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Chapter Text

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, - and one hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air ...

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

* High Flight, John Gillespie Magee Jr

* * *

When she was a little girl Dora Keith had a recurring dream where she flew. Not as a bird or butterfly flies, but rather she soared above the firmament lighter than air itself. It did not happen often, but she woke up happier when it did. Beside her, Marilla slumbered, while dream Dora wheeled and soared and swung.

Marilla had initially believed Davy to be as troublesome a child as it was possible to find, while Dora came to them fully formed. It was only as the twins grew that her opinion changed. Where once Dora had been a biddable child, she became argumentative and strong willed. "Isn't it better this way?" Anne had remarked. "You don't want her to be a pushover."

"Wouldn't complain." Marilla had responded in the wake of yet another slammed door the sound reverberating around the house as her apron shuddered in the breeze.

Having scrimped and saved for Anne's continuing education, Marilla could hardly deter Dora from heading off first to Queens and thence to Redmond to study, much to everyone's amazement, mathematics. "Will she teach?" Rachel had asked.

"I have no idea," replied Marilla. "What can a woman do with a mathematics degree?"

Dora had not much idea herself, but numbers fascinated her; unlike people, they were dependable. Having won a scholarship, she stayed on at university enjoying the collegiate lifestyle, surrounded by likeminded men for there were few women with her skillset.

Anne had introduced her to Philippa Gordon in her first term at Redmond. "Phil knows more about mathematics than anyone I know." Anne had said. She said little else that day as Dora and Phil dissolved into an unfathomable discussion of math proofs and the like, their excitement growing as they probed each other's knowledge. "She's clever, she could go far," Phil said later when Dora had rushed off to a lecture. Thenceforth Phil acted as a sort of mentor for Dora, "though what I can teach her is limited," she admitted.

"Just keep an eye out for her," Anne pleaded, "for Marilla's sake if not my own."

"Well of course I shall, honey," Phil promised.

Her promise worked, more or less, for the first few years, but once Dora launched herself out into the world, even Phil lost sight of her for a few years.

Dora had been a little unsure of her relationship with Phil initially, didn't like the idea that the family was keeping tabs on her, and certainly had no need of any help academically, but she kept the friendship going for the sake of proprietary. She had her fair share of sexual encounters at university but managed to keep the news away from Avonlea. Her paramours were hardly the type to broadcast the facts.

Slowly, she drifted away from little Avonlea. Each time she returned in those first few years she felt increasingly distant from small town life. Mrs Rachel spreading the gossip, Marilla listening with half an ear, whilst watching her intently. Davy following the traditional life, less annoying than he had been as a youngster, but without anything particularly interesting to say. Occasionally she paid Anne and Gilbert a visit. The children busy with their own little lives. Dora didn't like to think she was above them; it wasn't that, but they just had little in common.

By her mid 20s, Dora, now known as Dorothy, started hearing news of a couple of brothers down in the States who were experimenting with flying machines. Images came to her of those dreams from so long ago. Of wheeling through the sky as free as a bird. Imagine if it were possible? Mathematically, she assumed it probably was, it was just a matter of building wings of the correct shape and then getting up enough speed to create lift. Discussing it with her friends they all came to the same conclusion, theoretically it should be possible, but as to how to manage it, they had no idea.

The day the brothers flew their craft, the Wright Flyer at Kitty Hawk North Carolina, albeit only a few yards, was one of the happiest in Dorothy's life. She and her friends whooped for joy when they saw the photograph and read the piece: Flying Machine Soars Three Miles in Teeth of High Wind Over Sand Hills and Waves on Carolina Coast and she read with interest that they had employed a box kite principle with two propellers.

Utterly sick of teaching geometry to young girls with about as much interest or skill as Anne had ever possessed, Dorothy wrote to the brothers in Kitty Hawk offering her services. No reply ever came, presumably she told herself, nursing her hurt, because they had received similar letters from eager people all over the world.

Dorothy was not one to let a little setback like that deter her. She quit her job that week, packed her bags and set off for North Carolina. Asking around she was directed to Kitty Hawk where she set up camp wandering over to the Wright's set up, a disappointingly rudimentary affair. She did not receive a warm welcome, but then she did not expect much. Women were seldom paid much notice, but being asked to wash the dishes was a blow too low.

Settling herself down on a nearby patch of grass Dorothy pulled out her notebooks and started sketching a flying machine complete with mathematical annotations. It was not as though she precisely knew what she was doing, but she wanted them to take notice. "Nah, that won't work," a deep voice over her shoulder said. "Let me." Squatting down next to her, the man took her pencil and paper crossing out her notes replacing them with his own. "See what I mean?" he said. "I can see what you were trying, but we had a go at that a couple of years ago, didn't work." Dorothy peered intently at these new equations as understanding dawned. "So, you mean?" she said pointing at his work.

"Yeah, seems incredible don't it. But the proof of the pudding is in the flight. We'd tried just about everything you know. Our success didn't come out of nowhere. Flying like a bird didn't work, except that it almost did."

"Do the wings flap?" Dorothy asked, incredulous.

"I wish, but no. Say, can I fetch you some coffee?"

Dorothy smiled; she had never gotten the knack of coffee drinking, but she was keen to impress this tall handsome man. Taking the cup from him she introduced herself. "Pleased to meet you," he replied. "Mr Samuel Nurk at your service."

"Oh?" Dorothy couldn't help saying.

"You might have mistaken me for one of the brothers, I guess. But, no I'm just here helping them out."

"Do, um, do people do that?"

"Sure, they can always do with more help, you know. There's a lot of work to do. You look handy with the math too, most folks come by to help with the haulage."

"I thought they were self-propelled."

Mr Nurk laughed kindly, "in the air, sure. But they're a bit more ungainly on the ground. Anyways we have enough people to help with the heavy lifting, book smarts are harder to come by. Folks seem to think this is a foolhardy affair, a novelty act and no more."

"I think it's marvellous," Dorothy exclaimed excited in a manner she seldom ever had been. Samuel noticed the way her bright blue eyes shone.

"Fancy a tour," he offered.

"Are you sure it's alright?" there was nothing Dorothy wanted more than to see the remarkable machine, but she hated to think her new friend might get into trouble over it.

"Pretty lady like you, what harm could there be?"

