Author's note: Surprise surprise! Here's an update for you! Bet you didn't see that coming so soon, did you?
To be fair, I did not plan it, either. But then I thought that this first chapter didn't really tell you much about the story... So here we go. I really hope you'll enjoy this new chapter even more, so please, don't forget to let me know what you think!
Of course, I also must thank all those who have reviewed the previous one - I don't always get to answering directly, but please know that your kind words mean more than anything. They never fail to make me smile.
Now, onto the chapter! And God bless you all,
annewithagee
Chapter 2
Enters Gilbert
The smile died on her lips as soon as she had read the first lines.
"Dearest Anne..."
It could not be true.
"I wish I could start this letter from a reassurance..."
It could not.
"I wish I could say: don't be alarmed by the unusual date of its arrival – for I very much hope you have received it early – or by the hurry behind such a change. Alas, I cannot. The news is as urgent as it is serious, so even though there is no reason to panic just yet, I must ask you to regard the matter as such."
"Anne, are you alright?" she heard Priscilla ask with concern but made no answer, her eyes gliding over the letter as she devoured the words she did not dare to comprehend. Priscilla stepped closer. "Anne, you're white as chalk and barely breathing at all! What is it, darling?"
The red-haired girl glanced up at her friend and opened her mouth in the vain attempt to explain her state, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. The lump in her throat was enough to make her success unlikely – with the trembling of her lips and the tears fogging her eyes, it became impossible.
"I'll get some water," Phil announced evenly and left the room, while Stella crossed it and sat quietly by Anne's side. Priscilla remained where she was, watching the scene attentively.
Anne drew a sharp breath.
"It's Marilla," she said eventually, when she finally felt she could say anything at all – if only to feel her voice crack as soon as she did. She shook her head. "She's unwell. Very, very, very unwell."
She failed to explain anything more as the sobbing she had been trying to fight had finally taken over her. Her shoulders shook violently and a few heavy drops fell down her cheeks, disappearing under the fingers she pressed against her mouth. One or two of her tears came through and fell on the letter she was holding – and the realisation of that little detail only made her want to cry more.
Never in her life had she cried so vehemently.
"Anne, dearest!" Stella exclaimed and embraced her friend tightly, the gesture more meaningful than anything she could say. Anne appreciated it too, and yet, she couldn't help but edge away as soon as she had found the strength to do it.
"Mrs Lynde says it looked like nothing but a cold at first," she stammered in between her sobs. "Of course, for someone Marilla's age even a cold can be dangerous, especially if they refuse to rest properly – but Mrs Rachel clearly said that it was the one time when she managed to persuade Marilla to take a real break before it escalates! Oh, that itself should have been a sign enough!"
She covered her mouth with her hand once more, closing her eyes as she pondered over the threat that had so unexpectedly entered her life. Phil, who had walked into the room seconds earlier, gave her miserable friend a scrutinising glare.
"I know that look, Queen Anne," she said as she took her place on the other side of the sofa; she handed Anne the glass she had brought with her, but Anne disregarded the offer with another shake of her head. Phil, however, was not one to give up easily. "You think that if you had been there, you would have paid attention to that 'sign' as you call it and saved Marilla from the complications. You wouldn't have."
"How can you know that?"
"If Rachel Lynde failed to notice the danger, you would have done the same. I might not have met her in person, but everything you've told me so far only proves that she is not a woman who would miss anything easily."
"But she doesn't know Marilla as I do!" Anne protested again, even more fiercely now.
"Are you really so sure about that? I'm not saying that there aren't some ways in which you really do understand her better, but you're doing Mrs Lynde injustice. You have known Marilla for barely a decade, while she has for her entire, much longer life. She raised ten children who, I am sure, fell ill at all ages; and she had had an elderly husband to look after until very recently. You couldn't wish for a better nurse for your guardian."
Anne lowered her gaze at the letter once more and closed her eyes right after.
"I still should have been there for her," she whispered somewhat calmed, even though she had never stopped trembling. "Maybe if I had been there to look after her, it wouldn't have gone so far and the danger wouldn't be so great!"
"How great is it now?" asked Priss.
"Pneumonia," Anne answered before giving in to her weeping again, too weak to control it for longer than those few short moments. Phil reached out and stroke her hair, and this time Anne felt too tired to protest against it in any way at all.
All she could do was sit where she was, with her face hidden in her hands and shivers running through her young, exhausted body.
