later when you're thoroughly making me call your name,” she says whispering wickedly.

Jimmy grins as she eats another piece of a scone.

It’s their usual song and dance, to make it up to the room, it’s nicer than their usual and the bed is soft and big.

Jackets are tossed to the side on a chair, shoes kicked off, zippers are pulled down and dresses wiggled out of. How far they had come since the first clumsy awkward encounters.

He peels off her clothing knowing the claps and elastics like the back of his hand these days, until he sees creamy skin covered in tan freckles and a mole that sat on her hips. He loved that mole because he knew it was there and no one else.

"One day...we'll get to do this in our own bed," he says huskily, kissing places of her body that make her squirm and whine. "Be as loud as we want?" he adds to his thought. "Really do it wherever we might wish to do so."

"You have quite the plan don't you," Connie says with an amused laugh.

"Well it's not like I plan on living at home forever and if we're getting married it means finding a house for us," Jimmy says nipping lightly on her earlobe. "Make love on the kitchen counter, in the living room."

"You can just make love to me now, actually you can always leave that for later and just f*ck me now" Connie remarks, hand snaking down between them. Grasping his semi-stiffened state in her hand, pumping enough time that he gets fully erect in her hand, blood rushing to his groin so quickly that he could feel it in his ears. She knows him better than he knows himself these days, knows how to make him grunt in pleasurable pain. It takes him a good moment to grab a grasp of the moment, he can smell her in the air around them. Sweet like her perfume with a deep musk permeating through it, calling for him like a heavy veil that laid over them.

He growls deep in his throat, tossing her legs about his shoulders, pulling her hips closer to his jawline not giving her a moment to react before he's diving into her core with his tongue. The private school had its advantages, not that he would ever tell that to his younger brother, but boys compared notes and ideas and left them hidden in various books throughout the library. She writhed against him, her cries echoed around the room. Her hands are in his hair, scratching at his scalp as she keens against him. his tongue darts around, in lazy figure eights probing her opening to collect more of her that he craved.

Her body goes taunt with a loud cry as she back arches, to what he can only assume is almost painful.

"In...in," she thumps against the bed almost incoherently and he doesn't have to be told twice, adjusting himself and her legs. He slides right in, still flying the aftermath contract around him. his body is barely his own now trapped in hers. Warm and slippery as he rotated his hips to restart the motion and angle, he doesn't last long, not when it's like this, hard and fast and animalistic. His balls contract as they tingle with release, he's not wearing a prophylactic and he realizes way too late when he loses himself inside of her. Still, he's almost prideful when he sees himself drip of out her once he withdraws from her.

She's patting his arm when he manages to regain his thoughts. "It's okay...If not...well...then we head to the courthouse."

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Rilla was still sitting in the kitchen, cup of coffee in her hand when Lillian came through the back door out of a breath and wild look of horror on her face. It was a break between semesters, so the older children had part of the week free and where about the house or out with friends. Except for Clara who still had school.

“Zee took him! Zee came by and marched him right out of Zee's house!”

“Pardon?”

“In front of the children, Shirley, Zee took him god knows where for questioning and tore apart his office!”

“Lillian, slow down, I am not understanding anything.”

“Shirley, the army, Zee showed up at the house and took him, practically arrested him for something I don’t know about? I kept trying to ask them why, and Elodie and Lunette were screaming to let him go and crying and Shirley was trying to tell us it would be okay, and not to worry…” Lillian manages to get out a bit more cohesively. “Something about work he did in Europe?”

“The work he did in Germany,” Rilla corrects her. “Of course they would see it and flag it,” Rilla groans. “He should have just…he had to go be a hero again! It will be all right, once they realize he just is an engineer and did nothing wrong and knows nothing and has a distaste for the man like everyone else it will be all right. Unless you know other things I don’t know about?”

“Non, non,” Lillian says sighing. “Zee's last project, they offered him another and he refused something never felt right there, said we were moving back home and left it at that and yet mail kept coming…”

“Is that the reason why you moved back to Canada?” Rilla asks eyes wide.

“Oui, and non? We wanted to be closer to family of course but they pushed us to do it sooner?” Lillian says sighing.

“I’m sure it will be okay, he’ll be back before dinner. Shirley has nothing to hide, hell if anything he might be able to help them in some way?” Rilla tells her. “Do you want me to bring the kids over we can go wait for him. They can pass the time together, or we can send them out outside to go sliding to help them keep their minds off of it?”

“Elodie is indisposed and won’t want to converse with anyone really,” Lillian shakes her head. “Has Rowena entered that phase of life yet, fourteen is about the right age?”

“She has, back in the summertime, she’s adjusting to it?” Rilla says quietly. “Tries to use it to get out of a school more often enough, but I tell her she’s just going to have to learn to live like everyone else who lives with it.”

“There was a tradition in France, and parts of the French Canadian that you slap your daughter when she begins hers for the first time. To mark the occasion and to ward off bad spirits who may attack her during her times.” Lillian says. “It’s quite a shock.”

“That sounds…horrific,” Rilla says shuttering. “Please tell me your mother didn’t?”

“Oh she did,” Lillian said with a sigh. “I was a late bloomer…not long after, well you know that story,” Lillian says further. “I couldn’t with mon files.”

Rilla nods her head, “Well, I am sure it will be okay, Shirley has nothing to hide. Though why he had to contact them is something I don’t understand.”

“How is Ken doing?” Lillian asks.

“Who knows, he spends more time smoking than ever,” Rilla sighs as the housekeeper comes in.

“Mrs, I seem to be missing most of Oliver's things for the laundry today.” She speaks to Rilla. “Oh Madame Blythe, should I make up more coffee?”

“Non, non, I should get back to the children who are home from school,” She says looking at Mrs. Clarke. “Thank you though, I’ll keep you updated,” she says to her sister-in-law.

Rilla nods her head and hugs her before pulling her coat on again and heading out the back door.

“I’ll go see if I can find his laundry,” Rilla tells Mrs. Clarke going towards the stairs. She can’t remember the last time she ventured into her son’s room, the door often being closed. What she is greeted with is messes of paper and dirty clothing on the floor. It even had a strange smell, stale and crusty somehow.

She shakes her head, opening the window despite the cold late January weather, hoping to air it out.

“This boy…” Rilla groans to herself. “I did not raise him to leave his room like this.”

She grabbed the blankets from the floor and tossed them on the bed and then sank to her knees and reached for the dirty socks under the bed. She wrinkles her nose wondering how much he sweated for them to feel such a way.

“Why are you in my room?” Oliver tells her looking frightened.

“I was finding your laundry because apparently Gloria couldn’t find anything of yours in the hamper and asked if something had happened so I went to grab whatever I could find. It’s filthy in there. You’re sixteen years old, you should take better care of your room, than you did before. Honestly Oliver I’m beginning to wonder about you.”

“You went through my room?” His eyes are wide and his voice is indignant.

“Well, it is my house,” Rilla's eyes narrow at him. “We don’t ask much of you, but to keep your room tidy and to help with chores, but lately you’ve been slacking on both and really what is with the hoard of socks underneath your bed? It’s disgusting, truly disgusting, clothes everywhere, things and you said you would tidy it up and yet you haven’t.”

“I’ll get to it,” Oliver huffs.

“You’ll do it today, now,” Rilla looked at him before shaking her head. “Or I’ll do it for you and you don’t want that.

Oliver looks at his mother, waiting for her to leave, and when she finally steps out of the room he shuts the door. Rilla sighs shaking her head.

“I don’t understand boys, really Socks underneath the bed?” Rilla says walking into Ken's office.

“Socks underneath the bed?” Ken says curiously.

“I know, and they were all…almost crusty with something,” Rilla says sighing. “Not to mention the missing tube of Vaseline I need you to talk to him Ken, it’s not right.”

“Pardon?” Ken says looking at his wife. “What's the problem? Behind the messy room which yes he needs to clean?”

“Seriously Ken? He’s…” Rilla looks around not seeing anyone else. “He’s masturbating which isn’t something he should be doing.”

“He’s a teenager Rill, are you saying all those mumbo jumbo books you read and the ones about parenting haven’t explained this to you?”

“My books are not mumbo jumbo Kenneth, he’s a boy and that isn’t right,” Rilla shoots him a look.

“Rilla, I would be more worried if he wasn’t, he’s a teenage boy. If he wasn’t I’d be the first one to take him to the doctors, and if he’s doing it himself, he’s not out looking for girls to help him out with his needs.”

“Needs? Jesus Christ, he’s sixteen, not a married man Kenneth!”

“Sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but when I was his age I was no better than he was, and trust me the trenches were far from innocent during rest hours,” Ken says quietly. “So be grateful he’s doing it privately.”

“Grateful? He’s a boy Ken!”

“You know for a doctor with fairly liberal thoughts on a bunch of things, you are taking this harder than I thought you would if ever realized our son is a young man?” Ken responds to her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I just think there are plenty of other ways to spend his time that are way more productive and not so…socks Dear! Socks!” Rilla's voice raises in a slight disturbance at the idea of it.

“So when he’s bored at midnight he supposed to what? The radio is off, Clara can sniff out anything being made at midnight, the piano is too loud and you tell him lights out at 11:30…what else is there to do at sixteen? Because it’s not like he can roll over to his wife to make love to her?”

“You are not seriously making this out to be a hobby for him, this isn’t him realizing he has a penis and telling him not to touch it like I had to do when he was an infant. This is completely different, what if someone walked in on him?” Rilla hisses.

“Then he learns a lesson of locking the door or being extra careful. Honestly Rilla, sometimes it just happens, he has no control over it and you know that theoretically. And it is slightly hypocritical because as if you have never once taken care of any sort of feeling of need yourself when I wasn’t home?”

“Of course, ladies don’t do such things,” Rilla harrumphs. “It is still highly inappropriate and someone, you need to tell him to stop. Jimmy never did this.”

“Oh I am sure Jimmy did, he was just better at hiding it,” Ken rolls his eyes. “But fine I will tell him to I don’t know keep it more inconspicuous because I’m not shaming him for something completely normal, and I hope to hell you don’t either Rilla to any of our children,” Ken tells her. “I need a drink and a smoke before I even attempt that.”

“Really Ken?”

“Yes Rilla, if you want me to talk to him, I’m gonna need some liquid courage.” Ken gives her a look as there is a shriek down the stairs.

“Clara is home,” Ken says.

“So it seems, though I should tell you, Lillian was over and Shirley got taken in by the army for something,” Rilla tells him.

“Excuse me?” Ken looks up.

“I know,” Rilla sighs, moving closer to him. “I think he’ll be okay, I mean he’s my brother he wouldn’t do anything foolish. He has integrity, he wouldn’t knowingly work or someone so sinister.”

“But given the time frame, would he have even known what Hitler was planning? The boats that German submarines have sunk this month, not to mention the Soviets trying to take Finland in a game of tug of war?” Ken says his laugh almost a bark laced with sarcasm at his pun.

“We can’t think like that Ken,” Rilla hisses at him.

“I know, but I know the army, and he does too, there is no way he applied for anything without knowing this could happen.” Ken reminds her.

“I hope you are right,” Rilla says shaking her head as Clara comes barging into the office.

“Look what I made!” She holds up an awkward-looking frog-shaped creature made from felt and yarn.

“Isn’t that adorable,” Ken says swinging her up into his arms, his back complaining slightly. “Should we put it with the other Mr. Ribbit?” He asks her knowing Rowena had her collection in his office.

Clara nods her head grinning and Ken walks with her and holds her to the higher shelves as she puts MR. Ribbit on the shelf.

“You did very well,” Rilla says smiling and kissing her daughter's cheek. “Now though you need to go change out of your uniform.”

Clara nods her head. “Can I have my bath before dinner so I can listen to Peter Pan tonight?”
“If that is what you wish,” Rilla says shaking her head amused.

“In your bed?” Clara asks hopefully. “I promise to go to sleep right away afterwards.”

Rilla laughs lightly, tickling her sides. “We shall see,” she tells her little daughter.

“Rills?” Ken says coming back from depositing Clara back into her bed after falling asleep in her parent's room after the radio story time. He sits down on his side of the bed, shaking his head at the imprint still on the pillow.

“What is it darling?” Rilla looks over from her vanity as she rubs cream into her hands.

“Ollie normal right? Like when he was a normal toddler and kid?” Ken asks hesitantly.

“Normal as little boys go?” Rilla says frowning. “Why? Is this something to do with earlier?”

“No, but…I thought I might tackle that with another topic. He gave me some writings of his and it’s… it's filled with these strange idealizations, ideologies, and rather extreme backwards working of societal norms.” Ken tries to explain.

“So he’s a liberal?” Rilla asks confused.

“He has two male characters who are in love with each other,” Ken states sighing.

“Oh,” Rilla looks to Ken with a look filled with anxious intrigue.

“I don’t know but it’s not something boys his age would ever write,” Ken says. “I just have this impending dome that I failed as a father though. I mean if he’s…how do I?”

“How do you love him if he’s romantically attracted to the male sex?” Rilla says sternly. “Would it be that horrible if our son was a hom*osexual to you?”

“His entire life would be in peril!” Ken retorts.

“Or he’ll find his way and be like Carl Meredith,” Rilla says quietly looking at her husband. “This is far from the end of the world.”

“What do you mean like Carl Meredith?” Ken asks her and Rilla flushes.

“Have you never?” Rilla asks. “I mean I don’t think they know, that I know but Carl, he’s not exactly… well normal as you call it?”

“His marriage, to your best friend Rilla, seems decently normal to me. They have a child together, clearly something is working for them.”

“I saw him kissing the stable hand Ken, and when I tried to ask, I mean I didn’t say about what I saw, just that Carl and he seemed to get along fairly well, Marianne got oddly quiet and just brushed it off. Whatever their marriage is, I think Marianne knows given their courtship all those years ago, and her past. It oddly makes sense to me?”

“You’re okay with this?” Ken says almost defensively.

“It’s not my choice, nor do I believe it’s a choice from what I read about it anyway,” Rilla says simply coming to sit next to him. “We are not losing a son over something trivial Kenneth.”

“It’s dangerous for him…If he got caught by the wrong people they could throw him in jail Rilla.”

“There’s risks in everything Ken,” Rilla reminds him. “I am more worried that this war will go on forever and he’ll be eighteen before we know it.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Ken asks hesitantly. “Surely there is a way to guide him to the right choice? To fix him of this problem, so he doesn’t live a life in scrutiny or hiding?”

Rilla drops her hairbrush. “Do what? Torture the evil out of him? Call the priest and ask him to pray for our strayed son. There’s nothing wrong with him Kenneth. We don’t even know what he’s thinking, he could just be writing, deciding what so of man he wishes to be. Maybe it’s one of his friends who’s struggling. But that is never the answer, I never disagreed with anything more than all those disgusting conversion tactics. It’s inhuman and against everything, but those people are too stupid to see such a thing because it is against this or that. Even Freud himself believes there is nothing wrong with it.” Rilla tells him.

“It’s…wrong though isn’t it?” Ken looks down at his hands, his morals and attitudes battling a conflict he never thought he would have.

“It’s only wrong if you believe it wrong,” Rilla says simply. “Maybe you should examine your conscience before you ask him about it. If he needs feedback on the story just stick to the black-and-white editing.”

Ken can only nod his head and there is a knock on the door.

“Mom, can you help with the back of her hair?” Rowena says through the door.

“I’ll be right there,” Rilla calls out, leaning down to kiss him before grabbing her robe to help her daughter.

“How old were you when Dad first kissed you again?” Rowena asked breaking the silence between the mother and daughter as Rilla rolled her hair into neat bundles and tied them off.

“I was sixteen, but it was rather an innocent kiss,” Rilla hums thinking about it. “Has Robert tried to kiss you?”

Rowena blushes. “He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth.”

“Well, that was very rude of him,” Rilla says after a moment. “Especially when one is not expecting it.”

“So it is a thing?” Rowena asks after another moment and Rilla sighs.

“Listen carefully, kissing is a wonderful moment and pass time. And yes couples can, heighten a kiss with some tongue but it should only happen when you are comfortable with it,” Rilla settles gently of course. “If you don’t want Robert Cooper's tongue in your mouth, you tell him that and if he doesn’t like that, well maybe he isn’t the one for you then.”

“You won’t tell Daddy will you?” Rowena looks up at her.

“Roe, if your father knew about this he would be hunting Robert down.” Rilla reminds her daughter. “I do not want that on my conscience if I did go and tell him. Plus there is such a thing called mother-daughter confidentiality for small things like this.”

“Good,” Rowena says quietly. “Not that I don’t want him knowing, it's just embarrassing something the way he goes all…I am her father…”

“He just loves you and wants to protect you from everything and anything that he can Roe,” Rilla squeezes her shoulders and smiles. “You’re all done though, Just tie up your scarf and you’ll be ready for the morning.”

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

“Coffee?” Rilla asks Ken as he finds himself in the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes. “You didn’t have to sleep in the office you know that?”

“I couldn’t sleep, no point disrupting you at the same time,” Ken says shrugging.

“Nightmares again?” Rilla asked handing him the cream.

“The more this gets involved the more I find myself back there,” Ken says sighing, head into his hands. “Easier to work a bit and distract myself from it than not? He says standing up straight and going into the freezer of the ice box pulling a spare pack from the back and moving towards the backdoor so the smell wouldn’t waft through the house.

‘Really it’s not even 7 am,” Rilla looks at him.

“Rills, please don’t,” Ken warns her. “Just let it go.”

“Fine,” She says sighing, hands up in the air as Jimmy comes down pulling up his suspenders. He kisses his chosen mother on the cheek and accepts the coffee from her. “I am going to have a bath,” she tells them. “While the children are asleep and can't use up the hot water for a change.”

Ken merely nods his head, moving towards kiss her but she turns her head on him not liking the smoke on his breath. So he watches Jimmy, eat up some eggs for himself, Ken shaking his head at the offer.

He watched the young man, more jerky than usual, more preoccupied than usual as he almost dropped the salt. His body language was screaming panic, even if he was adversely quiet.

“Constance is pregnant isn’t she?” Ken asks simply, he had felt and probably looked that way with Rilla told him she was told him she behind schedule before Clara was born.

“What?” Jimmy asks sputtering slightly, almost dropping the spatula in the process. “How…No!”

“You’re thinking loudly and keep having some sort of conversation in your head,” Ken says to him. “The house, upcoming marriage which still has no date, by the way, things went awry and you forget some things in the mix of all the good time, and she’s pregnant isn’t she.”

“She’s late but we don’t know, she says she doesn’t feel pregnant if that makes any sense,” Jimmy says sighing still stirring his eggs. “Which isn’t much of a shock, we knew we were sloppy about it?”

“Makes loads of sense, they know these things. Might be in denial about it sometimes but they always know deep down,” Ken tells him, butting out his cigarette and closing the door.

“We’re engaged, and yet I feel like I just I don’t know got my hand caught in the cookie jar. Mom is gonna kill me.” Jimmy says pouring his eggs on the plate, slightly burnt, but he wasn’t that picky about it.

“She won’t kill you,” Ken says shaking his head. “March you to the courthouse and slap the side of your head, but much too valuable to kill.” He teases slightly, before yawning.

“We’re both asking for the day off on Friday because her work cannot know. I was going to tell you a lot at dinner…well, minus the potential of a baby.” Jimmy tells him before taking a bite of food by the sink. “If her work finds out, they’ll let her go without a second thought, but if we can play it off for a while…she can just sort of leave and come back to it?”

“And the birth date?”

“Babies come when they want…it was a bit early? At that point what can they say? Or when she shows we can say the doctor thinks it's twins or something?” Jimmy says after a moment of chewing. “If she even is.” He adds on stressing that it could all be nothing.

“If you’re this worried it’s most likely not,” Ken says looking at his watch. “Though I am surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.”

“We were careful,” Jimmy says with a slight glare.

“I’m sure you were, but sometimes that is not enough,” Ken reminds him. “Though it also sounds like she knows how it feels to be expecting?”

“It was before we met,” Jimmy says after a moment. “She was young, it didn’t stick?” Jimmy says awkwardly.

“Rilla lost a baby before Rowena, it was unexpected we didn’t even realize she was pregnant at the time,” Ken says trying to offer something to comfort him.

“I remember,” Jimmy says. “She was in bed for a while and sad.”

“We both were, I am sure even in those circ*mstances Constance grieved her loss,” Ken says.

“We never really spoke of it,” Jimmy says unsure of how to answer. “I have to get to work though, please don’t say anything to Mom. Who knows, maybe it will be a false alarm and we won’t have to worry about it?”

“One can only hope,” Ken says nodding his head.

The rest of the Saturday is business as usual, the kids shortly after breakfast rush out to activities and friends. Rilla checks in on some of her patients and Ken rereads his son’s story for the third time over. A call from Shirley came through as well, someone who had been let go, after many hours of promise and explanations and handing over of his work...with a job within a section of the army he couldn't really talk about.

It’s after an early dinner and before their fundraiser that night Ken manages to do what he meant to do. Because someone was already around, the magazine had more emergencies as he tried to train a bunch of new women how to work the presses and ink rollers, cameras, and how to carry boxes properly. Most of his brigade were women and older men, if his navigating the depression had been tough, this almost seemed worse.

“Can I ask you a few questions about this?” Ken said from the doorway of his son's room. Already dressed in the black suit he wore on special occasions.

“You have time for it now?” Ollie says a touch sarcastically. “You had it for weeks, I figured you forgot about it?”

“I didn’t forget about it, I’m sorry if you felt that way,” Ken begins. “I was allowing it to sink in, and then I read it again today and gathered more thoughts about it,” Ken says explaining.

Oliver merely nodded and Ken sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Oliver who was nervous over something.

“First off, your writing is well done,” Ken tells him. Oliver knows how this will go down he’s watched his father give feedback all his life when it came to writing. He knows exactly how his father does his thing, he’s seen it all his life at the office.

“You can capture characters very well and your ideas are something extraordinary in themselves.” Ken goes on. “You have a knack for words that even I couldn’t manage.”

“So what's the problem?” Oliver asked wanting to know what his father had issues with.

“I’m curious about your ideologies and about how you view societies,” Ken said simply. “I think it would help me understand you as the writer what you are striving for writing this, and just the same what your teacher may say later upon when handing it in.”

“You and mom aren’t the societal norms,” Oliver replied. “You cook more than mom, and mom is technically a doctor in her way.”

“Your mother and I never had pertained to gender norms when it came to household tasks,” Ken agreed. “But what you have written is much more than families managing in a way that suits their needs. Frankly, I didn’t know you knew about such things, these characters that are attracted to the same sex as they are, and are fighting against being persecuted for their abnormalities unaware of why they are?”

“It’s not abnormal,” Oliver spoke up. “They don’t make a choice, it’s just who they are.”

“Oliver,” Ken said slowly. “Are you trying to tell me something? I won’t be angry or mad if you need to talk about…I can just listen.”

