Gilbert fidgeted in his seat. It was turning out to be one of the most taxing days of his life, and he yearned to crawl in bed and give in to unconsciousness. At the same time, he knew there would be no rest tonight: tonight, he and Anne would share a bed.
They could have shared a bed the night before, but Anne had preferred to stay alone at Green Gables again. It was impossible to begrudge her time with Marilla, especially since the woman had improved so drastically with Anne's return. Knowing he would be needed at home to keep Garrison in check (there was no love lost between his mother and Jack), Gilbert had no choice but to agree to spend the night apart.
The Blythes and the Wrights met at Green Gables before sunrise the following morning; Davy had volunteered to drive the buggy to the station so that they might catch the earliest train out. Shoulders were squeezed, eyes grew misty, kisses were delivered, along with promises to travel safely and call upon their arrival. To everyone's surprise it was Jem, not Walter, who burst into tears and grabbed at his mother's dress. Anne took the boy in her arms and whispered soothingly in his ear. Gilbert added a comforting hand to the sobbing boy's back, whispering to Anne that they would miss the train if they didn't leave straight away. She nodded and held Jem close, assuring him they would be back the following evening, with a little help from Granny Blythe, then Aunt Marilla. Auntie Di was eventually able to tip the scale by suggesting that they stay up late tonight around a bonfire.
Davy drove fast, but he couldn't make up for the delayed departure: he waited for them to purchase their tickets from the vendor, said his goodbyes, and left Gilbert, Anne and Jack on the platform. The wait for the next westbound train was tense and cold, and sitting across from Garrison felt like traveling under the eyes of a watchful escort. Gilbert didn't much care for the way Garrison stared at him and his wife, and wasn't able to enjoy the newfound proximity to Anne (who was too busy making small talk with Jack to mind his own discomfort). When time finally came to part ways in Montreal, the two men challenged each other with a grip that passed for a handshake, and then Gilbert turned away so as not to witness an emotional farewell.
"You will write, won't you?" she'd asked. Gilbert seethed inwardly at dreamy quality of his voice.
"Reckon you'll be otherwise occupied," came the cocky reply. "Anyhow, I've never had a letter sent back to me with the punctuation corrected, and I don't intend on starting now." Watery giggles, sighs, more inside jokes to which he wasn't privy...dragged on mercilessly until finally, their train was called. Jack saw them board, and with a final wave and scandalous wink, walked out of their lives not a day too soon.
If Gilbert thought the rest of the trip would be easier, he was disillusioned quickly enough. Conversation on the train was stunted, the accidental touches and grazes felt awkward, unanswered questions and resentment sitting between them like a restless child. The hired carriage ride (he'd gladly shelled out the extra coins for convenience and comfort) had offered plenty of time to build up anxiety and trepidation, and by the time they reached their destination, Gilbert thought he might be sick.
Dr. Lebrun did nothing to put him at ease. A man of few words, and even fewer facial expressions, it was impossible to tell what he thought (or whether he even thought at all) at any given time. Their first encounter a few days back had been brief, and he hadn't paid the man much attention. Now, over a light tea and some chatting, Gilbert might have thought him rather slow, if it weren't for the title (earned only through education rather than actual career, as far as he could tell). By his own judgement, the man was odd at best.
When the cups had been refilled, and their most recent travels discussed between polite nibbles of jam thumbprints, the old man behind the white cloud of beard announced that he would like to have a moment alone with Anne first, then with Gilbert. Being left to his own devices while waiting for her had been agonizing enough; going in himself to be inspected and questioned, a new exercise in torture. Nevertheless, the doctor had seen them both, and now they sat in the parlor again, waiting for him to "make some notes" before he would tell them his recommendations.
And he knew - they both did - that among said recommendations, there would be talk of physical separation. That time heals all wounds, absence makes the heart grow fonder load of poppycock. Whoever had come up with those sayings had obviously never been abandoned by a spouse, Gilbert decided. However, regardless of today's outcome, he and Anne would share a bed tonight. It was the single thought that kept him from bolting when Lebrun came out of his office.
Anne felt odd when Gilbert exited the washroom in his sleepwear. It had been a long time since they'd stayed at an inn, and even longer since she'd felt excited at the idea. The tumbling sensation in her stomach wasn't laced with the virginal anxiety she'd experienced before, but was now tainted with awkwardness. For some reason she could not comprehend, she felt as though she was sharing the space with a stranger. It did not seem wrong, per se, but it certainly felt weird.
Gilbert wasn't exactly helping matters. He fidgeted with the top button at his collar, and wouldn't look her in the eye. "I noticed a tea room next door," he told her left ear. "We can have some breakfast there, if you'd like. We'd have to wake up early, though."
"Could we have tea on the train instead?" she asked. "It's such a long journey, anyway."
He nodded. "Sounds good. I'd prefer that as well."
