~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Sea Shanty. A work song devised to accompany particular actions or tasks on board ship.
_________________________
I didn't get to tell Gilbert. When I arrived at the train station I found Sebastian all bandaged up. Turns out he found Elijah and things didn't end well. I decided that I'd tell them about the money after Mary's funeral.
Which is today.
We are all gathered at the graveside. Sebastian is having her buried in the Blythe family cemetery. She played a big part in Gilbert's life so he was happy to offer a spot to our dear Mary.
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." The minister's reads Psalms 23. Sebastian stands by the graveside, his face etched with pain, bearing the wounds of a heartfelt goodbye.
Beside him, Gilbert's gaze is fixed on the ground, a mixture of grief and gratitude in his eyes.
It's cloudy today. But the sun manages to cast a gentle glow on the gathering, highlighting the somber faces of those who loved Mary. I stand with a heavy heart as he continues to read.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pasture: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will live in the house of the Lord forever."
The minister's voice gradually fades, concluding the somber service that marks the end of Mary's earthly journey. Sebastian spends a few quiet moments by the graveside, holding Delly close, before joining the procession back into the Blythe house. The air is thick with sorrow, and the weight of loss settles heavily upon everyone present.
As the guests disperse, returning to the house for shared moments of remembrance and solace, I find myself drawn to the now-settled earth that cradles Mary's remains. A wave of grief washes over me, and I can't hold back the tears that well up in my eyes. The realization hits me with brutal force—I've lost one of my dearest friends, a woman whose laughter and warmth had woven into the very fabric of Avonlea.
Alone by the graveside, I lower myself onto the cold ground, the grass cool beneath my fingers. Sobs escape me, an unfiltered expression of the pain that Mary's departure has left behind. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a melancholy hue over the landscape.
Suddenly, a comforting presence settles beside me. I turn to Gilbert, his eyes reflecting the same grief I feel. In the shared silence, words are unnecessary. We sit together, each lost in our thoughts, finding solace in the company of someone who understands the depth of our sorrow.
After a while, Gilbert's hand finds mine, offering a reassuring squeeze. "We should probably check on Sebastian." He quietly suggests.
I sniffle. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do this." I admit. "I want to be strong for him but-"
"And you will be just that. Bash will allow us to grieve as well." He pulls me into his side. "He knows how special she was to us."
The evening breeze carries a bittersweet melody of memories, echoing the laughter and camaraderie Mary had woven into the fabric of our lives.
I speak with a breaking voice, "I hate this. I never thought I'd have to say goodbye to her so soon."
"None of us did. But she'll live on in our hearts, Ada." He says sincerely. I lean my head over and rest it on his shoulder. We sit for a moment, the quiet understanding between us providing a refuge in the midst of sorrow.
As we rise from the ground, hands still intertwined, a solemn hush envelops us. We begin the walk back to the house. The fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the crisp night air, a poignant reminder that life persists even in the face of loss.
As we approach the porch, we find Bash seated on the steps, the heaviness of his grief etched across his face. The minister sits beside him, offering silent companionship. Bash's shoulders shake with the weight of sorrow, and I feel my heart constrict at the sight of his pain.
The minister nods in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. As he quietly withdraws, leaving Bash in our care, the responsibility of comforting our friend settles upon our shoulders.
I sit beside Bash, placing a gentle hand on his back, while Gilbert takes a seat on the step. Bash, for the first time since Mary's passing, allows his tears to flow freely.
"I don't know how to do this without her, Ada. It hurts so much." He cries.
"We're here for you, Bash. Whatever you need." Gilbert whispers.
"I just wish I could've done more." His voice breaks.
"You did everything you could. And you gave her the most precious gift—your love." I sniffle. "We will do the same for Delphine."
"She'll always be a part of us, Bash. In the stories we share, in the laughter we cherish, and in the quiet moments when we feel her presence." Gilbert rubs his back.
I wrap an arm around Bash. "It's hard to see now. But things will get better. You will always miss her. But you will see her in the little things every single day."
***
A few days passed. Under the warmth of the midday sun, the property radiated a different kind of energy. Bash, holds the vibrant yellow kite out in the open field, the sun casting a golden glow on the surroundings. Delphine, cradled in his arms, giggled at the sight of the colorful kite fluttering against the sky.