Dorothy was aware of her beauty, knew how her long blonde locks affected the men around her, but the last thing she wanted was to be known for that alone. Mr Nurk was doing so well, and then he had to go and ruin things. However, Dorothy's urge to see the flying machine outweighed her dismay at being called pretty. "That sounds real interesting," she replied getting to her feet.

"We keep our kites in here," Mr Nurk explained, pulling open a sliding door. The hangar was massive; easily the largest building she had ever visited, though in truth it was no more than a big shed.

The kite, as Mr Nurk referred to it, was an unassuming machine. Not all that big, just a wooden frame covered with material. "You may not think it looks like much, but I assure you it works." Dorothy blinked several times, replying, "no, no. It looks amazing." She put out her finger to touch it.

"I know you can't see it yet. But wait til you go up."

Dorothy turned to stare at him, "do you think I'll ever get the chance?"

"Sure. Sometimes they take folks up if they're prepared to pay." At Dorothy's crestfallen look he added, "it's an expensive business. There's fuel to pay for as well as everything else."

"Oh, how is it powered, I meant to ask."

"We use gasoline. The low flashpoint means it's not very flammable. Last thing you want, as you might imagine, is the plane going up in smoke when you're in midair." Dorothy shuddered. "Exactly. Say would you like to go up now, feel brave enough?"

Somewhat in awe, Dorothy nodded. "I have money."

"I reckon you're good for it. If you wait here, I'll just ask around. Mr Nurk disappeared for a little while, but he eventually returned with another man in tow. "This here's Mr Orville," he said. "He's intrigued to meet a woman brave enough to give it a go."

Orville regarded Dorothy frankly, "mostly folks think we're idiots," he said. "You really want to?" Dorothy swallowed hard and nodded.

Her response caused a sudden flurry of activity as a team of men arrived out of nowhere to pull the kite out of the hangar and onto the airfield. Dorothy was given a coat and a pair of goggles. "Tie your hair back," Mr Nurk suggested. "Or it'll whip around too much."

It was only as they raced along the runway that Dorothy had time to draw breath and consider what she had agreed to and the next moment they were aloft.

Leaping out afterwards, rather wobbly back on firm ground, Dorothy laughed whether from exhilaration or relief she was unsure. She stumbled a little, relieved when Mr Nurk caught her in his arms. "So, Ace, what did you make of that?"

Sweeping a stray lock out of her eyes, Dorothy grinned at him. "Amazing!"

"Feel like doing it again, sometime?"

"Now?"

He laughed, "you're keen, gotta let the engine cool down a bit, first. How about tomorrow?"

Her eyes blazed, "absolutely!"

After her second time aloft, she enquired about flying lessons, no longer wanting to fly at the behest of another, but rather longing to be in control. "Never seen anyone so keen," Mr Nurk said. "Say, I guess I could teach you myself, if you're interested."

"How much would it cost?" Dorothy asked, suddenly mindful of practical matters.

"I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement," Mr Nurk said with a wink.

"No, no," Dorothy replied stepping back acutely aware of a change in the air between them. "Let's keep this strictly professional."

They made a deal then which suited them both; Sam perhaps slightly less than Dorothy, she was awful pretty.

Dorothy tried to keep a professional distance, but she too was rather attracted to this man, so tall, so knowledgeable. He had an easy way about him, yet professional where it counted. He proved a good teacher too, though in truth they were all learning. No one had much experience of wind patterns.

The first time Dorothy was caught in an updraft was terrifying as the kite drifted suddenly upwards through no will of her own. The ground dizzingly far below. She fairly shook when she came to a halt on the runway that time. "Nearly lost you," Sam remarked. She hung onto him for longer than was strictly necessary, feeling safe within his arms. Suddenly they were kissing, his lips on hers divinely warm and soft. They stumbled back into his hut, and once in hurriedly divested themselves of their clothes in lustful fervour laughing when his bed collapsed beneath them but undeterred.

They became an item after that, always seen together. No one minded much, their attention was on the flying rather than matters of manners or proprietary. If Sam was lucky enough to find himself a woman, then good luck to him. Dorothy became a kind of mascot, giving as good as the boys, flying as well as them too. They were all learning as they went, finding out about flying through weather, in different lights or even the dark. Landing was interesting, cross winds could push the kite off in one direction or maybe pop it back up into the air when you least expected it. Then there was the fuel issue; how long could the gas tank last, if you took too much with you, it would affect the weight and that was a consideration too. Through it all Dorothy was there with her pencil, working out the math, supposing and testing her theories. Gaining the respect of her fellows with Sam proudly by her side.

* * *

Marilla felt herself increasingly old. Perhaps never the most modern of women, the world now felt as if it were moving too fast. Age, it appeared was catching up with her. Hitherto always active she found herself increasingly exhausted and was even to be seen napping in the parlour some afternoons, a luxury her younger self would never have resorted to.

When she found herself unable to rise even for a short while the family grew alarmed. The doctor declared that her time might be soon, "for," he'd said gravely, "she's a grand old lady now. If we're lucky our body just plumb wears out."

Marilla knew she was dying, frankly was not too perturbed. She had reared three wonderful children, two of whom had gone to bear children of their own. There was just one fly in the ointment. Where had her youngest daughter gotten off to; they had not been in touch for years. Thankfully when Marilla took to her bed for good, they were able to get a message through via Phil Gordon.

* * *

By now Dorothy and Sam had opened a flying school in Ontario. Dorothy had been keen to return to her native Canada, and having done some research they reasoned such a venture might be profitable. They had a modest apartment at the top of their hangar which stored the plane they used for their joyride customers.

Casually cupping Dorothy's bare breast in his right hand, Sam handed a cigarette over her shoulder. She took it from him delicately and inhaled, watching the smoke rise to float around the dawn light's suffused room. Their reverie was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. "Damn and blast," Sam swore softly disentangling himself from Dorothy and the sheets. "Just give us a moment," he called. Hastily wrapping a sheet around his midriff, he extended one hand around the barely opened door and shut it quickly. "It's for you," he told Dorothy handing it over. Dorothy took the proffered note reading it quickly. Come to Avonlea, make haste. She sighed having put the little town out of her mind for so long. She glanced at the note once more. It had to be Marilla, there was no one else. "Everything alright?" Sam asked.

"It's my mother, I suspect."

"Oh," Sam said, plonking himself down beside her.

"I know we're busy, all those bookings and everything, but."

