1
On a long auburn bench against a dark green wall sat a young man in brown overalls and a whitewashed shirt, his long legs clad in black stockings and glossy leather shoes, tapping the wooden floor half absentmindedly, half merrily. A yellow chick flew down, and perched right on the top of his head to make a nest, nuzzling the silver mess a whit bit messier. Whistling to the rhythm of his toe-tapping, the albino beamed to the warm summer morning sunshine dawning on his pale complexion-not a dust to be seen in the golden shaft sifted through a crack of the green eave of the train station. "Translucent," was the word for the young man's description of the fresh, pure Canadian air-even though everyone knows air is in fact invisible, this word sounded sensible to this young man.
"Gilbert!"an acquainted voice of a bespectacled man was far from sonorous, but on such a special occasion it caught much attention of the just-now-swarming-in visitors.
Whereupon the addressee fidgeted in his seat, as he once again became the centre of a stage.
Gilbert Beilschmidt was very sulky these days, very sulky. The German summer sun shone so hot outside, but even when his younger brother as well as newly-married lover went home could still felt the hot blaze burning in Gilbert's ruby eyes.
"Wilkommen zu hause, West." said Gilbert darkly, arms across his chest.
"Ich bin wieder da, Bruder." Ludwig stepped forward and hugged his lover, whom turned his face away, blushing and reluctant. He knew the knack of calming down his disconsolate brother-by breathing moist exhalation to the latter's earlobe, by whispering sweet words, and by making love to him. After all, they were so passionately in love as if just got married yesterday, but in fact they had been in love with each other for over a century, and almost a year had passed since their wedding ceremony.
"Summer vacation won't last forever, and where's our honeymoon? You've promised, West." Gilbert emphasized the last few words, making Ludwig realize that this time was the last straw. But the crucial reality was, that Gilbert, being a college teacher, had a long summer vacation all to himself, and on the contrary, Ludwig was so exclusively busy in summer that he dared not leave his work to others and take a seclusion to the world's end with his married brother.
"Bruder, es tut mir leid..." this had to be the German's inevitable answer, but I don't know what the devil had seized him today-instead, he replied, "Alright, let's pack up, Bruder."
"Echt, West?" Gilbert blinked at him bewilderedly. In a trice, he bounded to their bedroom, and with the help of the aforesaid blond, he packed all their luggage into one suitcase within ten minutes.
Gilbert felt indistinctly that everything should be done quickly before Ludwig could change his mind. The dose of magic potion would soon wear off. Now he was sitting at the navigator's seat of the old-fashioned jetblack Volks on the way to the airport.
But the analeptic wore off the smaller man first, as he looked at the muscular driver concentrating on the illuminated night streets in front of them. Gilbert began to feel guilty, for he knew how serious it meant for Germany to go on strike even one or two days. Even though being a uke was usually an excuse for receiving indulgence from the seme, he was Ludwig's big brother after all. How could he justify the honeymoon by causing such a nasty catastrophe to Ludwig? The enraptured sparkles vanished from his eyes.
As if having sensed his brother's dismay, Ludwig said blushingly, "It's because of love, Bruder. Ich liebe dich."
Ludwig's words were just like warm stream injecting into the Prussian's heart. Oh, how sweet, how sweet his little brother is! God damn the works!
"Ich liebe dich auch!" Impulsively, Gilbert flung himself to embrace the blond's neck-thanks to Ludwig's skillfulness, a car accident didn't occur.
Before long, they arrived at the airport. Because of the tourist season, there were not much flight tickets available in such a limited time. "Bruder, how about this place? It's faraway, but I believe the scenery is beautiful." After a close examination of the destinations on the electronic board, Ludwig finally suggested.
"But I believe the Nordics are not bad, either."
"Well, I...I heard the British prince and his wife had spent their honeymoon there, and..." Ludwig admitted uncomfortably.
"Ooooh! I didn't know you're so rrrrrromantic, West!" the Prussian emphasized the last but one word with a rolling R.
"...all I want to say the reason is that you've read the story of the red-haired girl to me, Bruder."
"Really? But I'm so forgetful, 'think I should read it again on the plane, kesese~"
Prince Edward Island, the eastest and smallest province in Canada. The island has an ancient name, "Abegweit," meaning the "Cradle of Waves." Although compared to middle Europe, Canada is quite young, the island boasts the reputation of the "Cradle of Canada" for related long history and keeps its original appearance of one hundred years ago. Besides that, the PEI features include lobster, potato, and-
"Anne of Green Gables! Ich komme!" waving his dark blue jacket to the small airport of Charlottetown, Gilbert breathed luxuriously the first breath of Canadian rustic fresh afternoon air.
"Bruder, could I stuff the jacket into the suitcase please?" seeing no usage of the jacket which he had carefully covered over the sleeping Prussian's body during the long flying journey, Ludwig sighed faintly, and followed with the trolley case closely after the resurrected trotting albino.
Later on the honeymooning couple told the taxi driver to take them to a hotel at the heart of Cavendish. "I know, you guys come for Anne of Green Gables. Cavendish's the hometown of the novel's writer, Lucy Maud Montgomery," the white-bearded driver said smilingly in a cracked voice, "Summer's the best time for tourism, for the island is closed during winter."