The kite danced on the gentle breeze, a vivid stroke of color against the canvas of blue. Meanwhile, Gilbert and I found shade under a sprawling oak tree, a small blanket laid out for us to sit.
"It's like Mary's spirit is soaring with that kite." I smile as I watch Bash and Delly.
Gilbert looks up from his book and nods. "Seems fitting. She loved the idea of flying, of reaching new heights."
"You know, I've been thinking about the legacy we leave behind. What marks we make on the world." I look to him as he reads from one of his medical books.
"Mary left love," Gilbert says, looking out at the field. "What do you want to be remembered for?"
Taking a deep breath, I reply, "I just want to be a good person. Instead of worrying about the future, I'd rather focus on making the most of each day."
Gilbert, his eyes fixed on the kite's graceful dance in the sky, spoke softly, "Sometimes, it's the simplicity of goodness that leaves the most lasting impression."
I nodded, appreciating the wisdom in his words. "Mary had a way of making every day special, finding joy in the ordinary moments. I hope to be like her someday."
As the kite dipped and soared, a subtle reminder of the ebb and flow of existence, Gilbert closed his book and turned towards me. "You've already touched lives, Ada. Your kindness is a ripple that extends far beyond what you may realize."
A warmth settled in my chest at his words. With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I playfully nudged Gilbert's shoulder. "So, Dr. Blythe. How exactly has my oh-so-simple goodness left a mark on your life?"
He chuckled, a playful smirk gracing his lips. "Well, Ada, your kindness has a way of making even the most mundane moments memorable. You tend to sprinkle a bit of magic everywhere you go."
I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming. "Care to elaborate on that?"
"Let's just say, your presence has a way of turning ordinary days into extraordinary ones." I roll my eyes at his statement. "There's a certain enchantment in that, don't you think?"
I couldn't help but laugh, appreciating the artful dance of his words. "Enchantment? That's a big word for you."
"I bet you can't spell it." He teases. I narrow my eyes at him before spelling it out. "Oh the cleverness of you." He snaps.
"But seriously, tell me, how has the ordinary Ada impacted the extraordinary Gilbert?" I ask teasingly.
He leaned in, his gaze lingering, and replied with a mysterious smile, "Ah, Ada, unraveling the mysteries is only half the fun, isn't it?"
As Bash ran back towards us, holding Delly in his arms, he flashed a grin. "Ada, mind taking over for a bit? Got some urgent business," he said with a twinkle in his eye, handing off Delly like a precious cargo.
I chuckled, accepting Delly into my arms. "Urgent business, huh? What could be more important than this little bundle of joy?"
Bash winked mysteriously and darted off, leaving me with Delly in tow. Just as I was about to coo at her, Gilbert swooped in with his characteristic charm.
"Ahoy there, little Delly! Ready for a shanty?" he declared, his voice taking on a comically exaggerated tone.
I shot him a mock glare. "Gilbert, you can't possibly serenade a baby with a sea shanty!"
Undeterred, he began singing "Haul Away Joe" in a funny, exaggerated voice, complete with dramatic gestures. Delly seemed entertained, but I couldn't let this slide.
"Gilbert, seriously? That's not exactly a lullaby," I scolded with a playful smirk.
He winked, still holding Delly, "Well, she's got to learn about life on the high seas sometime, right?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe save the seafaring lessons for later. Let's stick to something a bit more baby-friendly, Blythe."
Gilbert, still holding Delly, adopted a mockingly serious expression. "Ah, right you are, Ada Faye. We must ensure her dreams are filled with fluffy clouds and cuddly bunnies."
I couldn't resist playing along. "Exactly. No stormy seas in her dreams tonight."
As Gilbert switched gears and began singing a sweet lullaby, his voice transformed into a gentle melody that resonated with the tranquility of the moment. Delly, seemingly content, gurgled in response, and the impromptu serenade turned into a delightful collaboration. Delly, cradled in Gilbert's arms, drifted into a peaceful slumber, surrounded by the warmth of our makeshift family beneath the midday sun.