“Because you used to make fun of boys like me, Kenneth Ford the lady killer and charmer. Football enthusiast, who gave up the game when he broke his ankle, who ends up with a son who they call a sissy because I rather play piano than shoot rifles. I’m not normal, I don’t feel normal and nothing makes sense.” Oliver says bitterly.

“What do you mean not normal?

“I mean, I like girls. They are pretty and make me feel like I want to puke most of the time if one talks to me. But…then I feel the same way toward my classmates sometimes and I try to bury it, but then these boys tell me not to be afraid of it, that they are that way too and suddenly I have friends again, and then they leave or bullied out of a school…or don’t want to be friends when they find out my brother is a copper,” Oliver manages to wrangle out all his thoughts.

“Well, I think the first part is this is a conversation one needs to have with your mother?” Ken says unsure of how to even tackle such a thing. Rilla was much more cut out for this, Rilla could explain it and make everything right for Ollie so that any oddity of feelings would be corrected. Surely you could fix this sort of thing? That's why he was telling him about this all?”
“The last part…Jimmy, he would never…he would look the other way for you Oliver he’s your brother, he was there when you were born.”

“I am not talking to her about this,” Ollie exclaims. “I’ll be like a lab rat or something, I’ll be an odd fascination about everything that's wrong with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with you, and frankly your mother doesn’t care two hoots about who people find attractive, but she may help you understand yourself more and deal with this in a way that is helpful for you.” Ken reiterates, heart pounding.

“You think it’s wrong though?” Oliver said looking up at his father.

“I never thought much about it,” Ken says after a moment. “I was taught that it wasn’t natural, but at the same time that person's private life is their own and not mine to comment on, nor should it be the laws, I don’t understand it, but that doesn’t make it wrong. Your writing, the persecution, the hunting of men who don’t conform to society's standard, you have thoughts about it.”

“Would you disown me if I was?” Oliver asked him without hesitating.

“I think that I love you enough, that I would be willing to hold my tongue?” Ken answered truthfully. “Mostly for the reasons you stated in your story. Men as such aren’t treated well, you would be living a life that would only bring sorrow or harm.”

“How can it bring sorrow if you are with the one you love? And girls can feel the same way,” Oliver asked him.

“How will this go down with your teacher?” Ken asked him unsure of what to say anymore.

Oliver shrugged. “It’s a fairly liberal-minded man, he encouraged us to write about things we feel are unjustified. Plus it's science fiction, anything goes?”

Ken slowly nods his head.

“Kenneth!” You hear Rilla call out across the hall.

“We’ll talk more later,” Kenneth says to Ollie. “I promise, I know I’m busy lately, but if you ever need me, I will make and find the time.”

“I know, I know,” Ollie says grumpy.

“I mean it Ollie, and I also mean it when I say I love you for whoever you are or want to be,” Ken says quietly.

He walks back down the hall to his bedroom to find his wife standing in front of the mirror.

“Mummy looks so pretty,” Clara sighed as she lay across her parent's bed in her underwear. “Daddy isn’t mummy pretty?”

“Mummy is very pretty,” Ken said agreeing as he took in Rilla and her antique silver gown of silk that was cut on the bias as is wrapped around her curves like molten metal. He wrapped her arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder she was bare from the wide straps that curved into a cowl neck in the front, while the back went down showing off her back in a fashion that any sort of undergarment would be seen. “I can’t wait to get you out of this dress,” he whispers.

“Little eyes, and ears,” Rilla warned him quietly as he chuckled.

“Where are you going?” Clara asked them for the millionth time.

“We are going to the Magazine War Bond Gala,” Rilla told her as she swished over to her daughter. “You will be staying at home with Jimmy."

“Will I ever get to go to a party?” Clara pouted

“One day when you are much-much older,” Ken told her as he grabbed his bow tie that matched the fabric of Rilla’s gowns.

“Can I tie it!” Clara jumped up so she was standing on the bed,

“Do you know how?” Ken asked her.

“I can tie a bow!” She said with a jerk of her head as she climbed over the footboard onto the trunk down to the floor. Ken pulled at his trousers and sat down on the low ottoman that Rilla kept in the room. Clara took the end of the bow tie with much concentration she tried to make a bow out of it. Rilla took pity on her and helped her with the steps, she would fix it later for Ken.

Rowena had wandered in her parent's doorway. ‘Oh, mom!” She gushed as she came over to feel the material of her dress. “Can I have a dress like this one day?”

“Never,” Ken said automatically, to which Rilla gave him a look. Ken would have her in a catholic nun habit until she was twenty if he had his way.

“Ignore your father,” Rilla told her. “I have a feeling styles will have changed by the time you are old enough for such parties, but you are more than welcome to try it one day,” Rilla told her as Rowena felt the silkiness of the satin.

“Can I stay up and wait for you to come home?” Clara asks hopefully.

“It’s already almost your bedtime,” Ken says looking at the clock on the nightstand. “And we are going to be late if we don’t leave soon?”

“Will you come to kiss me goodnight when you come home?” Clara asked Ken.

“It will be late, but I will,” Ken told her kissing her forehead “But you need to go brush your teeth and get into your nightgown.”

Rilla always loved a good party, but that hadn’t changed much, she made the rounds around the room. Greeting and kissing the cheeks of people that she knew, she could always feel the warm hand of her husband at the small of her back.

“How are the children?” She was asked countless times.

‘Very good, Oliver and Rowena are very much turning into young adults, while Clara is still very much precocious and curious about everything and school is only making it grow even more,’ she would tell them, before asking about theirs in return.

‘Do you think Paris will hold?’ Rilla hears someone ask Ken, and she sees him gulp down a drink in reply.

‘If last time is any answer, then I doubt it,’ she hears him say.

“Our boy is gone over, is yours in cadets? He must be old enough?” One woman asks, gaining her attention again.

“Heavens no, he’s not great at sports and never held a rifle in his life,” Rilla tells her with a wave of her hand. Rather flippantly, she didn’t care, it was the third time she heard this question.

“So you don’t support our boys?” The woman gasps. “They are boys fighting for our freedom?”

“I support our troops of course, but I don’t support the war, there is a fair difference between the two,” Rilla says through her teeth. “I supported my brothers—one who never returned, my future husband, my war baby who I took in because his mother died and his father was fighting my friends…only to see this happen all over again? You can only be so patriotic about something when you don’t see the horrors of what it tore apart in the process.”

Rilla eyes narrow and stalks over to Ken who is still talking and steals the glass from his hands and downs it without a warning, sputtering at the taste and burn of alcohol.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Ken says taking his wife’s arm gently.

“May I ask about the sudden change of heart about alcohol?” He asks her while his curiosity is peaked.

“He’s sixteen, and people are already questioning when he’ll enlist. Is he doing cadets, is he doing this or that? I hate it, he’s sixteen let him worry about homework and a sweetheart before worrying about having to go off to war!” Rilla seethes quietly.

“So you decided to throw back my whiskey?” Ken says lightly amused.

“It felt like a good idea?” Rilla says sighing. “I’ll have a glass of champagne on special occasions that make me light-headed. Why not just knock back your glass, you seem to like it enough?”

“Because it’s not you,” Ken says frowning. “I don’t like these things either but we have to appear supportive for the cause no matter how much we don’t want to hear about it.”

Rilla sighs, the alcohol burning in her stomach still.

“Come sit for a moment, we can go to my office, and hideaway for a while, no one will miss us?” Ken whispers. “Like old times?”

“Isn’t that how Clara was conceived?” Rilla looks at him.

“Possibly?” Ken smirks, before sobering. “But for tonight, we just give you something to soak up the alcohol and let you work through that buzz, or I hold your hair back and keep you from getting sick on your dress.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rilla waves him off, “though I did see something interesting at the hospital today. I saw Constance there…I mean it's a women’s clinic could be for anything but she was looking rather worried?”

Ken looks down at her. “I’m sure whatever she was there for is none of our business?” Ken reminds her. "Also, you might be right about Ollie and we may want to speak to him together for his own sake?" Ken tells her quietly.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

“I was thinking about going to go watch the new movie Rebecca that is out, would either of you be interested in it tonight?” Rilla asked her two eldest who were sitting around the table doing homework.

“Dad won’t take you?” Oliver says curiously.

“He would, but then if you wanted to come we would have to find something for Clara to do or have Mrs. Clarke spend her Saturday evening minding her,” Rilla tells them. “I also thought it would be nice for the three of us to do something together. Get ice cream afterwards,”

“I was supposed to go out with Robert?” Rowena says quietly.

“I’ll go with you, the book was all right,” Ollie says gruffly getting up from the tables.

“You read it?” Rilla looks at her son in surprise.

Oliver shrugs his shoulders, “You left it out and I was bored, the whole gothic house and crazy housekeeper.”

Rilla smiles at him. “What are you and Robert doing?” She asked Rowena.

“We were going to go get milkshakes and walk around the park?” Rowena tells her dreamily.

“Well be good, and be safe,” Rilla tells her. “And wash off that make-up you think I don’t see it?”

“But mom!” Rowena groans.

“No point in lipstick if you’re going to let him lick it off of you anyway,” Ollie says under his breath.

“Well, at least I’ve kissed someone unlike you,” Rowena bites back.

“I’ve kissed people,” Oliver glares at her.

“Your hand and mom don’t count,” Rowena mocks him more.

“All right both of you stop it,” Rilla warns them both. “Wash off your face Rowena, powder and a bit of pink lipstick is one thing, but all of the other can wait until you’re sixteen. Ollie…don’t taunt your sister like that.” She looks at them both before Rowena stomps off.

Rilla looks around before sitting down at the table, grinning. “So who have you kissed do we know them?”

“Mom!” Ollie blushes, clamming up.

“Oh really, you cannot offer such information up and then not tell me,” Rilla grins. “Is it that girl from the dance? Is it Lucy from down the street? Bobbie?” Rilla says it so casually that she doesn’t think Oliver even catches on until it sinks in enough as he gets up and takes a glass of water.

“All right then, well the movie is at eight be ready by seven, we’ll drive down to the winter theatre?” Rilla tells and waits for Oliver to nod his head.

“Tell Clara I’ll help her a bit with her puzzle before we leave if she wants?” Oliver says going towards the dining room where a large puzzle is laid out half finished.

Rilla nods her head, deciding to change now for the movies while she has leisurely time to do so.

“Mummy, why can’t I ever go to the movies?” Clara asks as she sits on the bed as Rilla changes out of her dress, fresh from her bath.

“You saw Wizard of Oz not long ago, and there is another Disney movie coming that we can go see together,” Rilla tells her. “But tonight Ollie and I need to have some bonding time,” Rilla tells her bopping her nose lightly. “You and Daddy can listen to the radio show and have some time together.”

Clara pouts and Rilla shakes her head. “We can go to the park tomorrow together where the ponies are watch them.”

“Promise?” Clara clammers excitedly to her knees.

“Promise,” Rilla smiles and kisses her forehead as you can hear an argument brewing on the floor below. “Now I think Oliver said he was going to help you work the puzzle?” Rilla tells her pulling on her robe over her undergarments.

“Oh goody!” Clara chirps, jumping off the bed and running down the hall and stairs.

“You are not wearing that sweater, it’s too small,” Ken's voice bellows below.

“It’s perfectly fine, and fitted,” Rowena's voice raises. “All the girls wear them these days Dad, it’s the style and fashion!”

“And you are not wearing it, I don’t remember even buying it for you, because I would have never allowed it, and neither would have your Mother Rowena, so go change or you won’t be doing anything tonight and not going out with that boy dressed like that!” Ken threatens.

“Then what am I allowed to wear that doesn’t make me like a frumpy old lady or a little girl!” Rowena counters back.

“You are a little girl, Rowena, you are fourteen years old! Be happy that we allow him to be around at all!” Ken reminds her. “What happens when he turns eighteen? What happens then Rowena when other boys ask you to the dances and graduation and he’s off in France somewhere trying not to get blown up?”

“Then I’ll write to him just like mom wrote to you all those years, he’s half of the age difference you and mom were. “Rowena snaps back at him as there is a knock on the door.

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Ken tells her. “Go change now, or you will be grounded.”

Rilla watches her daughter pass her on the stairs storming by in her sweater and loose trousers.

“I hate him,” she says angrily. “It’s a sweater! I have a shirt under it!”

Rilla just raises her eyebrows. The sweater was tight, but at the same time, it wasn’t entirely inappropriate. “Put on your nice new dungarees the ones with buttons down the side and I will calm down your father,” Rilla tells her trying to calm her down.

The boy in question was looking oddly nervous in front of Kenneth, dressed in a pair of denim pants and a large plaid jacket.

“I was going to take her to get something sweet and then meet up with friends at the park Sir?”Robert tells Ken awkwardly.

“Just because I tolerate you, that doesn’t mean I like you, she’s fourteen…” Ken tells him not caring.

“Kenneth!” Rilla admonishes him.

“Have her home by nine, not a minute later,” Ken tells him as his eyes narrow and the boy nods his head solemnly.

“Seriously Ken, scaring the boy will not help you,” Rilla reminds him as Rowena races out of the house before Ken can say anything. “Fighting with her will only make her want to sneak around, just relax a little, she’s a good girl. She knows the boundaries but she is going to grow up Ken.”

“And all he’s going to do is break her heart, especially when he goes off to war and realizes that it’s not pretty and you’re be stuck there and the threat of being gassed or blown up is higher than ever,” Ken says.

“Then let him figure that out, and if we have to put together a broken heart, we put together a broken heart,” Rilla says caressing the side of his face gently. “Come on, let’s just rest for an hour, Oliver is helping Clara with the puzzle.”

“Kids are around?” Ken co*cks his head at her suggestion.

“That never stopped you before,” Rilla whispers in his ear, before walking away from him and towards the stairs. For a short moment, you could only hear laughter in the house, the sound of the radio being turned on and if you listened carefully enough, the sound of a lock clicking into place.

“Two for Rebecca please,” Rilla asks the attendant at the window. “Why don’t you go get some popcorn?” She asks Oliver handing him a few coins who nods his head.

There aren’t many boys in the theatre, but that doesn’t seem to bother Oliver as he finds them seats. He takes her coat from her and places it on the back of the chair before doing the same to his own.

“I’ll be right back Mom,” He says once she is seated and she nods her head and watches him leave, mostly likely to the men's room. The film is a splendid mix of romance, gothic tones and mystery, with the ever so slight undertones of female sexuality that is not quite the norm with Mrs. Danvers, motherly to the point where motives are questionable if you look hard enough at them.

Instead of going home, she drives down to the lake, parking the car as they finish the popcorn in silence, despite it being February and cold outside.

“What did you like about the movie or even the book?” Rilla nudges him gently. “I feel greatly for the second Mrs. De Winters, but at Mrs. Danvers and that whole plot. I understand that they couldn’t put it all within the movie, but they played it off well, even if it went more into a strange motherly sort of infatuation?”

“I guess so?” Ollie says quietly after a moment. “You didn’t mind that plot of the book? I mean it is not completely obvious. I doubt Auntie Nan or Persis would get it but it’s interesting how she wrote it.”

“Sexual attraction is many things Oliver, and sometimes we fall in love with people even when society deems it wrong or not proper,” Rilla says after a moment. “The only thing we can do is try our best to ensure that we are not harming people in our quest for resolution of our feelings. It’s okay to feel what we feel, but you always have to look at the bigger picture and for your safety?”

“Dad told you didn’t he?” Ollie says quietly.

“He wasn’t sure when he asked about it,” Rilla tells him honestly. “From your writing, not about how he feels about it. He just wants clarification, some sort of information before bringing it up to you,” she corrects herself.

“He doesn’t get it though,” Ollie says quietly. “He told me so.”

“He’s trying though because he loves you,” Rilla reaches to run her hand through his hair lovingly. “All I can say, Ollie, is to be careful the world is not kind to men or women who lead those sort of lives. If you have inclinations towards both sexes, that is common enough as well and maybe it will be easier for you in the long run. To be able to live a…regular life that doesn’t have to be hidden in the shadows? Because I may understand, your father in his way, and Jimmy… but other parts of the family may not, most of the family would not.”

“Jimmy though?” Oliver says quietly.

“Jimmy is your brother, and as long as you don’t give him a real reason to use the laws against you, he will most likely look the other way,” Rilla tells him.

“You knew I read the book didn’t you?” Oliver asks quietly. “You knew Roe has plans?”

“I just wanted to a chance to talk to you with it seemingly out of the blue,” Rilla tells him before leaning towards him. “You never did tell who you kissed though, and I am dying to know?”

“She’s still not home,” Ken mutters pacing the living room floor as Rilla comes in at ten-thirty with Oliver from the movies.

“What do you mean she's still not home?” Rilla asks concerned as she looks at the time.

“She’s not home and I told her to be home by nine!”

“Have you tried calling anywhere?”

“Of course I have! I called his bloody parents' house and got nothing!” Ken slams his hand on the table.

“Calm down,” Rilla says to him going to the phone as Ollie stands there. “Is there any place that you know of where kids will hang out?”

“The roller rink sometimes? But people like him just hang around in parks and or drive around in sometimes if there a truck or car available?” Ollie says quietly as the phone rings.

Ken reaches for it.

“Rowena?” He says into the phone. “Where the hell are you!”

“Yelling won’t make it better,” Rilla says shaking her head and taking the phone. “What happened? Where are you, are you okay?” Rilla asks slightly more calmly before nodding her head.

“They were driving and ended up dodging an animal and drove into a ditch, snow bank. She’s okay, they are all alive, the person who found them took them to the hospital to be sure. One, person has a broken arm and has some bumps and bruises. She was in the back seat, it took a while for someone to happen upon them.” Rilla relays the information.

“I’ll go pick her up,” Ken says in a panic.

“I’ll come with you, Ollie, stay for Clara will you?” Rilla looks at him, kissing his cheek and grabbing her coat one more, and Kens.

“I knew she was too young for this sort of thing, dating, driving around,” Ken mutters. “He got her into a car accident.”

“I’m sure he’s just as shaken up over this Ken, but just breathe and calm down,” Rilla tells him taking his face into her hands. “She’s okay, apparently he stopped her from flying out of her seat when it happened.”

The drive was quick, being late as it was, and when they were brought to the emergency department they found her sitting on a bed, looking shaken up but unscathed except for her hair being a bit wild, and while three other kids, two boys and another girl were waiting for their parents as well. Except one boy's arms were bandaged up, waiting to be plastered, the girl had a bandage on her forehead and the boy that Ken hated had a bandaged wrist.

“I’m am so…” Robert begins.

“Save it,” Ken says cutting him off.

“Daddy please,” Rowena speaks up.

“Sir I promise we were on our way to the house when it happened,” the other boy spoke up. “My sister has a strict curfew, I wouldn’t like Rowena to miss hers. It was an accident truly.”

“Of course it was,” Rilla says nodding her head. “All that matters is everyone is alive and not badly hurt.” She says as other parents begin arriving angry and concerned as the other boy's father smacks him on the side of the head for potentially wrecking the car and making health bills.

While the other girl's mother goes to comfort her daughter.

“Where are your parents?” Rilla looks to Robert not seeing them.

“Mom doesn’t drive and Dad is away,” he says quietly. “I’ll take a taxi home?”

“Nonsense, you live near us don’t you?” Rilla says. “We can give you a ride home.”

“Pardon! We are not!—” Ken looks at her and she lightly swats his arm. “Yes, dear.” He says sighing.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

“Okay, don’t look,” Jimmy says trying to lead her out of the car, her eyes closed for the past block. “And don’t fall either.”

“If I fall, I will blame you anyway,” Connie tells him, and even with her closed eyes, you could see her roll them.

“Alright, you can open them,” Jimmy says positioning her and holding her hands, nervous at the snow-scaped house that sat nowhere near ready for them, but at least they had a house.

“It’s a house?” Connie looks at him.

“It’s our house,” Jimmy says nervously. “I did get the right one didn’t I?”

“You bought us a house?” Connie looks at him, shivering from the cold air drifting up her skirts.

“I did, a few weeks ago, I meant to fix it up a bit before I showed it to you, but it looks like a good clean is the best I can do given the circ*mstances,” Jimmy says looking sheepishly. “It is the one you liked isn’t it?”

“I…” Connie says looking at it. “I honestly don’t even remember,” she tells him honestly. “But we’re in Riverdale, and like Riverdale. Now let’s go inside as I am getting cold?”

Jimmy nods his head offers her his arm and digs out the keys to the old door. Once unlocked she ushers her inside.

It’s clean and bright by the windows, but the papers were old and the floor needed to be refinished. The kitchen already has a new fridge and new stove in it, and the living room is spacious and has a wall of built-in bookcases around the fireplace, before leading into the dining room that overlooked the small backyard, along a small washroom and screened-in porch and utility room with a water heater and washing sink. The upstairs has three bedrooms, one large and two smaller ones and the washroom.

“Do you still like it? We can update it of course, and we can get a few things done that need to be done before…well,” Jimmy says still not quite used to the fact or even the idea that was about to be a father.

They were about to lock up when they found them face to face with an older woman.

“You must be the new neighbours!” She says excitedly. “I thought I saw someone the other day, but I missed you.”

“Oh, I guess we are,” Connie looked at Jimmy. “Constance Will—Anderson,” she corrects herself.

“Still not used to it, must be fresh from the honeymoon?” She says laughing. “Though I am surprised to see you here?” She looks at Jimmy.

“Constable James Anderson,” he says smoothly. “Toronto still needs men for some jobs,” he reminds her.

“Of course, right, Mabel White,” she says blanching lightly. “Well, I suppose our street will be safer with you around.”

“Jimmy takes his job seriously,” Connie says looking at her watch. “We must get going, our apologies but much to do,” she says holding out her one hand to shake the woman’s goodbye.

“Of course,” Mabel says looking over Connie for a moment. “Oh dear, what happened to your ring?”

“My ring?” Connie looks down to her engagement ring realizing she didn’t have a wedding band on. “Oh, that one! You see I was making bread with my mother, and I took off my one but left it on the band not thinking about and it got lost in the bread, it will turn up tonight at dinner most likely,” she says spinning a white lie.

“Oh of course! I lost mine in a pie once, didn’t realize until my husband almost choked on it,” She says as Jimmy looks slightly impatient looking at his watch.

“Sorry, but we really must go,” Jimmy tells her. “We won’t be fully moving in for another week or so, but you shall see you around soon,” he says.

They leave the woman on the step, trying not to giggle as they traipse to the car.

“I do love you,” Connie says. “

“I know,” Jimmy says. “And I must love you if I just bought a house next to that lady.”

“Well, at least everyone will think we are married,” Connie reminds him. “Especially if we bring home a little one, earlier than they expect us to?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Jimmy asks brow furrowing as he starts the car.

“I mean…I don’t want to count our chickens before they hatch. The first three months can be…they say if you lose a child it's either the first three months or from a tough delivery?” Connie says quietly.

