Disclaimer: All familiar characters and setting belong to LMM, I am merely playing in her world.

Authors Note: The inspiration for this oneshot came during my -nth reading of AoGG and having the two lines -which are quoted below- jump out at me. I attempted to keep the characters as canonically correct as possible but have taken small liberties in order to flesh out their personalities better.

A Gift of Mayflowers

"I was offered some Mayflowers too, but I rejected them with scorn. I can't tell you the person's name I have vowed never to let it cross my lips."

-Anne of Green Gables: Chapter XX "A Good Imagination Gone Wrong"

- - - -

May was a beautiful month and the town of Avonlea reveled in its world of color and beauty, so different from the proceeding months of dreariness. The town once again burst alive with the sights and sounds of springs -as it had done for hundreds of springs before and would continue for hundreds of springs to come. New foliage breathed life back into decaying trees, little buds blossomed and bloomed into an abundance of yellows, crimson, lilac and sapphire dotting the lanes, birds chirped and ferried to and from once again, and frogs sang long into the twilight hours. Every now and then a perfect, crisp, clear day occurred and beckoned to folks both young and old. One such perfect day called and could not be ignored -by even a man such as Mr. Phillips- and so the young school boys and girls of Avonlea found themselves outside behind Mr. Silas Sloane's place gathering Mayflowers to their hearts content.

Although it must be stated here that the little girls of Avonlea took a much greater pleasure in gathering Mayflowers than the boys did, much to the dismay of several fair-headed maidens. The boys collected Mayflowers for all about a quarter hour and now the delicate flowers lay forgotten in piles scattered throughout the clearing. Presently, a few of bigger boys were scuffling behind the Sloane's barn while the reminder of the other boys cheered and jeered them on.

"So who you think is goin' to win? I got Charlie."

Gilbert Blythe looked in the direction of the voice and saw his chum Fred Wright walking over, a smile aligning his round face. "Sam's a fighter. He could finish Charlie off in no time if he was determined. I'm serious Fred, no need to laugh. Wan' to bet a week worth of milk duty on it? I got Sam, you got Charlie?"

Fred looked towards the fight. Charlie Sloane had told Jimmy Glover that Katie Boulter peeped in her book during the geography test yesterday and Sam Boulter caught wind of it. Sam did not like hearing the womenfolk in his family insulted, no matter how true the claim and he called Charlie out on it. At the moment Charlie was winning the fight, having pinned Sam's arms together behind his back as Sam struggled to get free.

"Alright Blythe, s'not like your goin' to win. Everyone knows Charlie can lick 'em. He did it last year during the White Sands picnic and he'll do it again. You're on."

The two boys shook on it and then Gilbert called out over the noise and catcalls of the surrounding boys, "Oy Sam! Charlie told me last week your mother looks like doubled chinned Widow Samantha Grey from Charlottetown. He said she even waddles like her!" A outbreak of hoot calls followed his last statement.

"Gilbert!! Why'd you go and do that? Now...aw shoot." Fred gave Gilbert a disgruntled look. For Sam had taken Gilbert's words to heart and he had received his second wind. With a few well choiced twists and one lucky punch to the stomach, Charlie was on the ground and Sam was being deemed the victor.

"Gil, if you weren't my best mate, I'd be tempted to lick you myself right now. What possessed you to say that sort of thing?"

Gilbert grinned mischievously, his eyes dancing merrily. "How'd you know it ain't true? Maybe Charlie really did say that. I mean, the resemblance between the two is uncanny. 'Sides, Sam deserved this win. He's still not over the fact that little Tommy Sloane beat him in the three legged race last week and he would've been ostracized to lose to a Sloane yet again. Couldn't let that happen."

"I don't know Blythe. Don't come crying to me when Charlie calls you out on it."

Fred and Gilbert looked once again towards Charlie. Charlie was slowly rising to his feet. He staggered a few times, holding his stomach, his face still lined in pain. Straightening himself out he walked over to where Fred and Gilbert were standing. He had just opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by the laughter of Arty Gillis.

"Aw shoot. That was hilarious! Did ya see the way Sam double punched him? I almost thought Charlie was going to cry. Wah wah wah." Arty used his fist to imitate crying and began laughing hysterically as Charlie shot him a venomous look.

Gilbert stepped foward and threw his arm around Charlie's shoulders in a friendly matter as he quickly retorted, "You better be careful Arty. Everyone knows Charlie is nearly a head taller than you and he's a fine swinger with his left hook. I'd be careful what you say 'bout him."

Charlie shot Gilbert a grateful look, the transgression of the latter quickly forgotten. Country to popular belief Gilbert and Charlie were good chums in spite of their boyish fights and arguments; 'fore it would be several years into the future until they both vied for the affections of a certain redheaded maiden.

Arty bristled indigently. He did not like anyone telling him what to do, even if it was fourteen year old Gilbert Blythe, chieftain of the Avonlea school boys. "Well, what are you going to do about it, huh Gilbert? Charlie? Are you goin' to hurt me?"

Gilbert glanced at Charlie knowing his friend was racking his brain, trying to think of something suitable. Charlie and Arty had been enemies ever since the day when they were eight years old and Arty's snake had eaten Charlie's pet rat, even though Arty swore his snake had nothing to do with the rat's untimely disappearance. He even went so far as to say that the rat was old and was probably trying to get away from Charlie because he kept feeding it scraps from supper and everyone knew what Mrs. Peter Sloane cooking tasted like. Charlie could have forgiven him for the rat incident but not for slandering his poor mothers' name. Charlie and Arty had been sworn enemies ever since. In fact, it had been Arty who had written Charlie up with Em White on the porch wall a few weeks back. Arty was trying to get back at Emma for not letting him walk her home after school one day.

