Chapter One:

Another Winter

Gilbert Blythe had been gone for almost a year now.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was at the top of her class, much to Billy Andrews' irritation. Gilbert had always been Anne's rival, in both the classroom and the playground. Winning the class' advanced spelling contest did not have the same thrill or satisfaction as it once did. Nor did the feeling of seeing Gilbert's face at school, and deep down Anne missed his stares that fell a little too long and the small affirmations he'd offer when she beat him at long division. After the tragedy of his father's passing, he left for the city to work on the docks. Anne had once hoped that the labour would help distract him from the loss of his father, and in turn allow time to heal his orphaned heart. Gilbert had said, on the last day they saw each other, that if he were to return to Avonlea, he would want it to be his choice and not an obligation. He spoke of dreams to travel the world, and that had almost burst Anne's heart with prosperity and wonder.

Oh, to see the glory of this beautiful earth, of the cliffs and caves awaiting one's discovery! Of course, just being at Green Gables was perfect within itself, for she had never imagined she would see anything more wonderful when she lived at the asylum.

The idea of Gilbert's adventures also troubled her. She was just beginning to see him as a kindred spirit, even more so now that they were both parentless. It was a lonely burden to bear, and Anne did not wish it upon even her greatest enemy.

'Come home someday,' Anne had said to the boy with a familiar sadness in his deep brown eyes. They had shared a silent conversation within their stares, of comfort and hopefulness and of an indefinite farewell. Never before had Anne spoken so little with her voice and so much with her eyes. And never had she looked into Gilbert Blythe's as long as he had always looked into hers.

Most of her classmates had forgotten the gaping absence that Gilbert had left, but Anne would sometimes catch herself staring at the seat he once occupied before looking bashfully away.

Of course, Ruby Gillis had not forgotten the love of her young life. On days when the girl fell into depths of sorrow she would talk of nothing but Gilbert Blythe and the gaping hole he had left in her heart. Josie Pye would console her each time and proclaim promises that he would return, as handsome and chivalrous as ever, back into Ruby's arms like he had not spent a day not thinking of her either. Anne would sit pensively on the edge of their conversations, wishing that her imagination would whisk her off into a more pleasant daydream than the one that was painted for her by Josie Pye.

It was winter again. Christmas was only weeks away, and it almost marked the one year anniversary of Gilbert Blythe's parting from Avonlea. The girls were making wreaths during lunchbreak, in between giggling and sharing the contents of their lunch with one another. Anne had no desire to eat, not with the snow being ever so luscious to look at through the frosted window. It coated the landscape in the most beautiful white powder, so irresistibly delicious to the eye. Diana often complained about walking to and from school in the thick, inconvenient climate, but Anne couldn't think of a more splendid activity! Anne would greet each snowflake that fell on her cheeks and imagine herself as a Snow Queen greeting her beloved subjects. Her cheeks and nose would be so rosy upon returning to Green Gables that Marilla would tsk and warn her that if she didn't protect her nose with a scarf it might just fall off her little face!

Oh how Anne loved winter, but something about it was bothering her, something she could not pinpoint.

'What are you thinking of, Anne?' Diana said, breaking Anne's reverie. Diana could see in the girl's big eyes that she was somewhere far away, and was curious to know what musing had captured her friend this time.

'Oh, Diana. How can the snow be so wonderful and so grim at the same time? I ever so yearn for it when the season arrives, but I can't help feeling a sense of total despair at its return this year. I just don't understand it!'

'I can understand, Anne,' Ruby said, her voice distant. 'This is the first winter since Gilbert left.'

The other girls sighed sympathetically, but the statement only made Anne's brow furrow. She had not meant that at all, nor had such a thought! But almost like cogs falling into place, something clicked inside Anne. There was no denying that the last time it was winter Anne had said goodbye to Gilbert. Oh, it definitely didn't feel like a good bye. But could a notion as trivial as Gilbert Blythe's absence be the reason she felt so indifferent about the season?

'For you maybe, sweet Ruby. I can't imagine I'd share that conclusion,' Anne said.