“Of course,” Jimmy says nodding his head. “Just shows how much I know about this sort of thing doesn’t it?”

“You’re learning, and instead of running away telling me to deal with it, you are actually…” Connie says stopping herself for the right word.

“Staying? Not running? Stepping up to the plate?” Jimmy says looking at her with his brown eyes. “I don’t run away from things, and it’s been three years Con, I would have married you two years ago if you let me do it. Why would I leave you now because I am finally getting what I wanted?”

“I know, but it’s just frightening that's all,” Connie says sighing. “We still have to tell your family!”

“Dad knows,” Jimmy says tells her quietly. “Not that I told him, but I guess I had a look of panic on my face the morning after you told me you were late. I don’t think he told Mom, because well we would have heard about it from her at this point?”

“You sure you don’t want me there when you tell them?” Connie asks him.

“It’s easier if I tell them we are getting married this Friday and sort of let the pieces fall as they do?” Jimmy says after a moment of silence. “They won’t be mad, but Mom will… overreact for a hot moment and I’ll have to explain to Clara that me moving out doesn’t mean she will never see, but things will be different. She’s jealous enough about you I don’t want you to see that tantrum or have her hit you or something.”

“You make it sound like she’s a demon child,” Connie tells him.

“Well, she is precocious, just as Mom used to be according to Dr. Blythe, and Grandma Blythe,” Jimmy says explaining. “Apparently at Clara’s age, she once threw an entire cake in a river because she thought it was shameful and embarrassing.”

“Honestly, what I know of your mother, that doesn’t surprise me,” Connie laughs.

It was Sunday, when dinner was in full swing when Jimmy dropped the bomb on the dinner table after much deliberation.

“Constance and I are getting married this Friday, I hope you can make it. It’s just at the courthouse, but we didn’t want anything fancy.”

“Very funny Jimmy,” Rilla laughs waving him off. “You are not getting married at the courthouse.”

“But we are,” Jimmy says looking at her earnestly.

‘You’re not allowed to get married, Jimmy!” Clara exclaims for her spot. “You promised me I could be your flower girl!”

“See, why don’t you wait until spring and have a nice little church wedding, it doesn’t have to be big, but it’s a much nicer thing to do,” Rilla reminds him. “I am sure that Constance wants more than a courthouse wedding. All nice girls do, and I am sure you’ll want some of the Island dwellers to be able to come?”

“We can’t wait for spring Mom,” Jimmy says quietly. “Too much is happening to wait until spring…”

“Dear lord, you’re enlisting, aren’t you? You changed your mind and going to that awful war aren’t you?” Rilla squeaks.

“Rilla, can you just listen to him,” Ken says gently. “Accusing him of something you know he doesn’t want is not listening.”

“Well, what else can call for a courthouse wedding Kenneth in this day and age…” Rilla snaps at her husband. She looked at Jimmy looking almost like he was a fox caught in a hen house, like a teenager who did something they weren’t supposed to do.

“What going on?” Clara asks again.

“Come on, let’s give them some privacy Oliver tells her trying to get her to leave the table.

“I want to hear this,” Rowena whispers, but a look from her father sends her into silence and all the kids sit there in silence.

“We need to do it now, if her work catches wind of it…they’ll fire her on the spot, but if she married and working…as long as she discloses and tries to keep it from being obvious they won’t…?” Jimmy tries to explain.

“A baby,” Rilla says quietly shaking her head.

“A baby? Why is Jimmy having a baby? I don’t want him to have a baby then I won’t be the baby of the family!” Clara says exclaiming.

“Hush all of you,” Rilla says. “Take your sister to the living room please while we talk to Jimmy.”

The kids nod their heads and take their plates to the living room to finish their dinner. Mrs. Clarke takes her own quietly to her own room, not feeling as it was her place to be there.

“I really cannot believe this,” Rilla looks at her eldest, she may have not birthed him but she swore she had taught him better than this.

“Trust me, neither can we,” Jimmy says. “But we’re okay with it? I mean I have a house I signed the papers a few weeks ago, it’s just the technicality of getting married.” Jimmy tells her.

“When did you buy a house!” Rilla shrieks.

“Rilla,” Ken says trying to calm her down.

“You knew this was coming and didn’t tell me?” She whips her head to look at her husband,

“It wasn’t my news to tell,” Ken says simply. “But we should be happy for Jimmy and Constance.”

“You like babies,” Jimmy says trying to lighten the mood and she shoots him a look to smarten up.

“Are you ready to be a father?” Rilla asks him. “Being responsible for two other people than yourself?”

“I’m pretty sure Constance can take care of herself for most things,” Jimmy says jokingly.

“Of course, but she can’t have a bank account without you now being tied to it,” Rilla points out to him. “She’ll technically need your permission to work.

“Either way, if you could pick up an infant and take care of it and raise me at fifteen…I think I have a fairly decent shot at being a good father,” Jimmy says quietly. “And I will never stop Constance from doing anything she wants to.”

“So Friday?” Ken says trying to move on the conversation, “Just let us know when to show up and we’ll make it happen, I am sure the children will love a day off school.”

Jimmy nods.

“Is the house even ready?” Rilla looks at him. “Do you even have furniture, a bed, curtains?”

“We’re going shopping tomorrow to get some of the basics, I have a bit saved up, and we can look around at a few second-hand shops as well for things we don’t have much of a preference on?” Jimmy explains. “But the house is clean, we can paint and repaper later there is no rush.”

“Take your bed and bedroom things they have always been yours," Ken tells him. “We can borrow a truck and bring it over to the house.”

“Where is the house?” Rilla asks realizing she doesn’t even know where he is moving to. When did this young man keep things from her like this?

“In Riverdale,” Jimmy says quietly.

“Riverdale!” Rilla exclaims, covering her heart before swatting at him in a motherly way. “Can you get further away from us?”

“Well, Rosedale is a little out of our price range,” Jimmy reminds her. “It’s a nice area, safe and lively and good for young families and only across the Don Valley.”

“You need a new suit,” Rilla says changing the subject. “Hell, I need something to wear? What does a mother of the groom even wear?”

“I am sure Eatons will be able to sort that out for you,” Ken chuckles.

“Oliver needs a new jacket and trousers, which means Rowena will want something new as well. Does Constance have any colour preferences? Do we need to get some flowers, we should find a restaurant to have dinner at?” Rilla goes off.

“See Jimmy, she’s already thinking of ways to put a dent in the bank account,” Ken says moving to squeeze the younger man's shoulder. “A preview of your soon-to-be life?”

"Very funny!" Rilla eyes narrow at him.

Friday came all too quickly, but everyone was smartly dressed and their shoes were shining. Who gets married in February? The slush and cold, but the courthouse is busier than expected, with a lot of men in uniform of course. Jimmy had made initial introductions to Constance's mother and sister, while her brother somewhere training in Quebec before Constance ducked into a ladies' room.

“It appears we meet at last, Mrs. Williams, I am Rilla Ford, and my husband Kenneth Ford,” Rilla says to Constance's Mother, who was dressed in her Sunday best dress and jacket. “I wish it would have been sooner than the actual wedding?”

“Well, we have ages to know each other now, you may call me Dorothy,” she says looking over Rilla to the rest of the family, Clara who was twirling in a pink dress that twirled and showed off her bloomers. “Quite the broad?”

“I suppose so?” Rilla says nodding her head. “Drive you crazy most of the time, but you love them wholeheartedly. Though I am sure you feel the same way sometimes?”

“Wholeheartedly, you raised a lovely young man,” Dorothy tells her watching him nervously check his tie.

“You brought up a lovely young lady, all I could have asked for him,” Rilla tells her.

“I don’t see why you have to go get married,” Clara whines. “You promised to never leave me!”

“I’m not leaving you Clare-bear, I am just not going to be living at the house and you are always welcome to visit,” Jimmy tells her quietly. “It’s just part of life, people grow up, you’re going to be seven this year, you’re growing up too.”

“I don’t want to grow up,” She pouts, which soon turns to crying. “I don’t want you to leave and go have babies!”

“You must have been young when you had Jimmy?” Dorothy says casually.

“I happened upon him and his dead mother when I was fifteen, his great aunt was going to send him to the asylum. For some reason I could fathom that thought so I took him home,” Rilla corrects her. “I was fifteen and trust me my family did not know what the self-proclaimed baby hater was thinking.” She laughs lightly.

“Still quite young,” Dorothy hums.

“I was,” Rilla agrees as you hear the door open, from the ladies' room. Constance comes out of it, her cream-coloured dress with barely there flowers of the lightest of blues on it, tea length because it was the courthouse. Paired with short sleeves, a square neckline with small white bows down the centre and a small white belt.

“Do I look all right?” She asks the two older women and Rilla defers her answer until the other woman speaks to her daughter.

“You look beautiful,” Dorothy says after a moment. “Elise, come I need a photo of the two of you together,” she waves over her youngest who is Oliver's age. Who is wearing a pretty dress of light peach with little floral flowers on it with a small belt and short sleeves? While the cut was rather simple, the fine cotton made it look much more grand than it was. Though she looks younger than Rowena in it, she is wearing light blue crepe with a well-defined midriff that has a sheer yoke collar and small puffed sleeves.

“You know you're like my best man right?” Jimmy looks to Oliver who looks out of place in his suit, pulling at the cuffs, but at least the pants were long enough for a change, around the corner from the ladies.

“Shouldn’t one of your copper friends be that?” Ollie says after a moment.

“Why? I’ve known you longer, and I don’t know why you avoid me lately, but you’re still my brother.” Jimmy told him.

“I think the ladies are ready,” Ken says rounding the corner, “and it’s your turn next.”

Jimmy nods his head.

He walks around the corner, catching sight of his bride…mother of his child a thought that still terrified him. Still, he finds his breath taken away when he sees his bride. Her strawberry blonde hair under a small white hat, and her clear blue eyes found him, and she smiled. Red lipstick, showing off her smile, a touch of pink on her cheeks.

“Ready?” He asks Constance, holding out her hand.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

It was spring when Germany invaded Paris, it was grumbled about and the paper scrunched up and thrown in anger at the news of it. It could go into the fire for all Ken cared. He had other things to worry about, war correspondence, his son seemed to be a touch more comfortable in his skin lately, and the friend that made more of an appearance.

A quiet whisper of 'it's okay, they won't get angry,' he heard as the boys played chess in the living room. Clearly, rules were still needed, though within the next weeks, there was a giggling bubbly girl in a Branksome uniform lounging on their sofa and playing with the curls of young Ford's hair.

“Dad, can I have fifty cents?” Rowena asks as she pulls on her sweater as she get ready for school.

“I just gave you your allowance,” Ken reminds her.

“I know, but some of the girls at school want to go downtown and see the new exhibit at the ROM after school since it is early release day?” Rowena explains.

“You want to go to the museum?” Ken raises an eyebrow not quite believing her.

“They have a new mummy, we want to go see it,” She explains.

“Very well,” Ken says after a moment. “No boys, no cars, and don’t wander around the university either,” he adds on, digging into his pockets for loose change. “Though, how will your sister get home?” He adds on.

“She’s almost seven? Can’t she get home by herself by now? Mrs. Clarke is here,” Rowena says whining. “Have Oliver pick her up if you don’t want her walking home alone?”

“I have poetry club,” Oliver chips in.

“Why don’t you take her with you? I am sure that Clara would like to see the museum?” Ken tells her. “I mean you asked last minute?”

Rowena looks like she wants to object but slowly nods her head sighing.

“Good,” Ken hands her some change and kisses the top of her hair.

Clara can tell Rowena is annoyed as she holds her sister's hand on the street car, but for Clara who hasn’t been on public transportation, she intrigued by everything. Pulling on her sister's arms every time she tries to turn and look at something.

“I’m sorry I got stuck babysitting,” Rowena tells her friends. “But it was bring her or not come at all.”

“I need to pee,” Clara announces and Rowena groans.

“You can go to the museum we’re almost there so just hold it,” she says groaning.

“There’s a bizarre across the street as well,” Flora says to Rowena. “We should check it out, we might find something fun to buy?”

“I already spent most of my allowance though,” Nora says sighing. “This is our stop,” she says looking around.

“Where are we?” Clara asks in awe of the building around her.

“That's the museum,” Rowena tells her pointing across the street. “Now don’t run off, and don’t let go of my hand,” she tells her. They paid admission and pulled that the little arm, that starred in awe of the museum that she had seen before.

"Slow Down Roe," Clara whines, wanting to take it all in, fingerprints on glass and her nose smooshed up as well. Animals, fossils, clothing, teapots...it was all something spectacular, why hadn't Mummy or Daddy ever brought them here?

The mummy was the least interesting thing to her little mind as the girls who could see better went crazy over it.

"Come on, let's check out the bizarre," Someone says as Clara stares through a doorway of something that made her mind go haywire.

"Come on Clara," Rowena tugs on her arm.

"But other there," Clara whines pointing to the other exhibit.

"It's boring, it's just rocks," someone tells her and Rowena tugs her once more and Clara is torn away from her spot. She is spitting at her sister mentally as they drag her through the bizarre and when she realizes that she is no longer attached to her sister she decides to go back to the museum, except pasties and cookies distract her.

Suddenly she is afraid, looking up around, not recognizing any of the faces. She was angry at her sister, but she didn’t mean to lose her sister. She didn’t mean to go off on her own, she just wanted to see the room of rocks for herself. It couldn't have been that far.

What did Jimmy always say? Find a policeman? Find an adult who looks trusting to get help.

“Clara, what are you doing here by yourself?” Clara turns to the voice that seems to know her. Connie, it was Connie who was dressed in a loose coat and a smart hat. Tears streak down her face.

“I…I got lost,” Clara admits. “I was with Roe and she was looking through things in the market, I wanted to get a cookie but when I looked for her and couldn’t find them?” Clara tells her

“Come one, I’m sure they are around,” Connie says holding out her hand.

Clara sniffles and takes it.

They don’t find Rowena or her friends, and after asking around if any girls were looking for a little girl they found out they went off looking but haven’t been seen since.

“Come on, my office is down the way still, we can stop at the police station on the way maybe they went there,” Connie tells her.

“Where does Jimmy work?” Clara says cheering up.

“No, he works at another, but they can call him as well,” Connie tells her, nudging her alone. “Why did you leave your sister?”

“I didn’t mean to, and it’s not like she cares, Daddy made her take me this afternoon if she wanted to hang out with her friends,” Clara tells her pouting.

“You still shouldn’t have taken off,” Connie tells her, directing her into the constabulary unit, and no one seemed to know if a bunch of young girls were looking for a little girl, but a few of them were out patrolling so they couldn’t be sure.

Clara was starting to cry again when they made it to the children’s aid office.

“Who is this?” Someone asks Connie.

“My very frightened, naughty little sister-in-law, which I know is something odd, to say, but she’s Jimmy’s little sister,” Connie explains picking up the telephone and unbuttoning her coat. She didn’t want Rowena to get into trouble, but if she went home looking, she needed to call the house. No one picks up though, her father-in-law must be at the office still, as well as her mother-in-law.

Rilla worked at the hospital? Maybe the girls went home thinking Clara might find it?

Connie sighed, her feet were already aching and her back.

“Are you fat because of the baby?” Clara asks looking at her protruding stomach.

Connie looks up and tries not to look at her co-workers.

“Maybe it’s two of them? Like me and Cora?” Clara says chattering away.

“You know for the way you’re showing with that…honeymoon baby,” someone speaks up cautiously. “I would get a second opinion?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Connie says, “Though, I think if I keep from eating all the candy and fried chicken all the time, I would be less fat?” She explains further before picking up the phone again. “Women’s hospital, please? Thank you—yes is Dr. Ford around it’s an emergency.”

“Why are you?” Clara begins, and Connie shushes her.

“Dr. Ford, speaking” Rilla’s voice came through the telephone.

“It’s Connie,” She says. “Umm, you haven’t seen Rowena or her friends have you?” She asks her mother-in-law.

“No? Why? Is something the matter?” Rilla asks voice raising and Connie sighs.

“I found Clara wandering around the Queen's Park—alone, how? According to her Rowena was supposed to be watching her and Clara wandered away and couldn’t find her. I looked around with her, and then the police station, no one answered at the house, and I thought you being close by maybe Rowena would check to see if Clara found you?” Connie exclaims.

“Bring her to the hospital if you can, or I can pick her up,” Rilla says through the line.

“I’ll bring her, we’re nearby,” Connie says looking at her watch.

She explains the situation to her boss and takes Clara’s hand and begins the walk down to the women's hospitals.

Rilla was at the front desk, waiting for them when they arrived. She bundled up Clara who hugged her.

“Rowena just called in hysterics, I sent her home and I called Ken about what happened so he knows as well,” Rilla tells her and looks over Connie down to her feet. “I’ll give you a lift back and you can have dinner with us. Jimmy won’t be home until late tonight if his schedule is the same?”

“How do you?” Connie says but the older woman has known Jimmy's schedule for so long.

“You changed to sturdy shoes,” Rilla points out. “I work around with expectant women, I know swollen ankles before I see them.”

Connie laughs lightly. “They aren’t that bad, but getting off of them would be lovely.”

“Sit for a moment, I’ll go pack my things and tell them I have to leave early today,” Rilla tells her. “Stay with Connie and then well go home okay,”

For what Connie assumed would be a blow-up and a fight, Rowena seemed to be distraught and accepting of whatever punishment her parents dolled out to her that night for losing her sister in the middle of downtown. It was an hour after they arrived back in Rosedale, when she unbuttons her uniform jacket, wishing for something more comfortable to wear but she would manage for a few more hours.

“Here,” Rilla says passing over a more comfortable dress. “I can only imagine what sort of a girdle you are wearing to appear less than you are?”

Connie sighs and shakes her head. “It’s not that bad really, but thank you for the dress, this waistband is killing me.”

She realizes, without Jimmy she’s never had dinner alone with the Fords, not like this anyway. Rilla told her to sit and relax. The kids helped set the table and even helped the housekeeper, even Ken was frying up the fish like it was the most normal thing in the world, and whenever her mother-in-law tried to help, everyone shooed her away.

“I’m sure Jimmy told you of my not-so-great cooking skill?” Rilla explains as she sets a basket of bread on the table.

“In passing?” Connie answers after a moment. “I didn’t think he was telling the truth though honestly. You can’t be that bad?”

“Oh but she is,” Oliver says grinning and Rilla swats at him playfully.

“It’s not that I haven’t tried, people have been also trying since I was old enough to light a stove or manage one, but it just never quite stuck?” Rilla says explaining. “I think Ken just wanted to eat meals on time and took over for his stomach, and then Mrs. Clarke came into the picture, and even she has tried to help me.”

“You can make a fine sandwich and oatmeal,” Mrs. Clarke says bringing over a bowl of boiled potatoes and winter vegetables.

“See,” Rilla says sassing back her children as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” Ken says turning off the burner to the stove and putting the fish off to the side. He wipes his hands on a tea towel and goes for the door.

“Hello?” He asked, surprised to see a rather frightened teenager no older than Oliver he guessed though she was holding a fussy baby. “Can I help you?

“No, I’m looking at Jimmy Anderson?” A young girl asked in an English accent. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. But something was oddly familiar, something he couldn’t put together in his mind. She was wearing an old blue coat and hat In her free hand was a stack of letters.

“He doesn’t live here anymore?” Rilla said looking over the young lady on her doorstep, even more curious about the child she was carrying. Jimmy wouldn’t…Jimmy was not that sort of young man. The accent wasn’t Canadian though.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I’ll just go.” The young girl says as she bounces the infant who fusses again.

“Come in from the cold, I’ll telephone him, he moved out. ” Rilla told the girl who wasn’t dressed for an early Canadian spring. The girl had a familiar look to her which she couldn’t quite place at the moment.

“How do you know Jimmy?” Rilla asked curiously. Half of her was either half ready to smack the man across his head, or the other half felt like she knew this young girl.

Connie was standing there in shock, unsure what was happening.

“I found these,” she said holding a stack of letters. “It was where my brother lived.”

“Willow?” Ken asked, remembering the familiar face of Adeline Anderson from photos Jimmy still had in his room for so long.

“You know who I am!” She exclaimed.

“Willow?” Rilla looked at her husband and then the young girl who looked young. Willow had to be closer to twenty, though with the name for a face, she suddenly saw all the similarities between the siblings who shared different mothers. “You are Willow Anderson?” She asked.

Willow nodded, holding a photo from an old letter from Jimmy from probably eight years ago. Rilla took it, and the old letter with their address on it.

“Connie?” Rilla asks meaning the pick up the telephone, but sees the young woman pale as a sheet. “Sit down for a moment.”

“Is she all right?” Willow asks cautiously.

“She’ll be fine,” Rilla says. “She had a bit of a shock, I have a feeling you showing up as you did asking for her husband, with a baby in your arms wasn’t something she ever thought might happen?”

“You’re…my brother is married?”

“Come, let’s make you some tea. You drink tea do you not?” Mrs. Clarke said to the girl. “Who is the little one? Is he or she yours?”

“Of course, and lord no!” She says quickly. “It’s a bit of a story?”

“What do you mean a story?” Connie asks the social work part of her kicking in.

“Her mother didn’t make it out of Paris,” Willows amends herself. “It was leave her or take her and it felt like she was safer with me?”

“Of course,” Rilla says nodding her head as if it made sense.

“You can’t just…” Connie says in disbelief.

“Mommy did with Jimmy?” Clara says remembering the old story.

“War makes everything different,” Rilla says calmly.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

“So this where you lived?” Willow asked him looking around as everyone seemed to disappear to give them privacy.

“I grew up on Prince Edward Island when Dad died. Mom and Dad—Rilla and Ken,” Jimmy explained. “She looked after me during the war when I was little, we always had a special bond. When news came about what happened to Dad, they adopted me. We were living in Kingsport at the time which is in Nova Scotia. You were just a baby, we moved here a little over twelve years ago. Roe, was born here she’s fourteen, and Oliver is sixteen, while Clara is almost seven,” Jimmy told her. “I wrote to you twice a month, then once a month. I still have the first letter you wrote yourself to me.”

Willow only nodded. It almost didn’t seem fair that Jimmy had grown up in such a home, surrounded by people who cared about him. His old bedroom was clean and orderly, with old family photos of the Fords with young Jimmy, and later the rest of the children. Hidden behind is a photo of her Mother and Jimmy, before England, pictures of the woman he called mother now as a young teenager with a curly-haired infant. What surprised her the most was a small wallet photo of her younger self still tucked into the corner of a frame.

Photos of her, all the silly portraits her mother made her sit for years.

“The others are at my own house, I think Mrs. Clarke found that one while cleaning,” Jimmy told her.

“What do you remember about the trip to England the lead up to it?” Willow asked her brother curiously.

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked as he sat on the bed.

“I found some letter mixed in with mothers, I don’t think mother’s family liked Dad much,” Willow said. “From what I read Mom’s family refused to acknowledge you existed. They didn’t even want you to come on the trip,” Willow explained. “Mom’s family was against her marrying Dad, moving to Canada, taking care of you.”

