The Encounter That Sparked It All
On a particular dreary day, Anne found herself walking through a small park in Kingsport with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Upon running in to Gilbert, she was thoroughly surprised and overjoyed. She had been somewhat homesick for months and a familiar face was just what she needed to boost her spirits. There was no doubt that Gilbert was happy to see her too; she could sense it in his voice, and in his eyes. Anne always felt as though she could read Gilbert through his eyes; and they almost always told her the same story. He bragged very little and all too soon their meeting was coming to an end. His train was leaving and he had to hurry to catch it. They stood up and he hugged her quickly, but not without emotion. "Don't forget me," he replied simply. He was sad, that she knew, and he glanced back a single time before running off into the fog of the early evening. Anne watched him as he disappeared and was once again left alone, with nothing but her thoughts.
Something was different about his smile that day, she thought. Something she hadn't seen before. Was it something new, she wondered, or had it always been there, and she was finally seeing it? Anne couldn't tell exactly what it was, but she knew it was full of wonder, excitement, protectiveness, and above all, it was loving. No one had ever looked at her with such passion and such emotion; it was elating, it was breathtaking. Marilla may have been right when she said that love had been tricked out of her mind, but suddenly it was all coming into focus. She sat back down after her brief encounter with Gilbert. The sky was dark and the fog was growing dense, but in her mind, everything was becoming clear. She'd heard the phrase you never really know how much you love someone, until they are gone. She was realizing just how true that statement was becoming to her situation.
Anne knew that her time had passed. It had been several months since Gilbert had proposed to her, and she had refused him. Gilbert was engaged to Christine now, he had told her that himself. Somehow though, Anne thought that he seemed reluctant to tell her, not because he wasn't happy, but because he was finally closing the book on Anne; he was giving up on her for good. Anne's realization came at the worst possible moment for both of them—Gilbert, engaged to Christine, and she having her name linked to Morgan Harris throughout all of Kingsport. She thought back to the summer, when she'd felt like she'd cut off Gilbert's right arm when she had refused him. Oh, she had known how desperately he loved her, and how stubborn she had been; too stubborn to see that her feelings for him were just as strong. It had been several difficult months since then; months of struggling with some weird feeling she had toward Gilbert. For a while she wrote it off as being homesick, but she knew that she was lying to herself; she knew that was not how homesick felt.
She clutched in her hand the note that Gilbert had just given her. "Congratulations on your success, Carrots. From your old chum, Gilbert." She'd already memorized the words on the small slip of paper, but she read them over again anyway, feeling comforted by their ease and genuine feel. She shivered, and realized that her cheeks were flush, something they hadn't been prone to doing. She was still aware of the warmth of his body from their hug; could still feel the electricity coursing through her from his brief embrace. Her blood was racing as well, and her heart was recovering after what seemed to be a brief moment when it refused to beat at all. What was it that always made her feel so strange around him, she wondered. He had always had that effect on her, for as long as she could remember. When she was younger it made her dislike him more than she had for calling her carrots. Now, it drove her insane. She'd never felt for any man what she felt for Gilbert Blythe, and it made her feel as though she were a pawn in a game. Anne didn't like not being in control, and when it came to Gilbert, control was the last thing she had.
For possibly only the second time in her life, Anne Shirley was at a loss for words. She was stunned at the sudden realization that would quite possibly take her life in a new direction. Did she, Anne Shirley, love Gilbert Blythe? Was she so blind for so many years as to what she really felt for him? Or was it that she was too prideful to admit it, and allowed herself to believe she really had no feelings for him? She had been so spiteful all those years, and Gilbert, truly a chum had only ever wanted to love her, or at least be a close friend. She had let him slip through her fingers one time too many, and now, she had to do something—anything.
Without thinking, Anne raced to her feet and found herself running toward the train station. She cared little about how foolish she looked doing it, she knew only one thing—she had to get to Gilbert. By the time she had found his train, her brain had regained its function and she wondered what she would do or say now that she had reached him. She called his name to get his attention. He had heard her and made his way to the door, opening it so he could discover what in heaven's name Anne was doing there. He heard only two words from her mouth, two words that perhaps restored his faith in what he had known for years—that he would one day marry Anne.
"Thank you," she yelled to him. She silently cursed herself for not thinking of something more compelling than that. She was, after all a writer. She stood on the train platform long after the train had left, collecting her thoughts on the situation, and over-analyzing his reaction. She hoped that those two words summed up everything she was feeling at the time, and although they had a great amount of emotion behind them, she wasn't sure he had the slightest idea that she returned his feelings. Or at least, what she hoped were still his feelings. Anne returned to her room at the college, and made the second most important realization of the day: good stories are written about things that mean something to people, not about far-off romances that could never happen in real life. She began writing her first book, a collection of stories about loveable characters and witty anecdotes. She wrote until Ms. Brooke came knocking on her door to turn out the light. Anne's spirits were high and she let not even Katherine disturb her good mood. She fell asleep that night with a smile on her face, thinking of one thing: Gilbert.
A/N: I had an overwhelming desire to write a single chapter story. So that was my little insightful ditty into Anne's mind. Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R!