"Go."

"You sure?"

"You only get one mother."

"Well, technically two, in my case."

Sam smiled, "even so, this is the woman who reared you, yes?"

"Since I was six."

"You've never told me much about your upbringing. Was it happy?"

Dorothy paused, thinking how to tell it. "Not particularly."

"Thought as much."

"Oh?"

"Happy folk tell their stories, you keep yours close to that chest of yours," he replied stroking it. She turned into him relishing the warmth of his body. "It was difficult at times," she murmured. "I had a twin."

"Sister?"

"Brother, Davy. He was … rambunctious."

"Interesting word."

"I was being polite."

"Ah, a right little bastard then,"

Dorothy giggled, "you got that bit right. He tormented me. First when it was just us with my mother, she was too unwell to parent him properly. When he got bored, and he was always bored, he made up ways to provoke me. Later we moved to Avonlea and the women there had no authority over him either. Green Gables just provided him with more opportunities to torture me."

"Didn't they punish him?"

"All they ever did was put him to bed without supper, or no dessert."

"Sounds like he deserved a beating. Say shall we have some breakfast?"

"Yes, please." Sam made an excellent breakfast. "They refused to beat him, they were too soft. And you know the worst part?"

"There's more?" He got to his feet leaving the sheet behind and padded naked over to the kitchenette.

"I think," she laughed sardonically watching his bottom wobble, "they preferred the little toe rag to me."

"What?"

"I know, I know. Oh, they gave me everything I needed, I never went without, but then neither did he. He'd do something heinous and then get a little lecture mostly from my big sister, except she wasn't really my sister."

"Who was she?"

"We were all adopted."

"This sounds like a most unusual family."

"I've told you before, haven't I?"

"My darling Ace, you've never said much to me. I'm beginning to understand why."

"Very well, I guess you deserve to know. Look it all started with these siblings, Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, neither of them ever married. Matthew died before I met him. Anyway, they wanted to adopt a boy."

"Sorry, I thought you said you had a sister."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, "hush, I'm getting to that part." Sam pursed his lips shut to let her know he'd be quiet and set to breaking eggs . "Anyway, yes, they wanted a boy, but a girl arrived by mistake. That was my big sister, Anne. She lived with the siblings for ten years before we arrived. We were distantly related to Marilla, and she adopted us after my parents both died, first my father then my mother." Sam nodded, whisking. "So, we left our home in East Grafton and moved in with Marilla and Anne, and later Mrs Lynde."

"Who's she?"

"She and Marilla were friends. When her husband died she moved in with us."

"Sounds like an unusual set up."

"Well, it suited everyone, I suppose."

The fire lit, Sam poured the eggs into the hot pan. "Everyone?"

"Well mostly everyone."

"Hm."

"No, I mean it was fine. Or it would have been, if only."

"If only someone had taken that brother of yours into line." He put some bread into another pan.

"Mm."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, gosh you've nothing to be sorry about."

"I don't mean like that, I wish it hadn't happened to you, is all." He set the plates down on the bed.

"Delicious, thank you. That's why I worked so hard. I knew I had to get out."

"So, they were fine with you going to school."

"Actually Marilla was always very set on us getting an education."

"That's one good thing."

"Mm, yes. I went to college, even though there was no money. I had to study hard to get the mathematics scholarship."

"I bet you surprised them all."

"Sure did, I was the first woman to take it."

Sam beamed at her proudly, "atta girl!" he leant over to kiss her.

Once they broke free Dorothy added, "anyway, so now it looks as though maybe Marilla is on the way out."

"What do you want to do?"

Dorothy leant against him, considering while Sam waited for her answer. If it were him, but then he reasoned, it wasn't, was it. "I think, I think I'd like to see her. Show her how I turned out."

"Do you want to fly up?" **

"It'd be quicker."

"Absolutely. Time is of the essence. Now let's look at the route, or would you rather I came too?"

Dorothy hesitated. Much as she longed to share this part of her life, she knew she had things to settle and worried that Sam would only get in the way. "Forget I spoke," he said. "It's been a while, hasn't it. Last thing you need is an old stager like me hanging around."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Course not. Anyway, someone hasta keep the business ticking over. I'll be right here when you come back. Or do you want me to come?"

Dorothy hesitated, she knew she had some matters to attend to, but she suspected she'd appreciate his company. "How about you join me in a week or so. "I love you, have I ever told you?"

"You may have, but you can say it again, if you feel you must." He wiped a dribble of egg off her chin with his thumb and licked it clean.

Chapter Text

"Marilla's hanging on for some reason," the doctor said, straightening. "Could something be troubling her?"

Rachel knew exactly what the doctor referred to but kept it to herself until he left. "I know you want to reconcile, Marilla, dear," she said softly. "But she's long gone. I don't want you to suffer any longer," she said gently stroking Marilla's white hair. "Let go, drift off. You've fought the good fight, no point waiting until." She paused hearing an unfamiliar sound way up in the heavens, like nothing she had ever heard, a strange rumbling sound getting louder and louder.

Even flying the journey took several days, but finally the familiar red soil of PEI hove into view, her heart melting at the sight. She had seen every hue of the American landscape, believed that nothing could make her heart clench again, may have been getting ever so slightly blasé about it all, but that red soil seen from above…

Rolling to a stop outside the house Dorothy secured the plane and asked a local child to keep an eye on it, flipping him a couple of coins to seal the deal. Barely noticing the way his eyes gleamed at the unexpected honour, Dorothy strode towards the old house shaking her hair out. She hovered on the doorstep, unsure of whether to knock or not but deciding she had better; she could hardly barge in after all these years. Thankfully before she even had a chance the door opened to reveal Rachel. "Dora!" she blinked several times in shock taking in the trousered woman before her, her hair looking rather crumpled. "I never thought you'd come!" Looking over her shoulder she exclaimed, "what on earth is that?"

Dorothy looked back at her kite, fondly. "That's my flying machine, like it?"

"Gracious me."

"May I come in?"

"Of course, of course. You know the way. Now I must warn you, she's very frail. She stopped speaking a couple of days ago, but the doctor says she can hear just fine. I'll fetch some tea in a little while."