“They didn’t treat you bad did they?” Jimmy asked quietly, taking in all the information.

“They were stern, a bit controlling but they weren’t violent if that is what you’re asking,” Willow told him with a shake of her head. “So you’re married?”

“Yeah, we got married back in February,” he says gruffly, cheeks tinging red. “Small affair at the courthouse nothing elaborate much to Mom's dismay.”

“You’re not enlisting then?” She questions him bluntly.

“I’m a police officer, I am needed here,” he says looking at her. “I’m not sure your stance on war Willow, but this house, this place isn’t exactly a patriotic sort of house. Mom and Dad both have scars from the first war in different ways and refuse to do more than necessary."

“So you’re a pacifist?” Willow looks at him.

“I am doing my duty here,” he says eyes narrowing trying to understand who this person was who said was his sister.

“Your wife is expecting?”

“She is,” Jimmy nods his head. “She is due in the fall, she’s helped me look for you for three years. Constance works for the Children’s Aid Society, which is why she was a bit shocked you just took a child across the ocean with you.”

“Well, Martine didn’t make it out how she was and the good-for-nothing father didn’t care or want it, she gave birth in I middle of a war. Fleur needed safety as much as any other child, that is her name by the way.” Willow tells him almost defensively.

“I know, I understand,” Jimmy tries to placate her looking at her. Taking in the young woman who was someone he could have only imagined. Her accent was neither English nor French, her hair golden blonde and straight, her eyes golden brown, more golden than his. She looks like their father in many ways but has Adeline's smile and nose.

“Is something on my face?” She asks at his quietness.

“No, No, sorry it’s been so long since I thought of him, you look like him it was strange for a moment,” Jimmy says shaking his head. “We should call it a night, I am going to run home and get a few things for Connie and me,” Jimmy says looking at the clock.

“You don’t have to stay,” Willow tries to tell him.

“Yes I do,” Jimmy says shaking his head. “I’ve waited years for this and we should contact your grandparents to let them know you are alive.”

Willow nods her head and he reaches out out for a moment before letting his arm fall.

“I’m glad you found me, even if we are different people,” Jimmy says after a moment. Unsure of what else to say.

Jimmy finds his wife half asleep when he makes it back to his old home after running home. She looks at him from the makeshift bed on the floor of the old mattress they have stashed away for such events and family who visit.

He helps her undress and pulls her nightwear over her head, hands caressing the growing bump. He was memorized by it, knowing that it was his child in there. Swift kicks underneath the warmth of his hands greet him and he smiles exhaustedly.

“What’s going through your head?” Constance asks him.

“Of all the time I’ve spent looking, of all the time wondering and what ifs. I didn’t think she would ever come to find me, but at the same time she’s an adult and I don’t know her. It’s been so long and yet she still came for an older brother she doesn’t even remember?”

“You’re family,” Connie says quietly.

“Do you think the child is hers and she’s too afraid?” Jimmy asks her.

“It’s hard to know, but she doesn’t look like she’s had a baby anytime in the past year?” Connie says looking down at herself. “What was she doing in Paris by herself did you ask?”

“I didn’t even think of it,” Jimmy says sighing. “I could barely think, I just kept looking at her, wondering how lucky she was to get out of there now. At the same time, she’s a literal stranger and I’m afraid to press for answers because I don’t want to her run off if there is something more to this?”

“You’re a stranger to her as well Jimmy,” Connie reminds him. “Give it some time, get to know each other and it will be easier.”

“I just don’t know what to do, if it was just her it would be easy but the last thing we need is a baby as well to look after?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Connie squeezes his hand and cuddles into him as they both settle into the bed. “Look on the bright side, she’s eighteen and if her grandparents protest, they can’t come after you for kidnapping?” She tries to make him feel better.

“True, but you didn’t sign up for this either,” Jimmy says kissing the top of her head.

“I signed up for everything when I married you, this included. It will be okay, just give it some time and it will be all right you will see.” Connie tells him. “Though for the record for a small second, I wanted to hurt when some girl came looking for you holding a baby.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jimmy says chuckling before he yawns. “Though you are the only person I have been with in that way in the past…three-four years?”

“Good,” Connie says

It was still early when Willow had woken up, the cold April morning creeping into the room as she shivered and huddled under her blankets. She was rubbing her eyes when she focused on the small black-haired child sitting on the edge of her bed like an imp.

“Ahh!” She yelped loud enough that Jimmy came into her room not long after. Wearing casual clothing of long-sleeved henley and brown trousers.

“Clara!” He scolded the child. “You don’t sneak into people's rooms as such,”

“I didn’t want her to miss out on the pancakes, Jimmy,” Clara said innocently as she crawled over the bed to her older brother and held out her arms. He sighed and picked her up, letting her legs wrap around him as she hugged him.

“Apologize Imp,” Jimmy told Clara sternly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” Clara said quietly as she rested her head on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Apology accepted,” Willow said as she was unsure of what else to say.

Jimmy set Clara down and told her to go back downstairs to her room. “Sorry about that I should have warned you about her.”

“She’s cute,” Willow settled with a short pause.

“She’s spoiled,” Jimmy corrected her with a shake of his head. “Breakfast is about in a half-hour.”

Willow nodded and watched him leave. She quickly pulled on her wooden stockings and was about to open her small suitcase of things hoping for something clean when there was a knock on the door. She goes to open it and finds the younger girl holding something in her arms.

“I wasn’t sure what you would be more comfortable in, but I threw in a pair of pants,” Rowena tells her, who is wearing her pair of baggy denim trousers, belted at the waist with a pretty fuzzy peach cardigan simple shirt under it.

Willow nods her head taking the offered items. There was even a brassiere and package of new briefs. She looks at the redhead, who still had her hair in curlers and scarf and clear hazel eyes unable to place her age.

“Mom left out a toothbrush and things in the bathroom for you,” Rowena adds on. “There’s hairpins and a brush as well if needed.”

“Thank you,” Willow tells her.

“Our Aunt and Uncle lived in Paris for a decade, Tante Lily would love to know if it had changed any since they moved back six years ago,” Rowena tells her before turning at the sound of her name. “I’ll let you get ready.”

When she made it downstairs the other kids were at the table and talking amongst themselves. Mrs. Ford had her friend's baby in her arms drinking from a bottle.

“Good morning,” Ken said to her kindly as she took the empty spot of the table. Clara looked at her as she sat on her father's lap at breakfast. She had never seen such a scene she wasn’t sure how to act or what to do.

Breakfast was never like this in England or even asked the school when it was full of teasing playful comments. The slightly younger but tall young man whose hair was curled widely on his head was quiet but often helped the housekeeper by taking his already finished plate to the sink and grabbing the coffee pot at the same time. While his sister Rowena was going on about her friends at her school. Even in Paris, breakfast was never like this, then again when were they ever up for breakfast?

“Also what is this darling little one's name?” Mrs. Ford asks her. “You never said.

“Fleur, it means flower,” Willow tells her. “She’s six months old.”

“Do you mind if I take her to the hospital today? I just want one of my co-workers to take a peek at her. She seems pretty healthy, but might be good for a check over?” The older woman asks her.

“Co-worker?” Willow asks brow furrowing.

“Mom’s a doctor, she works in the women’s hospital,” Ollie says from his spot. “A psychologist, not doctor doctor,” he clarifies.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Willow says quietly and Connie comes out in a day dress looking green.

“I thought morning sickness was supposed to stop at some point?” She groans, handing running over her much larger bump than yesterday.

“Not always, and trust me it can be worse,” Rilla tells her daughter-in-law. “As long as you can eat and gain weight, I wouldn’t concerned.” She puts the infant into the old high chair, and hands Ken the spoon for the baby's oatmeal who took it without question like he was used to this. Her grandfather would have never, and she isn’t sure if her father would have either from the stories she knew.

“You mean like you were throwing up blood?” Oliver says quietly and Rilla looks at him sharply but her eyes soften quickly.

“That was…I’m sorry I frightened you,” she settles with, reaching out to caress his hair. “But breakfast everyone, eat up.”

The table turned to other conversations, what they planned to do over spring break and how Rowena was going to be the lead in the school play. At one point the little impish girl crawled into her chair to eat her breakfast. Which made her look at her plate, the pancakes were different than she expected but they were light and fluffy and could be topped with maple syrup or Jam, except for Mr. Ford who had a bowl of oatmeal and toast.

“Jim-Jam can I come to play with Basil?” Clara asked him knowing the police dog now had a home at Jimmy’s place that Rilla didn’t object.

“Not today Clara, this isn’t exactly a social call,” Jimmy told her.

“Mummy, why can’t we have a dog?” Clara asked looking towards her mother.

“Because I already have a handful of children to take care of,” Rilla told her as she wiped off Clara’s face with a rag to take away the jam and syrup. “

“Really?” Clara pouted. “who is that?

“You silly goose,” Rilla says shaking her head, tucking into her breakfast quickly.

“Did you have enough,” Mr. Ford said to Willow as he noticed her plate was barely touched. “We can find you something else if you don’t like pancakes?”

I’m fine thank you,” Willow says.

“So what were you doing in Paris,” Connie asks her looking still pale but slightly better.

Willow looks at her unsure of what to say. “Just wanted to get away from my grandparents and away from their choice of husbands,” she told her. “I was studying in art school and worked odd jobs here and there in the art scene?”

“And Fleur’s mother? You met through work?” Connie asks curiously.

“Sort of? I filled in for a luncheon one afternoon, and she was there as entertainment” Willow says. “She was a ballerina at the opera!” She rushes to say.

“Like Christine in the phantom of the opera?” Rowena asked excitedly as if that was the most amazing thing she had ever heard. “Did she find her own Raoul to marry?”

“I suppose so?” Willow says nodding her head after a moment. “I mean she was a ballerina at an opera, but it wasn’t haunted or something.” Leaving off intentionally that Martine hadn’t been married and the Father had refused to help at all. A producer, a patron who paid girls to keep him company, more than once Willow had been propositioned but she always told them no when she hung around them.

“So you paint?” Ken asks interest peaked.

“Paint, draw, colour, photography when I have a camera?” Willow says.

“Did you ever model?” Rowena asks. “Sometimes I get to model for the magazine when Dad needs something quick.”

Willow looks around unsure of what to say at the point that Mrs. Ford takes pity on her.

“Alright, what are everyone's plans?” Rilla says looking at the time. “Ollie, Roe? Clara, Aunt Mary and Phoebe are supposed to come by for a walk in the park this morning.

“I thought we were supposed to go to Eatons?” Rowena looks up from her spot to her mother.

“Right,” Rilla says. “Actually this might work, Willow I am sure you need a few things and for Fleur?”

Willow looks up worried. “I mean yes, but I don’t have any money?” she says quietly.

“I have an account,” Jimmy says speaking up, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I can cover whatever you need right now, within reason at least,” He says looking at Connie who only nods her head.

The doorbell rings and Rilla jumps up from the table looking at the time.

“I got it!” Clara exclaimed as she ran out of the room and went to open the front door. “Phoebe!”

“Sorry Marianne, we are running a bit behind this morning,” Rilla sighed to her friend following her daughter.

“It’s fine, I can wait with some coffee?” Marianne says going towards the kitchen. “Oh, you have company?”

“It’s a bit of a story, but this is Willow, Jimmy’s younger sister,” Rilla explains to her friend with a look of I’ll explain more later.

“Willow this is our good friend Marianne and her daughter, Phoebe. This is Willow Jimmy’s sister from England.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Marianne smiled at her, though gave her friend a look of needing some sort of explanation, even more of one when Ken came into the hall with the infant in his arms and passed her to Rilla.

“And this is her Fleur, Willows friend was her mother but didn’t make it,” Rilla says looking at Willow who nods at her.

"Likewise, to you as well," she said to Marianne and Phoebe who giggled.

“I like your hair, it’s pretty,” Phoebe asked coming up to the blonde.

“Thank you,” Willow said crouching down. “Yours is pretty too.”

“Daddy gave it to me,” Phoebe giggled. “That's what he says anyway. You talk funny.”

"I am from England, we have an accent that is different than yours," Willow explained to her.

“Uncle Carl brought Juniper!” Clara shrieked as she saw her favourite goat from the
window of the house.

“Juniper!” Rowena shrieked as she raced out of the kitchen towards the front window.
Rilla looked at Marianne who sighed and gave a shrug. “The Meredith owns a small farm of sorts,” she explained to Willow who was standing beside them confused about the goat.

“Is a goat all right to be out in this weather?” Willow asked. “Granted a farm is a better excuse than Marcel's perchance for keeping ferrets around that flat”

“Oh it has its own sweater to keep warm in and better the goat than the guinea pig,” Marianne laughed. “I don’t know what a ferret is, and I hope to keep it that way.”

“They are annoying,” Willow says shrugging.

“Most animals are,” Marianne says with a laugh.

It was a noisy twenty minutes before Rilla and the kids cleared out of Oleanders End as she heard it be called. It was a short walk to the park. The girls chased Carl and Juniper as the women stayed behind wrapped up in their jackets with their hats and leather gloves. Oliver had stayed at home with his father.

“So do you think the Kid is hers?” Marianne asks Rilla.

“Honestly I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look like she has recently been pregnant or nursing?” Rilla responds. “More curious who this Marcel is? She said she was an artist, but her friend her was a ballerina chorus girl at the Paris opera, so who knows who he might be?”

“Something to ask Lilian?” Marianne says nudging her. “How have you been though?” Marianne asks as they hadn’t seen each other as much over the winter time.”

Rilla just smiles and shrugs. “Busy but all right? Oliver is been tricky but it’s getting better.”

“Tricky?” Marianne hums

“Mostly teenager things, but also some harder things, we talked about it though and he’s getting better?” Rilla says. “He brings home friends more, it makes Ken nervous but one week it's a girl who makes him blush and another week he and his friend Bobby are brushing fingers,” Rilla says quietly.

“Oh,” Marianne says quietly. “You’re okay with that?”

“It’s not our first choice, but he’s our son and we love him. Ken doesn’t fully understand it, but he tries,” Rilla says quietly. “At the very least he can still live a normal life if he finds someone he loves.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Marianne asks her.

“Then he’ll always have us,” Rilla says simply. “It’s not something we would have ever wanted for him or understand, but it’s not the end all.”

“I think at some point the love we have for our children overrides the anger that comes from situations or their decisions that we don't agree with?” Marianne told her.

“Didn’t I tell you that?” Rilla gives her a look that says she knew she did. Linking her arm with her friends. Watching the little girls run around with Juniper she sighed. Her thoughts drifted to her elder children who were growing up all too fast for her to be comfortable with. “How’s the latest crop of girls?

“A bunch got married, soldiers leaving for war,” Marianne tells her

“How would you react if Phoebe ever came home pregnant?” Rilla asked her friend.

“Disappointed?” Marianne settled with. “Disappointed in myself actually for not talking about it more, to teach her more. To tell her about my own mistakes and how they affected me so she can make her own decisions? I know Jimmy and Connie are a different situations, but if it was Oliver or Rowena?”

“The same I suppose,” Rilla said. “Ken and I can’t really say much, we pushed a lot of boundaries while we were engaged. We just want them to be respectful to themselves ad wandering hands stay very much over the clothing. Of course, it is a slippery slope, kissing turns into petting, and petting can easily turn into sex. If something ever does happen, to tell us about it?” Rilla said quietly. “I mean we do tell them they should consider waiting for marriage. It’s preferable in many ways to prevent anything that you may not want from happening. Rowena is still rather uneasy with the whole facts of life and how babies come about. I think I can breathe a little easy with these two, I have right now. Though Ken worries about Roe, she doesn’t look her age and Bobbie is older but I think he’s a good boy for the most part. We both double-take when we see her some mornings.”

“Something to look forward to with Phoebe?” Marianne hummed. “Roe still is very much her age though,” she said pointing to where they were all running about with Juniper.

“One can hope,” Rilla tells her.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Rilla watched the young blonde take in Eaton’s as they came through the doors. After a quick check-up at the hospital for both young woman and infant. Who was given both good bills of health despite the journey?

“Come find me when you’re ready to check out,” Jimmy told Rilla who was about to protest.

“Mom, I got it,” he told Rilla before she could offer to pay for the purchases. “She might be eighteen, but she’s my responsibility while she’s here. It won’t break the account I promise.” Jimmy shook his head.

“As soon as I can find a job I’ll be contributing anyway,” Willow reminds them both.

“And Fleur?” Jimmy asks knowingly.

“I’ll figure it out all right,” Willow says hoisting the infant in her arms more securely.

“Mrs. Ford?” Willow asks as Rilla leads the way to the lady's department.

“You can call me Rilla dear,” Rilla told her with a smile. “You know Jimmy named you Willow because for a long time he called me Willa, instead of Rilla.”

“Really?” She says. “Most of my friends in Paris called me Willie more a French name for girls than a boy's name there.”

“My nieces and nephew who were born in Paris, Elodie and Lunette carry more a French name, while Jasper was Shirley’s choice,” Rilla tells her with a nod of her head. “Elodie is sixteen like Oliver. Oh, this would be lovely on you?” Rilla says holding a floral dress with a background of pink.

“It’s…” Willow says looking at it. “I haven’t worn pink in a long time.” She settles with.

“We can always get Lillian to make you something if nothing suits your fancy, though we should get a few things and basics,” Rilla tells her. “Here let me hold her?” She offers to let Willow unhindered by the infant.

“Honestly I didn’t get to pick out my clothes in England, Grandmama always bought everything, and in Paris, I just wore whatever I could afford?” Willow explains.

“You should get some dungarees and trousers,” Rowena said bounding forwards with an armful of clothing. “Though you usually have to raid the boys section for those things, if you don’t want them over feminine.”

“Go shop, I’ll get some things for Fleur and we can meet up in an hour or so by customer service?” Rilla tells the girls. For a moment Willow is more childlike than the young woman she strives to be around adults. She hands over Fleur though, kissing the top of her head before doing so.

In the end, they find Willow a dress for church, an everyday casual dress, two skirts and two blouses, a sweater to keep warm and to her delight a pair of dungarees. Adding to the lot was a pair of flannel pyjamas and a nightgown some woollen socks, a pair of shoes and boots for wet days. In her way Willow poses in front of mirrors for Rowena, showing her different angles and poses.

“I have a boyfriend,” Rowena says with a smile. “Did you ever have one?”

“I knew a few boys in Paris from parties and art shows. None of them were truly special to me?” Willow says after a moment of thinking. “Otherwise I went to an all-girls boarding school?”

“It must be nice to be eighteen, and to be able to do what you want?” Rowena sighs.

“It’s not all that it's cracked up to be,” Willow says quietly, thinking about fighting her way out of Paris, trying to manage to get to someplace she had never seen and only heard about. Marcel, Phillipe, and Vernon all called her crazy, Paris would be fine. German occupation would be fine, it was fine last time.

Something in her told her to get out, with Martine if she could who had been with someone that might not make the list of approved people?

“So you have kissed boys?” Rowena asks impishly as her little sister might do. Willow just blushs, she had done a bit more than kiss a boy, not all the way of course but she had been close a few times before calling it off. "Oh! What is his name?" Rowena says excitedly.

They meet Jimmy and Rilla who are chatting up at customer service and find their things waiting for them and true to his insistence Jimmy took care of the bill not even blinking at the cost of things. After so many years the few things that he heard Ken and Rilla argue about was money from time to time. It was always about her love of clothing and today's total didn’t even come close to one of Rilla’s gowns he remembered hearing about once.

“I have to go to work tonight. You’ll be fine with the family tonight? I know they are slightly younger than you.” Jimmy rambled on.

“I’ll be fine,” Willow shook her, not wanting to worry him. “They all seem nice enough,” she said quietly.

“I’ll leave you the station house number,” Jimmy told her.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve been on my own at school for many years now,” Willow told him with a shake
of her head.

“I will leave you then,” Jimmy told her kissing her hair like he had been doing it all his life. It made her feel oddly important. “I am going to try and shift around some shifts since you are here. So we can have some days together.”

Willow only nodded as she watched him say goodbye to Rilla with a kiss on the cheek and did the same for Rowena. She watched him leave, it sent a shiver down her back. A snippet of a memory came forward in her mind. A memory of someone she barely remembered yet who had given half of his being to them.

“Do you want to stop by the art store? Do like to sew or knit?” Rilla asked her.

“I can embroider things?” Willow said not understanding the question fully. Rilla seemed to understand and nodded her head.

“I don’t like it, nothing exasperates me more when something not working in a pattern,” Rilla said honestly. “But, with three growing children who have plenty of cousins. Things get passed around and it is easier to do it yourself sometimes when things need letting in or down.”

Willow nodded as she walked beside the older woman.

“The art store would be nice,” She says wanting to get more charcoal and paper, for the things that run through her mind.

“Well head over right after the pharmacy counter, we can get you some toiletries among other things,” Rilla said knowingly. “Last thing we need is Jimmy blushing over feminine hygiene things.”

“Mom don’t say things like that!” Rowena groans, cheeks flushing red.

When it was all said and done, Willow was exhausted as she hung up her clothing. Stored her boots, and set out her small basket of toiletries in the small room she had been given. It had been a great debate, of where she would stay. Jimmy had been adamant that she come stay with him but the half-finished house and infant didn’t mix.

“What do you wish to do?” Connie asks from the table. “With Fleur I mean? Most will think you are her mother and unwed given your age?”

“I promised Martine I would look after her,” Willow says frowning. “I can manage, I can get a job, and I can find a way to make it work.”

“We still need a guardianship for Fleur,” Connie tells her frowning. “You being eighteen…unless she is kin to you she most likely wouldn’t give you guardianship,” she says sighing…thinking trying to find a possibility that she could keep them together.

“What do you mean? You can’t take her away?” Willow says holding the infant close to her. “Then I’ll say she’s mine, they don’t do anything if she is mine?”

“And lose your good standing?” Connie looks at her. “Toronto can be old fashioned Willow.”

“Well, considering you’ve been married for two months and further along than that…” Willow's eyes narrow and Connie sighs.

“Ken and I can be legal guardians of Fleur while Willow is here with us?” Rilla says breaking into the conversation. “It’s our best option to keep everyone together and happy?”

“We need proof of her mother's death?” Connie says after a moment.

“I can write to the convent with helped us at one point but I don’t know how to get actual proof. France is a war zone?”Willow frowns.

“Would you swear in front of a judge?” Connie asks looking at her.

“Of course, I would,” Willow says nodding her head.

“Then I will help all that I can,” Connie says. “And you are more than welcome to stay at the house you know that right?”

“I know but, really you’re newlyweds I don’t want to disturb you,” Willow tells her. “I’ll stay here until I can get a job and be on my feet.”

She brings the little one up to the attic for a nap before pulling out her sketch pad and some pencils.

Martine, Fleur would need a picture of her. The photos they had together were most likely long gone.

