Timeline - Anne's House of Dreams. Christmas Eve Dinner at the Moore's. Leslie and Dick are visiting relatives, but Owen is around. (I wanted a different day and location to not challenge canon.)

Special thanks to MrsVonTrapp, Elizasky, and Alinyaalethia for their beta work. A second thank you to MrsVonTrapp as I slung a lot of changes at her over the last two months. Also many hugs and kisses to everyone that listened to me gripe about this update. The list of names is too long. This was a difficult chapter to write for a number of reasons and I did a good job procrastinating.

And, now we continue, Being a Blythe...

Chapter 42: Talisman

As soon as Dr. Felder sat down next to Dora Keith, Dora knew she would never finish her meal. She could not make sense of the butterflies in her stomach. She thought herself too reasonable and practical for silly emotions, but there she was, a bundle of giddy nerves. Dr. Felder shouldn't make her feel so unsettled and self-conscious. (Was her hair still neat?) Nevertheless, Dora noticed him. It was hard not to when he smelled so nice. A handsome mix of fresh snow and peppermint filled her nose.

Dora hitched her breath, realizing what she was doing, and attempted to un-tilt her world with self-deprecating thoughts. How could she think about liking someone when it was one day off from her son's memorial service? She should be wailing in a corner, shouldn't she? Isn't that what women did when their sons died?

She calmed her flutters by staring at a wall sconce behind Mrs. Lynde's shoulder. The candlelight grew bolder as the afternoon sun dimmed. Slow and sure, her heartbeat quieted as she grew used to his proximity, but eat she could not. That cause was lost.

Miss Brooke started a conversation about Wortblindheit* while Dora pushed spoonfuls of potato across her plate. Dora had no opinion to offer and truthfully, what did she care about Miss Marin's reading difficulties? That was Davy's concern and by some extension, Marilla's, who went for her handbag in the parlor. The former teachers, Gilbert especially, were curious about the disorder and dragged the discussion out until it was worn thin.

Dora glanced at Dr. Felder again. Of course, he was enjoying his food. The fact he could eat was a clear sign that whatever she felt for him, it wasn't mutual. She pushed her untouched slice of apple pie to his dessert plate.

"Thank you, Miss Keith," he said before tasting a morsel. He was comfortable next to her. That was something.

Dora relaxed. Picking up her fork and knife, she managed one bite of the bird just as Marilla returned clutching a letter. Her meat was on the dry side. Dora suppressed a scowl knowing that Anne cheated the baste.

"I wasn't going to share this until tomorrow," Marilla announced as she approached her spot at the table.

Captain Jim dutifully helped Marilla with her chair as she settled back into her place, meanwhile, Davy had to be urged to stand by Mr. Ford.

"All this talk of Miss Marin reminded me of her grandmother's recent letter. It has a surprise in it and something of a mystery too."

"Sounds fascinating," Anne laughed after she swallowed a cool swig of water. "Let's hear what our illustrious and Cuban connections have to say."

In her peripheral Dora caught a flash of teeth from Gilbert. He always had a smile for Anne no matter what. Dora decided it was sweet, the way he always supported her.

Marilla cleared her throat, lowered her brow, and concentrated on the paper.

"To my Friends on Prince Edward Island

"The Lord has been kind and generous to me, re-uniting me with my Granddaughter Millicent last spring. We are happy and in good health aside from pangs of loneliness for dear friends. We have decided, if it pleases Mr. David Keith, he and his chaperon are welcomed to visit as soon as it can be arranged. I set a fine table and we have quarters for guests.

"May your Christmas be joyful and merry,

"Mrs. Elizabeth Marin

"Well, Davy, what do you think?" Marilla did not smile with her lips, but one shined behind her bright eyes. In fact, the whole room teemed with excitement for Davy.

"The only thing, Davy, is that I won't be going with you. We'll need to find someone, a man preferably, to be your escort."

Dora noticed how Marilla's eyes swung to Captain Jim and back.

"I'm thinking, not next year, but maybe, maybe the year after that? When you turn eighteen that is. Of course, we'll have to see what happens at harvest too. We don't want to break the bank on travel expenses."

"Go to Cuba? Me?" Davy blinked furiously over Owen Ford's guffaw. It was hard not to laugh as every happy emotion displayed itself in Davy's gobsmacked face. "But… but..." Davy attempted to rein in his enthusiasm. "I'll have to go over winter. All winter long, Marilla. I'll be gone over Christmas."

"Christmas in Havana 'tis buutiful!" Captain Jim declared with authority. "I's can pull some strings, git ya working on a freighter to pay yer way."

"You mean, I could go now?" Davy burst with joy until he considered the possibility of abandoning Green Gables. Who would do the planting if he weren't there?

