Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Six

TW: Mentions self harm.

Rachel Lynde was a home body by nature, and vacations didn't truly suit her. She rarely traveled outside the Cape, except when the most extreme of circumstances required it. On this particular occasion, it was the death of her cousin. She had never been particularly close with that side of the family, but "I have to do my duty towards my family, that's what." People might talk if she didn't make it to the funeral. She should know. She was, after all, the town gossip.

But nevertheless, as she arrived home early that morning, it felt good to settle back into her small cottage by the sea, even if the breeze did seep under her skin and chill her very bones. "I tell you what, Thomas, I'm going to end up with arthritis because of this place," she complained as she began to unpack her clothes and meticulously place them in the dresser.

"There are worse things, Rachel," Thomas replied, although it wasn't wholly as a husband trying to fend off his wife's attempt to gain pity, and more the words of a meek man who often was afraid to go against his wife. Rachel Lynde was many things, but a submissive wife would never be one of them.

"Thomas," she said sharply, "you wouldn't be saying that if you were considering the consequences. I can't hardly knit if I have arthritis, and then you won't get any more winter hats, which you somehow always end up ruining, Lord knows how. It's not like you do menial labor these days."

"We can always buy hats, Rachel."

"Oh, fiddlesticks. Those hats are rubbish. I tell you Thomas, for all of these mass production plants and so forth, they still have no idea how to make something that I don't have to fix in a week. Quality over quantity you know. Not that any of the kids would ever listen to me these days, I'm just an old lady who doesn't know what she's talking about. But I've seen a bit more than them, and they're going to ask for my help one of these days, that's what," she said, emphatically placing a stack of Thomas's shirts in his drawer.

"Of course, Rachel," Thomas replied, sinking onto his bed.

In truth, Mrs. Lunde should have been far more worried that she would develop diabetes and hinder her ability to eat her own homemade apple pies. She had never been slim girl, even in her youth, and perhaps her sturdier frame is what drew her to Marilla Cuthbert in the first place. After all, the two never had to compete for who was skinnier, and while Mrs. Lynde had always been the fairer one (or so Mrs. Lynde claims), there had never truly been competition with the two. But, with age, Marilla had retained her sturdy frame, while Rachel had grown a bit more plump.

Mrs. Lynde slowly arose from her kneeling position, claiming, "I'm too old to be bending down like this, and you know it's not right Thomas." Thomas didn't answer, which was all very well because she wasn't truly listening to him anyhow. Instead, she peered over at her neighbor's house, watching through the kitchen window as Samantha started making breakfast preparations. "Well, it's awfully late in the day to be making breakfast," she said, now intently spying on the Cuthberts. "And an awfully lot of food. You don't suppose that the Cuthberts finally got that child they've been after? It's all very well to adopt, don't get me wrong, but I do believe that there is something downright unnatural about the whole process. A couple should at least have one of their own kids, that's what." She paused, still studying the whole scene before turning back to Thomas. "Well, I suppose I should drop in and give my respects. It's the only neighborly thing to do, and Lord knows I won't make any more apple pies before anyone can call me un-neighborly. Just make sure all your things are unpacked. It's too bad the boy didn't come later, I would have baked some bread and whatnot. Well, it is what it is, no use thinking about what could have been." She grabbed her jacket from its place on the coat rack, a delightful pea coat that fit snugly on Ms. Lynde's frame. She opened the door, and before she stepped out into the cold, she threw one last command back at Thomas. "And don't you forget about unpacking!"