She traces out the shape of her face by memory, nose, eyes and lips are pencilled in lightly adjusting when she needs to, ensuring it was the right proportions.

She napped for a short while before she wandered about the house. There was little way to get lost in such a place, but there was a lack of familiarity that bothered her. She found the sitting room empty as she sat down at the piano. The sheet music was still out for whoever had been tinkering away on it. She flipped through all the pieces she knew as a child. Instead, she played from her memory, letting the opening to Fur Elise flow through note by note.

The little imp came running down the hall, poking her head around the wall to watch her. Before she plunked herself down on the bench fixing her glasses. She stared openly as she watched the older girl play. Mouth slightly agape, as she flawlessly moved into another song. Moonlight Sonatas haunting melody drifting out of the piano.

“Ollie plays piano, you’re almost as good as he is,” Clara tells her.

“Does Jimmy play?” Willow asks curiously.

“No, but he will dance with you if someone plays,” Clara informs her. “He’s a good brother, he would do anything for us if we needed it. Though if you hurt him I will get back at you. He was my brother first.” Clara says her eyes narrowing.

“Clare-bear, Willow was Jimmy’s sister long before you were,” Oliver says entering the room.

“He’s still mine,” Clara objects. “I know him better!”

Willow laughs lightly. “It’s all right Clara, I have no plans on taking Jimmy away from you. He will always be your brother.” She says as you can hear the infant upstairs cry out. “I should go to her,” Willow says getting up.

Both Jimmy and Connie work, sometimes opposite shifts, but Jimmy still came the next day to take her lunch in hopes of learning more about each other. It’s a quaint cafe, and he introduces her as his sister to the matron who serves them when she asks about his darling wife who was in earlier for a snack.

“So you worked jobs and shared a flat with Fleur’s mother?” Jimmy says repeating information he knows.

“I worked in shops and did commissions when people asked, sold things occasionally?”Willow tells him quietly. “Whatever paid the bills and kept food on the table for us especially when Martine couldn’t work herself.”

“Why though? Why didn’t you stay in England weren’t your grandparents wealthy?” Jimmy asks trying to make sense of the situation.

“So they could marry me off? I was their sweet granddaughter until I didn’t comply with their wishes. I didn’t want to be married, I wanted to be free of all the rules and regulations. I wanted real friendship and companionship. I wanted to draw, to paint, be who I wanted to be and not be someone, little wife.” Willow tells him with an edge of urgency to her voice.

“Fair enough,” Jimmy says quietly. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I just…I am trying to piece together who you are. I grew up wondering, imagining who you might be and it's hard to replace that image I made of you, unlike you who never probably knew about me?”

“Mom would tell me about you,” Willow tells him. “Mom says you were a lovely young man when I was young anyway. I remember her reading your letters and then she passed away and I never saw the letters again. You are exactly who I figured you would be, minus being a cop and having a shotgun wedding?”

“It wasn't a shotgun wedding?” Jimmy tells her firmly. “We’ve been together for three years, we couldn’t marry until her brother was out of school and she could leave her mother. I love her dearly.”

“I would hope so,” Willow says giving him a look.

“I love you as well, even though we don’t know each other, I thought about you every day for years wondering, hoping you were safe and happy?” Jimmy tells her.

“I wasn’t always happy, but I was safe for the most part,” Willow tells him truthfully, stirring her coffee awkwardly. “I ran away from England after school, I just didn’t want to be there anymore. I caught a ferry to France and then a train to Paris and I felt free for once in my life. I met Martine, Marcel Julian and Clover and they took me in, under their wing. We helped each other and modelled sometimes for each other when we were stuck on positions and proportions. It was a family I never had for a long time and then the war broke out and no one was safe anymore.” Willow says voice teetering as she remembers the last months.

Jimmy reaches out, wanting to comfort her.

“I just kept telling myself that if I went back to England I would be forced into some marriage, and my promise to Martine to watch over Fleur would be broken. Then there was you a stranger…who didn’t know his life was going to turn upside down with my appearance. You have a life, I didn’t know what sort of life but given your age, there was a large chance of you being married and having children of your own, who might not even believe or want me around.”

“Willow, I am glad that you came, never fear that. We are strangers learning about each other and that's fine if we aren’t best friends or connecting right away.” Jimmy tells her.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

“You should come!” Rowena tries to tell Willow as she is dressed in her party dress. “Mrs. Clarke won’t mind watching the baby.”

“Roe dear, stop pressuring Willow,” Rilla says coming into the hallway. “She may not feel entirely comfortable going to a fundraiser for a war she was literally in the middle of a few months ago.”

“It’s fine, I rather stay here and do some drawing,” Willow tells her as she hoists up Fleur in her arms. “Maybe another time? I am more than happy to watch Clara and stay here. Jimmy said he may stop by with Connie as well so we won’t be lonely.”

“If you need anything, call the magazine and ask for Ken, we’ll let them know to come find us if you do,” Rilla tells her patting Rowena's hair, before fixing the pin instead. “Duly noted,” Willow says. “I’m sure it will be fine, it's only a few hours and we have managed on much worse times.”

“I know, but don’t hesitate,” Rilla says reaching out to smooth the familiar blonde hair.

They head out in the car, kissing Clara goodbye who is pouting about not being invited, but Rilla reminds her daughter she'll have her own party soon enough for her seventh birthday.

They get there early, of course, finishing up the setup before people start arriving. Persis comes with Amelia, her husband Joe and George having begged off the occasion for their own war work. Shirley and Lillian came with their broad, Lillian working the room about potential wartime rationing and fashions of the day.

Still, a party is a party, Rilla tells herself as she watches another fundraiser happen. Another lace green dress, another gulp of whiskey she stole from Ken. She abhorred it in every other circ*mstance, but parties….parties she needed something.She watches her daughter sing accompanied by someone on piano, Rilla doesn’t like to think she is biased but Rowena could hold a tune better than most of the girls in the choir at her school.

Oliver of course prefers to play without fanfare when people are not paying attention to him. She fretted as she looked at him these days, older and more mature by the day. Deciding what he wanted and what he thought about the war as he was reaching for the newspaper after Ken finished with them in the morning. Not quite ready to join Cadets, but he spent more time strengthening his body these days and running in the morning.

She goes back to Rowena is finishing up her rendition of Jo Stafford You Belong to Me—something Ken had brought home for her not long ago along with some Andrew sisters.

“I don’t like this,” Ken says beside her. “She singing to the boy.”

“That boy, has a name and your daughter loves him,” Rilla gives him a look.

“Loves him? She’s fourteen and a half,” Ken looks at her.

“And she is perfectly old enough to understand what love may feel like,” Rilla gives him a look. “Remember what I told you,”

“I know I know, the more I object the more I push her to sneak around,” Ken grumbles. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I know dearest,” Rilla laughs gently and rubs his back lovingly. “You know you still mean the world to her and that will never change.”

Everyone clapped as Rowena gave a flourished curtsy to the crowd of people. “Thank you,” she said. Before skipping back to her parents. “How did I do?”

“You were wonderful darling,” Rilla hugged. “You sing beautifully, right Dearest?” She nudges Ken.

“You stole the stage,” Ken says moving to press a kiss to the top of her head, hand on her back. Bare back of the halter dress that she was wearing for the June heat.

“Thank you, Daddy!” She smiles at him before hearing her name being called.

“Go on,” Ken says sighing. “I have to wrangle some money out of people anyway. He tells her before their daughter takes off to see her cousin Amelia and most likely Robert.

Persis came up beside Rilla as Ken went to do his thing, with a glass of champagne in her hand. “How fast they grow up,” she said with a shake of her head as the kids headed towards the sweet tables.

“Too fast,” Rilla agreed. “Seems like Amelia grew overnight as well?” Looking at the ashy blonde young lady who was giggling with her cousin.

“She is older than Rowena and yet still shorter than her,” Persis said with a sigh. “I doubt she’ll be taller than me I think,” Persis told Rilla.

“Well, Ken and I aren’t exactly short,” Rilla pointed out to her sister-in-law.

“Fair enough,” Persis laughed “Where is Clara? Jimmy?”

“At home with Willow and Jimmy and Connie. Well, Connie has been laying low lately. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she went earlier than September. She has all but given up on work and shoes,” Rilla explains quietly to Persis at the fundraiser for the war they were attending.

“Do you think she has her dates wrong? I mean nothing is fool-proof,” Persis says just as quietly.

“It’s hard to say, but it hasn’t been easy for her,” Rilla says sympathizing.

“And the new editions?” Persis asks having been filled in on Willow and Fleur since their arrival.

“Willow got a job at one of the ammunition factories, her choice not ours, but it has daycare. She is fairly adamant about managing for herself, and we all work in some capacity so it makes it a bit easier. Jimmy and her are still adjusting to each other, they argue from time to time. She asked if someone could watch Fleur on Saturday so she could go to an art show or drawing class. Ollie offered to listen for the infant and whatnot and so she went. When she came back she was on cloud nine.”

“To be eighteen,” Persis nods her head knowingly. “Has Lillian deciphered anything about her time in Paris yet?”

“If she has, she hasn’t said anything,” Rilla says. “But one can take the word model in the art scene..many ways even in English. I told her to probably not lead with that unless she trusted them.”

“Do you think she’s…”Persis asks alluding to sex.

“Not my business, or anyone's business,” Rilla gives her sister-in-law a look. “If a man requires a virgin on a wedding night, you probably don’t want to marry him anyway,” Rilla says quietly.

“Fair enough,” Persis says thinly. “Though there is nothing wrong with waiting for marriage.”

“Of course, there isn’t, but it shouldn’t be an end-all for someone if someone isn’t.” Rilla gives her sister-in-law a look.

“Mrs. Ford, there you are I have someone who wishes to meet you,” one of Ken's editors comes up to her.

“Oh really?” Rilla says surprised. “Who is it?

“Mrs. Murdoch wants to know what it's like to be married to the magazine chief, and wants to make sure that her family donation is properly taken care of,” the editor says quietly in her ear. Rilla sighs and nods her head. Persis waves her off and Rilla forces a smile on her face.

Rilla was still doing rounds when she found Rowena and Robert in a corner away from the party, embracing and lip-locked rather passionately. Rilla supposed her daughter had gotten past kissing and tongues.

“You’re father is nearby, break it off unless you want him to blow a gasket.” She tells them clearing her throat. “We are also talking tomorrow,” Rilla tells her daughter.

“Mom!” Rowena says loudly embarrassed as Robert's hands drop from her waist quickly.

“Just warning you,” Rilla tells her. “Robert, you have lipstick on your jaw.”

“Sorry Mrs. Ford,” Robert says gruffly, his voice cracking slightly. “Let's go dance Roe?”Rowena nods her head and looks to her mother still embarrassed to have been caught, thought it would be worse if it had been her father.

“Where did Ollie go?” Rilla asks quickly before they rush off.

“Around? He was talking to some boys at some point,” Rowena tells her over her shoulder as they go towards the dance floor.

Rilla sighed and shook her head and went back into the party, grabbing a glass of something and grimacing at the taste of it before setting the mostly full glass down on a table and leaving it there.

“Have you seen Ollie?” She asks coming upon her brother and sister-in-law. Shirley was in his dress jacket and pants of his unit since he began doing whatever he did for the Army in the city of Toronto, while Lillian was dressed in pastel blue that set off her icy white hair.

“Not lately,” Shirley tells her, taking a drink of his drink. “How’s the party going for you?”

“All right I suppose?” Rilla says looking around and looking for her tall son in the crowd of people. “How many war bonds have you managed to sell wearing that get-up?” Rilla asks him.

“Plenty, you can thank me later,” Shirley grins at her.

“Ignore him,” Lillian tells her drinking her wine. “The girls were helping him.”

“I still did a bit,” Shirley grumbles. “Where are they anyway?” He says looking around looking for his children.

“Jasper took Lunette home, Elodie should be around though?” Lillian frowns scanning the room. “Maybe she and Ollie are together somewhere?”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about them,” Shirley jokes. “Kissing cousins is never a good look, even if the royals like to think it is.”

“Very funny,” Rilla says under her breath, knowing that she couldn’t trust her brother with family secrets. “I think I see them,” she says pointing to the two cousins looking down at the party from the catwalk on the floor above with a few other children of the attendees.

It's late when they make it home, Rilla kisses her children good night and sneaks into Clara's room who is fast asleep on her stomach. She smiles and fixes the blankets before heading toward her bedroom with Ken.

“I can’t do this,” Rilla says tossing her earrings into her jewellery tray to put away.

“Can’t do what?” Ken asks looking up from his cufflinks.

“I don’t want to be the wife who throws a good party, Ken. I hate this war. But I’ve done this before, I’ve done this so many times and it already exhausting,” Rilla says sinking onto the bed still in her dress. “I need to do more than this?”

“You want to do more than raise money for a war you don’t support?” Ken says piecing it together.

“I know it’s ironic and idiotic of me Ken, I don’t agree with war but I read the papers Ken, Germany is doing something and I can understand the need for it to be stopped and if that means war then so be it. That doesn’t mean I want my sons and nephews in it or their friends. We lost Walter to the last war, no one, no family should ever feel that again. But I can’t just do this…I can’t. I’m not sixteen anymore thinking a party is an answer.”

"Then do something about it, reach out to other organizations?” Ken says. “Do it on your terms, there as to be something else for you?”

“And do what Ken? Create propaganda that sends boys to their death?”Rilla says bitterly.

“Maybe you can volunteer at a convalescent home? Use your degree and Dr status?” Ken offers only to hear his wife snort.

“Oh yes, like they would let a female into their brigade, I could be the smartest, well-read doctor in that sort of place and they would still second guess me because I bleed once a month,” Rilla argues.

“You’ll figure it out,” Ken says coming behind her and kissing the back of her neck. “You always do, and if thought that way they are missing out.” Another kiss on her shoulder, as fingers undo the hooks at the back of her dress.

Rilla just hums, letting him the lingering traces of whiskey in her system and his kisses take her away. Her dress is peeled off, along with the fancy girdle that went with it. She doesn’t have to do much of anything, just lay there reacting to his attentions. Wet kisses down her neck and clavicle, finding the tips of her breasts that had nourished their children. She moans, back arching.

He makes her sure ready for him, fingers exploring her until she writhing under his grin, settling in between her legs, spreading them around his hips. Her arms go up over her head, grasping the bed frame, her mind goes blank at the feeling. Only occasionally do household chores filter through, but a particular thrust finds herself gasping and brought back into the moment, or even more when he is still above her.

“You know, you’re putting the duty into the whole wifely duties,” Ken says holding himself above her.

“I’m sorry, would you like me to be more enthusiastic? It’s one in the morning?” Rilla tells him.

“You could have told me you were tired or didn’t want to?” Ken's eyes narrow slightly.

“It’s not even that, I just…was enjoying not having to do any work, you seemed fairly happy to just take the lead tonight. I’m sorry for assuming?” Rilla says frowning. “I’ll make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me,” Ken shakes his head, kissing her forehead. “Just look a bit more alive will you?” He jokes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rilla tells him lips curling upwards slightly. Motioning for him to rearrange himself until she can crawl on top of him as he leans on the pillows half sitting up. The bed groans under the movements until she is settled, hips rotating as her breath heats the crook of his neck. It’s a calm and luxurious way to love making, small gasps and whimpers deep in her throat. Her body shakes as it approaches its release until she feels that coil snaps in her pelvis with the help of Kens roaming fingers between them. While he goes tense as she watches him empty himself inside of her. They are quiet for a moment or two, drinking in the moment between them.

“Ollie is going to go isn’t he?” She asks him about her most frequent nightmare.

“We still have a year and a half before he even turns eighteen,” Ken says wrapping his arms around her. “Two years actually, because I won’t let him leave school if it was college maybe, but he not dropping out of high school to go fight.”

“I know I have to let him make his own choices, but I can’t lose him, my baby boy,” Rilla says quietly.

“Whatever he chooses, you will be proud of him. We will be proud of him, much like his first steps, words, and school days,” Ken says after a moment. They take another moment of silence before reaching for their nightwear and settling into the bed properly this time.

"We'll be okay, he'll be okay," Ken says murmuring as he holds her.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Chapter Text

“It’s my Birthday Party!” Clara exclaims running through the kitchen. “It’s my birthday Party!”

“It is but if you don’t behave, there won’t be a party,” Rilla warns her from the kitchen table that was set up with party foods and candy.

Rilla had forgotten what birthday parties were like, a dozen children running around, but she was glad that Clara had friends and it was early enough in the summer that everyone was still in the city.

Seven years old, and soon it would be own forty-first, Jimmy’s twenty-sixth, Rowena’s fifteenth, Oliver’s seventeenth. They had spent Ken’s forty-seventh birth up out in the country, getting away for a weekend with a rented cabin, children coming along as no one else could watch them.

“I’ll be behave,” Clara states as the doorbell rings.

It was show time she looked to Gloria who was sitting out with dishes and cups. The pool was clean and open, food and drinks ready to go and the first of a dozen little girls were arriving on time.

Today reminded Rilla that there had been a chance that she could have had a newborn and be relieving those long days and hours all over again. Instead, she had Willow and Fleur, coming and going, diaper deliveries and batches of evaporated milk formula being made every few days. It was nice to have a little one around, creeping about, grasping furniture and pulling herself up while only nine months old.

“What are you thinking about?” Ken comes up behind her, cigarette in his fingers ready to smoke.

“What could have been?” Rilla says honestly. “With Fleur around it makes me remember last summer even more. I know I was ill, but there was a very black-and-white choice to it for my health, but I find myself counting time, milestones of what might have been?”

“You aren’t alone in that,” Ken says quietly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder.

They watch the children race around and paddle in the pool before the cake is brought out and presents are opened. Small things like doll clothes, toys, and hair ribbons and bows and finally when the clock strikes four, the house is silent again. Only then did Clara open up the gifts from her family this time? A new porcelain doll for her room, new dresses and shoes, and more expensive things that other kids didn’t need to see her open.

It was Ken who drives them to the cemetery, parking the car on Mount Pleasant as Rilla tries to keep her resolve. Through the rows of trees and monuments, they walk towards the small angel statue. Something that their parents had chosen when neither of them could be asked such a thing.

Rilla places her flowers on the grave, wiping away her tears. She feels the little hand slip into her. Clara, they have Clara, who is looking at the grave with a peculiar look on her face. Reaching out she touches the cool marble, despite the warmth of the day.

She sat down on the grass digging into the little purse that someone had gifted her and brought out two ponies.

“I got two of these, so I think I should leave one with you,” Clara says putting it on the ledge of the marble near the ground. “It would be your birthday as well today? So I hope you would like ponies, Daddy did promise me pony lessons one day,” she says innocently and Rilla looks to Ken who sheepishly shrugs.

Rilla shakes her head, listening to Clara chatter about until she stops.

Summer turns into fall with quiet contentment; there is no island vacation this year. No reunions for them, just letters and photographs. While Persis’s son George turns eighteen and enlists being of age, physically fit and able to. Persis cries, sending him off, but makes sure she has photos of him in his uniform. He’ll train first at Borden with a chance to leave to say another goodbye before heading to the front. Through the cooler weather, bombs reigned down on London in retaliation for the bombs on Berlin. Bombs, and more bombs, invasions of Luxembourg, Belgium, Egypt, China, and Singapore are written about over the weeks that had been the summer.

“Val Cartier is only for the East Coast boys,” Ken says at her furrowed brow. Knowing that is where his brothers had trained years ago. “Borden is near Wasaga Beach, it’s been built up a lot” he further explains.

“How do you know?” Rilla asks curiously.

“Because I have been invited there,” Ken says quietly. “I run a company of writers and editors, and even correspondents at times after all.”

“They aren’t…” Rilla says sputtering. “You aren’t.”

“I’m forty-seven Rilla even if I wanted to I wouldn’t be unless to them, but I can….I can do other things?” Ken says carefully. “I was a captain in the last war, people expect me to do certain things, even advertising depends on my support of the war.”

Rilla sighs but nods her head. “Just don’t go off for weeks on end.”

“I won’t,” Ken says kissing the top of her head. “Though what are the chances of that boy of Rowena enlisting before he graduates?”

“Possible?” Rilla says after a moment. “Rowena is worried, but they don’t talk about it.”

“How do you know that?” Ken's ears prick up.

“Roe and I talk about things, you know to know what they are up to and what not?” Rilla grins at him. “It’s a mother-daughter privilege.”

“I want to know, and don’t want to know at the same time,” Ken groans.

“She’s a good girl and he’s a gentleman, Ken, don’t worry so much. They kiss and nothing more given she’s barely fifteen,” Rilla explains to him. “I believe he accidentally grazed her chest once and apologized profusely to the point where she had to tell him that she didn’t even feel it.”

“Why would you even tell me that!” Ken groans even louder. “Now I want to hurt him, no boy accidentally touches a girl, not at his age.”

“Accidents can happen,” Rilla gives him a look.

“I thought you said Clara was an unplanned blessing?” Ken gives her a look, before dodging her hand that swung at him to swat him.

“Oh hush you,” Rilla taps him lightly. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, oh Marge at work wants to know if you have any recipes for the wartime cookbook she is planning?” Ken asks her. “I told her you aren’t the best woman to ask for recipes.”

“You did not!” Rilla exclaims.

“Of course, I said I would consult with you and get back to you, I am sure you and Gloria can come up with something,” Ken reassures her.

“I’m sure, now be on your best behaviour,” Rilla tells him, pulling at his collar to straighten it.

“Why does he have to come for dinner again?” Ken groans.

“Because you wanted to officially meet this boy,” Rilla reminds him with a grin. “I am going to go check on Willow and Fleur,” Rilla kisses his cheek and heads towards upstairs.

“All set?” Rilla asks in the doorway of the attic room.

“She just had a bottle not long ago, and I won’t be long or out late, it’s just a sketch session,” Willow tells Rilla, kissing Fleur as she hands her over to Rilla.

“It’s all good, go have fun,” Rilla tells her. “You're eighteen, you should be having fun and not just working and looking after an infant all the time. Though don’t feel like you need to go out, because Roe is having company.”

“Oh I am not, plus you are so much more understanding than Jimmy,” Willow says shaking her head.

“Well, don’t have too much fun,” Rilla laughs lightly. “I mean it’s not my business, you are eighteen, almost nineteen. I mean, I can only make assumptions about sketch sessions…or art hours…”

“It’s not like that…not here anyway,” Willow says quietly blushing. “Paris could be…”

“Sexual?” Rilla finishes for her.

“At times,” Willow blushes more. “Sometimes it was strictly more professional, live drawings acting out…things…sometimes it was the champagne.”

“If you ever…if you ever need anything I know doctors,” Rilla offers quietly. “I’ll leave it to what I tell my children, and even your brother once upon a time. Be careful, and be safe until you know you can pay the consequences, but the choice has to be yours and no one else’s. But Toronto is old-fashioned so be careful in general and the house is off-limits until you are married because of little ears and eyes. If you’re old enough and mature enough….you should be old enough to figure out safe alternatives.”

