Chapter One

"Oh, Gil, we haven't gone down this one yet!" she pulled his hand toward one of the few Kingsport alleys they hadn't yet explored.

"Anne, as much as I would love to discover this with you, I need to get to the city library before it closes or I'll have to pay a fine."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?" At his impatient look, she turned toward him, her hand still clutching his. "Okay, let's make a deal. If we don't make it to the library in time, I'll pay your fine."

His mouth widened into a smile, and he squeezed her hand. " You've got a deal, Shirley."

The alley was dark and run down. Gilbert grimaced at a small rat he saw crawl into a gap in the bricks of a building. He didn't like this part of town. A riot had broken out at the pub one block over when he had gone to the haberdasher's last week, and while he wasn't afraid to venture to this part of town, his stomach churned at the idea of getting caught in a bad situation with Anne close to sundown.

They passed a small shed to find three men sitting on the steps behind the butcher's shop. They wore long, bloody aprons and were gathered around where one man was rolling tobacco into a cigarette. At the sight of them, he pulled Anne a little closer to him.

"I can't get this damn thing to stay together!" he heard one of them say.

He tried to pull Anne away before the men noticed them but felt her slip through his grasp. "Perhaps, I could be of help, gentlemen."

He looked back in horror to see Anne approaching the three men. They laughed loudly as Anne, dressed in her prim blue dress, came to stand in front of them.

"Anne," he muttered under her breath, but she didn't turn around.

"May I see your tobacco, sir?" she asked with a hint of defiance in her voice.

The man chuckled but handed her a wood board with the tobacco and papers. "Go right ahead, Miss."

Gilbert watched in awe as Anne sat on the bottom step and deftly wrapped a perfectly formed cigarette without missing a beat. After a moment, she held up the finished product with her nose held high and handed it to the man.

His eyes widened for a moment and looked from her to his friends before they all burst into laughter.

The man slapped his hand on his knee. "Well, I'll be damned if this little lady can roll a cigarette better than any man I've ever met!"

Anne looked back at Gilbert, who was staring at her in utter surprise, and winked at him. Before he could say anything, she turned back to the three men. "Two more, I presume?"

The other two men managed to say yes between their chuckles, and Anne quickly rolled two more perfect cigarettes.

As she handed the other two men their cigarettes, the first man spoke, "Would you like a cigarette yourself, Miss?"

She tipped her chin up a bit more and gave him an arch look. "No, thank you. I don't smoke."

He guffawed before continuing. "Well, you don't smoke, but do you dance?"

At this, Gilbert rushed to her side and grabbed her elbow. "No, she doesn't."

She looked at Gilbert in surprise for a moment before addressing the man in front of her. "So sorry, gentlemen, but we must be off."

Gilbert pulled Anne with him down the alleyway, picking up his pace until he was moving at a near sprint. They rounded the corner and collapsed against a wall. He turned to her when she started giggling. "We didn't need to run, Gil. They wouldn't have done anything."

He ran a hand through his hair. She was impossible—but so delightfully so. "Anne, that guy was making a move on you."

She rolled her eyes with a smile and turned her body against the wall to face him. "Oh, Gil, he may have underestimated me, but I could tell from his kind eyes. He was a gentleman! He could accept a polite rejection."

He turned to face her and looked at her imploringly. "Okay, well, as someone who doesn't have your keen powers of perception, can you please stay away from strange men who are giving you the eye? It would kill me if anything happened to you."

She smiled at him tenderly, and his heart gave a flutter. "I always do when I'm alone, but I know that nothing bad can happen to me when I have my rather strong best friend to protect me."

He beamed at her and, placing her arm in the crook of his elbow, began to walk back toward campus—the library was quite closed now. "Thanks, Anne. I know you aren't some damsel in distress, but I just don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"I know, Gil," she said softly, squeezing his arm lightly.

He looked to her with an impish grin then. "After all, what damsel in distress can roll a perfect cigarette in under 30 seconds?"

She met his gaze with a mischievous look of her own. "Well, I am a woman of mystery, Mr. Blythe. You should know this by now."

He stopped them in their tracks and turned to face her directly. "Rest assured, Miss Shirley. I am entirely aware of that fact." He unconsciously took a small step forward, and her eyes widened. "Were you a smoker in a past life that I don't know about?"

