The Three of Us

68. A Lamp Lit in a Darkened Room

Guys, here it is :'(

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Gilbert had not left the house, but Dr. Carter brought medicine, and often checked for mail for Gilbert when he was in town.

Gilbert had received Anne's last letter only days before- the one about being afraid and telling him that Marilla would bring his mother's ring back if something happened to her.

But today- the letter Dr. Carter brought him- was the first time the envelope had been written in Miss Cuthbert's handwriting.

Gilbert held the letter as if it frightened him. He wanted to tear it open, desperate for any news- but he knew there was the very real possibility that once that letter was opened, his life was forever altered.

He pulled back the seal and slowly took the letter out.

"Anne was safely delivered..."

The letter dropped to the floor, and he fell to his knees.

His hands were shaking so badly he could hardly bring them together in prayer.

---

Mr. Blythe read the letter with wet eyes and a smile on his face:

Anne was safely delivered of a son today at half past seven in the evening. The doctor says her baby boy is perfectly healthy, and though he weighs just an ounce under six pounds, he quite makes up for it with a strong set of lungs. She has not yet chosen a name for him.

Mother and baby are doing well and we expect to return home sometime next month.

I wanted to send word right away, Gilbert, as I know she's been in your and your father's thoughts and prayers just as much as she's been in ours.

With love,

Marilla Cuthbert.

"I knew she would be all right," John said faintly.

He told Gilbert he needed to rest.

Gilbert sat with him, fearful.

---

"What are you going to name him?" Marilla asked when Anne was a bit more rested.

"Name him?" Anne looked as if she had forgotten she'd need to name him at all.

"Yes," Marilla said patiently. "What would you like to call him?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Anne replied, disinterested.

Marilla pursed her lips. Finally she said, "Dr. Wescott is going to be in later today to check on you and the baby. He'll need to fill out the birth certificate."

"Oh," Anne said glumly. "Then I guess I'll call it...Walter."

It was literally the first name that came to her mind, and she had no desire to think any further about it.

Marilla decided to ignore that she had just referred to the baby as it. "That was your father's name, wasn't it?" she asked, trying to sound cheerful. "That's a very nice thing to do for his memory, Anne, calling the baby after your father."

"I guess," Anne shrugged. She glanced down at the baby, but then turned away from him and lay her head down.

"Well," Marilla said briskly, standing up. "I'm sure little Walter here is going to need another bottle soon, so I think I'll go get that started."

"All right," Anne responded softly, not seeming to care.

But-

"Marilla?"

Marilla turned back at the door.

"John," she said. "Walter John."

---

Matthew went into town daily to look for mail from his family, and like Dr. Carter, he'd check for Gilbert as well.

He, too, had received word of Anne's safety- opened immediately, as he did not think he could make the drive home without knowing if his darling girl was safe.

Once he'd wiped his eyes and gotten a clean handkerchief, he set off for the Blythe farm with a new letter for Gilbert.

---

Gilbert,

Anne would like to write to you herself, of course, but she's still recuperating, and needs all the rest she can get. She hasn't yet been out of bed.

I am just writing quickly to tell you that she's chosen a name. Walter for her father, and John for yours. I thought she ought to ask your father- or at least ask you- before assigning the name, but she insists neither of you will mind, as she loves your father as dearly as if he were her own.

I'll write again when we know the date of our return.

Give your father all our love. We've been praying for his health these past weeks.

Love,

Marilla Cuthbert

---

"Dad," Gilbert said, eyes wet. "Dad."

John Blythe opened his eyes.

"Dad, look. Anne's named her baby after you."

His father did not respond.

His eyes would have to do his speaking for him.

"Look," Gilbert insisted, opening the letter. He read it aloud to his father. "Listen to this: Miss Cuthbert writes, Walter for her father, and John for yours. ...Isn't that nice, dad?"

John reached out a shaky hand, asking for the letter.

But he could not look at it. He just lay it on his chest, which was straining each time it rose and fell, and he smiled.

Finally he found the strength to give Gilbert his last words:

"This is a happy day."

He spoke no more, and they sat with each other, until at last the lingering evening sun dipped below the horizon, taking all the brilliance of the water color-painted-twilight with it, and it grew dark enough to see the stars.

Later, when Gilbert opened the door, he saw that Mr. Cuthbert was still there, waiting for him.