"Sure, yer old enough." Captain Jim reported. "I's gots a matey due back in March."

Marilla glanced over to the Captain who knew nothing of the family dynamic in Avonlea and shook her head. It was a terrifying thought to her. She wouldn't admit it to Davy, but she liked the fact there was once again a man on the premise, especially now that she and Rachel were up in years.

"That's a kind offer, James," Marilla said as she delivered Davy a pessimistic shake. The steadfast glee washed off his face as he recognized her objections.

"It would save us money on fare and Davy is a hard worker. But, there's more to it than that to consider." Marilla added after a beat. "I've been corresponding with Mrs. Marin for months and my impression is that she would not welcome Davy if he arrived as a foreigner from the docks. She wants a proper beau for her granddaughter."

"Dare's nuthin' wrung with sailors," The old man defended himself, his words were curt and hard.

"James, don't take it to heart. I know that." Marilla smiled at him, which settled his ruffled feathers. "We're talking about a woman that doesn't know you, Mrs. Elizabeth Marin."

"Mrs. Marin's not like the rest of us, Capt'n Jim. She's so prosperous and frankly, rich," Gilbert interceded on Marilla's behalf. "She's a fair woman, according to my father, but I suspect Davy might have competition. You've heard of Marin Cigars, right? Same family."

"Rights," Captain Jim was still deflated. He had met folks like Mrs. Elizabeth Marin more than once. The same type that will abandon their pets at the fancy hotels over-harbor once summer is over. "Davy, best go with dare bloke, as she says."

Anne leaned forward and turned her head to observe Davy's reaction. Did he understand why it wasn't a good idea?

"Davy, it would be better to exceed Mrs. Marin's expectations than fall short of them, don't you think?"

Davy, now crestfallen, pushed his plate away, nodding his agreement. He knew Millie's grandmother was very strict. He'd need to prove himself to her and arrive with a proper entourage.

"Will you come with me, Captain Jim? When I go? You'd be great, you've been to Cuba."

Captain Jim shook his head. "I's done my bit, You's need someone yunger."

Davy sighed, wondering now who could be his escort. There didn't seem to be a big list of options. He surveyed Gilbert who had picked up Anne's hand. Gilbert couldn't' go with him, could he? Davy knew he wouldn't. He had his medical practice and his family now. Davy worried from whom he might ask such a big favor before realizing that Marilla was still speaking to him.

Marilla repeated herself. "Davy, I don't understand the post-script. It says,

"I am impressed with the powerful talisman Mr. Keith gave my granddaughter and have assisted in returning the favor. Millicent mailed it separately to young Mr. Keith. Here is a hint on how to use it. It is meant to be prayed in the barn.

"Do you know what she's talking about, Davy?" Marilla asked with disapproval in her tone. The concern in her voice troubled Davy. It sounded like maybe Marilla suspected the secret he was sworn to. "Are the Marins witches too and you never told us?"

Owen Ford perked up which allowed Davy time to think over his reply.

"Miss Cuthbert, another set of witches on this island? That seems unlikely, don't you think? There's Gilbert's family and then there's my grandfather and my mother. That must be it, surely."

Miss Katherine Brooke stared at Owen in utter disbelief.

"Dare's sumthin' special 'bout dare Four Winds and the harbor." Captain Jim wrinkled his nose, as if the facial gesture would help him remember the past. "Selwyn, before he skedaddled to Charlottetown, he tware at first attracted to them, said his powers grew when they roared. But, after some years, he became afraid, cuz they were so powerful hungry. He sez to me, 'Boyd, first yer girl disappears, and now pirate Willis is gone. I'm not stayin' to be the next sacrifice.' Mind you, that's what he told me."

The crowd exchanged long glances as Captain Jim returned his attention to his plate, lapping up gravy trails with his bread. He was unaffected by his report, even if it took a moment for the rest of them to wade out of the current.

"The Marins are a very spiritual family, Marilla. I'm sure Mrs. Marin just wants me to pray more." Davy winged to his own surprised. It wasn't a falsehood. What he said was true and it got them off the topic of supernatural powers. "Mr. Marin was the most Christian man I had ever met, and, you know that Miss Marin memorized many parts of the Bible."

"Oh, you're right. I had forgotten, Davy." Marilla sighed with relief. "Even so, the note is strange. Praying in a barn doesn't sound very dignified, but maybe that's just me. Did you get whatever Miss Marin mailed to you?"

Under the weight of several pairs of eyes, Davy touched his breast pocket and felt the knobby gift from Cuba.

"Yeah, I have it, but, I don't know what Millicent's grandmother means about a talisman."

