Anne busied herself around the house, focusing all her attention on the details, in an attempt to temporarily blind herself from the coming separation. A casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything strange in the way she diligently cracked each egg over the bowl, taking care not to let any of the yoke touch her fingers, or the way she remembered to take the pot off the stove at the exact second the timer went off, or the absence of any color in her face.
But someone who knew Anne Blythe more intimately would be slightly unsettled by her behavior. Anne was a dreamer. A mature woman of twenty-five, she burned more meals and spilled more eggs on herself than one would expect of a child of ten. Though she had quieted down in the years elapsing after her childhood, her imagination was as active as ever, and, as she used to tell Marilla long ago, commonplace things like stirring cake batter could hardly be strictly tended to when one was imagining what sorts of conversations the spirits of the tall willows outside the window might be having.
This precise problem had led to the spoiling of a number of dinners and desserts for poor Gilbert. Privately, though, he loved Anne all the more for her quirky ways, and would willingly have sacrificed a hundred plum puffs for one sly glance at his young wife while she was dreaming. The light flush that would spread over her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips in half uttered smile, and the gradual widening of her deep gray eyes were the food that he lived on. Surely no man was as lucky as he; surely he would awake from this dream at any moment.
But after three rapturous months, that dream had not shattered. She was still his Anne. No, it was not a lack of love on the part of husband or wife that had ruffled their waters. It was a war. Their three month honeymoon was, the very next morning, to be cut short, perhaps forever in this world. At dawn, Gilbert would leave for the battle front, where he would be caring for wounded soldiers, at no small risk to his own life.
But he was more worried for her than he was for himself. Since he found out the date of his deployment about a week ago, she had been acting very strangely. He hadn't meant to tell her at first, but she had read it on his face in a moment.
She had been much more attentive to her household duties, and even somewhat detached from him in those past few days. But he heard her choked sobs deep in the night, when she supposed him to be long asleep, and longed to comfort her. He knew her nature, though, and understood that detaching herself and throwing herself completely into menial tasks were her only defense mechanisms. A weaker man would have felt snubbed, but Gilbert's sense of her love was only intensified by it.
When Gilbert came home that night, he thought that Anne had never looked so beautiful. Her hair was draped loosely over her shoulder, and it reflected the golden glow of the sunset. Did anyone in all the land have such slender, feminine arms, with such graceful curves? He highly doubted it.
He had entered the house quietly, and she was concentrating so hard on cooking that she didn't at first notice him. Suddenly the timer went off. Anne reached to take the other pot off the stove, and in doing so knocked over the glass bowl in which she had been mixing the batter. It fell to the ground and shattered, splattering eggs and flower all over the floor. Her shoulders heaved, and Gilbert noticed a single helpless tear slide down her cheek as she turned to clean up the mess.
It was then that she saw him. He meant to walk over and kiss her as he did every night when he came home from work, but the expression of her eyes, which were filled with such overwhelming love and unspeakable sadness all at once, made him stop in his tracks.
His breath was cut short. 'Til that instant, he had not known it possible to love another person so deeply, so intimately, and with such increasing passion from one moment to the next, as he felt for her. He was taken aback by the feeling of it.
"Anne," he said softly, looking at her with infinite tenderness. He went to her and drew her into him protectively, kissing her forehead and running his fingers through her hair. At this sudden embrace, her defenses fell, and she was once more a child, soaking his shirt with her tears, her chest heaving violently against his shoulder.
"Gil, my heart will break," she sobbed.
He answered by tightening his grip on her, as if challenging any power to come between them. They stood this way for several minutes. Then Anne grew calm and looked up at him.
"I'm so sorry, Gil," she began. "I'm the worst wife in the world, to lose myself like that, when it's you that actually has to, that's going to – "
Gilbert covered her mouth with a kiss. "Hush. It's as hard for you as for me, if not harder. Now," he began more lightly, "come sit down on my lap, Queen Anne, and we are going to forget all our woes and pretend we are two careless teenagers gallivanting about Avonlea again."
Anne laughed bitterly as he lowered himself into the chair and hoisted her onto his lap, never once letting go of her. "I wish I could, Gil."
When she looked up at him, the joking expression had left his eyes, and was replaced momentarily by a strange, almost pleading one. She understood what it meant.
Help me, Anne. Be strong for me. I can't do this alone. I need you.
She took a deep breath and reached for his hand, bringing it to her lips. "You'll have to let me go soon unless you want to eat a cold dinner," she said playfully.
"I have enough carrots in front of me right now to make a year's worth of dinners," he murmured, kissing her head, and drawing her closer to him. Anne laughed girlishly at the old joke, as she ran her fingers gently up and down his arm.
"Seriously, Gil, I worked hard on this dinner. Now you may not get a dessert," she said, sighing at the mess on the floor, "but I mean for you to have the best supper as ever there was on your last night in town."
She started to move off of him, but he clung to her hand and followed her over to the stove, as if he feared she would vanish if he let go of her.
The two ate their dinner outside on a small wooden bench under the very willows that had caused Anne to ruin so many previous meals. This one, though, was perfect. Anne sat nestled in Gilbert's lap – he wouldn't have it any other way, and they took turns feeding each other, laughing like children when one would put too big a spoonful in the other's mouth.
A casual observer would not have noticed anything unusual in the picture, though he might have felt a jolt of envy of the intimate affection that sprung forth so plentifully from every expression on their young faces. But if one looked more closely, he or she might have noticed a cloud that occasionally covered Gilbert's face, and that whenever this happened, the red haired girl would wrap her arms more tightly around him and whisper something in his ear which would promptly bring a smile to his face.
Soon the sun slipped beneath the horizon and Anne began to shiver. Gilbert gathered her closer to him. "Shall we go upstairs?"
Anne smiled, and the two entered the house, arm in arm, and made their way up the staircase. Later they lie in bed quietly. Gilbert was stretched out on his back, and Anne was curled up against his side, her head resting on his bare chest. She was tracing figures on his stomach with her fingers.
"What are you doing?" he asked, planting a kiss on her brow.
"I'm writing my name on your stomach, so you'll be sure not to forget me when you are surrounded by all those beautiful young nurses."
Gilbert laughed, but Anne heard the sadness and the fear in it, and prayed God would give her the power to comfort him.
"Gil," she said suddenly, fighting back a sudden urge to cry, "you'll come back to me, won't you?"
"You know I will, Anne-girl."
"But I don't know it, Gilbert, and it's not fair!" she cried, unable to control herself any longer. "You have to come back – you don't understand – you can't leave me here like this, when I'm, when I'm going to have…" she trailed off.
Gilbert sat up suddenly, pulling her up with him. He put his hands around her face and wiped the tears away. Then he looked very closely into her eyes. "What are you trying to tell me, Anne?"
"You know it." she replied, still trembling.
Gilbert put his arm around her to steady her. A look of understanding came into his eyes, and suddenly he reached his hand down and rested it shakily on her stomach. It was her turn to steady him; she put her hand on top of his, gently squeezing it.
"Now do you see why you have to come back?" she asked.
He was overcome with emotion. "Anne," was all he could say, as they slid back under the covers, kissing each other feverishly, with new born passion.
The hours sped away as the two clung to each other, and gradually Anne's eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Gilbert stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty, and by the life that was growing inside of her. Thus the night passed away, until the birds began to chirp, and a pinkish flush shone through the window.
"Dearest, it's time," he said, brushing his lips across her forehead.