Dorothy took a deep breath at Marilla's door before creeping in. "Marilla," she said drawing up a chair. "It's me, Dorothy, I mean Dora." There was no response bar a deep breath as her mother slept. Taking in the sight of the old woman before her, the memories came flooding back. Of her little self, sleeping next to this older woman for all those years until a room became available. It wasn't that it was awful, but it wasn't wonderful either. She used to envy Davy and his nighttime freedom. Invariably Marilla would waken her on her way to bed, she'd witness her prayers, so perennially devout and hover on the edge of the sagging mattress lest she roll into the woman's back in the middle of the night. There was never any hope of a lie in either, they'd be up with the larks getting breakfast on. Life with Marilla meant consistent hard work.

Leaving Marilla to sleep Dorothy crept down the hallway to her old room. It seemed tiny. Hard to believe she had spent so many years living here. It was unchanged, even her old doll was still there on the bed. She gave it a quick hug, recalling the many times she had unloaded her woes upon it. "Sorry Gloria," she said giving her a quick kiss. The view was the same, Anne's old Snow Queen had fallen down many years ago, but Dorothy never minded, it impeded the view if anything. She could see right across the fields to where her plane sat safely, and she blew it a little kiss safe in the knowledge that she could escape if she felt the need.

Her old dresses were still in the wardrobe, she fingered their flounces marvelling that they had ever fitted or that she had liked the fashion. Glancing down at herself now, she realised how different her attire was these days. Marilla will be shocked, she thought.

There was a soft knock behind her, and she turned to see Rachel standing in the doorway, a jug in her hands. "Thought you might want to wash up." Dorothy strode forward to take it from her thanking her for she did feel rather grimy. Stripping off she washed quickly noticing that the water was deliciously warm. Feeling decidedly better she sat on her bed hearing the springs groan under her and contemplated her situation.

When Marilla had roused. Dorothy sat beside her gazing at her lined face considering what she could say. "I'm back, Marilla. I came as soon as I could."

"So," Marilla replied, her voice croaky from lack of use.

"Mm."

Marilla cleared her throat, "care to fill me in on the last few years."

Dorothy looked away, knowing she had to speak. "I." She sighed and paused while Marilla waited patiently with her hands crossed over the blanket.

Eventually Dorothy started to talk. "Very well, I suppose you have a right to know." Marilla gazed at her, striving to keep her expression blank. "Did you know I was teaching?"

"Mrs Blake informed us."

"Ah, yes, Phil. Well, I hated it. I love math, as you probably know, but those girls," she shuddered. "If one in twenty had even the slightest interest, I'd be lucky. It's one thing when your pupils like the subject, but math seems to bore most females."

"Anne was not enamoured as I recall."

"That's right, I had twenty-five Annes in my class and maybe the odd me, dire. But I kept an eye on the news and that kept me sane. When I heard the news that the Wright brothers had successfully powered a flying machine and kept aloft for a period of time, I knew my chance had come."

"Goodness, what did you do?" Marilla sounded shocked.

"I quit my job, packed my bags, and high tailed it out of there."

"I do hope you didn't leave the school in the lurch. That would be very poor form, Dora." Marilla rubbed her hands in consternation.

"I gave them adequate notice," Dorothy placated. Though in truth, in her eagerness to escape she had not. "In any case, it was an interesting place. What you must understand, Marilla," she continued, excitement lacing her words which Marilla could not help but notice. "Was how amazing it all was. We were breaking new ground. All of us learning as we went. No one had any idea what we were doing, how could we? In all of history, no one had done what we were."

Marilla interrupted, "we?"

"Sorry, yes, after a few weeks I joined the team. Some folk went over without much smarts but I had my trusty pencil and my mathematical know how."

"And you went up in a flying machine at some point, I take it."

"Oh, Marilla! You have no idea how wonderful it is. I'm not saying my contributions weren't important, but until you're aloft, alone up there in the vast nothingness; you have no idea what you're doing it all for. It was one thing to scribble notes on the page for someone else to use, but to do it myself... Well. I, I just…" she faded off, her eyes and her glow expressing what mere words could not.

"Isn't it terribly dangerous?"

"I can't deny it," Dorothy agreed, sombrely. "We've lost some good people. But it's a chance we're all prepared to take."

"I can't bear the thought of you being hurt or…" Marilla found herself unable to express her thought.

Dorothy knew what she meant. "I understand, but we must take risks in order to live. You take a risk just setting foot outside your home. People die in so many ways, I'd rather live my life to the full, even if it comes to a sudden end one day. At least I'll know I sucked the marrow out of my life. At least I wasn't afraid to enjoy myself. At least, that's the bargain I make with God."

"You bargain with God?" Rachel had apparently joined them, her voice rose up a pitch.

"I suppose I do, if it comes to that."

"Sounds sacrilegious. What do you have to say to that, Marilla?" Marilla merely smiled, she had been holding on for this reunion despite letting everything else fall away. Family had always been important to her. Her children come unexpectedly all happy now and settled, except perhaps this one. The one she secretly admired, the one who never took the easy path, who in her own way emulated her. She lay back barely hearing the words, overjoyed that Dora had returned to let her know that she was surviving, perhaps even thriving, in a male dominated world.

"Well well." Rachel retreated, recalling her baking in the oven.

Rousing herself once they were alone again Marilla asked, "so how do you manage, financially I mean?"

"I have a business; I take people out on joy rides."

"Goodness. You can do that on your own?" Dorothy suddenly became absorbed with the tassel at the edge of Marilla's blanket. "Dora?"

"I have an associate."

"Associate is it, is this a woman or?"

"Not exactly," Dorothy whispered.

"Hm?"

"Oh, very well, he's a man."

"I do hope you've been behaving yourself. It's not seemly for a woman to keep company with a gentleman unchaperoned."

Dorothy smiled, "it's fine, Marilla. Don't worry."

* * *

"Well, what do you think?" Marilla asked Rachel later as she lay back against her pillows a shawl around her shoulders and a cup in her hand.

"As you know, I never like to cast aspersions," Rachel said, sipping coffee. Marilla rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, anyway," Rachel began. "She's certainly changed hasn't she."

"That, my friend is the understatement of the year."

"I mean, I always wondered where she'd wind up."

"Indeed, but she's exceeded my imagination."

"Pretty."

"Mm."

"But..."

"What?"

Rachel paused, washing her cake down with a slurp of coffee before continuing. "I just hope she's behaving herself. Wouldn't want her to impugn her family name. Her attire is enough to give me doubt."