“Fair enough,” Willow answers blushing slightly, grabbing her purse and looking out the window for her ride. “I think Roe and her boyfriend are here.”

“I shall go make sure that Ken doesn’t scare the boy off,” Rilla tells her.

“I’ll be home by ten at the latest,” Willow tells her grabbing her purse and they both walk down the stairs. Rilla with Fleur in her arms and Willow left out the back door to avoid any introductions.

“Don’t look so afraid,” Rowena hisses at Robert.

“Your Dad hates me, how can I not be afraid?” Robert—Robbie whispers back. “Is my tie straight?”

“You didn’t need to wear a tie,” Rowena fixes it for him before heading towards the kitchen. “And he doesn’t hate you, he just knows you. Plus I’ve met your parents over dinner, it’s about time you do the same?”

“Are we not eating in the kitchen?” Rowena looks around.

“Oh no, guests always get the dining room,” Ken says coming from the back door, cigarette smoke still lingering.

“Mom hates it when you smell like smoke,” Roe tells him, leaving Robbie to kiss her father's cheek.

“Your mother would much rather me smoke than be drinking whiskey every hour of the day,” Ken tells her gruffly.

“I prefer you to do neither, but I choose my battles,” Rilla tells him coming from the dining room still holding Fleur. “Robert, welcome—dinner won’t be long why don’t you and Roe finish setting the table?”

“Of course, Mrs. Ford,” Robbie says nodding his head. “Thank you for the invitation as well.”

“It’s of no consequence,” Rilla waves him off as Fleur babbles. “As long as you don’t mind a rather not-so-straightforward household.”

“I mean it would explain Roe’s always fascinating choice of topics,” Robert says with a grin.

“Rowena has always been bright,” Ken says simply. “So that is not so much of a surprise, she could chatter to everyone from a young age at the parties we would bring her to. I got my advertising than I needed because of her way with words.”

“I can see that,” Robert says nodding his head, and lets Rowena lead him into setting the table. “Mother always had the glasses put on right?” He whispers to her.

“We are not the formal," Rowena whispers to him back. “You can sit next to me, Clara and Oliver will sit on the other side. Mrs. Clarke, should I set you a place?” She calls out.

“You know young miss that I never eat with the family when company is over unless it is a holiday at least. Thank you for asking though,” Mrs. Clarke calls out from her spot in the kitchen.

Soon everyone was seated and without fanfare the food was passed around and plates filled with roast chicken, potatoes and fresh summer vegetables that had already grown and sprouted.

“So beyond the obvious,” Ken starts, ignoring the look his wife gives him. “What are your plans after high school Robert last year isn’t it?”

“Well, I already help out at my uncle's garage and know about automobiles,” Robert says looking at Rowena, then Ken. “But I am thinking a lawyer?”

“A lawyer is quite a long road of schooling, and not to mention rather competitive?”

“It is, but by the time I finish my undergraduate Roe will be in college as well. You wanted to study history did you not?” Robbie looks to Rowena who only blushes. “If that works out for her, by the time I finish law school and pass the bar, she’ll be done and we can get married if she wants or we can both work for a few years?”

Ken just stares, not expecting such a response but he can feel the vein in his neck just thumping.

“And the war?” Oliver asks speaking up.

“I will do whatever they allow me to, but given I have rather severe hearing loss on my right side. I doubt I will be fit for duty, at least at the front?” Robert says quietly.

“Rowena has never mentioned that?” Ken looks at his daughter.

“I didn’t—,” Rowena flushes looking at Robbie who mainly shrugs.

“Now I’m curious what the two of you have been talking about if that subject has never come up?” Rilla says amused when her husband gives her an indigent look.

“Or we can just get married when I graduate and I can help you during law school? I can get a job at Eatons or something?” Rowena butts in blushing.

“It’s not something I think about, I can hear fairly well and it’s never been an issue for everyday life. It happened when I was young, hit my head and ear and next thing sound was fuzzy and while it came bit slightly it never fully came back?” Robert explains.

“How about we not talk about the M-word when Rowena is only fourteen,” Ken says authoritatively.

“I’m almost fifteen!” Rowena cries out the same way her mother used to when people called her the wrong age.

“I saw Ollie kissing his classmate today in the backyard today,” Clara chirps innocently.

“Clara!” Rilla exclaims, looking towards Robert as she takes her daughter out of the room to talk to her privately.

“I’m sure Clara just misinterpreted what was going on,” Ken says gruffly.

“Professor Ashton is still making the whole Shakespeare thing authentic with fake kissing?” Robert looked at Rowena who was pale and biting her lip. Then Oliver who was even more pale.

“Uhh, yeah, that's it,” Oliver says looking at his sister. He never considered the Allens to be a family he would have considered safe, his younger brother sure wasn’t. Then again he didn’t know if his sister would be supportive of his secrets.

“That's good because Majorie has a total crush on you,” Rowena says shaking her head.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ollie says quietly looking down at his plate.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

School started without much fanfare in September of 1940, it also began the travel for Ken between Base Borden and Toronto, along with late night making sure that the magazine was done on time, Which was fine until he started coming home in the middle of the night reeking like whiskey that only made the sleep he did get riddled with nightmares that woke Rilla up cutting her sleep shorter and shorter. Between the hospital and the influx of young girls that Marianne had coming and going.

This one particular morning was a rush after the alarm didn’t go off, but usually Rilla had another set of hands and he was trying but failing at it miserably and the kids were shuffling their feet and dallying instead of getting ready, sending curious looks to their father who looks like he hadn’t slept at all and they mother who was steaming in silent anger.

“Enough!” Rilla tells them. “You all have school to get ready for, so hop to it.” They all scurry, Oliver taking Clara’s hand who has never really seen her mother mad before, and Rilla looks at Ken with stormy eyes. Even Willow looked at Rilla and quietly took Fleur to ready her for the day's childcare at the ammunition factory.

“Where were you last night?” Rilla asks him already knowing the answer.

“Jesus Christ Rilla, my head is killing me,” Ken groans from the table. “Can you be a bit quieter?

“Be quiet? Who was the one dealing with your night terrors Ken? It was me, you’re wife. Seriously you still haven’t learned? Every bloody damn time, you know I don’t like you drinking, I don’t like alcohol to begin with but turned my head because you were at least responsible about it and didn’t do it in the house. You are not twenty-six anymore, if you continue this you will not be welcome in this place until you are completely sober once again.”

“You acting like I do this all the time!” Ken refuses, not believing she is right.

“Lately it has been! Four times in the past two weeks and counting Ken and I have tried to ignore it, look past it because at least you came home before midnight, but this? This whole 3 am slinking in the door sh*t ends here.”

“I have to go to work,” Ken says grabbing his things. “You know so I can pay for all of this!” He motions around to the house they live in.

“Mummy?” Clara asks almost whimpering, dressed for school, her glasses eschew on her nose holding out hair ribbons. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m sorry Clare-bear,” She says sighing and pulling her close. “Sometimes mummy and daddy’s argue, it will be okay.” She quickly braids and ties the ribbons on the ends and gives her a good hug for good measure. She sighed hating that the kids heard her. She just couldn’t take it this morning, the dragging feet, the hangover, his constant travels outside of the city leaving her to hold the fort days at a time. With too much to do lately, too much war talk and they still knitted and to top it all off, they still made bandages for the Red Cross for donations. Surely factories could make them faster?

For Rilla, the call comes early before she even leaves for work, a scrambled anxious message.

“It’s time, Connie says it’s time like for real this time this isn’t a false alarm like last time.”

“Where are you?” Rilla asks in sudden excitement that her war baby is having a baby of his own.

“Home, she doesn’t want to leave just yet,” Jimmy tells her. “Doesn’t want me to be stuck in a waiting room, which honestly seems much nicer because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or how to even help her.”

“You hold her hand and do whatever she tells you to and keep your mouth shut,” Rilla tells him. “And whatever you do don’t tell her to breathe. Do you want me to come over?”

“Connie’s mother is here,” Jimmy tells her. “I’ll call if anything changes.”

It was almost evening when Rilla saw Jimmy pacing in the waiting room. She pulls him into a hug. He was nervous, and for once there wasn’t a room full of expectant fathers these days, while some expectant fathers waited to enlist until their child had been born, others left their wives with surprises after they left. To go through labour without anyone waiting on the other side of the door.

When she looks in on Connie she finds her in the throws of labour.

“Why would anyone do this more than once?” She asks the older woman.

“Because it will be worth it when it’s over,” Dorothy, her mother tells her and Connie looks at her.

“Your mother is right,” Rilla says after a moment. “It’s not easy but you will feel differently afterwards.”

“I am never letting Jimmy touch me again without precautions,” Connie groans and the older women chuckle lightly.

When she goes back to the waiting area she finds Ken with Jimmy. The kids as well in the corner as well.

“I feel like I am going stir crazy, I can’t believe you’ve done this three times,” Jimmy says shaking his head.

“Technically I only did it once,” Ken reminds him. “I was there when Oliver was born, and it's not secret that I played doctor when Rowena was born. It was only Clara and that was because of an emergency and that all happened so fast. I didn’t even have time to process what was going on until when they came to bring me back after her surgery.”

“You still watched your wife go through labour three times!” Jimmy reminds him.

“Of course, it will be fine, she’s young and strong and has good doctors,” Ken tells him not arguing.

“She’s right on a track it won’t be much longer,” Rilla tells him rubbing his arm. “Just remember this moment in a few weeks when things are settling and that baby is sleeping a few hours at a time.”

“Mom!” Jimmy squeaks and Rilla laughs lightly and shakes her head.

It feels like forever, as Rilla sits with Oliver and Rowena, Willow is next to Jimmy trying to keep him occupied with the crossword in the paper, when a nurse comes into the room and Jimmy looks up and stands up so quickly he almost trips over his feet. Connie's younger sister Elsie was reading magazines with Rowena, and baby catalogues that were filled with frills and lacy baby things.

“I can’t wait to be a mother,” Rowena says with a giggle.

“I think you can,” Ken says from his spot. “A good age is what twenty-five these days?” He looks to his wife.”

“I was twenty-four when I had Oliver,” Rilla reminds him. “And we had been married for three years at that point as well.”

“That is different,” Ken says stubbornly.

“Chrissie Jenkins older sister got married a few weeks ago, was seventeen and her husband was going off to war,” Rowena tells him. “She’s not in school now of course but she still lives at home.”

“That is another situation entirely,” Rilla tells her. “and seventeen is far too young to even think of marriage. It’s a big commitment. Your father would never sign off on that.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t,” Ken mutters.

“Don’t swear in the hospital,” Rilla chides him giving him a look. “I hope Mrs. Clarke is doing all right with Clara and Fleur?”

“I’m sure they are fine,” Willow says speaking up, “I called checking in not long ago.”

“Mr. Anderson,” A nurse comes to the door of the family waiting room, and she says with a smile. A smile is always a good sign in those moments. “You may come with me,” she beckons him and he turns back to Rilla and Ken who wave him off. But he stops and looks at Rilla who only nods her head and takes her purse from the chair. Even grown men need their mothers sometimes. They both follow the nurse back and open a door for him.

Connie with a fresh ribbon in her strawberry blonde hair, a pink nightgown and a bed jacket holding a white blanket in her arms. Rilla stays back and Jimmy steps forward towards the bed as if it all became real to him in that moment.

Rilla looks to Dorothy who smiles at her and whispers something quietly.

“Would you like to meet your son?” Connie asks him.

“We have a…” Jimmy stammers trying to wrap his head around it and Connie laughs and holds out the bundle. Jimmy takes the bundle rather shyly as if he’s never held a newborn in his life, which is far from the truth as he was almost ten when Rowena was born and twenty when Clara was born.

“What do you plan on calling him?” Rilla asks after a moment of silence.

“Bertram,” Jimmy says looking at Connie who nods her head. “Bertie for short of course, but for Cons Father,” he says looking at his mother-in-law who looks like she is ready to cry.

“Bertie is adorable,” Rilla says coming up behind him.

“and for you,” Jimmy says next. “Bertie— Bertha, which is technically your name as well, even if no one uses it.”

“Oh you dear sweet boy, your grandfather will also think Bertie is after him,” Rilla reminds him.

“It can be as well, he allowed you to take care of me and I do remember him playing with me as a child. He was never unkind to me,” Jimmy says quietly. “He has a bunch of people who meant a lot to both of us and hopefully that will give him luck in life.”

“Can I hold him?” Rilla asks and Jimmy nods his head and passes him to the woman who saved his life.

“Go show him off to everyone,” Connie says after a moment and Jimmy looks at her.

“Well, that turned out to be a day,” Ken says from his side of the room. Shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his tie off completely. Unsure if his wife was still angry at him or if the grandchild arriving, quelled the anger she had this morning.

“So it did,” she says replying as she struggles with the zipper of her dress. Ken watches for a moment before stepping in to help her. Pulling the zipper down he presses a kiss at the back of her neck like old times. Except instead of hooks and bars, buttons, these days it’s zippers.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he says quietly.

“I overreacted,” Rilla tells him shaking his head. “You’re only doing what you need to do, and if I could manage it at fifteen, I can manage it now. Though that letter you sent at Christmas of 1914, when you told me you were enlisting. I bitterly looked out the window saying how much I hated the war already. You went from a sweet, romantic letter to breaking my heart in many ways.”

“Still it’s not fair that I leave you to manage the kids and house all the time,” Ken shakes his head before turning to the other big subject. “Bertie though, I wasn’t expecting that name.”

“Neither did I, but it is for a good handful of people and it suits him. A grandson, I barely feel old enough for one Kenneth. Not when we are still trying to deflect the chances of our own.”

“The ways of life are never fully explained,” Ken says simply. “As long as I don’t have to see you vomiting blood again, I will be forever grateful.” He kissed the top of her hair pulling her towards the bed with him. It’s not sexual, as he pulls her close and breathes in her unique scent that he has grown to know so well.

Chapter 26

Chapter Text

“Is this the Ford residence?” Rilla hears as she opens her front door on a cool November day in 1940. Her heart is beating fast as she looks at the man and female in rather severe clothing, but the man was in some sort of uniform with medals and chevrons on their arms. The Military is at her door, Ken is at Base Borden, Oliver is too young and Jimmy…Jimmy had been excused for his police work. Whatever could he want?

“Yes,” Rilla asks cautiously. “Mr. Ford isn't in today if you are looking for him?”

“Actually, Ma’am I believe I are looking for you, you are Mrs. Ford are you not?” The woman says looking at each other.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you I have no recipes I am rubbish at cooking, I am no good at knitting and barely have enough time to keep my son's pants long enough for him,” Rilla tells them.

“Ma’am we are not fundraising or asking for donations. We would like to talk to you, we got your address from Dr. O’Riley at the University of Toronto.” The man says simply.

“My apologies,” Rilla says after a moment. “Come in why don’t you? Sorry about the mess I wasn’t expecting company and the children just went to the park.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” The man says. "Colonel Britton and this is Maxine my wife who has come along when it was mentioned that showing up at a married woman's house wasn't the brightest idea for an expected call?"

"Quite true," Rilla says nodding her head. "I once let in the vacuum salesman in and never heard the end of it from my husband. Tea or coffee?"

"Tea if you have it," They says and Rilla quickly pulls together a tray for tea and hunts for some odd-looking biscuits.

“My daughters made them, but they do taste fine,” she apologized once more as she put the tray down before sitting down in the closest chair and handing out the tea. “What can I do for you?” She asks once she is finished.

“As I stated we found through the university, you are technically a Doctor are you not?”

“Yes, but I find most are put more at ease if I am simply Mrs. Ford to them when I volunteer at the women’s hospital, or the very least women’s husbands,” Rilla explains after a drink of tea.

“Well, Mrs. Ford we are here looking for doctors with a basic understanding of battle fatigue. We need professionals to categorize and assess men for treatment when they come home to our war hospitals.”

“And you want me?” Rilla asks in surprise. “A woman?”

“We need every ablebody doing what they can, of course, if your husband doesn’t allow it we cannot demand it of you,” He says simply. “Though your husband himself was a Captain in the great war was he not”

“He was,” Rilla nods her head. “He helps train correspondents right now in shorthand and what I can only imagine other things I don’t know much about?”

“Quite possible,” He nods his head with a knowing smile.

“You would be given honorary rank for working in Veteran Hospital. Helping and assisting other doctors in various capacities, which would allow us to give up special allowances for your martial state and children.” He says simply. “We hope to start up a women’s division like Britain has, but it won’t be ready for a few months mostly.

“I will have to talk about it to my husband,” Rilla says after everything. “I never thought…I never thought women would be able to do such things after spending hours organizing charity and fundraising events for the boys in the Great War. I think we all hoped our children would never know this sort of turmoil and destruction, yet they may know better than any one of us if the papers are correct.”

“Of course, but from what I have gathered about you, I believe you would be an asset to the team,” the male stated.

“Would it be part-time? I do have commitments at the maternity hospital and I rather not leave it?” Rilla tells him. “War may be upon us, but I can safely say that unexpected pregnancies and mothers with husbands out at war need me more than ever?”

“We can sort out the details,” the man simply shrugged.

Rilla could only nod her head as the front door slammed and sobbing was heard as footsteps rushed for the stairs.

Rilla looks at the guest frowning.

“Call us,” The man says getting up and handing her a card.

“I hope everything is all right,” His wife asks speaking for the first time says sympathetically looking at the stairs.

“Fifteen is a delicate age,” Rilla says smiling weakly.

“That it can be, we have three daughters myself,” the wife says looking to her husband who nods his head.

“We shall will show ourselves out, please think about the offer and call me when you have decided.” He leaves his card and sees himself out the front door. Rilla is in such a daze she almost forgets about her daughter for a brief moment.

Rilla walks quietly up the stairs and raps on Rowena's door. “What happened?” She asks as it is only one in the afternoon, but finds her in the bathroom, half undressed in her brassiere and her skirt, while the insides of her thighs are stained with blood, Inside the sink are the stockings, stained red and her underwear and bloomers that look worse.

“What happened? Rilla asks

“We had a stupid substitute teacher today and I asked to use the washroom because…well because of this!” Rowena cries. “He told me that I should have gone during my break and I tried to tell him it was an emergency but he told me to just hold it in! How can someone hold it in? Are men that stupid? When I stood up it was like a murder scene and I just ran out. I tried to clean up in the washroom but it wasn’t helping so I just ran home. I'm sure the school will call because I missed the last period.”

“He wouldn’t let you…oh, I am having a talk with your school that is unacceptable for any age of girls.” Rilla fumed. “Jump in the shower, I’ll just you some things from your drawer and then I am visiting that school of yours”

“Mom who was downstairs?” Rowena realizes that her mother had guests over when she stormed in.

“Oh no one important,” Rilla brushes it off not wanting to say anything until Kenneth came home. “Clean up, you can take the rest of the day off and tomorrow if you want. I will go run to your school and give them a piece of my mind. I was going to go see how Jimmy and Connie are doing with Bertie. Gloria made up a few casseroles for them this week to get by you can come along if you want?”

Rowena just shakes her head. “I rather just stay here.” Rilla nods her head goes into Rowena's bedroom and finds her things before dropping them back off. She kisses her daughter's forehead and goes to grab her jacket and find a pair of shoes.

She walks down the street, stalking into the school meaning business.

“Mrs. Ford!” The secretary stands up when she comes into the office, looking slightly anxious. She already heard about what happened.

“Is the headmistress in?” Rilla asks with an edge.

“I am,” The headmistress says from her doorway. “Please step into my office. I believe you are here about Rowena leaving school early?”

“Leaving school early? She came home crying and embarrassed because some man of a teacher wouldn’t let her go to the washroom! Telling her that she should be able to hold it when she told him it was an emergency. She got her period unexpectedly, you can’t hold that in!” Rilla's voice raises.

“Mrs. Ford, please we don’t excuse what happened. When one of the students came to me and told us what happened.” The headmistress cuts her off. “But she shouldn’t have run off as she did either.”

“This is a school for girls, all girls and you have a teacher who doesn’t understand basic female bodily functions?” Rilla says in disbelief.

“Bathroom privileges are to the discretion of the teacher Mrs. Ford, of course generally if a student alludes to sanitary matters it is granted. Mr. Deagle just wasn’t thinking or used to ladies in his classes, nor has he been married. He has apologized and did not mean to embarrass Rowena.”

“That is no excuse!” Rilla's voice raises in frustration.

“Mrs. Ford, please,” The headmistress says to her. “I am deeply sorry about what happened, but Rowena shouldn’t just gone home as she did either. She should have come to the office to be signed out after telephoning home.”

Rilla huffs, but the look at the clock reminds her that she has more things to do than to argue with the school.

“This won’t happen again?”

“I will make sure that every teacher, and substitute teacher that if a young lady says she needs the washroom in an emergency to let them go.”

Rilla just nods her head. “I told Rowena she can stay home tomorrow if she wishes to, so if she isn’t in class.”

“Of course, I will make note of that on attendance, and for what it is worth Mrs. Ford I am on your side of the issue.”

“Thank you, since Rowena isn’t here to walk home with Clara. I will collect her now so she can get home safely.” Rilla tells her, nodding her head, taking her hat from where she placed it.

“Of course, I will go retrieve her.” The headmistress tells her.

“Can I come to see the baby?” Clara asks from the back of the car. Excited to leave school early.

“Not today, Mrs. Clarke and Rowena are home, I’ll ask Jimmy and Connie if you can visit soon to see Bertie okay? ” Rilla tells her. Trying not to promise anything without parents' approval.

The baby rarely slept, which meant neither did his parents who were close to exhaustion. Work still existed for Jimmy and while the inspector was a father himself, he didn’t have a child who screamed bloody murder most of the day.

“Bertie,” Jimmy pleads, he would take the youngling out to let his mother rest but it was cold this afternoon and he didn’t want the tyke to catch a cold.

“Your Aunties and Uncle never were this loud,” Jimmy told him. “I would ask if you were hungry, but you just ate and it’s working because you gain weight like it’s nothing.”

“Pass him here,” Rilla says letting herself into the house and Jimmy relents and passes her his screaming son. Rilla looks him over before adjusting him and falling into the old rhythm of bouncing on her heels.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jimmy says sighing. “I have to get ready…”

“Years of practice, now go out to the car and grab the dishes Gloria made for you for me and kiss your child before you leave for the evening,” Rilla tells him. “Connie sleeping?”

“No,” Connie's voice said at the top of the stairs. “I was trying but I think he is going to be hungry soon.”

“How are you managing?” Rilla asks sitting down and following Connie as she still cuddles Bertie. Jimmy does what his mother asks before kissing his son, and Connie looks with regret before grabbing his uniform jacket and hat and leaving for work.