'Well of course not, Anne,' sniggered Josie, her arm still around a sulking Ruby. 'No need to cry, Ruby. Let us pray that a gift as lovely as Gilbert Blythe returning to Avonlea is given to you this Christmas.'

The girls resumed their wreath making and Anne went back to gazing longingly out the window. Although now a new thought sat at the forefront of her mind, ever so prominent and annoying. She found herself imagining Gilbert trudging over the snowy hill and down to the school, books in hand and ready to challenge her to a spelling match. There hadn't been another student in school that could beat Anne in her subjects, and the idea of having a familiar opponent again left a small smile on the young girl's lips. But as Ruby had said, it had been a year since he had been gone, and Anne doubted he had any reason to return to spectacularly plain Avonlea after seeing the wonders of the world!

Another week went by and Anne did not spare another thought about Gilbert Blythe. Christmas was on the horizon, and although she did not expect any gifts this year (maybe from Matthew, but Marilla would scold him), she listened yearningly to Diana speak of the wishes and wants she had for herself. Anne envied Diana for her beautiful gowns and her parents' riches. Of course Anne imagined that if she were ever to be flourished in so many beautiful things it might turn her sour, but it did not completely suppress her wanting for them anyway.

The wreaths that the girls had made hung across the beams of the classroom, adding much needed colour and vibrancy to the lifeless shade of grey on its walls. Mr Phillips was scrawling mathematic equations on the chalkboard, the sound of the chalk as scathing and unforgiving as his own voice. Anne, as well as rest of the class, copied down his notes on their individual slates. As much as Anne wanted to focus on the lesson, the prospect of the weekend made her restless in her seat. Diana was hosting a baking day where Anne, Josie and Ruby would be making a delicious fruit pie for the winter picnic. Any weekend that involved spending a whole day with her bosom friend surrounded by scrumptious smells and the warmth of a masonry oven was enough to truly distract Anne from her studies.

'Shirley-Cuthbert, silence those tapping feet or get out of my classroom,' Mr Phillips snapped, cutting through Anne's excitement like a butcher knife. A few of her classmates snickered, but she was used to it by then. She was much stronger in heart now than when she first arrived in Avonlea. It was also a great satisfaction to be the top in her class, and that intimidated many of her classmates. Less and less people commented on her red hair, and saved their twittering for whenever Anne knocked over something or inadvertently embarrassed Mr Phillips during his teaching.

Oh boy, if only she could actually leave the class early without getting punished! She would dance around Green Gable's kitchen until she tired, or until Marilla demanded her to stop her nonsense. Whichever came first.

'Oh Diana, my feet have a mind of their own,' Anne whispered to her friend. 'How can I possibly sit still when tomorrow is such a momentous day in baking history?'

'I know exactly how you feel, Anne,' Diana whispered back. 'It is going to be the greatest pie in all of Prince Edward Island!'

'I can imagine it now: a long banquette table covered in a white cloth, adorned with lacy frills and tiny snowflakes. The hosts have specifically asked us to place our beautiful pie front and centre. Oh, how we are admired—'

'Shirley-Cuthbert, be quiet! I will not ask you again,' warned Mr Phillips.

Anne held her tongue…only just. She let her mind do all the talking, her head full of animated chatter.

The lesson finally came to its end, and Anne could not stop the wild thoughts that had been suppressed for the last hours of the schooling day. Diana listened with as much enthusiasm, but definitely responded in fewer words than her friend.

'The day is not over still,' said Anne. 'I don't have a clue how I'll manage my chores when I arrive home. Hell, my mind is already in tomorrow and I can't possibly give my attention to today! How it dulls in comparison.'

Anne parted ways with Diana and skipped over the snowy terrain towards frost coated Green Gables.

Marilla could tell almost immediately upon Anne entering the kitchen that the young girl was in a whimsical world. It frustrated her to no end when she expected Anne's full attention on her household chores. Marilla wouldn't see any adequate work being done if Anne were any less than completely grounded in this reality. When she lectured Anne on her behaviour, Anne simply said, 'Is there anything more splendid than baking with your friends?'