"Overalls," Marilla shuddered.

Rachel frowned, "and did you see her boots? I fancy it's been a while since those feet have seen ladies' shoes."

"Never mind the lack of a corset."

"It's not right, that's what. You brought her up better than this."

"Oh, well," responded Marilla. "There's very little I can do about it now." Marilla felt increasingly distant from the affairs of the world. Worrying overmuch about her youngest felt quite beyond her.

From being near death, Dorothy's arrival rallied Marilla. She started sitting up, even taking a little broth. "I say," said Dorothy one afternoon. "This might sound ridiculous, but would you like me to take you for a spin?"

"Preposterous!" Rachel interjected. "It's far too dangerous, I forbid it. If God had thought we should fly, he would have given us wings."

"The way I see it, Rachel," Dorothy replied. "God gave us the ingenuity to invent them." Rachel stopped short, shocked in equal measure by Dorothy's response and the use of her Christian name.

Marilla looked on at the two of them sparring, feeling it was high time they stopped discussing her as if she were already gone. "I'm dying anyway, Rachel," she stated matter-of-factly. "May as well go up and see this wondrous island I've been living on all my life."

Her words were brave, but she felt decidedly less so when Davy lifted her into the back seat, carefully tucking her blankets in. Dorothy reached around, "here, you need to wear these goggles. Now it's far too noisy up there to talk, but I'll point things out for you." Marilla nodded, too nervous to speak. She smiled somewhat wobblily. "That's the spirit. I'll never forget my first time, there's nothing like it, you'll see. Don't worry about a thing. I'll get you back down safely. You're going to have a marvellous time."

On every journey she had ever taken Marilla had to some extent been jostled and bumped. Rolling down the rudimentary runway this one was no different until the moment they left the ground. It honestly took her a moment to notice, they were still moving, the air rushing past but suddenly their track was smooth and then she saw the ground disappear below. "Oh!" she exclaimed blinking rapidly. No longer nervous, she felt only exhilaration.

No sooner were they up than the sea hove into view reminding Marilla of how close they were to the ocean. Despite living on an island, she so rarely went to see it, she often forgot how close it lay, but there it was glinting in the sunlight, as vast as it was blue.

Marilla had not known what to expect, but as it turned out it was like nothing she had ever imagined. What took her most by surprise, apart from the weightlessness was the myriad of colour. She had never truly appreciated the varied hues of her natural landscape. Dorothy pointed at various sites so unfamiliar from this angle, but Marilla barely took notice, the vista more enticing than individual objects. The only thing she did take a keen interest in was her beloved Green Gables, its fields a vivid green unlike the eponymous gables which were distinctly faded.

They always told her heaven was in the heavens so to speak which left Marilla wondering where it truly did lie. In any case, could it be any better than this?

It was the nature of the landing strip that informed her that they had returned to earth as they bumped along to a stop. The family ran up to ask her how she had fared, but it proved impossible to describe; the usual descriptors not coming remotely close enough.

With the family gathered many of the small fry clamoured to be allowed in the plane, some of the braver ones even wanting to fly, an idea not supported by their relative parents. Dorothy was perfectly happy but decided not to antagonise the family, though young Shirley seemed particularly intrigued. If they lost him for even a minute, they could be sure to find him stroking the plane's flank reverently.

* * *

A few days later Dorothy was pleased to see Sam had secured a lift from the station. She ran out to greet him. "You found us."

"Wasn't too difficult. Just asked round Bright River. This place must be rather famous, they'd all heard of it. Did something notorious happen here, Ace?"

"You idiot," Dorothy replied, punching him lightly on the arm on her way up to his lips. "Come meet Marilla."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am, Sam said, employing a deferential tone Dorothy rarely heard, even when he was talking to potential customers. Marilla squirmed up the bed while Dorothy straightened her covers. "Likewise," she said. "I've heard, ah, practically nothing about you. You can go," she said directing her voice to Dorothy. "Let us two get acquainted like." Reluctantly, Dorothy let them be. She considered hovering outside the door, but after a moment decided she was above that sort of behaviour, in any case it was far too embarrassing.

They looked at each other frankly, the two people in the world who loved her the best. Tell me about yourself, Mr Nurk." Sam filled her in on his background and how the two of them came to be acquainted. "Are you in love?" Sam startled at her frankness.

"We are."

"Do you plan on getting married?"

"I, um, er," Sam stammered.

"I haven't got that long Mr Nurk. If you want my permission to make an honest woman of her, you had better ask now."

"Very well," Sam stated, making it up as he went along. "I adore your Dorothy. She's a remarkable woman; I think we could make each other very happy. Would you grant me permission to take her hand in holy matrimony?"

"Can you promise that you don't already know her in the biblical sense?" Sam averted his eyes. Marilla stared at him steadily. "Mr Nurk?"

"I can't say without impugning her honour."

"I see." Sam knew that she could, too. "Fetch Dora, please. We need a word."

Sam scurried downstairs quickly filling Dorothy in on their conversation. "She wants to see you."

"For heaven's sake, Sam!" Dorothy rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, she just asked out of nowhere, I had no chance."

Feeling as though she were a mere girl again, Dorothy mounted the stairs. "Is that you Dora?"

"I'm here," she said, walking in more confidently than she felt.

"You're not a child anymore," Marilla said patting the side of her bed. "I can't send you to bed without any supper."

"I'm not Davy either."

"This is no laughing matter, Dora."

Dorothy looked down at her knees, "no, I know."

"A lady's virtue is an honourable thing, Dora. Something not to be cast aside lightly. Don't think I don't understand that pull, even I know it's not easy to resist, but God tells us we must. It's one thing to do it when you're with the man you've married, but as far as I know you and Mr Nurk are not yet, am I correct?"

Dorothy looked down, "yes."

Marilla sighed heavily gazing at her. "It's just. Oh, I don't know," she said wearily, "who am I to lecture you? You're a grown woman now. I tried my best to instil morals, if for some reason they didn't take, what on earth can I do? Just tell me you'll marry him someday soon. I take it you're in love?"

Dorothy met her eyes. "We are."

Marilla pursed her lips, "Rachel will have a conniption but at least there's that. I won't have time to see you wed," she waved Dorothy's objections aside. "Seriously, I don't. But please promise me you'll marry him the first chance you get." Dorothy nodded enthusiastically then tried to apologise and explain how it all came to pass. "No, no I don't need the sordid details. I hate to break it to you, but it's a tale as old as time. Mr Nurk!" she called out, her voice surprisingly loud.

