Dear readers,
Welcome to the third installment of the Doctor's Wife series! For those of you who have been reading since part I, THANK YOU for your continuous support. Hope you enjoy this third (and possibly last) part of the story. This go around, I think I will start answering your reviews at the end of the chapters, as many seem to do. The format seems appealing!
For newcomers, a fair warning: this is an AU, very far from canon. Also, if you haven't read the parts I and II, that's alright, though part III might not make a lot of sense on its own. So, just in case, here are the links!
Part I, The Doctor's Wife s/12172184/1/The-Doctor-s-Wife
Part II, Searching for Anne s/12234997/1/Searching-for-Anne
Thank you, and happy reading!
Diana Wright carried the full tray she'd prepared into the parlor, where Anne sat by the fire. As Diana set the tray down and poured the tea, she observed her friend: dark rings under her eyes contrasted with skin too pale, and the dress she'd borrowed from Marilla highlighted how thin she'd become. Still, Diana was overjoyed and to see her, and not a little relieved. She set a gingerbread cookie on the side of the saucer for good measure before handing over the steaming beverage.
"Thank you," Anne said as quietly as the crackling emanating from the fireplace. "For everything, Di. For taking care of my boys."
"Of course, I love having them with me." Unable to hold her own saucer without rattling the cup, she set it back down on the tray with a soft clink and sat down. "The moment I saw your letter, I knew something was terribly wrong. By that time, Marilla was hanging on by a thread, so Rachel sent for Davy, and I went to the Glen."
Anne blinked several times, and swallowed hard. "I never meant to turn everyone's lives upside down."
"No, darling, you didn't. Really, I should have gone up there much earlier. Gilbert called us the day after you'd gone, but without much to go on, we'd hoped...Oh, Anne, it was so foolish. We pretended that all was well, like you'd simply gone for a long walk, and would return soon. Even when John and Sarah went up to help with the boys over the weekend, we stayed in denial."
"Diana, that was my fault, not yours."
She turned from the fireplace to face her friend. "Why didn't you come to me, Anne?" she asked softly. "I would have helped. I would have done whatever I could. Why didn't you trust me?"
Anne peered into her friend's earnest, soulful, big black eyes. "Diana, my love, I trust you above anyone else. I trust you with my life." She sighed and set her teacup down carefully. "I almost did come to see you, I wanted to so badly - but I didn't want to bring the pain to you. I had to take it away, you see, far from everyone dear to me."
Diana smiled sadly. "I understand. Though I do hate the idea of you going again."
"I'll be fine. We'll be fine," she amended. "We'll head out to Kemptville tomorrow, and come straight back the day after. Are you absolutely sure you don't mind the boys staying with you one more night?"
"They can stay ten more. I mean it: Anne, they're dolls. I love having them, and so does Fred - although, I think he mostly enjoys having an extra set of hands in the barn. You should see Jem with the cows!"
"He takes after his Grandpa Blythe," she acknowledged with a twinge of pride, and waited two beats before asking: "The Blythes - are they horribly cross?"
Diana's sympathetic smile did not set Anne at ease. "I think they understand. But you shouldn't worry about that now. You need to take care of yourself first."
Anne reached for her hand and squeezed it affectionately. Diana squeezed back, then grinned.
"So, tell me: can you really manage both Gil and Mr. Garrison together in the same buggy?"
"Blythe. A word?"
Gilbert groaned inwardly, but did not look up from his father's horse. Old Count was chomping on the apple he held out, enormous teeth coming greedily close to his fingers.
"Sure," he acquiesced without enthusiasm. It wasn't as though he would take 'no' for an answer, anyhow. Garrison approached, his confident swagger like sandpaper to Gilbert's nerves.
"Have you given any thought to what Lebrun said?"
Of course, the man had just to come to pester him. "I don't see how it's any of your business."
"You really ought to consider it. Look, you just got Anne back - and I'm thrilled about it, don't get me wrong - but you've got to wonder at your part in all of this."
"I might not have been the perfect husband, and I might have made mistakes, but I will deal with it on my own terms. My private life is just that: private. She might not see anything wrong about airing out our issues to everyone and anyone, but I do!"
"She has been turning herself inside out, trying to find a way to make it back to you, and to be the mother her children - your children - deserve," Jack seethed. "If you're unwilling to meet her even part of the way, she'd be doing it all in vain."
Old Count whinnied, and Gilbert went to toss the uneaten bits of apple core in the pig slop bucket, and exited the barn. Jack followed. "Lebrun's not just anyone, you know. What he's done for her so far is incredible. You can't imagine the progress."
"How do you know any of this was his doing? How would you even know what he was doing?" he questioned, wiping his hands in fresh snow. "How do you even trust him?"
"Because he did the same for me." Gilbert's head snapped up, his eyes alert. "I had a few sessions of my own with him." Garrison's look was haunted as he went on reluctantly. "I blamed myself for...uh, putting Anne in a bad state of mind. I didn't know how my actions would hurt her- no, not that way!" he raised his hands in surrender at Blythe, who was fuming like a trapped bull. "I told you over and again, nothing like that ever took place."
"What. Did. You. Do?" Gilbert growled, barely containing his rage. Jack shook his head.
"I said some things to her that were misplaced, but that's neither here, nor there. If she wants you to know, she will tell you. And I think she does want to tell you everything: she'll need the doctor for that, though. And so will you. So? Will you consent to a session of your own as well?"
Gilbert breathed hard through his nose, his jaw clenched. He wanted to fight it, and he hated to give Garrison any reason to believe he'd won, but this was larger than some petty feud.
He nodded in affirmation. For Anne, for his boys, he would bare his inner workings to the famous Dr. Lebrun.