She met his challenging look assertively. "Absolutely not. Smoking is a dirty habit, but Mr. Hammond used to make me roll him five cigarettes every morning for him to smoke throughout the day. I got quite good."

He slid his hand from her elbow to her hand and grasped the other hand hanging at her side. "Anne Shirley, you are quite possibly the most interesting woman I have ever met."

Suddenly, she couldn't meet his gaze and turned away from him, loosening his grip on her right hand, and pulling him toward Patty's Place. He sighed internally as he noticed her creeping further away from his side, creating as much distance as reasonably possible between them.

As he said goodnight, he stepped back and gave a casual salute before exiting through the gate. He had loved her for four years, but now, he was positive he was mad for her. What other woman could be the perfect picture of scholastic achievement and then suddenly transition to rolling cigarettes with strange men on the street all while maintaining her optimistic, romantic sensibilities? Only Anne, he thought with a wry smile.

As he lied in bed that night, he starred at the ceiling playing over the events of the evening and the mischievous wink she gave him in his head over and over until he finally succumbed to slumber.

He awoke to the faint scent of lilies and the feel of sun on his face. He stretched his arms over his head and looked around. He was in a pretty, white room with a green vanity in one corner and a washstand in the other. Sheer white curtains billowed gently away from the window, outside a bright sunrise was visible over a grassy field and a big orchard. He looked to one side to find an edition of the New England Journal of Medicine on his bedside table. He moved to pick it up, but he felt something brush against his leg. He turned to see Anne sitting up and stretching her arms with a yawn.

She was positively radiant. The rays of light from behind the unruly curls that had slipped out of her nighttime braid shine like gold, and her eyes shown a vivid green as she blinked against the brightness of the room. She put her arms down on top of the bedspread and fell back with a flop, and his eyes widened as a strap of her chemise fell off her shoulder, exposing the lines of her collarbone.

She shifted and looked up at him with a blissful smile. "Good morning, darling. I'm surprised you woke up before me. You came home so late last night."

He was speechless as she reached out lazily to take his hand. He noticed the rings on her finger, and his heart gave a lurch. I'm married to Anne, he thought! He took the hand he was holding a pressed a kiss to it. The feel of her soft, cool skin against his lips was exhilarating. Slowly, he began to kiss up her arm, over her collarbone, up her neck before placing a tender kiss on her lips.

She smiled against his lips and murmured, "Joy's still sleeping, if you want to finish what you started last night."

He stopped cold and pulled away just enough to see the desire in her eyes. After a moment, he found his voice. "There's nothing I would like more."

His hands trembled as they moved from her face, down her neck, to trace her collarbones, and finally down to…

His eyes shot open at the knock on the door. "Gil! Are you almost ready? We're going to be late for practice!"

Gilbert groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Just a minute!"

His heart was still racing from another interrupted dream. He pushed back the covers and began to throw on his clothes.

Four of the last seven mornings, he had woken up to dreams of Anne, and when he wasn't sleeping, he often felt himself daydreaming about her anytime he was idle. While this wasn't a new phenomenon by any means, the volume and intensity of his fantasies had begun to affect his daily interactions with her.

He found himself finding more excuses to embrace her or unconsciously grasping her hand or letting an innocent touch linger. Even when they were debating each other, he found himself distracted by her lips as she spoke. He felt like she had begun to notice how close he was becoming. Every time he touched her she pulled away as soon as it began to linger, and when he would get distracted during their conversations, she would clear her throat and shift uncomfortably.

He felt like they were at a turning point. He had known for a long while that she didn't return his feelings, but he had begun to realize that she didn't not return his feelings either. Regardless, he couldn't wait in limbo any longer. He loved and cherished her friendship more than anything, but after four years, their stagnant yet steady friendship was satisfying him less and less.

He was not entitled to her love, but he would not—could not—remain her old school chum any longer. He was not under the impression that he was the best man in the world, but he knew he was a good man. And, he was confident there was no one in the world who love Anne more or who would work harder to make her happy.

As he walked out of his boarding house and into the April sunshine, he felt his resolve harden. He would show Anne the depth of his love, one way or another. He just needed to decide how.

The following day was Friday, and like most Fridays, he found himself at Patty's Place, reading in the orchard with Anne. They each sat next to each other under the thickest tree, sporting crowns Anne had made from apple blossoms. "I'll happily wear it—just as long as you don't tell any of the guys from the team," he had told her with a grin.

