So, I flipped through the pages of "Anne of Avonlea" after a long time, and I was really impressed by how L. M. Montgomery had made Marilla react to Uncle Abe's storm. (And "Anne gave Marilla a glassful of her potent currant wine"! This is priceless!) So this happened...

It hadn't rained on St. Edward's Island for weeks now, and no one had seen the rain coming. The fields had been dry as desert, and everyone had known better to save water as best as possible because the wells were not endless.

When Anne had heard the first raindrops on the roof above her gable room, she had jumped up in excitement, and saying goodbye to her Snow Queen, the young redhead had hurried downstairs.

Marilla finished cleaning up after supper, and saw her brother from the window. The man was ushering the hens inside their hut, and before Marilla could even start to wonder about the reason for this action, she saw the raindrops falling on the window. It seemed like it had been an eternity since the last time Avonlea had seen even a drop of water from the skies.

Marilla Cuthbert had never liked it much when it was cold and wet outside, and when the air was damp and heavy. But this time the rain was vital to all of them - the people, the animals, and the plants -, and Marilla gave a contented nod towards the window, as if by this giving permission for the rain to fall.

When Marilla left for the parlour to fetch her needlework, her sharp eyes stopped on the small girl nestled beside the window. She was staring absently through the glass and into the rain, and Marilla knew her well enough to see it clearly that Anne hadn't noticed her entering the room.

As much as she knew that Anne was somewhere far, far away in her beloved land of imagination, Marilla had never stood for laziness and pointless actions.

"Anne," she said from the door. Marilla had thought her tone was loud enough, but when Anne didn't move, she tried again. "Anne?"

This time the answer came as a deep sigh. "Isn't rain just so wonderful?" asked Anne without tearing her eyes from the picture outside the window. "It's beautiful, and it sounds so relaxing. And the smell when the rain has ended, it's just so fresh and pleasant. Do you ever wonder why people stay inside when it rains? If it were up to me, I'd go outside and let myself get absolutely soaking, dripping wet, just like Snow Queen and all the trees on the White Way of Delight. Of course then my clothes would have to dry later. Can I go out into the rain, Marilla?"

"Certainly not," answered Marilla, happy that she could finally interrupt Anne, and surprised at the turn the child's train of thoughts had taken. Taking her needlework from the basket beside her rocking chair, and settling down in the chair, she eyed the girl suspiciously. "I would be surprised if you'd tell me the matron at the asylum let you dance around in the rain. It is a silly idea - a pointless one really - and you'd almost certainly catch a cold." Looking out of the window, she added, "I wonder why Matthew hasn't come inside yet."

"I could go and look for him!" offered Anne enthusiastically. "And what's a little cold compared to a romantic stroll in the rain? Or a dance, just like you said!"

Marilla stared at the girl with a mixture of disbelief, amusement and annoyance in her eyes. "I told you already, Anne," she said determinedly. "You are not going outside."

The front door opened and closed again.

"Now, go and make Matthew some tea, he'll have been cold," ordered Marilla, and Anne took off towards the kitchen obediently.

The rain was not strong, and soon it would stop completely. The night was quiet, and not a drop touched the ground again.

In the morning, Anne found the ground outside dry, but the sky was covered with thick, dark clouds. And Anne, who had always loved rain, was happy that the rain hadn't come down during the night when she couldn't see it.

It wasn't until afternoon that the weather changed. Cleaning the table in the dining room, Anne heard the first clap of thunder. It came along with a small startled shriek from the kitchen, which could have been mistaken for a trick of the mind had not a clattering of porcelain followed.

Anne rushed into the kitchen, her highly imaginative mind making up different versions of what could have happened to make the always calm and composed Marilla so upset. What she saw was not at all as exciting as what she had imagined.

Marilla was kneeling in front of the stove, collecting the shattered pieces of the plate she had dropped. Her face held a frown and Anne could have sworn she was muttering something under her breath.

"Do you need help?" asked Anne after watching Marilla for a long moment. "I heard your cry and I was already trying to imagine what could have possibly scared you so much that you-"

"Thank you, Anne, I can manage," interrupted Marilla abruptly. "I was startled, that's all."

As much as she tried to appear calm, though, the next roar of thunder made her jump again. Outside the window the both of them could see and hear the thick shower of rain that started to fall from the skies.

Another roar of thunder followed, this time louder and nearer. Marilla stashed the pieces of porcelain into the garbage bin nearby, without having to get up from the floor. With this move she tried to hide the shaking her body had taken up, but Anne noticed nevertheless.

Before she could wonder about it, however, the kitchen door opened, and a sightly drenched Matthew appeared in the doorway. Anne watched as his kind eyes roamed the room and were clouded with worry when he saw Marilla.

At the sight of his sister, small, scared and now close to tears, Matthew hurried forward in his very own slightly awkward yet always benign way. He knelt down right beside Marilla's shaking figure and since no objection came from the woman - it never did at her brother's rare surges of fondness - he wrapped his arms around Marilla, and pulled her into his embrace.

Anne went to close the door Matthew had left open in his haste, but she couldn't tear her eyes off the brother and sister. So rarely did Matthew show his love in such a straightforward way. So rarely - almost never - did Marilla lose her natural reserve. Anne had never before seen Marilla cry.

Marilla clung on to her brother, as the thunder roared outside. It had gone dark because of the thick clouds. From time to time the lightning lit up the whole sky, and each time a feeble whimper escaped Marilla's lips.

Anne was so shocked at this scene that she could do nothing but stand and stare.

Matthew stroked his sister's back and hair soothingly, and looked up at Anne over Marilla's shoulder. He wasn't going to explain the situation to his girl; he didn't need to. Sometimes it was best to leave certain things unsaid. And Anne understood well enough that this matter was not something any of them would want to discuss.

Years had passed - quicker than anyone would have wanted them to. There hadn't been another storm big enough to frighten Marilla until this day, but Anne had never forgot what she had seen.

Now, sitting next to the blessed old woman who had treated Anne as her own daughter for so long, Anne was suddenly reminded of this scene she had witnessed so many years ago.

Marilla and Anne had emerged from the house to see that Uncle Abe's storm had destroyed the garden and the orchard. Now, sitting down heavily on the front stairs, Marilla looked completely helpless.

Anne shifted closer to her and wrapped her arms around the older woman. Marilla gave her a surprised look but didn't show any signs of repulsion.

"I wanted to hold you like this earlier," said Anne, resting her head against Marilla's shoulder. "But I had Dora and Davy to look after then. I wanted to hold you, and to calm you. Just like Matthew always did."

Marilla sniffed loudly, and blinked her eyes rapidly. There was no use in crying now.

"He was always so wonderful," Anne whispered. "I never stop wishing he was here. He taught me so many amazing things. But the most unbelievable, I think, was that your greatest fear is a storm."

Marilla caressed her precious girl's head. "It isn't."

The End