Gaining strength and courage from his momentary haven in the sanctuary, he realized that he was only attempting to prolong the inevitable. So again he started his journey home, feeling much like Odysseus finally returning from Troy after his long journey. The old cross-lots road through Rainbow Valley was still worn from frequent footfalls, and the evening sun poked its way through treetops illuminating a sort of Heavenly highlight to his leaf- covered pathway home. Both Heaven and Earth seemed to be pointing him in one and only one direction, home. Yet, as he made his way through the maple grove, he stopped. A celebration of some sort was taking place at Ingleside. Recalling the date and suddenly remember its significance, he stepped back and watched the people scurry about like an army of ants. He had hoped for a quiet homecoming with possible just his parents and Susan at home. His return would surely cause a deal of shock, and he preferred to not cause any sort of scandal. He knew that he must hide himself and wait until the people were gone, and Rainbow Valley was not an option. Quietly, without being noticed, or so he thought, he slipped into the barn and found the hay-mow he had slept in all those years ago when little Rilla had been born; there he would wait until the time was right. Anne was experiencing one of the happiest evenings she had had in years. Everywhere she turned, loved ones surrounded her. Jem and Faith were there, as always with their two boys, Walter and John while baby number three was well on his or her way. As already mentioned, Rilla and Kenneth were there with their two young ones. Nan and Jerry had their little vibrant Cecilia close at their feet. Diana and Jack were there with Jack's parents, Anne's oldest friends; the first Diana Wright and Fred. Diana and Anne would soon be sharing a grandchild, and neither could have been happier. Then there was also shy Shirley with his new bride, Rebecca, the youngest child of Anne's college chum, Phillippa. Anne took in a deep breath ,counted her blessings, and caught a glimpse of precocious young Walter stealing off to the barn, no doubt in search of some sort of adventure. Something in her wanted to know what it her eldest grandchild had found that so enchanted him. Young Walter and Grandmother Anne were kindred spirits from his birth. He was the very image of his father; body and soul. More often than not, Anne felt that he should have been named for his father, and John for Walter, if names held any indication to character. Being chums with all of her grandchildren allowed for the child that never grew up inside of Anne to visit the outside world for a while. Anne excused herself from a conversation with Miss Cornelia and Leslie Ford to follow Walter into the barn. She wasn't as spry as she once was, so he was inside the barn long before her. She looked around and couldn't find him anywhere. Yet this wasn't a problem because it allowed her to play a favorite game with him that she had played with her own Walter when he had been a child. Tired from his journey, he started to nod off the moment he retired in the hay. There he found comfort and safety he had sorely missed for some time. Soon, he was deeply, peacefully asleep. Wrapped in the long missed scene from his past, it was easy to get caught in the haze between the real world and the dream, especially when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. It was a voice long missed, full of love and warmth. "Walter! Walter Blythe, where are you?” Anne called through the barn. There was no answer. She turned around and called again, "Walter Blythe, where are you? Please come out!" He couldn’t resist coming to her call. They had been apart for far too long. He stepped from the haymow and was right behind her when he answered, "Here I am mother! Home at last!" She heard his unique, velvety soft voice, but didn't believe it, couldn't allow herself to believe it. She slowly turned around to see that it was true, yet her mind couldn't handle it. Her eyes filled with shock as she slowly crumpled into unconsciousness in her son's arms. Just then, a little boy with red hair popped out from behind some tools. "Here I am, Grandmother!" Walter looked to the little boy while holding his mother and realized that she hadn’t been calling him at all. Quickly, he demanded his namesake, "Get help, now! Hurry! Run, Walter, Run!" |