Gilbert rested his book against his chest and laid back, listening to the gentle rustle of the trees and the sound of Anne turning the pages of her worn copy of Emma. He could be content sitting next to her and reading every day of his life if he could. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine them reading together as a married couple.

Anne sighed and closed her book with a solid thump, prompting Gilbert to look up from his daydream with a raised eyebrow. "Another successful read-through?"

Anne blushed and nodded. "I can read this book over and over and never get tired. Mr. Knightley is positively dashing!"

He sat up with sudden interest and smirked. "I'm glad your opinion of him has changed. I always felt rather insecure when you would fawn over the Mr. Rochesters of English literature, and being a real man, who one day hopes to marry, I always felt like Mr. Knightley was a much more attainable goal for myself. Then again, I can sympathize with Mr. Darcy's brooding a bit. After all, I know what it's like to be the victim of overextended grudge."

Anne rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Oh, Gil. I've always liked Mr. Knightley. I've always thought it positively romantic how he loves Emma for years! It makes their declaration so much more touching!"

"And, is that something that you would want? A heartfelt declaration from someone who has loved you for years?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She frowned slightly and looked at her hands. "I'm not quite sure of what I want."

His eyes widened at her admission. She caught his gaze and quickly diverted away from her vulnerability. "But, anyway, you shouldn't feel inadequate compared to any of those men, Gil! You are quite possibly the best man I have ever known, save Matthew, of course. You'll make some girl a fine husband one day."

Her tone was teasing, but his heart beat faster at her words. She saw him as a romantic hero, but just not her own. Why, he wondered.

"I hope so…" he said, looking her in the eye, "I'm not one to love half-heartedly. I know that I would devote myself heart and soul to the woman I marry."

He looked away and smirked at the irony of their conversation. "First, I just need to get my dream girl to say yes."

Anne smiled sweetly at him, her eyes not betraying how her heart skipped a beat when he spoke of his devotion to his future wife. "And, who is this dream girl?"

He burst into laughter internally. Yesterday, he had been so concerned about finding ways to show her how much he loved her and how much he would try to deserve her love. Now, opportunities were falling into his lap left and right.

"Well, she's kind and sweet, but not afraid to stick it to anyone who disrespects her. She speaks her mind and isn't afraid to disagree with me. She has to be a fundamentally good person, who isn't afraid to be a little naughty sometimes, and she has to be smart as a whip—you know I don't like talking with unintelligent people…

"I guess I would like her to be beautiful—but I have been known to have a very particular taste when it comes to looks." He looked at her with an emotionless face, pleased to see her blush.

Then, he paused for a moment to pretend like he wasn't just describing the girl in front of him. "I also think it would be nice to have a girl with romantic sensibilities—though not so romantic she couldn't fall in love with a humble country doctor."

If Anne saw the meaning in his words, she gave no indication, but her eyes lit up in indignation. "Gilbert Blythe, if I ever hear you talking about your dream like that again, I will climb into your bedroom while you sleep, cover you with honey, and open an ant farm on top of you!"

He burst into laughter suddenly. Oh, how he loved her! Just when he thought she would get bashful or turn away from him in discomfort, she threatened him with as vivid a punishment as he could think of—though the idea of her in his bedroom was not entirely unpleasant.

After a beat, she joined in, and they laughed until tears were spilling from their eyes. Once their giggles had subsided, Anne became serious again. "Jokes aside, Gil. No one in the world could look down on your dream of becoming a doctor. There is no one I know who is more passionate or works harder for such a noble dream, so stop selling yourself short. I never want to hear you talking about yourself that way again."

She looked at him with a challenge before crossing her arms and falling back against the tree. He smiled tenderly and leaned back next to her. "Alright, Anne, I won't, and you know I don't see country medicine as lesser. I'll be proud to serve all sorts of people in a rural community back on P.E.I. I just hope that the woman I marry will know me and my convictions well enough to see that as you do," he said quietly, staring at her intently.

He wanted her to look at him in that moment—to see just a glimpse of what he felt for her in that moment, but she didn't make eye contact. "I hope you find that, Gil," she said emotionlessly.

He suddenly felt very uncomfortable at the lack of emotion in her voice and sought to diffuse the tension. "Otherwise, worse comes to worse, I'll wait until Charlie gets rejected by a few more beautiful women and propose to him myself!"