"Pneumonia is not a death sentence, Anne," Priscilla remarked eventually, finally sitting herself on a nearby chair. "It's dangerous, of course – but Mrs Lynde is right about there being no need to panic. We both know she would have told you straight away if there was. And my own mother went through pneumonia last year, and you know that she's as strong as ever now!"
"Oh, don't tell me about your mother!" Anne cried out, jerking her head up, her eyes green with anger and despair. "She has nothing to do with it – you can't compare her to Marilla! And you cannot compare the situations, either!"
"Anne, for goodness' sake, calm down!" Phil answered the outburst immediately and caught her companion's arm, hoping to at least prevent her from jumping to her feet then and there and perhaps leaving the room right after. Anne freed herself from the clasp easily, however, and stood up regardless of Phil's tries.
"Don't talk to me about staying calm, Phil," she said hollowly. "You can't imagine what I am feeling right now. You can't know what it is like to have someone like Marilla – sick… It's not like seeing your mother fall ill, because that's not what Marilla is to me. She is the one who chose to love me and take care of me, against her plans and her neighbours' advice, against her own doubts, against her better judgment. And she's not your mother's age, Priscilla; she's older and she's weaker, no matter how much she tries to ignore it sometimes. I will not calm down."
"You won't help her in such state," Stella attempted to reason; but Anne would not be moved.
"I won't help her no matter what state I'm in," she opposed a little more meekly, sinking on the sofa again. "No, my dears, as long as I am here, there is nothing I can do. So please, just for now, let me be miserable. It's one of the few moment of my life when I truly have a reason to be."
She remained silent for the shortest of moments before rising again, startling her friends with her abrupt movement. "Oh, but I can't! I can't sit here, pitying myself when she is so sick and certainly in need of attention. Mrs Lynde might be there but she can't look after her and the twins alone. I must leave Kingsport as soon as possible and go back to Green Gables, somehow… Oh, but I need to clear my head first!"
And before anyone could stop her, she sprang from her place and ran towards the door, paying no mind to her friends' astonishment, nor or her own tears that now flowed down her cheeks freely. She still held the fateful letter in a tight grasp – and she was not going to put it away any time soon.
Thus agitated, she did not hear the gentle knocking on the door, nor the quiet creak it gave when the person on the other side pushed it open – nor did she have the time to react when the person appeared right before her eyes.
She ran straight into his chest and barely comprehended that she had at all.
"Goodness me, Anne, that sure is a way to welcome a fellow," she heard him ask with the smallest hint of humour and realised with shock it was Gilbert she had run into. She took a step back at once and looked up, barely able tot recognise his features through the mist of her tears.
She swallowed and sniffed, and wiped some of them away.
"I'm sorry, Gilbert, I didn't notice you," she apologised quickly, her eyes fleeing to the door behind his back. "But please, excuse me. I need some fresh air, immediately."
Gilbert's eyes grew wide in surprised, the mirth in his eyes replaced with worry as he took in her appearance.
"What is it, Anne?" he asked again, his voice so full of fear that Anne could not help but glance at him again; and yet, she knew she needed to leave before she did something incredibly silly, like throwing herself onto him, if only because he was the only person in the world who had any idea how much Marilla meant to her.
So she shook her head, again, and waved a hand at him, hoping against hope that it would be enough to make him let her through.
Of course, she was a fool to ever believe that.
"Anne, please, look at me," he urged her, but she didn't listen to him. Gilbert sighed deeply and put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her at least. "Listen, I know I have no right to make inquiries, and I'm not going to make any. But you're clearly not fit for going anywhere alone."
"It's home, Gil," she whispered, not sure what she was saying, and certainly not capable of realising it was the first time in months since she had last called him by this name. "Home, Green Gables… it's… Marilla..."
She did something silly then, namely the one thing she had promised herself not to do; but she was too unhappy to care about anything other than her most pressing worries – and in a way, Gilbert was holding her already.
She collapsed into his arms without giving the matter a second thought.
To say that Gilbert was surprised would be like calling the storm a drizzle. He blinked, astonished by her sudden closeness, but did not pull away, as Anne half expected he would. He noticed Phil coming from the other room and hesitated, simultaneously giving the girl a questioning look, to which he received no clear answer.
"Anne, whatever it is, I promise we'll get you through it," he muttered into her ear as he finally embraced her trembling form, holding her closer than ever before and yet, unable to draw the slightest satisfaction from the feeling it gave.
He could never be content when she was hurting like this.