Goodness, was it going to be like this from now on? Were they doomed to keep this weird, tentative awkwardness between them forever? It had been stifling them since the day he'd found her at Green Gables. When he'd seized with panic, she'd thrown her arms around him without thinking. But after he'd calmed down, neither had known what to say, and so they'd sat in silence. Unsure of whether her touch was welcome, she'd retracted her hands, and he'd shifted uncomfortably. When the sun began to set, he'd asked whether she would spend the night with him at his parents' house, with enthusiasm rivaling a jailer's headed for a public hanging. When she'd suggested that maybe she ought to stay at Green Gables, there was no mistaking his relief. All things considered, she was glad to stay with Marilla.
The following day, Diana brought over the boys to be finally reunited with their mother. Gilbert had come with Sarah Blythe, and with so many people present, they never once found themselves alone. At the end of the day, Anne asked Gilbert whether she should stay at Green Gables one more night. He'd shrugged with an air of detachment so chilling, she'd nodded and rushed to the kitchen stove to warm up.
The awkwardness was back in full force in the morning. On the way to the train station, on the platform, in the train...Thank goodness for Jack's good humor, or she might have jumped out of her own skin. Continuing their journey without him had only served to widen the gulf between her and Gilbert.
The thin veneer of quietude and courtesy began to capitulate during the carriage ride to Kemptville. A small scowl took over his face slowly, and by the time Miss Hilda let them in, Gilbert was channeling the charm of a bear woken a week early from hibernation. He put on such a show of leaning in the chair and tilting his head back that she had wanted to smack him. He'd also refused to address Dr. Lebrun as such, and referred to him as "sir" (making her flush in embarrassment), and had been remarkably curt and uncooperative in his answers. Of course, she understood that his unparalleled rudeness and scorn were meant to cover how displeased and terrified he felt about being here. Dr Gilbert Blythe would never admit to being remotely phased by such a situation; still, it was no excuse for his abysmal behavior, and she was furious at him.
But furious was better than awkward. After Dr. Lebrun had helped them formulate a plan, and the three of them headed next door, where the Ulaafsens were expecting them for supper. Anne was glad for the opportunity to apologize in person for leaving without much notice, and even gladder that Gilbert's regular polite attitude was back in place around the family that had so kindly taken her in. Having enjoyed a meal in pleasant company, they thanked their hosts and the doctor, and gotten a room at the inn by the station. The strangling oddness between them made the air seem thick, and they'd apparently been reduced to talking about breakfast. Anne inhaled sharply, and ordered herself to act like the grown woman she was.
"Are you coming to bed?" she asked, cringing at the self-doubt in her tone. He finally met her eye, and their gazes locked. Gilbert looked at her without speaking, as though contemplating whether he should, and nodded. Slowly, he made his way to the bed and lifted the covers. Anne's nerves got the best of her, and she shuffled to the very edge of her side, put out the candle by her side and pulled the blanket over her. The mattress shifted as he got settled, and the sound of him blowing out his own candle made her start.
Anne laid perfectly still until Gilbert's breathing became shallow with slumber. For good measure, she waited another minute, then wriggled extra carefully so as not to jostle the bed, bringing her body so close to his, she could feel the heat he generated through his nightclothes. One millimeter at a time, she shifted until the sides of their bodies lined up: arm against arm, legs brushing, her head at an angle to rest on his shoulder. It was still weird, but not altogether unpleasant. With time, she might get used to it.
Gilbert focused on his breathing. With Anne laying stiff as a plank next to him, he'd thought to spare her further discomfort by feigning sleep: that would be enough to put her at ease, and that once she'd fallen asleep, he would go splash some cold water on his face. How could he not have foreseen that sharing a bed with her was a horrible idea? She wasn't ready, and to be truthful, neither was he.
But then, she'd started moving - towards him, not away - with the caution of a deer being hunted, and she was touching him. Willingly! There was no way she couldn't tell he was awake, not with how close her head rested to his racing heart. Still, he waited for her muscles to go slack and for the light purr of her snore before wrapping his arms around her form and holding her close to his chest. It wasn't enough, but it would do for now.
oz diva: I think it goes beyond Canadians and Scots - I'd say a lot of men are averse to counseling. I chalk it up to a society in which gender-specific behavior still holds importance: woman are taught to work out their feelings by talking, whereas men are encouraged to work out their feelings by acting.
OriginalMcFishie: Don't worry - I have no plans of making it easy on anyone!
elizasky: The Jem/Gilbert parallel Sarah draws in SfA is more character than consequence based. I think she was just noting that they share similar traits (among which the need to be liked), and possibly feeling nostalgic. But now that you mention it, I might explore the road you suggested! As for Gilbert's jealousy, I think of it as more basic: he resents that Anne couldn't stay with him, but was able to form a bond with a perfect stranger, innocent as it may have been. You are spot on about his promise to change, though - he might have said almost anything from fear of losing Anne again.