Katherine Brooke leaned forward and did her fascinating trick of solving a puzzle with a question. "Did you give Miss Marin a ring? A talisman is usually a ring."

"He did," Dora found her voice and interrupted the entire conversation. Her eyes burned with forgotten anger. "He gave her our Mama's troth ring."

"Oh, Davy Keith!" Mrs. Lynde exploded and Marilla's groan was a harmonic undercurrent to Rachel's pitchy protests. "What were you thinking? Asking Miss Marin to marry you?"

"No!" Davy shook his head in a physical attempt to push away the accusation. "Mrs. Lynde, it wasn't like that. I promise. She was scared and I thought the ring would help. And Dora's right to be mad about it. I should have talked with her as Mama meant for that ring to protect us and not Miss Marin."

"Katherine, I think you're right. That sounds like a talisman to me," Anne concluded. Magic might settle anywhere, in any object, blessing it. A half-hour ago Gilbert had made a potion for Captain Jim. That was also a talisman. The vocabulary did not matter. "In this case, the ring was not a token of magic, but of love. Every bit as powerful, I suppose."

Davy felt his ears go past pink and into scarlet as Dr. Felder's steady laugh vibrated the stemware on the table.

Marilla grimaced as she questioned her timing. It seemed a happy enough letter, and it had provided an interlude, but maybe she had been unwise to draw so much attention to Davy's relationship with a colored girl. Although in truth, he was the more colorful as he sat embarrassed to his core. Davy went from crimson to orange when Mrs. Lynde started to talk about courting.

"Are you alright, Miss Keith?" Dr. Felder arched a brow as the table buzzed. "You sounded upset."

Dora considered where she would be if he hadn't given Miss Marin their heirloom. She probably would be dead. "Dr. Felder, I know Davy was just trying to do what was right with what resources we had. He's a good brother as brothers go, I suppose, but he should have asked me before giving it away."

"Yes, I agree, Miss Keith." Dr. Felder nodded before withdrawing his concerned expression for a sip of water. He had just tried a jalapeno pepper.

"Miss Keith, your duck is very nice," Mr. Ford informed the young woman.

Dora looked around Dr. Felder and to the foot of the table, addressing Mr. Ford with Marilla-ish exasperation. "It's not a duck, Mr. Ford. It's a goose, but, thank you."

Dr. Felder choked on his water, finding amusement in young, unpretentious Dora Keith schooling the all-knowing Owen Ford.

"Yeah," Gilbert joked from the head. "Get your fowl right, Owen! And you call yourself a journalist!

"Are you alright, Gene?"

"Yep," Dr. Felder covered his mouth with his napkin. His hacking was loud and forceful and Miss Keith restrained herself from patting him on the back. Dr. Felder glanced up the table and to Gilbert, addressing the weight of his inquisitive stare. Stating the obvious, "Miss Keith made me laugh at the wrong time."

"Dora has many talents," Owen reported.

Dr. Felder burrowed his forehead in reply and returned to eating, but Owen sensed a tightness in his carriage.

Testing his theory, Owen flattered Miss Keith further. "Meal making is just one of them. Dora's also a vocalist. Dora, have you decided what you will sing for us tonight?"

Dora shrugged. O Holy Night was her carol and he knew it, however, the piano part was beyond his skill level and he implored her to sing something else if she wanted him to play too.

"You don't have to sing Dora if you don't want to," Anne said as she pushed back Dora's long hair from her shoulder. Anne's hand soothed her upper arm. Dora liked the comforting heat and smiled at the sensation.

"What song do you sing?" Dr. Felder queried.

"O Holy Night."

"That's a lovely choice!" Dr. Felder spoke in Owen's direction, "But I'm going to guess you're not up to the accompaniment though."

"Oh, it's so many sharps!" Owen complained. "Yes, the song is lovely but I'm not a concert pianist. It would take me months to learn."

Dr. Felder clucked his tongue as he was about to say he could play it. It didn't matter what key. But could he play the song and not want alcohol? If he manifested his dormant prodigy, would he return to his habit of drinking wine?

"Dr. Felder?" Dora spoke so quietly that hardly anyone noticed. "You probably could do it, if, that is, you wanted to. I'd love to hear you play. We only have ol' Mrs. Sloane at church to play hymns and she just plays loud and louder. She has no instinct."

Before Eugene knew it, he found himself agreeing to Dora's request. He could and would play the piano for her. The last time he played, he played only for himself, trying to use his powers to conjure Victoria back to life. He was good but couldn't break down that wall, no matter how much potion he swallowed. Dora had asked him for help, and that's what he wanted to do now, be helpful to women. And Dora was a woman.