"You need to sit down," he went on, ignoring the sudden wince she gave at his words. "You don't have to say anything, but I won't let you out of Patty's Place until I see you can stand firmly on your own. Come on, Anne, listen to me. For old times' sake."
He pulled away then and gave her a small smile, which Anne could not return. She wanted to protest, but Gilbert granted her no time, stirring her gently towards the parlour, ignoring the curious glances the rest of the girls gave them.
Anne walked quietly, with her eyes fixed on the floor before her, too distraught to notice anything at all.
Consciously or nor, Gilbert made her sit on the exact same spot she had occupied before and took his place next to her. The glass Phil had brought was now standing on the tea table; he wasted no time reaching for it and offering it to her.
Anne glared at him grudgingly. "I don't want to drink, Gilbert."
"I still think you should," he insisted with the same gentleness that had marked his actions from the start. "Believe it or not, but clear water can do wonders. It will make you feel better, too. Come, for -"
"Don't you finish it," she interrupted him, taking the glass from his clasp. "You're making it sound as if I had listened to you before."
Gilbert wisely refrained from any remark that could come to his mind and simply nodded in acknowledgement, watching her sip the drink in perfect silence.
He took the glass away the moment she had finished.
"Thank you," she responded to his action with sudden shyness, as if the cure he had prescribed her had made her calm down enough for her to realise the impropriety of the situation. Determined not to meet his eye again, she fixed her own on the letter which had caused her distress in the first place – and shivered as yet another wave of hopelessness washed over her at the memory of its contents.
"I'm guessing this is a Green Gables letter," Gilbert stated rather than asked, nodding towards the creased, damped paper.
Anne confirmed with a nod of her own.
"May I?"
His words took her aback entirely and once again, she was too surprised not to look at him in response. Her eyes soon shifted from his face to his extended hand and she frowned as she tried to comprehend what the gesture could mean. He smiled weakly and brushed his fingers against the letter.
Anne's eyes grew even bigger now.
"You want to read it?" she asked with disbelief.
"Only if you want me to," Gilbert reassured her hastily. "But I can tell it is the reason of your current state and more importantly, I am quite sure its not something you'd like to recount. So unless Mrs Lynde is telling you secrets I should not know about..."
"It's all about Marilla," Anne explained quickly and handed him the letter. If Gilbert was disappointed by the coolness of her answer, he showed no sign of it.
All he did was take the letter and read it as attentively as the situation allowed.
Anne's gaze lingered over his focused countenance for a few moment befores she once again realised how inappropriate it was to stare at him like this, especially after everything that had happened between them in the course of the two preceding years. No matter how much she wished otherwise, Gilbert was no longer her old school chum – and as this realisation came, she almost regretted showing him the letter in the first place.
It was too late to change her mind, however, and it was something Anne realised as well.
She looked away then, and fixed her eyes on the floor before her; only to look up at Gilbert again when she felt him shift next to her. His attention was still on the letter, and Anne turned her head away, somewhat embarrassed by her own restlessness. She shifted her sight in the search of her girl friends, expecting to be met by their curious glances and maybe a wiggle or two of their eyebrows, directed at their unexpected guest – and found with astonishment that none of them was present in the room any longer. She tensed visibly after the discovery and yet, it only made her wish to appear calmer than she ever was. With no little difficulty, she refrained from casting another glance at Gilbert, resolving to content herself with only observing him in the corner of her eye.
Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap now and unconsciously, Anne began to fidget with her own fingers; and when that wasn't enough, she did the same with the soft, creamy fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes in pain, no longer knowing on which to bestow them… and opened them again in shock, feeling the pressure of another, stronger hand covering and squeezing her white, trembling ones.
She looked up at Gilbert in bewilderment, only to discover that he was just as focused on her letter as before, frowning over it with obvious concern which, however, had nothing to do with her momentary agitation.
As if sitting in her shared living room, reading her correspondence and holding her hand had been the most natural things for him to do.
"I'm almost done," he murmured before she'd had a chance to object or hasten him with any other comment. "Try to sit still for a moment and I'll manage to finish even sooner."
He let go of her hand then and came back to the letter with doubled attentiveness. Anne flinched a little at the change, trying to ignore the strange longing for the contact that came over her as soon as it had ended – and quietly scolding herself for even stopping to think of such nonsense when so much more was presently at stake.