"I see. Everywhere in this season has a 'scope for imagination.'" Gilbert quoted from what he had read in the book Anne of Green Gables. He looked about the broad, flat fields through the windows. He had never seen a land stretching so unlimitedly under the deep sky before. As the vehicle drove on the red, crooked road, every now and then emerged a field with different color and shape, sometimes green with Queen Anne's Lace, sometimes purple with cotton flowers, sometimes golden with wheat, and sometimes saffron with daises. Gilbert's eyes lingered on it all, taking everything greedily in.
"You're a kindred spirit! I know which hotel to take you to." croaked the old man laughingly.
As the small country lane broadened itself into a larger avenue, Gilbert could see the road sign entitled "Cavendish" in both English and French. "This is Memory Lane, see? At the end of it is the inn Kindred Spirits." Every name of the landmark sounded so romantic to Gilbert. The vehicle halted at the entrance of a lane on the left of the avenue, whose end was blocked by bearberry shrubs from view.
After thanking the amiable driver and unloading the luggage, Gilbert and Ludwig went down to the secluded lane and finally found an inn behind a ring of white fences. Across the porch of white pillars, Gilbert opened the single screen door without knocking. Totally different from the creamy and prim exterior, the inner was ember and cozy-the parlor was lush with flowers, paintings, and antique furniture. The flower-patterned wallpapers gave a flavor of English rustic style, and the unserviceable grate commemorated the time a century ago. The picture behind the front desk caught Gilbert's attention, in which stood a red-haired teenage girl behind the white fences, her smile sweet and expressive, green-laced straw hat on her head, and snowy daises in her hands.
"She must be Anne Shirley!" exclaimed Gilbert. The temporary previewing study on the plane for this journey proved to be efficient, for it helped him to remember the appearance of the heroine in the children's book he had once read. Unlike his little brother, Ludwig, who had a secret hobby of hiding the erotic magazines under the bed, Gilbert would rather hide a couple of picture books of chicks under his pillow, or sometimes a children's book, on the purpose of recalling the wonderful time when Ludwig was still a small child by telling bedtime stories to the grown-up Ludwig over the latter's protest.
"The picture might be a model dressing up..." Ludwig said plainly according to his adult common sense, but soon he was hushed by his Peter-Pan-syndromic big brother, as if when a child denied the existence of a fairy, the fairy would die.
"Shhhhh! Why West, " Gilbert grinned broadly, "we are at Anne's home now!"
For everyone who pays their pilgrimage to PEI, the Green Gables next to L. M. Montgomery's childhood homestead is a must-visit. Even though it was late in the afternoon, deal to the high latitude, the sun always sets late in this land, which gave Gilbert a good reason to visit the green house without a rest in the comfortable hotel room with muslin curtains and bedclothes of cotton warp quilts, for after a fifteen-minutes' sauntering, he positively amazed at the fairy house of dreams.
Just as its name hinted, the two-storey house had emerald rooftops, sweet and radiant, surrounded by sundry flowers and clustering vines. An apple tree with thick, round canopy stood on the west front side of the house, and facing the east gable was a cherry tree, "Snow Queen," as Anne had called it, inspiring every spectator how extraordinary beauty and elegance the tree was in spring. Now it was past opening hour and the house was closed, so Gilbert betook himself to the parlor window to peer inside.
"What are you looking for, mein Bruder?" Ludwig followed suit, and found some red geraniums right against the window. "Is it...Bonny?" under such a circumstance, he had to repeat what he had brushed up on the kindle book on the plane, otherwise somewhere in the world a fairy might really fall ill.
"Ja! West, you are such a kindred spirit!" Gilbert nudged his brother grinningly.
Ludwig coughed awkwardly, pointing somewhere from behind, "Bruder, ich glaub'..."
Gilbert turned around accordingly and saw a small personage perching on a woodpile. Without uttering a word, he walked determinedly and nimbly toward the little girl, as if being afraid that an ethereal fantasy might suddenly puff into thin air. Finally this image was proved to be no mirage. It was indeed a girl of about ten, pointed face freckled, unbraided red hair streaming behind her in a torrent of brightness.
"I'm Gilbert, what's your name?" the albino bowed politely.
"Would you please call me Cordelia?" The little girl popped her big gray eyes.
"Why, if you love to." Gilbert answered differently from Marilla's reply.
"Are you from a foreign place? I'm from Nova Scotia, the closest continental province to Prince Edward Island. I began to take a fancy to this scrumptious place-it's a bless from God. I hope you'll enjoy staying here just like I do. The radiantly lovely summer days are too short. They slip by like the golden beads of a necklace, don't you think so?"
"Yes, I agree with you." Gilbert let out a hearty laughter, and beckoned Ludwig to stay awhile with this talkative and outspoken little girl.
"Are you going to Avonlea tomorrow?" Before their conversation ended, Gilbert asked.
"I'm terrible set on it." Her eyes danced with merriment.
Then the couple bid goodbye to the little girl, who rejoined her parents in the gift shop. To this point, Ludwig gave up his wild vagaries, and smiled at his childishness.
"Don't you know, West, sometimes I kind of miss the time when you were an angelic kid." Gilbert reached out for the neatly gelled blond hair belonged to his younger brother, and stroked it until some cornstalks fall out on the forehead, "Why don't you relax a little and feel yourself at home?" In the dusky backlight, his white-teeth grin broadened as wide as a Cheshire Cat's.
Home? My childhood home? Ludwig wondered, and he began to agree that he should try to forget the troubles he met at work, give himself to such a romantic place, and believe what his brother believed now.