Sam came to them at once. "Mr Nurk, you asked for Dora's hand, and I accede. In fact, I urge you two to wed as soon as practicably possible, though I think it might be best to do so away from Avonlea. Folks will gossip, you understand. Now, I'm tired, so I'll ask you to leave me be, Mr Nurk. Dora you may stay by my side for the time being." Thus directed the two parted with an incredulous look.

Sam almost wanted to avoid another grilling, but he did have some information he needed to impart. The next day he girded his loins and got straight to it. "Miss Cuthbert, do you mind if I have a word. I know you don't have much energy, but I have something I need to tell you."

"Tell me about it," Marilla interrupted feeling her body sag with exhaustion.

"I shan't keep you long, but I just want to understand something about Dorothy. She's a wonderful pilot, you know, quite gifted. Some of the chaps are real cowboys. But Dorothy follows the book to the letter, unsurprisingly considering she wrote it." Marilla smiled wearily. "I'll let you sleep," Sam said, "but I want you to know, you don't need to worry about her, she's as safe a pilot as there is. That's not to say there aren't inherent risks in what we do. But our Dorothy is as good as they come." Her eyes drooping, Marilla took what he said in before her consciousness peacefully left her.

"Sleeping now," Sam told Dorothy.

"She does that a lot. The doctor says her body is just worn out."

"She's an interesting character, isn't she," he added pulling out a kitchen chair. "I suppose I'm not telling you anything new. Smart as a whip, saw right through me."

"I know. Drove us a little bit crazy when we were young."

Sam rolled his eyes, "I bet!"

Her hands fidgety without a pencil in them, Dorothy sat by Marilla's bed as the old woman slumbered waking up now and then to say a brief word before lapsing once more.

Marilla watched her and murmured, "happy". Relief suffused Dora: she had not realised the strain she had been under, but Marilla's absolution lifted a huge weight off her shoulders.

* * *

When it eventually came, Marilla's death was peaceful. Having said her farewells, she drifted off to her eternal sleep without much fuss. Which is not to say that tears were not shed by those closest to her.

Much to everyone's surprise it was Dora who delivered Marilla's eulogy. The congregation muttered between themselves as she mounted the pulpit.

"I suppose I had better introduce myself, for those of you who have not seen me for many years, I am Marilla's youngest daughter, Dora. I have been away for too long but having returned I took my darling Marilla into the air last week to let her see her world from my favourite perspective. There's something so freeing about being up amongst the clouds letting all our petty intrigues fall away.

We had time to come to an understanding of our respective lives. Marilla lived her life with few regrets," Dorothy glanced briefly at John Blythe leaning on his wife's shoulder. "Rather she said she felt profound satisfaction with the way things turned out. She loved Avonlea, and being able to see it from a new perspective at the very end brought her such pleasure."

While she was speaking, Dorothy noticed Sam creep into the back of the church, taking strength from his presence. She nodded in his direction but did not let him deter her. "Some may have called Marilla reclusive, but she surrounded herself with people whom she loved and who in turn loved her. Her big heart, her ability to draw those who needed her into her trust will forever be missed in Avonlea. I doubt we will see her like again.

Together with her beloved brother, Matthew they carved out a life together. It's no surprise to those gathered here today that adopting Anne changed their lives for the better and hopefully you felt the same way when my brother Davy and I arrived." ~titters~ Up the back Sam adjusted his stance. "What Marilla did so well was live life on her own terms, refusing to compromise her ideals. When the big romance of her life went awry, which she freely admitted was no one's fault but her own, she put aside romance and just got on with the business of living the best life she knew. Much later she threw herself into the biggest adventure of all, motherhood. I hope I speak for my siblings here," Dorothy gestured at her family, "when I remark on the solid foundation, she and later Mrs Rachel Lynde, provided for us. We three had come from less than perfect backgrounds, but Marilla did not dwell upon it and instead guided us, in her own implacable way, to successful lives.

It occurs to me that despite my best efforts at running away from my small-town upbringing, I have in my own way emulated Marilla far more than I could ever have realised. I am in the process of creating a life for myself that could hardly be considered conventional. No doubt you have heard about or heard my flying machine which so faithfully bore me back to the Island, to Avonlea. This is a terrific age for invention. I decided I needed to be a part of it. There are few women doing what I am so it can be a lonely affair, but I take strength from the manner in which Marilla lived her life as I head off on my own adventures. Rather than striving to leave my childhood behind, instead I'll use her experience to inform me going forward. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Marilla for granting me that freedom."

Afterwards people came up to offer their condolences and congratulate Dorothy on her eulogy. "Wonderfully said," Mr Blythe remarked, kissing Dorothy on the cheek. "She would have been proud of you."

"I hope so," Dorothy replied.

"Not that she'd ever have said it out loud," John smiled.

"No, she never would," Dorothy laughed, intrigued that he still knew her so well. "Come by before you leave," John said.

"I shall, thank you." Wondering, Dorothy stood by herself for a moment before Sam elbowed his way through the throng to her. "You were amazing, Ace."

"Oh, I don't know. You never do with these things do you, you just give it a whirl and see how it falls."

"You bared your soul and that's never easy."

"Guess I just let go. I don't even truly recall what I said. Some of it I prepared and some just happened. It was nice to see you back there."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world. I wish I'd known your Marilla a bit better. She was a formidable woman."

They milled around for a while longer until the chill wind sent them indoors to join their neighbours. Many hours of polite chit chat later Davy said his farewells to the last of the crowd and turned around with a look of exhaustion. "Glad it's over?" Dorothy asked. Davy slumped next to her, "uh huh," he grunted, beyond speech. Jem offered his aunt a plate of leftovers. She thanked him, thinking absentmindedly how grown up he seemed.

"Come for a walk?" Anne suggested. "Just the three of us for one last time." Nodding, Dorothy let Davy pull her to her feet.

It was nice to wander the old place, failing light blazing russet against the trees. Not much was said, but they pointed out their favourite spots commenting on how Green Gables moulded Marilla and how she had moulded it. It was the first time the three had spent any time together in years, but they felt as though the intervening years had never happened. As dusk fell Marilla's favourite white moths appeared, reminding Anne of those long summer evenings spent chatting on the porch. "Looking back," she remarked, "I didn't know how happy I was at the time, but it was just so peaceful."