'Now Anne, I know you're excited about this baking day of yours, but so are the dishes in the sink awaiting to be cleaned,' Marilla said.

'How could you possibly compare such activities as washing dishes to baking? I hardly believe that you of all people believe that, Marilla. You love to bake.'

Matthew made a quiet, amused grunting noise from his seat at the kitchen table, which was met with daggers from Marilla.

'Oh, Marilla, I can't thank you enough for teaching me such a useful and rewarding skill!' said Anne. 'And Matthew, I do wish you would teach me one of your finest skills!'

'Well, now,' Matthew said, 'there mightn't be anythin' I could teach you that'd be as exciting as baking.'

'I refuse to believe such thoughts!' Anne said. 'You are as much an inspiration to me as Marilla is, Matthew.'

'Well, now, that's kind of you to say. I might be able to think of something,' Matthew supposed.

Marilla only tutted and said, 'You'll do best not to stress out Matthew, Anne. You know his heart isn't as fit as it used to be. By the Lord, don't work him into his grave. Now please, if you hurry along with your chores, tomorrow will surely arrive faster.'

And so Anne did as she was told, and the hours before bed went rather fast, and Marilla was content with the level of work she produced, despite having to remind her to place the cutlery back in order and to take the kettle off the boil.

When it was time for bed, Anne said her prayers and as usual she thanked God for bringing her to Green Gables, for Marilla and Matthew, for her dearest friend Diana and for the ever so splendid day that was to come. And as usual it always took her a long while to fall asleep when something truly exciting was to be anticipated when she awoke.

Anne was awake by dawn, too excited to sleep another second. Marilla had buttered toast on the table, which Anne only took a few bites of before excusing herself.

'Is that really all you can eat?' Marilla said.

'I'm sorry, Marilla, I don't want to waste another minute that could be spent baking. I'll see you this afternoon!' Anne said, collecting her bag and making for the snowy journey to Diana's house. How lucky they were that they were such close neighbours!

Despite her eagerness to arrive, Anne made many stops along her way. She admired the bare trees covered in snowflakes resembling leaves, and walked along the edge of the frozen river that stretched from Green Gables to the Barry's house. Anne knelt down by the side of the river and swept away the snow with her glove to reveal the icy window beneath. She then stood on the ice and watched the stream rushing under its solid surface, imagining herself as a nymph walking on water.

The ice was not sturdy enough to even hold the weight of a thin girl like Anne, and it began to crack before she had time to step off. As fast as a blink the ice gave way and Anne fell through, meeting the harsh cold water beneath. The current pulled her down and away from hole she'd fallen through, and panic set in. Her body was numbing already and lungs began to take in water as she screamed to the dark depths of the river.

Anne couldn't tell if the loud pounding sound was coming from above her or from her own beating heart that was slowing with every second she was submerged. Suddenly, something grabbed Anne's coat and she was yanked out of the water and onto the blinding white snow on the edge of the river. She was lying on her side as she coughed up mouthfuls of water, her lungs never being so grateful to be filled with air. When Anne regained some of her sight, she noticed the snow bedside her was peppered with bright red drops, to only be identified as blood.

'Is that my blood?' she had thought, as her voice was completely lost to her.

No, it wasn't her blood. It was dripping from the knuckles of the person kneeling above her, and as her eyes trailed up she realised that it was someone she knew, someone she had not seen in a very long time.

It was Gilbert Blythe.

'Am I dead?' was the first thing Anne said, and she wasn't sure she had even said it out loud at all, for surely she had died if she was seeing Gilbert Blythe above her!

But the boy half laughed, half sighed and said, 'You are not dead, Anne. Thank God that you are not dead.'

The icy chill was seizing Anne's body upon realising that she was indeed still alive. Gilbert was quick to strip his coat and scarf, wrapping it around Anne's thin body but knowing it was not enough. Her skin was changing blue and she was shivering manically, so Gilbert hastily scooped Anne up in his arms and made way for the nearest house – the Barry's.