"Do you have the sheet music, Owen?" Dr. Felder asked. Even without the manuscript, he knew the tune. It was a well known French song with swelling crescendos that ascended into high fermatas. The hymn's triplets metered the melody's syncopation. He just needed to glance at the page to confirm the composition forming in his head.

"Yes, Leslie has a lot of music stored away in that bench. The part is tricky. I'll tell you that." Owen said, "But, if you want a crack at it, by all means."

*/*/*

Dora spent a few minutes in the dining room helping Anne with the dishes. She circled the table, collecting the salt and pepper shakers, working her way from foot to head. She removed a gravy boat near Captain Jim's place. The brown liquid had stained the delicate tablecloth. Dora covered it with salt to stop the spread of grease. What she really needed was chalk to rub into the fat. Chalk did wonders to resurrect old linens when used correctly.

In the kitchen, Marilla and Mrs. Lynde washed the crystal and glasses. Marilla wiped each delicate item with her thin fingers before passing it over to Mrs. Lynde to be dried and set aside. The latter was being particularly jolly as Dora put down more tableware on the drainboard. She studied the room. If she were a stick of chalk, where would she be?

"Marilla, you are such a terrible flirt," Mrs. Lynde scolded.

Dora turned her attention from the drawer she rummaged and saw Marilla produce a brief smile before she closed her laugh lines.

"I wasn't flirting, Rachel." Marilla corrected, "Not… not really. We're cut from the same cloth when it comes to . . . "

"Oh, Marilla! That poor man, you'll have him on one knee if you don't watch out, that's what." Rachel interrupted.

Dora shut the drawer. There was nothing in there but burnt matches, the nub of a candle, and a calendar that Mrs. Moore apparently used to track her cycle. Dora didn't need help knowing what the run of x's meant. Anne had explained to her what she should do when hers returned. Tracking would help her prepare for the surgery she wanted. The only mysterious symbols on the calendar were the days marked off with big hearts.

"Rachel," Marilla attempted to calm Mrs. Lynde once more by pointing out the nonsense of her conjecture. "Nothing of the sort will happen between James and me. We just understand each other. His heart is for one girl only, and that girl is not me."

Dora straightened up, suddenly realizing what the hearts meant. Hearts meant love, and love was something you did as well as felt. But… but surely Mrs. and Mr. Moore weren't sleeping together like husband and wife? Mr. Moore had his own room. It made sense that he would. He was a perpetual child in his behavior. Dora was sure that the Moore's were no longer doing...that. Thinking otherwise made Dora feel sick.

The conversation between the older women continued as Dora tried to stop herself from speculating on Mrs. Moore and her lovemaking habits.

"You could have fooled me, the way you blush." Mrs. Lynde scoffed once more. "You watch yourself. You might jest now but even jests can get out of hand. Look at..."

Dora didn't wait around to hear the end of Mrs. Lynde's statement. When Anne returned with another load of plates, Dora helped Anne put them down.

"Anne?" Dora asked, "Do you know where I might find some chalk? There's a spot of gravy on the tablecloth that needs cleaning."

"Oh," Anne brushed a red strand back and pinned it behind her ear. "Let me check with Owen. Leslie probably has chalk in her sewing basket. Owen probably knows where she keeps it. I'd feel odd rummaging around their home to find it."

Anne then retreated out of the kitchen leaving Dora standing agape.

"Their home?" Dora had forgotten Mr. Ford had lived with Mrs. Moore for several months and seemed to be settled. But, that didn't necessarily mean Mr. Ford and Mrs. Moore were romantically involved. Dora thought to the hearts drawn in on certain days and the smiley faces each one held. Mr. Ford had to be Mrs. Moore's lover. There was too much sense in her supposition.

*/*/*

Anne Blythe found Owen Ford in the pantry door, trapped by Katherine Brooke. Anne stood back a moment to observe their body language, trying to gauge when the best time might be to interrupt them. Owen's gray eyes dulled and his brow squished, an expression that Anne mirrored perfectly as she overheard Katherine's shrill.

"You don't know, do you?" was Katherine's steadfast conclusion. She radiated with excitement for her discovery. "It makes so much sense now. If you didn't know, that's hardly your fault." Katherine rambled. "I owe you an apology, Owen. Still, it doesn't take much to piece it together."

"You're wrong, Katherine." He didn't want to gossip about ancient history.

He uprooted himself from the jamb, trying to bypass Katherine. She continued to block him with her arms outstretched. Anne thought that the way Katherine's gray shawl draped made her look like a bat.

"You really didn't know they were witches? Albeit, not very strong ones. Hence their trips to my mother."

"They were not witches," Owen emphasized the negation. "My mother was a healer and sometimes I get hunches, but, that's it for the Selwyn legacy, excluding my Grandfather, who lost his powers."