"You rarely do, when you're in the middle of it, do you," Davy replied. "It's only afterwards when you look back."

* * *

With promises to keep in touch, Dorothy and Sam leapt into their craft after asking Gilbert to set the propeller spinning. A bumpy ride down the runway and they were off. Dorothy turned the plane to buzz the roaring crowd before they set off for home.

Chapter Text

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"I say was that supposed to happen?"

Breathe Dorothy, just breathe. Think. Don't panic. Think. You've written about this; you did the math. What do I do? What do I DO? Um, um, lemme see.

"You alright up there? What happened? Aren't we supposed to."

Breathe, no point in suffocating. That won't help. Now, just ease the throttle off and we'll go for a little glide. There that wasn't so hard. The wind. Gosh it's noisy up here. Thought it would be quieter.

"Why are we dropping? I thought, I mean I say are we okay? Do you know what you're doing, little lady?"

Ease the nose downwards now, ever so gently and and, wish I could send him off to set the prop, guess that's frowned upon.

Doing some paperwork as he usually did while Dorothy flew, just to keep his mind off things, Sam knew she'd be fine, the usual rumbling informing him that all was well. Until. He strained his ears, was that an engine coughing? And now silence. His chair bouncing on the floor behind him Sam rushed out the door to peer up.

Her tiny dot grew bigger, coming down pretty fast now. "Pump the handle now, Ace. Pump, wiggle now, get the airflow happening. C'mon now, c'mon you've got this. You'll be fine." Even though he knew there was no way she could hear him, Sam kept up his litany in the vain hope that it would help her, in any case it helped him. "Keep your nerve, now." Unable to keep his own, Sam paced up and down watching all the time as the kite grew larger in his line of sight. "C'mon now, easy does it, easy does it." He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the engine cough back into life and whistled to alert the team of an imminent and potentially bumpy landing.

"You had me for a minute there, I don't mind saying," the passenger said. "But gosh darn it, if you're not the greatest pilot that ever lived." Thin-lipped Dorothy smiled while her hand was pumped enthusiastically.

Sam squeezed her shoulder as she passed and dealt with the passenger who was still exclaiming over his luck. "Think I'll go for a drink actually. Calm my nerves. Helluva thing, helluva thing." Sam waved him goodbye waiting until he was out of sight before swiftly turning.

Curled up in a foetal ball Dorothy lay on the bed shaking. "Ace," Sam said gently, stroking her on the back. "My God, what happened? Did it stall? Golly! Happened to me once, but I wasn't up so high, and I didn't have no passengers."

Alert to his voice if not his words, Dorothy breathed heavily holding out a shaky hand. "Hey now, shh, shh. So proud of you. You managed it magnificently."

"Everyone okay, boss?" the engineer, Bert, said from the doorway.

"Just got a bit of a shock here, I'll take care of it. Can you check the kite for us?"

"Sure thing, boss. Mrs Nurk done great didn't she."

"She did, she's just a bit shook up."

"Don't blame her, I'd be quivering in ma boots."

Sam eased onto the bed behind her and gathered her into his arms. "I heard the engine from down here - until I didn't." Dorothy shuddered. "I guess it's too soon to discuss it." She nodded. "Yeah, okay, we'll leave it for the time being. I'm here for you soon as you want."

Over breakfast a couple of days later Dorothy shakily started. "I felt so confident, until the engine spluttered to a stop. I never knew how very quiet it is up there." Stan placed his spoon on the table. "You think I was great, but you weren't up there. I panicked, Stan, truly panicked."

"But you pulled yourself together in the end."

"No, you don't understand."

"Look Ace, we all go through these things at times, and it's how you react overall that matters, not what you do in those first seconds. Anyone would panic, show me the pilot who says they don't, and I'll show you a liar."

Dorothy lay against him, relieved that he understood at last and thought no less of her. "I even contemplated sending him out to set the prop."

She felt rather than saw Sam giggle against her back, his chest heaving. "That would have been quite the trick," he eventually replied.

* * *

Dorothy rapped on the dark wooden door. She didn't have to wait long before it opened, and she was shepherded into a small sitting room where a pot of tea and freshly baked scones were waiting.

"How did you…" she began to ask

John Blythe chuckled "I heard the engine of your flying machine, and thought you might pop in. You said you might in your last letter."

Dorothy had kept in touch with the folks of Avonlea more in the eight months since leaving Avonlea following Marilla's funeral, than she had in the decade beforehand. Between her and John Blythe a regular correspondence had been struck up. John had a genuine interest in her flying and provided a unique perspective. Perhaps it was all his years working as a farmer, but he understood wind more than any other non-flyer she'd ever met.

"Here," he said pushing a bundle of letters towards her. "I thought you might like these."

Dorothy picked up the faded bundle of letters. They were addressed in Marilla's hand of old; stronger than she had written in the last few years. "Are you sure?" she asked, "Shouldn't these go to Anne?"

John chuckled again. He liked to laugh, there was too much sadness in this world. "They're yours," he assured her. "Anne was always concerned about privacy, something being a doctor's wife has only strengthened. To be honest, I wasn't sure I still had them. Should have thrown them out years ago, wasn't really fair to Clara. But my wife knew that I loved her and any love I had before we met couldn't detract from what we enjoyed."

Dorothy thanked him and put the letters aside so she could enjoy her visit.

"So, tell me, did you really get married mid-air?"

Dorothy laughed, "no, that's illegal. Our wedding was in a small chapel near home, but we redid it mid-air for the cameras. The publicity was incredible. We are much more comfortable now than I ever expected to be."

John smiled and asked many small details about the in-air ceremony, fascinated by the way they were able to perform such a feat - even if it was only for publicity – so high off the ground.

"I felt like I was floating 100 miles off the ground the day I was married," he laughed, "you actually were!"

They talked for a while longer until Dorothy noticed that he was looking tired. She thanked him with a warm hug and headed back to her flying machine.

On a secluded beach where she knew she wouldn't be disturbed; Dorothy opened the letters John had given her. What she found was astonishing, young Marilla wrote with warmth and passion. Marilla's sense of humour jumped off the page, but there was something more. A young woman excited about the prospect of a full married life with the man she loved.