At that, Anne let out a too-loud laugh and wiped her eyes again. "Oh, Gilbert, I never should have told you about that! That's so cruel!"

"It's not cruel. I think I'd make an excellent wife to Charlie! You've tasted my pies!"

She burst into laughter again and clutched his shoulder for support. "Gil, one of these days you're going to make me laugh so hard, I cough up my lung!"

He flashed her a crooked smile, "Well, hopefully I'll be there then with a medical degree to fix you back up again."

God, he thought, if I could just make her laugh everyday for the rest of our lives, I would be a happy man.

She smiled and removed her hand from his shoulder with a sigh. They didn't say anything else for a long while, sitting in a companionable silence until the sun became too dark for either of them to read anymore.

Anne lied in bed that night restlessly. The clock chimed two, and she flipped on to her other side for at least the millionth time that night. Had it really only been four hours since Gilbert had left? It seemed like hours since they had said their goodbyes, and in all that time, Anne could not get those last moments together out of her head.

The clock had struck 10, and he packed up his satchel to go, as usual. But, when she went to open the door, he stood next to her, almost cornering her against the door. His proximity had disarmed her, but for some reason she couldn't open the door or move away. She found herself frozen in his presence for a moment until he had asked, "Anne, are you going to open the door now?"

She had felt like an idiot, getting flustered in his presence. Why should she? It's just Gil, she thought. Her heart pounded against her chest, and as she watched him walk away, she had a thought that had been recurring quite frequently of late. Is Gil is trying to be romantic? However, unlike the last few times she had thought it, it didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel…she wasn't sure how it made her feel.

She found herself thinking back to his words from earlier in the evening. I'm not one to love half-heartedly…She speaks her mind…She must be smart as a whip…with romantic sensibilities…

She had never given too much thought to Gilbert as a romantic suitor. She knew without a doubt that he would be a good one, but she had never given much consideration as to why he would be a good romantic suitor. She constantly dismissed it. He would never be her romantic suitor, so why should she spend time thinking about how he would be as his own romantic hero.

Gilbert was right when he said he was no Rochester, but he certainly could go head to head with Mr. Knightley. After all, he was the one who showed her what a fool she had been when it came to Diana and Fred! He could even compete with Mr. Darcy, giving up the Avonlea school for her even when they weren't friends! He was wonderful—a fact she was well aware of.

But, she had never really seen Gilbert as a romantic hero before. Of course, Darcy would never make scandalous jokes nor would Knightley proudly don an apron and bonnet in public, but that was beside the point. Before tonight, he had never told her what he wanted in a wife or gave any indication as to the kind of husband he would be. She had never seen him interested in any girl before, for that matter. The only woman he ever spent significant amounts of time with was her.

Now, they were as close as two friends could be, and she felt his proximity more than ever. It made her uncomfortable as she began to feel like there was something romantic in all the things they had been doing for years. Embraces and distracted stares felt like they meant more, and she felt angry at herself for even entertaining the idea that they could mean more.

Gilbert deserved the most wonderful woman in the world—his dream woman. She thought back to his description of his dream woman. At moments, she found herself wondering how she would compare to this imagined rubric. She was certainly intelligent, romantic, and unafraid to disagree with him; and while she liked to think of herself as fundamentally good person, she hesitated on applying that label to herself, thinking of all the vain and jealous thoughts she had accumulated over the years. Not to mention that Gilbert wanted a beautiful wife but not just beautiful—particularly beautiful. She definitely wouldn't qualify on that score.

Gilbert had always been handsome. From the moment she met him, she knew that. In fact, it had made her more than uncomfortable to be seen with such an attractive best friend early in their acquaintance. Gilbert never mentioned women's appearances, aside from the obligatory polite compliment paid at dances or special events. He was too much of a gentlemen for that. So, she grew comfortable with the fact that she was insufficiently beautiful next to him.

She grabbed her pillow and smothered her face in it in exasperation. Why was she even dwelling on this? She didn't even know what she wanted in terms of romance, and she certainly didn't—couldn't—want Gilbert. She had been reading too many romance novels of late and simply needed a change of focus. Numbers! she thought. Numbers will put me to sleep.

100…93…86…Why did he look at me when he said that?

She sighed loudly at the uninvited interruption. It was going to be a long night.