"Owen, open your eyes, you know there are others, your aunts for instance. There might be even more around here in Four Winds." Katherine countered. "Just think about my mother and all the visits you know your Aunt Bridget and Aunt Lucille made to us. I might have been a child at the time, but I understood what Mother was trying to do." Katherine paused deliberating her next statement. "And now that I'm grown, I see even better. Owen Ford, you know what this means about your grandfather? Shall I speak plainer? He wasn't the saint you think he was."

Owen shook his head. "No, it's impossible. Like I said at supper to Miss Cuthbert, there can't be any more witch families on this island. Magical powers are not so commonplace.

"Anne, is there something I can help you with?" Owen quickly addressed their interloper.

"Yes, please excuse me. I'm sorry." Anne pleaded with her eyes to both parties. "But I wanted to see if you can help me find some chalk? Maybe in Leslie's sewing basket?"

Katherine tugged her shawl closed and reviewed Anne with a nervous expression. She did not smile at Anne but didn't scowl either. Anne was certain Katherine wanted to tell her something but then refrained herself.

"There's a school slate and some chalk in Dick's toys," Owen pointed to a closet at the far end of the hall. "There should be a box near the front. And remember Anne, slates are not weapons."

"Oh, did Gilbert tell you about our first encounter?" Anne replied indignantly. "I thought when I moved here I would be escaping that old story. I would thank you not to enjoy it so much or you may find a bump on your head."

"I expect no less," Owen winked back. "Gilbert said nothing. I think you can blame Mrs. Lynde."

"Of course, Mrs. Lynde," Anne thought as she found the box of balls and blocks. The only person that had the right to remind her of that day was her victim and now husband. Cracking a slate over his head started their entire relationship.

Anne searched the crate and found the chalk at the very bottom, but her ears honed in on the conversation from the other end of the hallway. Owen and Katherine were arguing with gusto.

"The only reason why your grandparents adopted your aunts was, well, because Bridget and Lucille were, in fact, witches. They, like your grandfather, were supposed to have the powers of time distortion. Proof that they were your grandfather's illegitimate daughters."

"Rubbish," Owen snorted. "Why wouldn't they tell me this? There's no reason to hide that information."

"Owen, I don't know why you weren't told, but, I'm telling you now, your aunts were not random babies taken in when their mothers died following childbirth."

Anne froze in mid-motion upon hearing Katherine's proclamation. Regardless of whether or not those orphans were witches, how sad that they had lost their mothers. The truth was, women still died having children, even in modern times. She touched the firm spot below her belt and reminded herself that she carried joy.

Her darling Joy.

There was no need to worry.

*/*/*

Armed with the chalk Anne had liberated, Dora returned to the dining room only to find two people lingering. Gilbert and Dr. Felder sat together. Gilbert had assumed her old spot next to Dr. Felder. Eugene drummed his capable fingers against the table as Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. They bore the same worried expression.

Dora heard the word "addicted" as she rubbed the chalk over the brown, greasy spot. Keeping her eyes down and her interest on the tablecloth, Dora searched the rest of the fabric for additional stains she might have missed.

She knew they were looking at her as their conversation abruptly died. Dora heard herself apologize, "I'm sorry. I can come back later, I suppose. I just wanted to get to this stain before it set."

"Dora, it's fine." Gilbert knew she wasn't snooping. "Dr. Felder just thought that maybe, tonight, Helen might stay in your room, which means, would you be alright in staying here tonight?"

Dora widened her eyes. "Stay here and sleep with Miss Brooke?" The thought made her cringe. She never cared for Anne's schoolmarm friend. In their first meeting, Miss Brooke wanted her to play Old Maid, a game she had no aspirations to master.

"Actually, Dora." Gilbert stood up and helped Dora collect the linen, pushing it towards the head of the table in a wad. "I'd go and get some of your things and then escort Katherine back to my place. It's just one night. All you need is your nightgown, right? Dr. Felder doesn't think Helen should be moved, but, there's no reason why Katherine can't still be with her."

Dora glanced at the other physician and he gave her a small salute. "Do blame me for the inconvenience, Miss Keith. If it makes you feel better, I'm taking the floor of Gilbert's parlor."

"No, you're not, Old Man." Gilbert turned and gave his old buddy a smug grin. "You've got a train to catch and an hour to get there yet. You said 7 o'clock, right? Plenty of time too for Owen's homespun pageant."

"There's no ferry to take me over to Kingsport, remember." Dr. Felder argued, "Even if there was, you know as well as I do that it takes longer than an hour to get there from Charlottetown."

"Dora, would you do me a favor," Gilbert's hairy upper lip twitched as he seemed to suppress laughter. "Fetch Miss Brooke for me, please. I have an idea on how to get you over the strait. I just want to run it by her."

