ANNE OF IVORY GLEN

Chapter One: A Basket for Mrs. Dunbar

Marilla Cuthbert glanced out of the Green Gables kitchen window at the ominous late November sky with a darkening frown, and then back down at her hands which, immersed in suds, hadn't stopped scrubbing the greasy pot in front of her while her eyes had wandered.

"That's what I get for making plans," she muttered in frustration.

Behind her a basket sat on the kitchen table, loaded with baked and canned goods and a corner of checkered cloth peeking out from beneath the wicker lid, waiting to be taken to the recently widowed Mrs. Dunbar some ten miles up the eastern road. Devastated by the loss of her husband and not in the best of health herself, food had been the last thing on Mrs. Dunbar's – Emmaline's – mind, and Marilla had heard in town a few days before that the woman was beginning to show the signs of her grief in her sharp cheek bones and thin arms. Although not especially close to the widow Dunbar, usually only exchanging the appropriate pleasantries with her at social events or the chance meeting, Marilla had been reminded of the bright, rosy-cheeked girl who had sat on the other side of the room giggling with her friends when Marilla had been in school, and had felt moved to make a gesture of goodwill.

So Marilla had put together a basket of a few of the baked goods she was most praised for and a selection of fruits preserved in the height of summer and had set aside the whole afternoon to make the trip. But Mrs. Lynde had shown up at the earliest polite hour of the morning, and Marilla had been obliged to serve her tea. The unexpected guest had either ignored or been oblivious to all Marilla's subtle (and somewhat less subtle) insinuations that she should go, staying to gossip in a continuous one-sided prattle about all the rumors in Avonlea with little regard to their credibility, only finally departing just before lunch and leaving Marilla with all the chores that could not be put off as yet undone.

Snow was not expected until hours after dark, and though drifts piled over the countryside, the roads were fairly clear. But even as she had been standing at the sink Marilla had seen the wind pick up, rattling the branches on the bare trees outside. If the trip was to be made, it would have to be done today, for the ways would be impassible for the next couple of days after the snow fell. But Marilla had hours of chores still to do, and the idea of having to sit in the rumbling buggy, exposed to the chill wind for more than an hour in either direction was sounding desperately unappealing to her aging bones.

It was at this moment that the front door to Green Gables swung open, admitting a bitter breath of winter air and Anne Shirley before closing with a snap. Marilla glanced over her shoulder as Anne swept into the room, unpinning her hat. Her evergreen skirt flowed about her legs below a long chocolate wool coat, her cheeks glowing with exertion and her eyes sparkling, wisps of hair blown loose curling around her face, adorned with bits of snow like tiny pearls. She seemed to hum with energy, invigorated from being out in the cold, where Marilla's limbs were stiff though she hadn't set a foot outside all day. Ah, to be young again…Marilla thought.

"You're home early," Marilla remarked.

"The flu in the chimney at the schoolhouse is broken. I tried to light a fire this morning and the whole room filled with smoke! Luckily I was there a little early, and could air the place out before most of the students arrived. But it was too cold. I just couldn't make them sit there shivering the whole day, so I let them out at lunch," she explained.

Anne had been teaching in the Avonlea school since the beginning of the term in fall. Marilla had suffered a spell of ill health for a couple months late that spring, and Anne had come rushing home to help her. Without asking Marilla's opinion on the matter (did it really surprise Marilla that she hadn't?), Anne had written back to the school she'd been teaching at, informing them of her resignation, and planned to remain in Avonlea at Green Gables. Marilla, by now fully recovered, had been furious when she'd found out, scolding Anne for giving up such a good position for her sake. "But Marilla," she'd said, "I've been planning this for months already!" Marilla had looked at her in confusion. Anne had burst into that irrepressible, beaming smile she always gave when she had something up her sleeve, and Marilla had known that she'd already lost the argument. "I came back a couple weeks before the end of term because you were ill, but I was planning to come home to stay anyways. My bags were already packed when Diana wrote me about your health. I just left a couple weeks earlier than I had originally intended. I had already written the town council, and received their reply – they approved me to teach at the Avonlea schoolhouse. It's been set for months. I start teaching here in the fall. Avonlea is my home. There's no place else I want to be."

Although Marilla had rebuked her some more before finally letting the matter go, she couldn't quite hide her pleasure that Anne would be staying, now that she knew it was not due to her aging body. Although Marilla was still spry and able, it was nice to have Anne about, both for the company and for the help. The house had been too empty in the evenings, and there were days now and again when her aching joints would remind her sharply how much she appreciated the burden Anne lifted from them.

"But it's so beautiful outside, Marilla!" Anne continued now. "You should see it. It's as though the dust of diamonds fell instead of snow. The whole world glitters. Even the trees are completely covered in ice, as though they were made of crystal instead of wood! I had to take the long way home to see it all."

Marilla resisted the urge to shake her head. Though Anne had grown into a graceful woman of both word and poise, she was still given to flights of fancy. What would it be like to have such an inventive mind? Marilla wondered. Well, at least, she thought, one would never be bored. Nothing would ever be simply what it was. Snow would never be just snow.

"Well, don't be expecting my sympathy when you catch a cold," Marilla chided with more lemon in her voice than she really felt.

Anne pecked her cheek. "Of course not," she teased, both women knowing that if Anne did fall ill Marilla would dote on her until was made well, no matter how sharp a tongue Marilla gave her for it. "Who's the basket for?" Anne asked.

Marilla gave a short sigh. "It was supposed to be for Mrs. Dunbar, up at Glenwood Farm. I meant to deliver it this afternoon, but Rachel Lynde came by this morning and only left two hours ago, and there's chores I have to do before that storm comes in tonight and the well freezes again."

"So that's why you've been baking nonstop! Let me take it," Anne offered.

"Don't be ridiculous. You've already been out walking in the snow for hours, and teaching in that cold schoolhouse all morning. If you go out again you will catch a chill for sure."

"It will take me hardly any time at all," Anne protested. "And it's so gorgeous, I'm of a mind to go out again anyways."

"It's a three hour drive there and back," Marilla corrected. "I meant to start out after lunch. If you go it will be dark before you get back. I don't want you out there when the temperature drops."

"Nonsense. It won't take me five minutes to hook the horse to the buggy, and I can be out and back before dinner. I haven't even taken off my coat yet! Besides, if you don't let me take it, all that baking you did the past two days will go to waste. We certainly couldn't eat it all ourselves," she added, knowing how Marilla hated to waste anything.

Marilla paused, considering. "Alright," she acquiesced. "But you're to go directly there and directly back. Don't dally!"

"I promise I'll come right home, just as soon as I've made sure she eats something." She grabbed the basket from the table and almost flew for the door, calling out behind her, "I'll be back before you know it!"

Marilla heard the front door open and shut again, and Anne's footsteps down the stairs. Looking towards heaven as though for relief, she turned back to her scrubbing, satisfied that at least all the tasks she had set for today would be accomplished after all.

But as she washed the dishes and for the rest of the afternoon, she couldn't shrug off the niggling sensation that settled between her shoulder blades.