Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Father
Marilla giggled as her father tossed her gently up in the air before catching her.
He did this a few times and then put her down.
“Father, again, again!” She cried tugging at his arms.
“I’m afraid that’s all your old papa can do for now, my little Amaryllis flower,” he smiled, feigning a pull in his back before she grabbed his hand and he twirled her around.
Michael came in then with a stack of wood.
“Thank you, son. You have been a big help, especially since your mother is expecting.” He clapped eleven-year-old Michael on his back.
This was five-year-old Marilla’s world. Her darling mother who was constantly nurturing her two children, beloved responsible brother whom protected his little sister with everything he had, and her adoring father who doted on his son and daughter with such protective love.
Her mother always tucked her into bed and prayed with her, her round tummy making it hard for her to bend over but she tried her best.
———-
Marilla had a hard time falling asleep, she wasn’t sure how she felt about having another sibling. She wished she could stay the baby. And then another thought came to mind,
What if Father and Mother loved this new child more than her? She began panicking at this idea and couldn’t help but cry.
“Marilla? My Amaryllis, what’s the matter? This isn’t like you?” Matthew Cuthbert Sr crept in and held his daughter.
“With the n-new b-baby you won’t love me any more,” she cried into his chest.
He held the small girl against himself, “darling that won’t ever happen. My love and your mother’s love only grows. You’ll always be my girl.”
“Really?”
“Mmhm, we don’t love your brother more than you, or you more than him. Do I act like I love Michael more? Or that I love you more than him?”
Marilla shook her head, her father was always good at being fair with them.
“Come now, you can sleep with your mother and i tonight.”
She followed him to her parents’ bedroom and Constance rolled over, opening her arms to her little daughter.
“Shh, lass, mother’s here,” Constance soothed, brushing her daughters brown hair with her soft fingers.
Marilla fell asleep with a smile on her face.
————-
It was a confusing time for Marilla. One minute she was eating a biscuit and drinking her afternoon milk and the next Michael was whisking her off to the barn.
“Won’t be long now, Rill. The baby’s on its way,” he said with a smile while he flicked the brush over the grey gelding.
Marilla was too little to groom horses, of course, so she just played in the haystack, giggling when Michael jumped in next to her.
They stayed in there until Father came running out.
“You can come inside now!,” he said, excitedly, picking Marilla up.
“Did the baby come?” Marilla asked him as he carried her inside, Michael in tow next to his father.
“Indeed, my Amaryllis, you have a new little brother,” he tousled Michael’s hair.
“A brother! Yes!” Michael laughed and ran on ahead.
The trio headed upstairs, passing the midwife on her way out, and upon entering the bedroom they saw Constance, cradling a small bundle. She gave a tired smile and said,
“Come closer, see?” She took Marilla from Matthew and let her daughter snuggle in close next to her. Michael joined her on the other side.
“His name is Matthew, just like your father,” she introduced the little baby to them.
Marilla looked at his tiny fingers and nose.
“C-can I touch him?” She asked, her big blue eyes staring up at her mother’s.
“Of course you can. Be gentle.”
Marilla stroked his head hesitantly.
“He’s so soft,” she whispered.
Constance placed the baby in Michael’s outstretched arms.
“Remember when Marilla was born you were too small to hold her?”
“Yes, Mother, I do,” Michael couldn’t hide his grin.
Constance glanced down and saw her daughter with a look of longing in her eyes.
“I’m afraid you’re a wee bit too small to hold him on your own, Darling. Maybe I can help you when Michael’s had enough?”
Marilla nodded, her eyes glued to her brothers.
Matthew Sr leaned down to be eye level with his sons and daughter.
“Now, Marilla, I want you to watch out for your little brother the way Michael does for you. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, Father, I will,” Marilla hugged him hard and he chuckled, his big hand gently patting her small head.
———-
Little Matthew grew quickly and before Marilla knew it, he was toddling around the house.
She enjoyed having someone to play with; Michael being older was often at school or working the land with Matthew.
Little Matthew and Marilla grew very close because of this. Their father didn’t believe children should go to school until they were seven so Marilla had two years of staying home with him.
Marilla was her father’s little girl. Of course he adored his boys but perhaps he spoiled her just a tad more?
——
The five of them were an immensely happy family for a long time until tragedy struck, the year Michael turned sixteen.
Matthew and Michael were out with the hired field hands, using the hay sled to feed the Cuthbert cattle.
Matthew was driving the sled, pulled by two black Shires. Michael was the one throwing the bales off the sled into the field, and the field hands were astride their own horses, making sure the bales ended up the right distance apart.
Halfway through the job the horses spooked and raced across the field. In the commotion the reins somehow wrapped around Matthew’s ankle and he lost balance, falling off of the bales of hay he was standing on and hitting his head on a rock.
Michael watched in horror as his father toppled from the sled, “Father!! Noo!”
He screamed, entirely helpless as the field hands tried to corral the runaway shires and slow them down.
When it was over, Michael and one of the men carried Matthew up to Green Gables to Constance.
The doctor was called but Matthew had died instantly.
Constance wept for her husband, the shock was too much to bear.
Little Matthew ran up to his father’s body lying on the bed and he held his hand.
“Mama? Is Father all right? Why won’t he wake up?!”
“My darling son,” she knelt down to his eye level and cradled him in her arms, “he’s gone to heaven. We’re on our own.”
Marilla was the only one out of her family who wasn’t at home when the incident happened. She was at school and had won the spelling bee over the boys.
She ran home, unable to contain her excitement. Father had been practicing with her every night after dinner. She knew he would be so proud of her, all of them would.
“Father, father! Mother! I-“ she stopped in her tracks as she saw her family sitting around the kitchen table, in shock.
“Sweet girl,” Constance looked at her with weeping eyes, “Your father has been in an accident. He’s in heaven now.”
Her breath quickened and her heart raced, it wasn’t true, no, it couldn’t be?
She ran upstairs to find the mortician pulling a sheet over his face.
“Father?!” She screamed, running up.
The mortician looked rather sad, “I’m so sorry, little girl, there was nothing to be done.”
She ran into her room, shut the door and refused to come out.
————
The whole family stood stoically as the coffin was lowered into the family plot.
Marilla gripped Little Matthew’s hand tightly, feeling that it was the only thing keeping her standing.
————
Poor Constance was never the same. She tried to be there for her children, and was but Marilla could tell that the light was gone from her eyes.
For the Cuthbert siblings, Michael worked himself harder. He was the new provider for the family and farm. He tried to become what they had lost, both for his little siblings and his darling mother.
Marilla struggled with school that year on account of her home life but by Providence she managed to get though with the help of John Blythe who was a year older than her.
Little Matthew was only six when he lost his father. He became much more reserved and spoke little. Without his father’s guidance he was lost.