“I…” Connie starts before sighing. “I don’t even know anymore, Jimmy does what he can when he’s home, but he has to work. Mother comes over as well to make sure I get a small nap and don’t have to clean. You keep us in food, but yet…”

“The world feels like it’s falling apart and coming together and a breakneck speed that you can’t grasp fully?” Rilla answers for her. “I remember when Oliver was born, back when it was still a thing to stay abed for two or three weeks, he was born at thirty-six weeks and so small. I had Ingleside waiting on me hand and foot and I loved him but I was so afraid at the same.”

“Does it ever get easier?”

“Yes and No?” Rilla with a small smile. “You’ll always worry, but it won’t be frightening forever.”

“Hopefully this one can grow up without war as well,” Connie says quietly as Bertie cries out loudly. “He’s hungry,” Connie says sighing in defeat she wanted to nurse her child but so far found it a frustrating, painful experience.

“Connie, formula and bottles are perfectly acceptable these days,” Rilla tries to tell her. “You don’t have to suffer to feed your child these days.”

“Mother says it’s best,” Connie says weakly, before yelping in pain to the point she had tears running down her face.

“What’s best is your sanity,” Rilla argues. “Let me make him a bottle and let him have that and you can bond without threatening sore and cracked nipples.”

“I don’t even have…” Connie starts and Rilla shakes her head.

“The hospital gave you some when you came home,” Rilla reminds her. “And some formula I am sure it’s here, let me find it.” Connie can only nod her head. Tears still streaking down her face.

She finds the bottles and the formula, scalding and sterilizing the bottles and making up the milk with warm water.

“Just keep him in a cuddle, and head supported,” Rilla tells her and teases the infant with the rubber nipple until he goes for it. “He doesn’t have to work as hard for his meal, and you’re not in pain” she further explains.

She stays with Connie, until she is needed is needed at home as well. Rowena is still in her room curled up with a heating pad, Oliver and Willow are in the kitchen helping Mrs. Clarke with the dishes from dinner. Fleur sitting in her playpen with her mousey blonde curls, with her bunny. She smiles picking her up, giving her a cuddle and a kiss on the side of the head. Willow takes her from Rilla, after hanging up the dish towel meaning to give Fleur her a nightly bath

“We saved you a plate,” Oliver says to his mother.

“Thank you,” She says moving to kiss his cheek. “Sorry I missed dinner, I didn’t mean to stay so late.”

“It’s fine, Rowena barely ate, and Clara played with her food. Oh, Dad called saying he would be late,” Oliver tells her

“What would I do without you, though where is Clara?” Rilla asks looking around.

“Across the street, I hope it’s all right. I told Charity’s mother to have her back by 7:30,” Oliver tells her.

“It’s fine,” Rilla tells him, still in awe that her son was stepping up when his father wasn’t around. She ruffles his curls that came loose from the pomade he used this morning. “How was school for you?”

“It was school?” Oliver says shrugging following her to the table after retrieving the plate from the oven warmer for her. “Professor Simons wants me to write for the newspaper this year, which I am sure Dad will love.”

“Kids aren’t bothering you this year?” Rilla asks quietly and Oliver just shrugs.

“I’m sure if they were around they would, but they either graduated or enlisted,” Oliver tells her truthfully.

“A lot of that is going on in your class this year?” Rilla frowns and Oliver shrugs as if he doesn’t know or care to know. “What about Daniel?” Rilla asks quietly knowing about the boy he hung around with in his spare time.

“We don’t talk about it, we don’t know how we feel about it right now or at the very least don’t want to argue about it,” Oliver tells her truthfully. “He’ll technically turn eighteen before graduation, and I won’t be eighteen for another six months afterward. Maybe the war will be over by then, but everyone says that it’s wishful thinking. Between the bombing in London, Greece joining the war now, and Italy bombing Egypt as well these days. It’s not ending anytime soon, I heard Robert going on about it, hearing aside he’s finding a way to go and he’s going to break Rowena’s heart doing it.”

“You don’t know that,” Rilla sighs. “When I was Roe’s age…when your father wrote me telling me he was enlisting, while I didn’t want him to go. I made it my mission to make sure that he knew I was waiting for him to come home when he did go.” Rilla told him.

“I know…but as you said before times were different then,” Oliver says reminding her.

It was dark when Ken made it home, the kids were asleep, and the lights were off. The drive from Borden wasn’t long, but he hadn’t meant to stay so late.

He pauses looking in on Clara and righting her blankets, suddenly seeing how much she had grown in such a short amount of time it felt like. Rowena is curled up in her frilly nightgown and her hair in curlers, while Oliver is reading despite the late hour. He nods to his father who nods back.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Ken tells him.

“I won’t,” Oliver says simply.

Rilla is still awake, dressed simply in one of his pyjama shirts, not her usual attire but he rather liked the look of it. She didn’t speak until she crawled into bed beside her, wearing nothing but his drawers.

“What have I missed?” Ken asks her.

“Nothing much, I had a sharp talk with Branksome senior school,” Rilla tells him. “Rowena had a spare teacher who refused to let her go to the washroom when she asked because she needed to care for female things.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate more than female things, that can mean fixing her lipstick,” Ken responds a bit cluelessly.

“She bled all over herself and chair Ken. I told her next time anyone tells her she can’t just get up and go. They are teenage girls denying them basic bathroom privileges is abhorrent. I’m just glad it is an all-girls school and the girls generally are understanding when things happen to each other, but this…I roared at them, Ken.”

“I am sure you did,” Ken says nodding his head. “Do I need to find time to go over as well? I think they are still frightened of me since I yelled at them for not believing Clara about seeing the chalkboard, or even telling us she may need glasses?”

“I think this is more a woman's matter,” Rilla says shaking her head. “I told her she can stay home tomorrow or on certain days going forward. I don’t like her missing school for sure things usually but I misjudged the situation at the moment.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ken says yawning.

“The military dropped by as well today,” Rilla says quietly and she sees Ken wake up slightly and break his yawn.

“Pardon? Why?” He asks, thinking of Jimmy, of Oliver who was too young, but recruiting cadets these days was a thing they did.

“Looking for me of all people,” Rilla tells him. “They got my name from the university, they want help in the hospital of the soldiers coming home. They need doctors, experienced or knowledgable people to help them treat shell shock, or battle fatigue as they call it these days?”

“The hospital on Christie Street?” Ken says knowing where it is. He had been there himself once before after arriving from the war himself.
Rilla only nods her head. “In military fashion, I need your approval of course.”

Ken snorts at her statement, not his disapproval, but the fact she needed it. “You wanted something to do to give you purpose.”

“I know, but Clara is still young and having Fleur around?”

“Clara is old enough to understand, and Willow practically does her own thing with Fleur these days.” Ken reminds her.

“And what about the women’s hospital? I can’t just leave them?” Rilla frowns

“They barely pay you Rilla and I know it was never about the money for you, but…think about it. You wanted something of purpose, beyond knitting socks and making bandages. You did years of school to understand this very thing. Whether you think war is right or wrong, nothing is black and white and you have a chance to help men get back on their feet?”

“I have a very large hunch as a female I will be regulated to list making and coffee,” Rilla says sighing.

“Then you will make the best lists they ever seen,” Ken said shaking his head to show that it didn’t matter.

“I don’t know.” Rilla sighs. “What if they find out I oppose it all?”

“Darling, most soldiers end up opposing it all when they realize what they signed up for,” Ken tells her chuckling tiredly.

“I’ll get an honorary rank, because there is no women division yet in Canada,” Rilla further explains.

“Well, you’ll just have to tell them that your husband was a Captain and he forbids you from outranking him.” Ken jokes, kissing her shoulder

“Very funny,” Rilla gives him a look. “I’m sorry you look dead on your feet and here I am keeping you up with this nonsense.”

“It’s fine Rilla, I’m not that tired, and it’s not nonsense,” Ken shakes his head wrapping his arm around her.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

Christie Street Hospital was something Rilla had never experienced. She also wasn’t too out of her realm either. She dressed the same in trousers, blouses, jackets and modest heels. She worked the same, just had different tactics and names she responded to. She wasn’t used to the order and rules, the names she had to remember. Protocol, that she could only imagine that was drilled into men in training camps to never be forgotten. Ken still tried saluting people on habit occasionally, she could always tell when his arm and hand would twitch.

There were rows of beds in multiple rooms, while there were rows of chairs and rooms for games and reading. She remembered Faith talking about the hospitals in England as a VAD, the moaning, wounds, sweet smells of either and infections. The constant battle for morphine and other medicines.

Jem was shifting to a veterans hospital for Island boys, letting other doctors take more of his usual patients from his last letter, which gives congratulations upon her

She has her own little office, mostly because the other doctors seem to find her presence annoying. Something she was used to from school, men never took her seriously it was just a fact of life.

She ran through preliminaries and charts deciphering what care might be needed. Going bed to bed with quiet questions for the men who couldn’t be moved, while others came to her in rooms.

She wasn’t entirely wrong, she mainly was a glorified nurse with all she did in her sensible heels. Sometimes men refused to be accessed, other times she was groped or was subject to foul comments. Her wedding ring was questioned, and her age as well, she looked too young to be married twenty-some years. Sometimes they asked if she had a daughter who was old enough, like the French girls they found on break from the front. Those were met with glares of death that made them regret their words. Grown men making jokes about young girls turned her stomach.

Overall, they wouldn’t let her know cases that were above her female sensibilities, and if any sort of woman came in a nurse who had been hurt they were the only ones that she might truly treat fully.

She sighed closing her things and putting away her files.

Clara, she needed to pick up Clara from Lilians and Shirley’s who took her daughter for the day as the junior school had the day off.

“Off already?” Someone says to her in the hallway.

“I have children to take care of,” Rilla tells her colleague. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Of course, have a good evening.” He says nodding his head.

It doesn’t take long to get to Shirley’s house, though she was surprised to see him home already. He spent hours at the office according to Lillian but today he wasn’t as he was drinking coffee in his kitchen, no one else around.

“They pulled you in as well, finally?” Shirley says from the table when he sees his sister. Her arm ranks on display, and a few pins as well.

“When the military come calling you don’t say no,” Rilla says after a moment. “Though I believe in your case they dragged you back into it?” Shirley mainly shrugs. He doesn’t discuss his work, but as an engineer, Rilla could have only imagined what he does for the military building things.

“How’s Ken doing?”

“Busy and tired,” Rilla supplies an answer. “Though aren’t we all tired and busy?”

“True,” Shirley says standing up and putting his cup in the sink. “Jasper is running track this year and training every day. Frankly don’t know how he does it, the kid can run circles around anyone.”

“He has good lungs,” Rilla says. “Not that Oliver’s bothered him, but he was never good at high-impact sports that involved heavy breath work.”

“Or you can admit he has asthma or whatever they call it,” Shirley tells her leaning on the counter.

“He doesn’t though, the doctors ruled it out ages ago. He just doesn’t have the capacity as others.” Rilla corrects him. “He can do what he needs to do, he can ride his bike and could play as a kid without hindrance. It was the heavier activities that bothered him running longer distances or anything extreme.”

“His poor future wife,” Shirley jokes with a chuckle

“Oh grow up,” Rilla swats him. “He does just fine with dating I mostly don’t want to find another crusty sock under his bed again, I don’t what he does.”

“Crusty socks is that what teenage boys are doing these days?” Shirley chuckles. “Boys always find a way.”

“Seriously?” Rilla looks at him.

“You brought it up,” Shirley shrugs grinning. “I mean it’s not like you found dirty pictures or magazines did you?”

“If I had there would have been a very important talk about what is appropriate in our house,” Rilla says haughtily. “Under no circ*mstances are those things allowed in my house. Call me a prude if you want, but I have a little one and I don’t need her snooping around and finding things. Speaking of which where is my child?”

“Lily and her are in the workroom,” Shirley tells her. “I believe she managed to get Lily to help her make Peter Rabbit a new waistcoat, and Tulip Bunny a wedding dress because she needs a wedding dress for something or another?”

“Sounds about right,” Rilla says laughing softly. “Where did Elodie go?”

“Elodie had a date or something or another,” Shirley says. “Nice boy, a bit green sometimes, but a nice young man.”

“You say it so nicely, Ken has barely just gotten over the fact that Rowena has been dating the same boy for a year.” Rilla jokes. “Now he’s just thankful that Clara is still rather young.”

“Actually Rilla…this is a bit awkward but you may want to tell Clara that going around saying Ollie has a boyfriend isn’t…how do I say it…correct word usage. Sure he has friends who are boys but boyfriends is a whole other level and rather damning to himself and you and Ken in the long run. I mean doubt the proud businessmen of Toronto would want to do business with a family that promotes sexual deviance and all? And don’t go into your mumbo jumbo psychology stuff either, I know Ken thinks it all nonsense and would never be all right with such rumours.”

“I will talk to her, but seriously Shirley ever say anything so repugnant like that again I will make you regret it.” Rilla glares at him seething. “You once were courting a married woman who trying to get a divorce and once warned me to make assumptions because you were in love. So I think your sense of morality needs to be checked greatly.”

“Divorce is nothing compared to being a deviant, also why does it sound like you aren’t shocked by any of this?” Shirley looks at his sister quizzically and Rilla looks at him with the same hard look. “This isn’t something new is it?”

“Just leave it alone Shirley, ” Rilla warns him. “Whatever I tell you will make no difference in what you think. Ollie is normal as can be for a boy of sixteen and that is all the world is entitled to know about him.” Rilla turns on her heels and goes to collect her child.

“Hello?” She calls out moving towards the front of the house.

“Mummy, Mummy, look what we made!” Clara comes rushing over holding one of her rabbits, her glasses eschewing on her nose as she pushes them up and holds up her bunny in a new fancy waistcoat and a pair of trousers.

“That is adorable,” Rilla says rubbing her daughter's head lovingly. Still a little girl in so many ways, but at seven it was slowly starting to melt away. “Did you have fun today? Did you thank Aunt Lily?”

“Merci Tante Lilly, ” Clara sweetly. “I’ll go to the bathroom and then home?” She looks at her mother

Rilla nods her head and sees her sister bite her lip, deciding if she should mention something and Rilla sighs.

“Shirley has already mentioned it,” Rilla says to her and Lilian sighs. “I’ll talk to her, I thought I had but she needs another one.”

“This has happened before?”

“She’s seven, she mixes words up last time I told her that she shouldn’t call Oliver’s friend boyfriends. That people that aren’t family might not understand what she means.” Rilla explains sighing. “Shirley is jumping to all sorts of conclusions, can you just try and keep him from overthinking things?”

“Of course Cherie,” Lillian says after a moment. “Please know that that whatever is going on Shirley does love family more than societal morals?”

Rilla gives Lillian a look and a sigh. “Thank you for watching her today,” Rilla says as Clara comes back with her coat and bag.

She gets Clara in the back of the car, secured and belted in as she makes sure all her children do when in a car.

“Did you have a good day?” Rilla asks her daughter, backing out of the driveway.

“I did Mummy, we played games and made some clothing for Mr. Rabbit and Tulip Bunny,” Clara tells her. “Did you fix anyone today?”

“I helped some people yes,” Rilla tells her smiling. “Though Aunty Lillian said you were telling them about Oliver's friends?”

“I think I said something wrong because Uncle Shirley got real quiet and told me that I boys don’t have boyfriends, and I nuh-uh Ollie does, and then Aunty Lilly went quiet and suggested we go play a bit?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Clara,” Rilla says quietly. “It’s just, sometimes people don’t understand. Maybe it’s best you just keep certain things to yourself when telling stories.”

“But you said family was safe?” Clara says quietly.

“Our family is safe Clara, our house is safe, but your Aunts and Uncles they don’t always think the way we do. We love them of course they are family but we still have to be prudent about what we tell them?”

“Prudent?” Clara asks brows furrowing.

“To think about what your actions or words may do before acting or saying things,” Rilla explains to her as she pulls into the back lane to park the car. “If you think it might hurt someone, sometimes it best to keep things to yourself.”

“You look exhausted,” Kenneth notes as Clara comes in hurriedly versus Rilla who is quiet and tired-looking.

“It’s been a long day, and only getting longer,” Rilla says sighing, but lets him kiss her hello.

“What happened?”Ken asked wondering.

“Nothing really, but Shirley said a few things I didn’t appreciate and had to explain to Clara a few things about family and who is safe.”Rilla rubs her temples.

“What do you mean?” Kenneth frowns. “Did someone do something to her?”

“No, but I think we need to tell Oliver to try and be more conscious of who he brings around her. I don’t want him to hide, but Clara just doesn’t understand and it can hurt him, and the business.” Rilla says quietly. “I don’t want to, but it's the only option I can think of right now until she’s older?”

Chapter 28

Chapter Text

“Intake forms,” Rilla mutters to herself as she stuffs sheets into the folder once again. “I need more intake forms please,” she calls out to a nurse as she reaches for another chart. She pulls her chair near the bed. “My name is Doctor Ford, how are you doing today James?”

No answer.

“James, do you go by any other name? My brother often went by Jem and my eldest son goes by Jims or Jimmy?” Rilla asks him, looking over the young boy who is most likely younger than Jimmy. Still no response, Rilla smiles weakly and writes down something.

“Is there anything I can get you? Water? Pencil and paper? Sweets?” Rilla tries once more.

Silence.

“All right then,” Rilla says. “I’ll come back in a little while.”

“Jamie, they called me Jamie,” He whispers.

“Jamie, it’s nice to meet you,” Rilla says turning back around. “I just want to ask you a few questions if I can?”

“I don’t…” He says.

“Want to talk about it, I know,” Rilla nods her head. “It’s not easy, but it can help in the long run to get back to a normal life, the sooner you get better the sooner you can see your girl?” She says noticing photographs and a letter in feminine handwriting.

“Life isn’t going to be normal, and she won’t want me,” the young man says throwing back his blanket to his stump of a leg. “I should have just died, it would have been better in the long run”

Rilla sighs. “Jamie…you know that isn’t true right?”

“Just go away,” He shouts are her and violently lashes out at her. Nurses come, and Rilla can merely nod and step away from him.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

She goes into her office, looking at the clock knowing that the kids would would be having breakfast at this time now.

“Did you know that Dorothea's sister Betty got married this weekend,” Rowena says over the breakfast table. “She’s seventeen and her guy was being shipped off at the end of the month.”

“How nice for her,” Ken says looking up from his plate without necessarily looking at her for a moment, before setting dark grey eyes on her. “ Just so you know I will refuse to sign anything marriage-related until you are of age, or pay for one until you have graduated college. Seventeen and married is nothing to be green about. It’s a lot more work than one thinks it is.”

“Willow would get it,” Rowena says under her breath. Willow had found a small apartment for her and Fleur near the factory she was working at. It was clean and bright and allowed her some privacy these days.

“Don’t let Mom hear you say that,” Oliver says from his spot before a cough racks his body and he struggles for a moment. Ken’s eyes narrow slightly but are overall concerned.

“Your mother would agree with me, and maybe you should say home today, that doesn’t sound pleasant,” Ken tells him.

“I’m fine, and I have a test I can’t miss,” Oliver says shaking his head.

“I’ll drop you off then,” Ken says looking at the time, worried about the shallow breaths that Oliver seemed to be taking this morning.

“Where is mummy?” Clara asks from her spot.

“She went in early so she can be home when you get home after school,” Ken tells her. “Finish up, I’ll drop you girls off first,” Ken tells them getting up from his spot.

“But my hair!” Clara exclaims loudly. “I need mummy to braid it for me!”

“I can do your hair,” Rowena tells her.

“No, you hurt me,” Clara cries and Ken sighs.

“I’ll brush your hair and tie it up for you,” Ken tells her, bending to kiss the top of her head lovingly. “Just give me a few minutes Clara, I have to finish getting ready as well. Thank you for breakfast Gloria,” he says to the housekeeper who was drinking her coffee at the counter.

“Thank you, Mrs. Clarke!” Rowena tacks on. “And thank you for the class recipes, I am sure it will all be perfect for home economics.”

“Any time Rowena,” Gloria smiles at her. “Don’t forget your lunches.” She reminds them.

“I don’t this war,” Clara says out loud as Ken is trying to get the braid to cooperate. For all the curls and coarse hair between him and Rilla hair-wise, this one seemed to have inherited the softest and silkiest hair he had known. Braids and hair ties, and ribbons often fell out of it, and curls only lasted a day before they fell out of their twists that Rilla made in her hair occasionally.

“That is quite a statement,” Ken says to her, pulling more pomade on her hair from his fingers. At least it would last part of the day without it making the hair sticky.

“You don’t like it either,” Clara reminds him.

“Fair enough,” Ken says shaking his head. “What do you not like about it then?”

“It makes everyone sad and the worst is that it ruins birthdays and celebrations with sugar rations,” Clara tells him matter-of-factly.

“So you don’t like war because of rationing of things like sugar and butter?” Ken tries not to laugh. “You do realize that is for everyone’s well-being? That food and supplies aren’t hoarded or wasted, and to help feed our soldiers as well.”

“But they are all in France, and we’re here! How does it affect them!” Clara says stubbornly. “How do mummy’s silk stockings make a difference to them?”

“Silk is used for many things, but it is all part of the grand scheme that we must share the hardship that comes with war,” Ken says carefully, trying to sound empathetic and sincere, and not a bitter man about it all as he was on the inside. He finished her long braid and tied it with a ribbon.

Clara mainly sighs turning to look at him with big grey eyes. His own eyes. “But it’s so far away from us?”

“It is, and once long ago I was there fighting in another war Clara. I was one of those men you see marching in the streets weekly. “I left my home here and went over there and fought for three years, dodging death and bullets daily. I came home when many didn’t. YourUncle Walter never made it home and that still hurts Mummy losing him. You don’t have to agree with it or like it but the world is more than one person's decision and sometimes even when you don’t like something you have to be the bigger person and fight for what is right. Germany taking over all these smaller countries isn’t fair to them and we must try and help them and protect the ones at risk where possible.” Ken explains calmly. “How about this, we can skip school today and you can come to the office with me?”

“Really?” Clara looks up at him. “Like Doe and Ollie do sometimes?”

“As they have, yes,” Ken says nodding his head.

He drops Oliver off at his school before dropping Rowena at the senior school, with the pretense of dropping Clara off at the primary school yard before heading towards the office. Clara was in her spot in the back car, kneeling on the seat, looking out at the bright December day, that was colder than it looked like. The air had an edge and bite to it as they walked from the parade. She knew the magazine having been there occasionally with Rilla, but never in such detail of following him around his daily tasks and errands of the day. Oliver and Rowena had come around her age as well, but for some reason, it slipped by him too quickly that she was closer to being a teenager than the infant she once was.

She writes on his blackboard, playing with the chalk in the messy script having only been to school for a year and a half at this point, she helps him pick out photos for editorials and when he sits her up on the desk as they work through the monthly news that comes through about the war. He keeps the more gruesome photos away, but the ones of soldiers in trenches, and others of cities reduced to rubble in England made her eyes go wide and her go silent. There were other photos of husbands and wives kissing at the train station, and women working in bomb factories. Propaganda to gain support for the war mostly.