Fiddlesticks, she thought to herself, recalling the crisp manner in which Marilla had always spoke while making a comment of this sort. Anne felt her lip tremble and bit it, looking away and sighing for what seemed like a hundredth time that day.
She almost made up her mind to leave the sofa and search for her friends when she heard Gilbert move again, folding the letter he apparently had just finished reading. She turned towards him a little hesitantly.
"When did you get this?" he once again beat her to her question, asking his own. His hazel eyes glowed with determination Anne couldn't yet understand.
She shook her head. "Just before you came. I'm so sorry, Gilbert, I never would have behaved like this – but we had no warning. No one said anything about Marilla being unwell in their last letter, even though she must have been if it's so serious now – but I didn't know. And then you came, also by surprise -"
"Anne, it's alright," he disrupted he, his voice warm but firm. He made a small movement towards her, as if he had wanted to take her hand in his again but changed his mind at the very last moment. "You don't have to apologise for showing your emotions, especially when it's Marilla you're concerned about. And I certainly don't want you to think that you should be hiding them from me."
Anne tried to answer his words with a grateful smile but only managed to grimace at him instead.
"I'm not sure whether I'm happy or vexed that it was you who came," she admitted quietly, resting her tormented gaze back on her hands.
Gilbert's jaw tightened at her words. "I'm sorry if you see it as an intrusion. I have never meant it to be."
"No, Gil, that's not what I meant!" she protested, amazed that her words could be understood in this way. It was her who almost reached for his hand this time. "Please, believe me. It's just… No one here really knows Marilla – Priscilla might have met her, but she doesn't know her… But you do. And as comforting as it is to have someone else from Avonlea with me now, it also makes it all so much more real. And… and it's terrifying."
Gilbert relaxed visibly and nodded in understanding before allowing himself a little, crooked smile.
He leaned towards his distressed friend and tilted his head so he could look at her directly. "Should I perhaps get you some other Avonlea inhabitant to assist you? Maybe Charlie Sloan's presence could bring you some comfort without necessarily reminding you of the reality? He seems to be the most practical young man, but you and I both know how skilled he is at turning every conversation into something quite abstract."
"I wish all of you just stopped mentioning Charlie today – really, it is rather unnerving." Anne huffed with some of her usual fire back. "And how can you joke about any of this right now?"
"It seemed like a good way to distract you from all that sobbing," he answered with a calm, confident smile. "I'm sorry if I appear unfeeling, but you know that I'm not; and I need you to calm down before we move on to anything else."
"But I don't want to calm down! I've told the girls that and I'm standing by it while talking to you."
"I'm afraid you'll have to if you want to make any decisions today, and I'm fairly certain that you do."
Anne's brow rose high, as if Gilbert had suddenly started speaking Chinese.
"Decisions?" she asked, abashed. "I can't make any decisions from here and I don't think I could do anything to -"
"You want to come back, though, don't you?" he interrupted her chaotic explanation with a hurry. "And if I know you at all, you've been thinking about getting there since the moment you first learned about Marilla's sickness. Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're not," she admitted, fighting yet another set of tears coming to cloud her eyes. "I have to go back and as soon as I can, but -"
"But she can't do it now," Phil finished the sentence for her as she walked into the room with a tea tray. "Oh, don't you look at me like that, Queen Anne. I wasn't eavesdropping; I simply thought you two could use some fortification during a talk like this. The point remains, however; Anne is not in a state for travelling and I dare say she won't be any time soon."
"I'd be fine, Phil, really," the other girl opposed weakly and then turned back to Gilbert again. "But I would have to travel alone and as used as I am to it by now, I don't think it would be wise to do it when I'm in 'such state'."
Gilbert shook his head impatiently. "I don't think you should travel such a long distance alone even in a perfect health, Anne. But I never said that's what you should do now, either."
"I can't ask the girls to come with me, Gil," Anne explained softly, even though it was apparent how much it hurt her to accept such unfortunate circumstances. "They have their own obligations and responsibilities here at Redmond. Don't you deny it, Phil," she added quickly, raising her hand. "I've discussed all of these plans with you – I know you can't afford leaving now. None of you can."
Silence fell on the room, disturbed with nothing but Anne's desperate, uneven breathing and the purring of Rusty, who suddenly appeared next to her legs. It didn't last long, however, as Gilbert soon cleared his throat, straightening up in a confident manner.
"Well, it doesn't really matter," he said candidly, before turning towards the girl he had once pledged his love and life to, and looking into her eyes with perfect honesty, he promptly said, "I will take you there."