Charlie's eye fell on the old well down in the hollow and inspiration hit. He walked right up to Arty, waited until complete silence filled the yard as every boy watched the two with bated breath and said -in a authorative voice, "Arty Gillis, I DARE you to jump over the old well!"

Arty's face turned pale under his freckles as he slowly nodded. Daring was fashionable in the Avonlea schoolyard and anyone who didn't take the dare was branded a sissy. Gilbert and Fred looked at each other in shock. It was a well known fact in Avonlea that Arty could not swim and the well was quite long and quite deep. The word quickly spread throughout the clearing and before long almost everyone was gathered around the well waiting for the dare to be completed.

Gilbert glanced around and realized that he had no ireal nterest in staying to watch the outcome of the dare. Clasping Fred on the shoulder, he gestured with his head that he was leaving and started to pick his way out of the crowd. He walked by a group of little girls, a group which included Ruby Gillis, Diana Barry, Emma White and Jane Andrews. They were all staring at him in silent expectation. Not quite knowing what they expected, Gilbert gave the girls a small, shy smile as he past and the sound of girlish giggling filled the air as he walked away.

Now Gilbert was not a fast set boy but he was considered somewhat flirtatious, having been charming the female race of Avonlea since infancy. It must be known that Gilbert was a sturdy, reliable chap who would never deliberately hurt someone. It was just with his frank hazel eyes, dark curly hair and tall stature; girls flocked to him with dazed eyes and flushed cheeks, hoping to gain his attention. Gilbert was used to this -as he was also used to the envious boys copying his every move. Yet Gilbert had slowly come to realize -after a certain slate incident- that not every girl was the same and that not every girl wished to make a fool of herself for his enjoyment.

Gilbert came to a clearing and stopped to take a look at the wonder of mother nature. Hearing singing to the left of him, he walked a bit more and came across Anne Shirley sitting in the grove, waist deep in flowers, singing softly to herself with a wreath of Mayflowers attached to her hat, lost in one of her many flights of fancy. Gilbert smiled to himself as he watched the skinny, red headed girl grab a flower and close her eyes as she tilted it to her lips, whispering softly.

Anne Shirley's grudge against Gilbert Blythe was well known and, though not ill founded, it never wavered in its devotion. It had been many months past and still Anne had not forgiven Gilbert for calling her carrots. Gilbert had tried many ways to appease her but all to no avail. Anne Shirley was determined to hate him.

But Gilbert was a very determined little chap and he believed that if Anne would just give him a chance why, they could be great friends. She was the only girl, no person, of his acquaintance who regularly quoted Keats and Tennyson and she was smartest girl in school, a fact of which Charlie took great pleasure in informing him every week or so. She never took pleasure in retelling the local gossip, she had no pettiness, no malice. She was always splendidly sincere. She was unlike any other girl he knew and Gilbert had never quite forgiven himself of hurting her feelings. He had only met it as a joke, never dreaming he'd vex her so.

As Gilbert stood there watching her -unbeknown to Anne herself- he was hit by a sudden flash of inspiration. It was a well known fact that Anne loved flowers of all kind but Mayflowers especially. Maybe if he gave her some Mayflowers, she would forgive him. Gilbert looked around for pretty patch of the flowers that had not yet been trampled on and spotting some, he seized upon them, pulling them out. Shaking the dirt from their stems, he quickly made his way down to where Anne was still sitting, ignoring the funny feeling that was forming in the pit of his stomach. Coming to a stop in front of her he thrust the freshly picked Mayflowers under her dainty nose.

"For you," said Gilbert gruffly as he could not think of anything else to say. For one dazzling moment, Gilbert thought Anne was going to take the flowers. She smiled faintly and made a gesture as if to take them but -as her gaze lifted upwards- she realized who was holding the flowers and her small hand dropped. Her grey eyes flashed indigently at Gilbert as she raised herself up and stalked past him, all without speaking a word. Her two red plaits swished smartly behind her back as she walked quickly up the hill, leaving young Gilbert in a state of shock behind her.

Gilbert was left with a handful of drooping Mayflowers and a crushed spirit. He felt like a fool as he thought about it. What possessed him to think that he would be forgiven by such a simple gift as Mayflowers? Why did he care that she hated him so? Anne would be aghast if she knew the influence she held over the young boy. Gilbert would do anything for Anne, just be rewarded with a simple smile or a kind word. But the powers above had deemed it impossible and so Gilbert was left with a small ache in his stomach every time Anne snubbed him.

"Oi Blythe!" Gil looked up from his internal musings and saw Fred and Charlie standing on the edge of the grove. He walked over towards them.

"You won't believe what just happened, we walked by Mr. Phillips and Prissy Andrews and he," here Fred dropped his voice to a scant whisper, "gave a bunch of Mayflowers to her and called her sweet. Can you imagine that?"

Fred and Charlie burst into laughter as the three of them walked away from the grove, the two loudly exclaiming over the misfortunes of their schoolmaster. Gilbert tried to smile but it seemed like his facial muscles would not work.

"Gil', what are those?" Fred had just noticed the Mayflowers still clutched in Gilbert's hand.

"Huh?" Gilbert looked down at his hand with a start. "Oh, their nothing," said Gilbert as he released the flowers and watched them flutter away in the wind. "Nothing important at all."

Gilbert spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring any direction that Anne Shirley was in. Even while he was arguing with Fred over milk duty, Fred insisting the bet was off on account of Gilbert's timely interruption into the fight, Gilbert could not help but be conscious of the thin, red haired girl. He was determined to vanish all thoughts of her from his head. But, as the school boys and girls trooped down the road toward the schoolhouse, he could not help but feel he would forever be hoping for forgiveness that would never be granted.