*/*/*

The entire room smiled as Captain Jim, Owen Ford, and Davy Keith solemnly wandered into the parlor and onto a makeshift stage. Owen Ford put his small, gold-like box down near the music rest on the piano and then occupied its bench. That left Captain Jim and Davy awkwardly standing front and center with towels belted around their heads.

"I thought Gilbert was going. . ." Mrs. Lynde attempted to whisper to Anne. The rest of them were in chairs, watching.

Dora Keith perked to hear Anne's answer, "He's running Katherine's suitcase to my House of Dreams and Davy's pinching in as Balthazar."

Davy was scanning the room, wondering over the series of events that led him to agree to sing as part of a men's trio. When Dora saw her brother's face grow blank from lack of conclusion, she chuckled.

Owen started to play a waltz. In her peripheral, she saw Dr. Felder studying the music for O Holy Night. She didn't know what to make of his frown at first until she connected his negative jolts to sour notes.

"We Three Kings of Orient Are**
Bearing Gifts We Traveled Afar"

The sketch started with the three men singing, then trading off, one by one, as each of the Magi was represented. Owen was the first soloist and Davy was the last. Dora was almost embarrassed for her brother as his voice cracked into falsetto on "sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying" which made his audience giggle as he finished his otherwise somber and cold verse.

For the final chorus, everyone pitched in with the chant, "Star of Wonder, Star of Night, Star of Royal Beauty Bright."

Owen completed the song, using the damper which let the final note hang longer than probably what the composer intended. It was an excellent start to their private prayer service on the eve of Christmas morn.

And, the person that clapped loudest was Gilbert. He had just bi-located back, his task completed. "We all know they weren't real kings, but Magi."

"Magi. Kings." Owen shook his head. "The writer is leveraging their opinion on magic there. That's what."

Captain Jim had retreated off to the side where Marilla assisted him in removing his homemade shroud. She carefully folded the white, fluffy towel and returned it to the water closet as the old man strung his belt through his trouser loops.

"A magician 'tware a mage once." The Captain said. His statement kicked off a low rumble of chatter. "Dare kings were witches."

"Of course, the Roman Catholic church somehow connected the natural existence of benevolent, magical powers to Satan. The truth is the Bible says they weren't kings, but magicians, as our good Captain says." Katherine lectured from her straight-back chair as the group re-arranged itself for the next song.

Dora Keith didn't disagree with the statement. She had studied Matthew and the nativity of Jesus with Ralph back when they played Mary and Joseph. Mrs. Lynde wasn't so sure. She took a big breath of air to support her forthcoming remarks.

"Rachel, it will keep, don't you think?" Marilla encouraged the civility out of her old friend, and, as painful as it was, Mrs. Lynde kept her tongue in check.

Gilbert sat down next to his spouse for the next performance.

Eugene checked his watch, the train was leaving in a half-hour. Now that Gilbert had returned, and with Katherine's help, they were planning on magically sending him over the strait and into Kingsport's Train station. He didn't like Gilbert's term for what he wanted to do, "sling him", like a pea out of a slingshot. In theory, he would vanish from this house and reappear on his platform, no harm done.

"Well, now that we've made a tribute to the Star of Bethlehem, perhaps we can follow up with another song appropriate for this night of antiquity." Owen stood up and gestured at the piano. "Dr. Felder, I yield the instrument to you now."

There was a new rumble of voices spreading across the room.

Gilbert stated, "You've got time, Gene."

"Don't get your hopes up, it has been a while." Dr. Felder stood and offered an arm to his singer. "Miss Keith, are you ready?"

She was nervous, Eugene could tell as she stood and rubbed dry the palms of her hands against her wool dress. Together, they walked to the stage. Dora turned to face her family and friends as Eugene sat down. He was going to play without sheet music. She had no idea how he could do that. Even old Mrs. Sloane still played from her notes.

Dr. Felder was different. His job was to turn the song from a two-dimensional representation and give it life. The music that poured out of the piano was a living, breathing extension of himself, a bittersweet melody full of angst. The room went still as they marveled in the acoustic scene.

Dora Keith swayed in the rhythm, unaware of how her hem rustled upon her shoes.

"O Holy Night
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth…

That was all she could sing as she realized her last lyric was far too high. She stiffened knowing she'd never hit the highest note at the end of the tune. She bit her lower lip and refused to pick up her next stanza, instead, letting Dr. Felder play.

"What is it?" Dr. Felder asked in a low voice. "Miss Keith?"

Dr. Felder stopped playing altogether and Dora took a step closer to him so they could conference.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. You play wonderfully, it's just that it's a bit too high." Dora apologized.

