The Three of Us

148. Saving the Baby Bed, and Gilbert Gone

The day after Gilbert left, a large package arrived.

"Walter's new bed is here," Marilla remarked to Matthew. "I didn't realize Anne had chosen one and ordered it already."

The first time they needed to get a bed- before Walter was born- Anne had to be prompted to look for one at all, and Marilla had been the one to fill out the order form and send the money in. Anne was fourteen, and had never ordered anything from a catalog before.

Now, she was sixteen and had not even mentioned to Marilla or Matthew that she'd ordered a new bed. It just came in the mail suddenly. Marilla knew that filling out a mail order form was really a very small thing, but to Marilla it just reminded her that now, Anne was able to get things done without her parents' input.

But Marilla was glad to see Matthew putting the bed together for her. He and Anne sat on the floor in her room, the nails, hammer, and screws strewn about the floor, the instruction sheet between them.

She still has a need for us, a little bit, anyway, she thought.

--

Anne asked what she should do with Walter's crib.

"The church might know of some poor couple who can't purchase a baby bed," Marilla thought of. "Or, if you think you need some money, you could try to sell it."

Anne shook her head. "When I asked what I should do with it, I meant where to put it," she explained. "I was going to move it to the cellar, but I was afraid the dampness would ruin it. Should I move it to the spare room? ...I could just leave it in my room where it is, but it'll feel too crowded with Walter's new bed in there. And I don't want him trying to climb on it."

Marilla was surprised. "I didn't know you intended to keep it."

She remembered how, when they planned to take Walter to the Warren's farm, Anne wanted to get rid of the bed. She told Marilla that she wouldn't be needing it anymore after Walter left them. Marilla had encouraged her to not to get rid of his bed, then, pointing out that even if she wasn't going to keep Walter here at Green Gables, she'd still likely need a baby bed in the future after she married. But Anne had been firm in saying that she would never need a baby bed. She stated matter-of-factly that she was unable to have intimate relations and that was all there was to it; she and Gilbert would not be able to have any children of their own.

"Well," Anne said today. "I think I ought to hang onto it."

"Oh?" Marilla asked, trying not to sound as if she was too interested.

"Yes," Anne said slowly. "Because I don't want to have to buy another one later."

"You...think you might be in need of one later?"

"I don't know," Anne said honestly. "But maybe."

Marilla held back her smile until Anne had left to move her cradle into the spare room.

--

Anne showed Walter his new bed.

"Your old bed is for babies, and you're big enough now to have a real bed, like mama has."

Walter was not a fan of his new bed. But he did not want his old one, either. What he really wanted was to stay right by Anne's side.

But Anne would not let him fall asleep in her bed, because she worried that if she allowed it even once, it would be too hard to get him to go to sleep alone in his new bed after that.

Once Walter had gotten settled in his new bed- after three stories, two songs, and his back being rubbed- Anne flopped down onto her own bed with his baby book. She set the bottle of ink on her bedside table, hoping she wasn't being foolhardy by thinking she could lay on her bed to write. She moved past the pages she'd pasted Walter's photographs in, and turned to a fresh page:

The Day You Had Your First Photograph Made, she wrote.

I was so excited to get a photograph taken of you. I wish I'd had one taken even earlier, but I had never thought of such a thing. We went on Sunday after church, because you were already dressed nicely and right in town. You had on a cream colored outfit, and your hair was so lovely looking. You really are the perfect baby, I hope you know. You did a good job standing still for as long as it took, and when it was over I told you I was proud of you. We gave one of your photographs to Gilbert to take away with him to college, and one for Aunt Jane since she'd be away too and would miss you terribly. Aunt Jane's mama got one...she just likes you a lot, is all. And of course we saved some for your baby book. I really wanted to put them up on the wall so I could see them all the time, but I worried they'd get faded in the sun, so I decided to keep them hidden in the pages of this book instead. When you see your old photographs someday, you'll see why you were chosen as the prettiest baby at the fair.

Anne was done with that, and put it away. She got out a fresh sheet of paper, to write to Gilbert.

The next day, she put it in the mail, giving the envelope a quick kiss because she would not kiss him herself, and the envelope that would soon be in his hands was the closest she could come to.

--

Waiting on a visit from Gilbert was excruciating.

"Guh-buh," Walter said every day, standing at the front door, staring out at nothing.

"Guh-buh can't-" Anne stopped herself and shook her head. "Gilbert can't come just now, Walter. He's very busy with school."

But Walter did not understand, and after only three days without Guh-buh, he became inconsolable. He became needy and weepy, often whining and fussing for no apparent reason.

Anne was frustrated with him. But eventually she cried, too. "Walter, he can't be with us right now," she told him, sniffling.

Seeing his mama upset only made him further upset.

"Guh-buhhh," Walter cried. Anne cuddled him, but he cried and cried until he fell asleep.

After that, Walter stayed glued to Anne's side, as if he was afraid that she, too, might leave him.

Anne felt awful- Walter was going through some sort of grieving process, but she could not help him, and he could not grasp why Gilbert, who had been with him every day, was suddenly not.

She knew Gilbert would visit on weekends, but Walter did not understand calendars and clocks yet, and the days, to him, stretched out for ages, with no end that he understood.