“Why doesn’t someone just put Mr. Hitler in time out if he’s being this naughty?” Clara asks out loud and it garners a few laughs from his writers and editors.

“If one only could,” Someone says. “The world is a big place and sometimes time out doesn’t always work for adults.”

Ken takes her across the street for lunch, ordering them both sandwiches and iced tea, and coffee for himself. Her feet don’t touch the floor and swings from the chair as she chatters.

“Did you know you’re the oldest daddy in my class?” Clara tells him. “Next to Margo’s daddy she says he’s forty-two but your forty-seven and Mommy is forty-one. Margo’s mummy is only twenty-five though.”

Ken's eyes bulge slightly as he coughs into his coffee. God lord he knew Andrew Peters liked them young, but he didn’t realize he liked them that young! God, she would have been eighteen…freshly graduated.

“Margo says her mommy cries a lot in her room, but not it’s like the way mommy sometimes cries when you have the door shut.”

“Clara,” Ken chastises her quietly. “It’s not polite to speculate or talk like that about other people.”

“I’m sorry,” Clara says quietly. “You’ll take me to the stable this weekend? You don’t have to go away again? I miss Snowdrop and I think he misses me too?”

“I’ll have to double-check the schedule, but I think I should be able to,” Ken says with a nod of his head. Knowing it has been Rilla, and or Oliver who have been sacrificing time to bring Clara to the stables to her riding lessons. “You still enjoy it?”

“I can’t wait to learn how to do jumps!” Clara says chirping as she takes a bite of her ham sandwich. “Can we have some pie?” She looks at the display case.

Ken nods and flags down the waitress and lets Clara order a piece of pie for them and lets her eat most of the filling as she leans in over the table as it is put between them.

What he didn’t expect was his wife frantic, still dressed in her work uniform which quickly turned to relief, then to anger as she poked him in the chest.

“Do you have any idea of what you just put me through!” She harshly whispers as she drops to hug Clara. “I come home to the school calling that Clara didn’t make it into school and Rowena said her sister should have been as you dropped them both off, or was going to and I had no idea and you weren’t picking up at the office either!”

“We went out for lunch,” Clara chirps. “Daddy got us a pie!”

“Of course he did,” Rilla says sweetly, “why don’t you go wash your hands and face?”Rilla says nudging her towards the washroom with a smile.

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“Didn’t think?” Rilla seethed. “My god my heart dropped a hundred times driving over her. What is she even doing here?”

“She was asking questions this morning, about the war and stuff and I don’t know. It reminded me about all the time Roe and Oliver would ask me things and I would bring them here so they could learn a bit more about what they were asking if I had something relevant for them to see or hear about I would bring them here?”

“I know that, but you usually told me and it was usually summertime when they were in school as well,” Rilla points out to him. “Also you did not just say you took her here to explain the war to her? She seven Ken! She doesn’t need to know about the tragedy that is happening. I don’t need or want her to turn into Bruce Meredith crying over nightmares because of ships being sunk and Belgium children dying!”

“I don’t even know what you are talking about, and I’m not showing her anything graphic Rilla, I can’t publish anything graphic either so whatever is on the board is what she saw,” Ken tells her before pulling her closer to him while he could. “I’m sorry I worried you, I didn’t mean to truly. You know I would never do that to you, with any of the children.”

“Can I come in now?” Clara says by the door, nose scrunched up seeing them almost kiss as she comes into the office once more.

“Yes, of course,” Ken calls out. “Come on, Mummy is going to take you home so jacket back on.”

“I want to stay!” Clara whines loudly. “We haven’t picked out the recipe of the issue!”

“I hate to disappoint you, but we don’t pick one it’s more like pick one from the hat and go for it,” Ken tells her as he hauls her up into his arms, ignoring his back protesting as he did.

“Isn’t that lying!” Clara pokes him in a way that only reminds him of Rilla.

“It’s not lying, it’s just strategy,” Ken says chuckling, letting his forehead rest on hers. "Go home with Mummy and I'll finish up here as quickly as I can and be home for dinner alright?"

Clara nods her head and gathers up her jacket, she hugs him before leaving and he kisses the top of her head, and then quickly kisses Rilla who is still miffed at him for scaring her as he did.

When Saturday rolls around things have even out and Ken lingers in bed not opening his, but he can feel Rilla curled up against him. How long has it been since they have woken up together between early morning shifts or drives opposite?

His hands pull her closer, sneaking under the rayon of her nightgown. She sighed burrowing closer, for a moment he assumed she was only asleep until her rear wiggled into his crotch.

He continues his approach, kissing her shoulder and palming her breast, massaging it lightly. Whenever he stopped she would do her wiggle again, teasing him further as his co*ck twitched.

He groans, peaking at the clock that has yet to go off. Plenty of time, he decided as he felt Rilla's manicured hand sneak into the waistband of his pants. He groans again at her firm grasp around him. It’s lazy and intentional at the same and it takes a good moment before fingers trail down her soft stomach to her core. Dipping into the warm heat of her body, already slick but far from ready, she shifts her leg to give him more access, letting her foot behind his leg and knee.

He rubs gently until she mewls into her pillow, before tracing down, gathering the fluid from her arousal at her entrance, two fingers slip in, letting his thumb work circles around her sensitive bud. He hears her moan, and squeeze at his fingers, back arching, sending shoulders into him.

“Ken,” she whispers a cry and paws at his pants until they are pushed down underneath his balls. He takes her cue, thrusting lightly upwards in between to lubricate himself and tease her before slipping into the warm depth of her body. It is slow and languid, passionate but quiet as their breath comes out in pants, a hand massaging her one breast, and nipple between his fingers, working the rhythm of their bodies when he feels close enough he slides his hand down until he meets with wetness as he circles the small swollen bud until she is crying into her pillow and her body going rigid and stiff against him. He grins in his haze, giving her a moment before continuing until he loses himself with a stammered groan.

“I miss moments like this,” Rilla murmurs. “It's been all work all the time and just trying to steal five minutes to see each other.”

“I’ll be damned if the military keeps us from enjoying our marriage,” Ken says into her shoulder. “I’ll do better.”

“You do what you need to do, it could be worse, it can always be worse when it comes to war,” Rilla says twisting and rolling until she can face him, and he uses it to his advantage to give her a proper kiss.

“Sleep some more, I’ll take Clara to her lesson, I promised her I would,” Ken tells her.

Ken crawls out of the bed an hour later, Rilla still sleeping. Downstairs he tells the older children to let their mother sleep, as Ken braids Clara’s long hair into two braids and ties them off. He drives her to her horseback riding lesson, dressed in her little riding pants, shirt woollen jacket and mitts while sitting in the back seat. Jabbering on about things and friends until he pulled into the parking lot of the stables.

She helps get her pony ready, or as much as a seven-year-old can as Ken stands back and watches, following as they go into the covered arena, free from snow and wind, but still fairly cold. Ken opens his thermos of coffee and leans against the wall. Other mothers and fathers were doing similar things. Her pigtails fall down her back, under her helmet as she trots around as instructed by her teacher, occasionally pushing her glasses into place as she does.

Ken can barely remember the last time he rode, probably on the island somewhere as a child. Or was it during the war? Flashes of trenches, gas attacks, and bombings attack his mind. Lots of horses fighting the mud, in a losing battle when they had no choice but to be there with their soldiers. Lots of them are being euthanized instead of being brought home because at that point what was more death?

“Got stuck on activity duty as well?” Someone asks him, and Ken instantly recognizes Margot who was Clara’s friend and her Father.

“I promised,” Ken corrects him as the little girl goes with her teacher.

“Yes, you are the family man aren’t you?” Andrew Peter says lighting his cigarette.

“I enjoy my family and business and the war keeps me busy, but I try my best to be there for the kids,” Ken says. “No smoking in here also,” he tells him and the other man sighs and puts it out.

“Betsy was supposed to do this, but the woman couldn’t this morning something about something.” He says rolling his eyes.

“Well, women are like that sometimes,” Ken says dryly.

“You’re working with the Borden these days for journalism?” Andrew Peters says switching the subject. “And that wife of yours, I hear she’s at Christie’s?”

“She is, and I am,” Ken nods his head.

“When’s the last time you rode?” Peters asks curiously as if knew the look that had been in Ken’s eyes.

“I can’t remember,” Ken says. “Never needed to really after the war.”

“Brutal wasn’t it, what they did to them afterwards?” Peters says with a nod of his head and when Ken doesn’t respond he continues. “Your boy is still too young isn’t he?” Peters asks making conversation.

“He’s seventeen, and Jimmy is exempted from being a constable of the Toronto Police,” Ken tells him.

“You have another daughter though don’t you?”

“Rowena is fifteen,” Ken nods his head, eyes narrowing as he watches Clara. “Bright girl she is.”

“Aren’t they all at fifteen, bright young women?” Peters grins.

“I wouldn’t know I generally don’t keep company with young girls,” Ken says dryly. “I just know my daughter is still very much a child by the state of her room and the way she goes on about everything.”

Peters was about to retort but Clara came running up to her. “I’m all done, I just have to brush down Snowdrop and give her an apple!”

“Let's go do that then,” Ken says, nodding goodbye to Andrew Peters and taking Clara’s hand in his.

Chapter 29

Chapter Text

The night was white as Rilla tried to get Clara back in bed after her dreams—nightmares that only started after her impromptu trip to Ken's office.

1941 had rung in without much fanfare. They had stayed up to midnight, Clara only made it to ten o’clock before falling asleep, leaning against Ken as she did. The older kids played their games, Jimmy and Connie and the baby were over for the evening, and Mrs. Clarke made what she could for the family in the usual allowances of war, and sat with her sherry as her friend from down the street came over for company as well.

Now it was February, cold and windy as the city froze and Rilla was comforting her youngest who was crying about home—Toronto being targeted. Suddenly the planes that flew over the city in the sky were bad people. No matter how many times Rilla tried to tell her that the war was far away, that men and even women fought in it because they were helping the allies as part of the Commonwealth. Germany wouldn’t make it over here, no not even the submarines, the U-boats wouldn’t dare come this far.

Rilla could only hear the far-out uncertainty that Ken tried to make it sound like there was no way they could when he was home when she told him Clara’s fears turned into a nightmare.

“I told you this wouldn’t end up good,” Rilla tells his pillow tiredly crawling into bed wanting, hoping she could get back to sleep before the kids would be up for school. “But you are never here to see it, you never are.” She sighs.

She drinks coffee as the kids race about to get ready for school. Oliver who is still coughing here and there takes the keys from the ring now that he has passed his driving test before his seventeenth birthday. He has an old beater of a truck, that he bought from Uncle Carl who finally invested in a new truck the previous year. He had saved birthday and Christmas money from family for years for that moment and even got a job at the grocery store down on the main road on the weekends to pay for gas.

It was old, but it worked and got him places and taught him responsibility. He was never a practical person in terms of fixing things, but he spent the day in the garage with Ken learning how to change the oil and found he didn’t mind the messy mechanical side of auto ownership. It wasn’t new, but the bed of the truck was large enough for friends and if they went out of the city down old dirt road…well a little dust would hurt it or anyone come summertime.

“Drive safe, and slowly it’s icy on the roads,” Rilla tells him kissing his cheek. She goes back upstairs sighing. A day off, and Ken was supposed to be home but had been called away for something or another. She lays down once again, only finding herself awakening a few hours later as the clock struck ten am.

She does morning chores and tidies the magazines on the table before Gloria and she looks over the grocery list to make it up for the next week.

The house was quiet when Jimmy came through the old familiar back down, shaking snow off his jacket and wiping his boots. Under his jacket is Bertie, wrapped up in knitted sweaters, leggings, little mittens and his bonnet. The kids were at school.”

“Let me take him?” Rilla says reaching her grand-baby. “Oh you are all bundled up,” she says sweetly, beginning to peel back the layers as the house was warm.

“No, Connie?” She asked when Jimmy went for the coffee.

“She’s at home, sends her wishes but wants to get some sleep and cleaning done,” Jimmy tells her. “This one refused to sleep last night when I was working,” he says in a sing-song voice to his son who only laughs and kicks his legs about. “I used to hate night shifts, but at least if I’m working get home at six am, we can get a few hours each, or she’ll take him to her mothers, and then we switch off and she can catch a few minutes before we even think about attempting dinner?” Both of us are tired, but at least it’s more manageable if we're both not sleeping?”

“He’ll get better in time,” Rilla tells him as she picks up the infant and cuddles him. “Infants usually have a four-month regression in sleep, it will get better.”

Willow comes and takes him occasionally as well, or comes over with Fleur and just lets us sleep. Honestly, I don’t know how she did, escaping occupied France, with an infant that isn’t even hers. She didn’t even have a way to feed the tot, and yet she managed”

“Makeshift formula,” Rilla tells him. “Same with I fed you, evaporated milk, sugar, water, even added cream occasionally if I wanted you to gain weight in the very beginning,” Rilla told him. “Mother milk is always preferable, but not every woman can do it, make enough for a child to thrive, formula recipes have helped immensely.”

“How is the hospital?” Jimmy asks her next, taking out a bottle of expressed milk for his son before he forgets it was in his pocket.

“I’m a glorified secretary most days, but it’s good? Some days are better than others like most hospitals,” Rilla tells him with a shrug of her shoulder that wasn’t in use holding the baby. “It’s hard to gain their trust for the ones who need help the most, and the others well, they love to ignore the wedding ring.”

“I would offer to come by in uniform, but the military probably has better ways to discipline men who overstep,” Jimmy says with a light chuckle.

“Most likely,” Rilla agrees and Bertie grizzles into her shoulder. “Oh! What is wrong little wrong, so opinionated for someone so little? Your Papa was never quite this opinionated, then again he was threatened to be shipped off to the orphanage, so he must have been on his best behaviour.” She jokes.

“I remember so little from those years but, watching Rowena these days I cannot imagine her taking care of a baby at her age,” Jimmy says after a moment. “I remember visiting dog Monday, and when your friends would make a fort out of the cotton you were sewing with during meeting.”

“You were so young,” Rilla says with a sad smile. “I loved you dearly, and hurt so much to hand you over, but you weren’t mine.”

“It all worked out in the end,” Jimmy says, reaching to take his son. “So, Connie thinks she is pregnant again,” he says exhaling.

“Pardon?” Rilla finds her mouth dropping. “He’s four months, take away eight weeks of that for recovery…”

“Oh I know,” Jimmy says sighing. “No need to tell me.”

“I need to,” Rilla says sarcastically. “I thought you would be better than that?”

“It was literally once, and she just feeling off, it’s hard to tell since it’s not like she has had a cycle since last year…” Jimmy tells his mother looking in his coffee mug.

“Am I interrupting something?” Shirley says from the doorway of the kitchen. “Lillian sent me over with some things Rowena she fixed for you?” He says holding up a bag.

“No, just an afternoon visit with Bertie to let Connie have a peaceful two or three hours?” Jimmy says shaking his head.

“It sounded like you were in a predicament?” Shirley says with a grin.

“Just a small hiccup,” Jimmy says simply.

“Irish twins are not hiccups,” Rilla gives him a look. “This one knows all about that, isn’t that right Shirley?”

“I got Irish triplets thank you very much,” Shirley says to his sister before looking at Jimmy and sitting down in the empty chair.

"Look no matter what my sister says, I wouldn’t change a moment of Jasper and Lunette’s entrance into this world. Was it hectic with Elodie only being a year, yes, but it was manageable. Hiccups happen to married people all the time, and really, it just makes you more of a Blythe than you realize. I mean Jem and Walter who you don’t even remember were only a year apart, and before Jem, there had been Joy who didn’t make it the June before. So just hang on to your braces, and embrace it if it happening, and if not…well…have a drink and breathe a sigh of relief and don’t make the same mistake twice when the baby is sleeping.”

“This one doesn’t sleep,” Jimmy tells him not knowing what else to say.

“And yet you are still worried about new little ones,” Shirley chuckles. “Such is life, you always find ways around such things when the magnitude of love is a strong pull.”

“When did you become a poet?” Rilla looks at her brother with a raised eyebrow.

Shirley grins and shrugs. “Thanks for the chat, I have to run a few errands before dinner tonight.” He says getting up, he squeezes Jimmy’s shoulder and stoops down for a moment to see the baby in his father’s arms. “Such a petite cochon,” he says with a grin.

Rilla shakes her head but watches her brother leave like he came.

Jimmy heads home half an hour later after the bottle of milk had been finished, but he would be hungry soon enough.

“Don’t ask—,” he starts.

“I won’t say a word, or even ask unless you bring it up,” Rilla tells him, hugging him tightly. “Though you really should have known better, that is neither here nor there now,” Rilla tells him and kisses his cheek and then Berties who was bundled up to go back out of the car’s basket seat.

She was upstairs when the door opened and she heard the familiar footsteps.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow?” She says from the top of the stairs.

“I wrapped it up early and drove home,” Ken says with a sigh. “Probably shouldn’t have, but I did,” he adds as he drops his bag on the floor before falling onto the bed.

He pulls her close, breathing in the scent of her hair and just lets himself relax.

“Did I miss anything?” He asks after a quiet moment.

“Clara had nightmares again, if I wasn’t exhausted I would probably be more angry,” Rilla tells him. “Ollie took the girls to school, I’m getting worried about his lingering cough. I should take him to the doctor, I thought it would be gone by now?”

Ken nods his head thinking for a moment.

“I need you to ask for two weeks' vacation this summer,” Ken says to Rilla.

“What do you mean two weeks off? I can’t ask for a holiday in the middle of a war Kenneth!”

“Considering they pay you, and even soldiers get two to three weeks of leave, yes you can,” Ken reminds her. “Two weeks, preferably in July if you can, I got an offer to go to this resort in Michigan, Mackinac Island, it still doesn’t allow automobiles, but the Grand Hotel is magnificent and I think everyone can use a break and just swim and relax, and we get a discount if I give them a lovely review in the magazine.”

“Can’t we do that on the island?” Rilla looks at him raising an eyebrow.

“Sure, but is not the same as somewhere new, just ask please?”

“I will ask, but I’m not sure what the protocol is for this sort of thing,” Rilla tells him “Rest, I will go run some errands,” Rilla says kissing his forehead and moving to roll off the bed.

“Stay,” Ken reaches for her. “For a little bit if you can?”

Rilla nods her head and lays back down next to him, curling up to his heartbeat.

The telephone ringing wakes them up and Rilla reaches for it next to the bed over Ken. She answers before letting it drop.

“Ken, wake up,” she shakes his voice rising. “Ken!”

“What is it?”

“That was the school, Oliver went into convulsions at school and is at the hospital.”

“Where is he?” Rilla says blindly at the nurse’s station at the hospital. “Oliver Ford, what happened” she adds on

“With the doctors, he passed out in class and wouldn’t wake up when they tried to bring him about,” The teacher who had come to the hospital says.

When they do get brought back to Oliver he is sitting up in the hospital, looking no worse than wear, his school uniform is folded on a chair. She kisses his forehead, wondering what she possibly missed.

“I’m okay, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Oliver says too speaking up, looking to his father, still dressed in his travelling military Jacket. It looked severe for the hospital, and Mother was wearing a pretty dress and had thrown on her jacket that she wears to the hospital with her own rank on the sleeves.

“I know, it’s okay,” Ken tells Ollie.

“What happened?” Rilla asks the doctor she doesn’t know when he arrives.

“I was hoping to further my evaluation before any diagnosis,” the doctor says looking at Oliver. “Has your son lost weight recently?” The doctor asks.

Rilla could only look at her son, noticing his cheeks seemed thinner but it wasn’t that much. She swore he had just grown again and hadn’t caught up to his height. Then again when were they home these days? Sure she made sure she was home after school for kids, for dinner and homework. Clara still needed her greatly and Rowena was

“He was sick a few weeks ago?” She says unsure. “I generally stopped weighing them weekly when they were toddlers?”

“I lost a few pounds,” Ollie tells him quietly.

“Have you been feeling thirstier than usual?” He directs to Oliver who thinks for a moment.

“Not that I know of? Just the usual I suppose?” Oliver says honestly.

“Do you find yourself urinating frequently?” The doctor asks not to.

“Depends on how much coffee I drink. I don’t find myself pissing any more than usual though?”

“Ollie!” Rilla's voice raises at his words.

“It’s all right Mrs. Ford, why don’t we talk in my office and let Oliver rest and have the nurses look after him?”

“Of course, come, darling,” Ken says nodding his head. Rilla looks at him but lets Ken lead her to the office, following the doctor who sits down in his chair.

“He came after a seizure he had at school, his teacher that accompanied him told us he was fine one minute before he wasn’t. Unsure of what was causing the episode, he felt clammy and he was sweating. The teacher gave him some orange juice that he had around and that helped him perk up slightly. It will take some observation, but we think Oliver is diabetic. We’ll need to see how his body processes sugars before we know for sure.” The doctor tells them both.

“Diabetes?” Rilla says looking at Ken.

“I know it sounds…it’s a lot more treatable than before, he had a seizure which can happen if his blood sugar got too low,” The doctor explains. “It can happen to children his age with all the hormones from puberty.”

Rilla can only nod her head.

“He was born a month early could that have any negative effect on him?” Rilla asks wondering if she had done this to him.

“Most likely not, was he a sickly child?” The doctor asks and Ken shakes his head.

“He was early, but beyond the worry about his lungs, he thrived, a bit smaller than other newborns. By the time he was about a year old, he was pretty much caught up?” Ken says looking to Rilla who nodded her head. “Her father never was worried, he’s a doctor. Ollie never seemed delicate, tall and lean but never in a way that hard us worried. He had normal things, chicken pox, measles, colds, and flu, all the kids have, our youngest is seven and is often sick herself these days. It’s still only everyday colds and sicknesses?”

“His lungs sometimes bother him, not quite asthma. He sometimes has issues after illnesses with lung capacity or very labour-intensive cardio?” Rilla adds on. “He can run about the soccer field leisurely but anything more impactful is hard for him?”

“We’ll go through some tests to see how his sugars react, it may have been something one-off and it’s nothing to worry about.”

“If it is diabetes,” Rilla quietly asks.

“He’ll most likely be disqualified from enlistment, but he can do home front jobs and other office jobs that would allow him to serve and maintain his a healthy level of living.” The doctor says. “I see that you are…”

“I wasn’t asking about the war, I was asking about his life in general, but since you have asked, I am Doctor, a Staff Sergeant at Christie’s,” Rilla tells him. “I help evaluate patients and make assessments and health plans.”

“Intriguing,” The doctor says not sure what else to say and Rilla holds back an eye roll.

“How long does he need to be evaluated?” Ken steps into the conversation.

“A few days at the very least, if it appears normal and he doesn’t have another episode he will be released but should be looked after carefully. If it happens again we can further evaluate what is happening.”