Dr. Felder laughed. "I don't mean to show off, but, I'll just knock the song down a few steps. Is this alright?" Dr. Felder returned to where he left off and seamlessly improvised a key change that also allowed him to restart the entire piece.

"You're transposing the entire song by ear?" A flabbergasted Owen accused. "What witchcraft is this?"

"Ignore him," Dr. Felder instructed as he caught Miss Keith's eye. He found admiration for his playing in her countenance. "Just sing from your heart and if you need a break, take it. My job is to make you look good."

Dora nodded and resumed her song, her voice beautiful against Eugene's accompany harmonies. If the music hadn't lifted his heart, Dr. Felder may have noticed the tears brimming in the otherwise still Miss Cuthbert, or perhaps, he may have noticed Anne resting her head on Gilbert's shoulder. The truth was he never noticed his audience. His attention was only for the music. So, he missed it when Mrs. Lynde stood up and made haste out of the room.

After the final healing measure and the subsequent applause and its ovation, Eugene knew he had been hiding his light for too long. The world, or at least the room, would never look at him the same again.

"Miss Keith, take a bow," he suggested to the young woman. He didn't mean to steal the moment from her.

*/*/*

"I regret to say I haven't enough time with you and your witty quips," Dr. Felder smiled at the matron, who sat removed from the party in the kitchen. "Gilbert and Katherine are finishing the program with The Coventry Carol. I always liked the verse the reminds us of King Herod and the massacre of the innocents. Not everything about Christmas is jolly. Miss Keith sang sweetly though, given the rough time she's had this winter."

Dr. Felder tacked on his final thought. It was his feeble and final attempt to redirect the awe and wonder for his talent he tried so hard to escape.

"I bought something for her." Dr. Felder opened his bag and produced a plain, brown package. "It's just some parchment and a few new pencils. She's an artist. She showed me her drawings. She's, very good. Perhaps a scholarship to art school is in her reach."

Mrs. Lynde nodded and looked up from her teacup. "Yes, Dora has talents Marilla might cultivate. You're right she did sing well too. But, you. . . No more Dr. Felder from me now. You've picked the wrong career, Gene. You should keep the piano for yourself. Play more. Dora really doesn't need it."

Dr. Felder shook his head. "I don't think so. Music can't save anyone from death nor bring life in the world. And, I didn't give Victoria's piano to Miss Keith, I gave it to Green Gables."

"Don't change the subject just yet," Mrs. Lynde scolded. "You turned a miserable experience into something much happier. Dora will now have a nice memory of this Christmas for the rest of her life. And that's a gift." Mrs. Lynde sniffed and allowed the silence to build before finishing her thought. "And, I've come to a decision just now. I'm sorry I left the room during your solo. It hit me all at once and I needed to step back."

"You sound very serious," Dr. Felder reported. "Are you well? I'd be more than happy to talk about anything that concerns you."

"Please, ever since Gilbert healed my stomach three years ago, I've been fit as a fiddle. No, Gene. I've been sitting in here, thinking, that's what." Mrs. Lynde's chest heaved and she looked around him to make sure no one loitered in the corridor. "I've not told Marilla this, but I miss running a household. I'm good at it and I've enjoyed helping Anne during this visit so much. I want to ask you, do you still need a housekeeper at your place in Baltimore?"

Eugene had to push his eyebrows down from the delightful surprise. "I'm sure this one won't last long, she told me as much when she took the job. Said she'd help me through the pinch. So, yes, the job is still yours, if you want it."

"Understand though it will not be a permanent situation, but I'll stay for two or three years. I do have a condition though." Mrs. Lynde pressed on with determination. "If I take the job, then, I'm bringing a companion with me. Someone to keep me company and someone that can help out with the work from time to time."

"Sounds very wise, actually." Dr. Felder beamed approval. He was glad for the provision as he wasn't certain how to keep Mrs. Rachel Lynde entertained. His thoughts now considered practical matters. He'd have to think of a way to partition the housekeeper's quarters into two. The help had use of their own tiny parlor near the kitchen and a bedroom on the top floor. He supposed his great guest room was large enough that it could be shared.

"You see, Dr. Felder, I'm not for much longer in this world, oh, don't look that way at me, please. I'm not being morbid, just speaking facts. That's what! And I have twin grandchildren in Washington DC that I've not ever seen and I'd like to see them before I get too feeble to travel." Mrs. Lynde anxiously emoted.

"Of course, I understand." Dr. Felder said, "I'm sure Miss Cuthbert and I can behave when you're visiting them."

Mrs. Lynde chuckled, "Marilla Cuthbert won't leave Green Gables for so long. No, Gene. I will come down with Dora once her surgery is arranged and then we'll take over your housekeeping."