There were not many letters, only half a dozen in all, evidently Marilla and John hadn't spent much time apart during their short courtship. The last one spoke of the joy of seeing him when he returned from a trip away. There were no more, they must have argued soon after and gone their separate ways.

She folded them carefully up and sighed. She never would have guessed there was so much passion underneath the woman she knew as a mother. She certainly never expected to read of Marilla's longing for an intimate relationship!

* * *

It's movement rather than sound that wakes Sam. He listens hard, unable to see a thing. There it is again, a shudder as though it is the mattress that is shaking. He turns to Dorothy and the movement intensifies. "Ace? Is that you?" he puts his arms out and soundlessly she slides into them, the wet of her tears the first thing he notices. "Are you crying?" he asks, confused. Given free rein, Dorothy sobs loudly. "Just give me a minute," Sam says. "I'll get a light on."

Dorothy cast around for older figures who might be able to shed some light on her predicament. It wasn't bad enough to require a doctor's services, and the minister didn't seem quite right either. There was always Anne, she supposed.

* * *

Bumping along the path behind the old house, careful to avoid the slope that led to Rainbow Valley, the flying machine came to a halt not far from the back door. Susan appeared wiping her hands on her apron. "Goodness me, what on earth? Mrs Nurk, you're the last person I expected to see, if you don't mind me saying."

"Sorry about the lawn," Dorothy said, looking back, tousling her hair. "I was hoping Anne would be around?"

"Yes indeed, and here she is," Susan replied as Anne surrounded by assorted children appeared, clamouring for attention.

Much later when the children had been sent to bed. Anne came to see Dorothy in the guest bedroom. Absentmindedly noticing the mattress slump when she sat, she started. "We always love to see you, Dorothy darling. But I wonder is there a particular reason you've come?" Dorothy was still, unable to articulate her feelings; sighing she nodded.

"Is something wrong? Well of course there is, you're probably missing Marilla, I know I am. You were away for a long while, but it was nice to know our foundation rock was still padding around Green Gables, even if you didn't visit you knew she was there and would be there for you if you needed her."

"I went back the other day. Thought it would be comforting to see the old place."

"And was it?"

"Well sorta, but not really you know. She was its heart, its soul. I kept imagining she was just around the corner, just out of sight. I fancied I could hear her whispering in the corners reminding me to wear my shawl, wash my hands, say my prayers."

Anne smiled, "sounds just like her. I suppose, in a way she was there - in your heart."

Dorothy glanced across sharply, tears springing to her eyes. "That's a nice way of putting it." There was a silence as both women secured that sentiment in their own hearts.

"There is something else I wanted to talk about," Dorothy finally added. Anne reached out and took her sister's hand in her own.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I," she took a deep breath before continuing. "There's something amiss. I keep," she sniffed, "crying. I wake up in the middle of the night weeping for no particular reason, I mean I'm not even all that sad. I mean I am about Marilla, naturally, but I don't think that's it."

Anne gazed at her with such love, reminiscing about the meek little girl who arrived at Green Gables. Dorothy was the most adventurous woman she knew. And here she was embarking on the most wonderous adventure any woman could.

"It always takes me that way too, honey."

"What does?"

"Pregnancy," Anne stated bluntly.

Dorothy edged away, "pregnancy?" she asked incredulous.

"One's emotions are all over the place, there's no sense to it."

Dorothy opened and closed her mouth several times as words failed her. Eventually she squeaked out, "pregnant? I'm going to have a baby! How did that happen?"

"You, erm, you do know how this happens. You're not expecting to find one in the cabbage patch, are you?"

Dorothy coyly glanced away before smiling and looking straight at her, "yes, Anne I am aware."

Anne smiled, "I thought as much. Well, one thing has led to another, and you my darling sister are with child."

Dorothy leant back letting out a long breath. "Oh my!" After a pause she added, "I wonder what Marilla would make of it."

"She'd be delighted."

"Relieved that I was finally following the womanly playbook, I guess."

"Is that what you thought? That she wanted you to live a conventional life."

"Like Millie and Davy, yes I suppose so. I was never going to oblige."

"Oh no, darling, no. We had a little chat about it all before Marilla died, you know."

"You did?" Despite herself, Dorothy's voice shook.

Anne smiled, "she was always so proud of you, you know; I mean she was hardly the most conventional of mothers, or of women if you stop to think about it. That you were excelling in that most masculine profession tickled her."

"It did?"

"Oh yes. We always wondered what would happen to you, you were so."

"Meek."

Anne cleared her throat, "yes, that's right."

"There was a reason for that, you know."

"There was?"

"I worried that if we were both awful, you'd send us away. I had to act as a counterbalance to Davy. Obviously, you never guessed, but inside I was seething. If you'd ever read my diaries, you'd have seen me plot all sorts of dastardly deeds."

"I had no idea!"

"Just as well."

"You've gone up in my estimation, Dorothy darling."

Dorothy grinned. "So, you see I wasn't quite the meek little thing you all believed."

"What a relief," Anne chuckled after a beat, Dorothy joined her. Anne swivelled around to lie on the bed shuffling over so Dorothy could lie next to her. "So, married life, does it agree with you?"

Dorothy looked up, sighed and said with ultimate happiness, "yes, it's wonderful. All I could ever imagine and then some. There's just one little thing," she added. Anne turned to her, eyebrow quirked. "My married name."

"Nurk?"

Dorothy giggled, "it's awful isn't it."

"Well."

"Don't be stupid, it's ridiculous. How could I fall in love with a man named Nurk of all things."

Anne tried and ultimately failed to suppress a giggle. "I'm so sorry," she laughed. "It is, it's - oh."

"And now we're to have a load of Nurklets."

Anne snorted, "oh darling. You'll be fine. You'll be the best brood of Nurklets in the whole wide world."

The name once spoken stuck, henceforth they were collectively known by that name.

When Anne departed, Dorothy reflected upon the revelations from Marilla's letters. The woman she thought she knew had once been passionate. She rubbed her stomach thinking of the child within and wondered if it, when it was grown would consider her conservative despite the thrill and excitement of her life.

It was with much excitement and a fair degree of trepidation at what was to come that Dorothy lifted off a few days later waving goodbye from the cockpit. With a final buzz and a roar, she was away, Anne waving until the flying machine disappeared into the atmosphere.