Just a short walk from the Bright River Train station, under a large, wild cherry tree at the bend of the railroad track sat a young lady. Her nut-brown hair blithely danced with the light breeze, and her chocolate eyes were transfixed upon "The Wings of the Dove" as rays of sunshine peeked between branches of the cherry tree, gently caressing her soft face.
She was supposed to be sitting on the wooden bench on the platform, patiently awaiting her train. She had been doing just that too, until she could no longer resist curling up beneath the beautiful blossoms that remained from the late spring, losing herself in her novel. The time of day gave no shade to the bench, and the station was far too busy and noisy for reading. The cherry tree just beckoned her to introduce herself, and she did just that.
She was on friendly terms with almost all the trees she had ever met, but this one seemed to know her or of her from time on end. Possibly it knew her before she had even been born. Over the years, the cherry tree had grown tall, proud, and very beautiful while greeting the many train passengers that passed it. Every once in a while, it found a spirit to be kindred and beckoned the kindred spirit to commune with it. Once, it had almost managed to convince a precocious girl with red braids to sleep within its bows. This young lady somehow reminded it of the girl with red braids;, though not necessarily in looks. There was that kinship of soul though, and the cherry tree delighted to give the young lady shade as she read and daydreamed.
After spending the past year teaching school in Avonlea, the young lady felt she deserved a moment of just exactly what the tree offered. No matter how much she loved Avonlea and most of its residents, she longed for the quiet beauty and trees of Rainbow Valley and Glen St. Mary. Ingleside was there, and Ingleside was home – the home to which she, Nan Blythe, was returning!
Her year in Avonlea had been both good and bad. One of the best parts was that she stayed with her mother's oldest, dearest friend, Mrs. Wright, and her family. Though there was a five year difference in their ages, Nan became very close friends with the older, sophisticated Anne Cordelia Wright, now called Delia.
Delia, or "Small Anne Cordelia," as Nan's mother insisted upon called her, wrote for the Avonlea Chronicle and had her B.A. from Redmond already. She was also engaged to marry a distant cousin of Nan's, Thomas Fletcher, who was a handsome, jolly fellow – cut from the same cloth as his Blythe ancestors. Delia promised Nan that she could be bridesmaid, since Delia wasn't especially close to many other girls.
Most of the girls in Avonlea were either Pyes or Sloanes or acted like them in order to fit with the afore mentioned Pyes and Sloanes. While studying at Redmond, Delia had made friends, but she could honestly say that until Nan Blythe came to live at Lone Willow Farm, she never before had a bosom friend.
A bosom friend was just what Nan needed that year, too. Though she had spent the two previous years away from home studying at Queen's Academy, she had never before been so long separated from her twin, Diana, and she felt the distance keenly.
Though they looked and acted nothing alike, Nan and Di shared a bond that only twins can know. It started before they were even born and would remain until death would someday claim them both. They grew up side by side, attended the Glen School and Queen's together. They complimented each other splendidly. Whereas Nan was often quiet and introspective in a crowd, Diana was always a jolly soul who never seemed to meet a stranger. Jolly, witty Diana, whose red hair had a swirl to it, was often the more popular of the two sisters, as well. Those who didn't know Nan well often thought that she held her head a little to highly and thought herself too good to speak. Truth to be told, she was never sure what exactly to say to strangers and often was so lost in daydreams that she wasn't aware when she was spoken to.
Nan dreamed all the time, and in younger days her imagination was known to run away from her. She also felt things greatly. When she was made aware of some people's opinion of her, it hurt her deeply. She was never one to easily forget an injury either. It was often easier to hold her head high and ignore the party who injured her than to set herself up for more pain.
So maybe some called her proud because of these defense mechanisms. Maybe she was slightly proud as well, but who wouldn't be with a family as wonderful as hers? After all, her father was known as the best doctor within miles, and she was blessed with a wonderful mother who had more than one of her "children's stories" published. Also, how many girls could say their oldest brother won the Avery Scholarship to Queen's, graduated with his B.A, and just completed his first year of medical school at the top of his class? Who else had another brother, though recovering from a setback with Typhoid, was well on his way to becoming Canada's greatest poet? She has the smartest, wittiest twin sister there was, her younger brother Shirley was growing up to be a wonderfully introspective young man, and baby Rilla was becoming the prettiest thing anyone had ever set eyes upon. So yes, she was in a way proud – just not in the manner some proclaimed.
Her year in Avonlea was also somewhat bittersweet because dear, wonderful Green Gables was shut up and devoid of any inhabitants. It had been four years since Aunt Marilla had passed away. Her health had really declined after Mrs. Rachel Lynde passed from a stroke a year before her. Uncle Davey and Aunt Millie had moved to Alberta, where Aunt Dora lived, indefinitely, hopefully allowing their daughter Amanda to get over consumption. It was widely believed that once Jem finished medical school, the house was to be his. Whatever the case, it hurt Nan terribly to see Green Gables so dark, so lonely. Had the townsfolk not looked down upon it, she considered living there by herself while teaching, but Mother convinced her it would horribly lonely there alone.
Mother was always right, and she would have gone stark, raving mad those horrible days in November when no one was sure if Walter would live or die of Typhoid, had she been by herself. Delia and the rest of the Wrights made sure to keep her spirits up when all she could do was wait by the telephone and pray for her brother's recovery.
The year was over, and she was soon to be on a train that would take her back to Glen St. Mary. The excitement almost overcame her, so all she could do to pass the time was read a book, nestled against her newest friend, the cherry tree who seemed to know her so very well.
The cherry tree was not the only being at the train station drawn to the pretty picture Nan Blythe made. Someone else, just arrived and awaiting the same train found her even more alluring than his rival, the tree did. He had known Nan Blythe for years, but seeing her thus, he saw her differently than any girl his eyes had ever focused upon. Suddenly he wasn't as disgruntled as he had been five minutes previous because his return to the Glen had been delayed by a day.