Dr. Felder stiffened. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Miss Keith wandering his home, cleaning his kitchen, parlor, or laundering his garments.

"No," Dr. Felder spoke low as he anticipated the troubles her daily presence might cause. He would draw closer to her. It was a situation he wasn't sure should be explored when she was his patient. "No, anyone but Miss Keith. Maybe a daughter instead?"

Mrs. Lynde grew agitated in her chair. "Yes, Dora! It's Dora or I don't come. Her reputation is ruined in Avonlea and beyond. It would be wicked to force her to stay at Green Gables. Sure, come spring Marilla will parade her around the village to prove she's not pregnant but the damage is done. She'll end up a spinster in her brother's house unless she's given another opportunity."

The logical part of Dr. Felder agreed with everything Mrs. Lynde said, but even so, he felt he wouldn't be able to maintain his professionalism. Helen had been right when she sensed his romantic interests in Dora. Of course, Mrs. Lynde had deduced this as well.

"No, not Miss Dora Keith because..." Dr. Felder felt his face pink to Mrs. Lynde's determined stare. "It wouldn't be proper for the physician to board his patient." He feigned a smile when he saw his argument wilt. "At least not in this case. I'm a lot older."

Mrs. Lynde snorted as she heard a confession of sorts. "You're afraid. Oh, don't be so afraid, Gene. You know, my Thomas was twenty-three years older than me. And we had such a happy marriage and babies everywhere."

"You're assuming quite a lot in that last statement," Gene stood up as Miss Brooke entered the kitchen. There was no reason to assume that Dora Keith would ever look at him that way. Perhaps the baldness was a good thing, after all, it highlighted his age.

"Ready to go?" Katherine Brooke didn't quite know what she had interrupted, but she found a ready Dr. Felder. "Gilbert's grabbing your cloak. This should only take a moment."

*/*/*

Davy Keith did not close his blinds before settling in for the night. He feared he'd miss the sunrise if he closed off the outside. He slept in fits, waking up over and over again only to notice the moon's progression across the star-pricked dark. When a faint spray of orange crept through the glass, Davy sat up and reached for the brown package waiting for him on his side table. It was Christmas morn and Davy could at last open his gift from Cuba.

He slid a fingernail against the seal and an audible tear disturbed the silence. He waited for a moment, wondering if Captain Jim heard the violation but the haggard old man snored unimpeded.

It fell into his lap like a slippery string of pearls. His fingers told him it was not precious jewels but beads of carved wood held in place by a thin, knotted rope. In the middle of the circle, a big cross hung. It was one of the strangest necklaces he had ever seen.

The ambient light grew stronger and he contemplated Millie's gift. His initial impression was that it was sort of ugly. He wondered why Millie chose it for him. At the same time, he could also see that his gift was expertly crafted. Some beads were painted with tiny little faces he couldn't make out. The necklace was too bulky to wear, not that he knew of many men that wore necklaces. He supposed that some might. Pirates were known to wear earrings. He put it on anyway and pulled the decorative cross to his belly button before laying back down.

He dearly wished he had sent something to Millie for Christmas. He and Marilla wrote Mrs. Marin a letter sharing the happy news of Avonlea. Anne was going to have a baby. Helen was doing well selling real estate. And Dora was visiting the House of Dreams, albeit, the real reason omitted. Davy tried to write something funny and less personal, as, Millie's grandmother was going to see it, but he always misspelled Millie's name, hoping she would see that he still loved her in his salutation of "Dear MILY." It was their code for saying "I love you."

Holding onto the cross, he prayed with all his might that Millie would know that his feelings hadn't changed. And, although the beads dug into the back of his neck, he found comfort and assurance that Millie knew his true heart. He stayed that way a few minutes longer before deciding that he should put the necklace back into its paper purse for safekeeping.

As his fingers opened the envelope, he saw it. It was a note written in a hand he recognized and no one else's. Millie had written "Davy" with mismatched letters and a backward "y".

Davy let tears well in his eyes as Millie told him a bit of her life on that note. She had drawn a three-legged horse and a pink dress. There was a large house with smoke coming out of the chimney and a tan girl's face with a big smile. And on the back of the paper, she had made a big heart with his name in it and signed it, just as she promised, M-I-L-Y.

He was relieved that she was happy in her new home, but more importantly, he finally knew someone understood what he was going through in missing her. She was missing him.

to be continued

*It was Kslchen's review from chapter 22 that started the wheels turning on how I can bring information about dyslexia into this narrative.
**The Quest of the Magi by John Henry Hopkins Jr. approx 1863. (wiki)
***O Holy Night by Adolphe Adam in 1847

Thank you followers and reviewers. I can't express how much it means to me that you've taken an interest in this story.