Chapter 3

It was to great applause that Fred Wright led his bride onto the dance floor that evening. The platform had been placed under the trees on the old lawn, trees that Diana and Anne had played in as children. Flowers and lanterns adorned the tables that Mr Barry and Mr Wright had conjured from somewhere, covered with the delicacies both families were noted for. The early moonlight shone down on the happy crowd, both those who rejoiced for the bride and groom, and those who enjoyed the gossip a wedding affords.

Anne stood at the sidelines, winking at the tears in her eyes. Diana looked wonderfully happy- and she was moving into a new life now, a life Anne could only imagine. She sighed, and just then she felt a light brush on her arm and jumped.

"Sorry, I didn't have a free hand." Gilbert apologised. He held out to her one of the glasses of punch he had painstakingly carried through the crowds near the tables. "People are fighting over the desserts back there." he said drolly, making Anne laugh.

"Oh good! I had to help make some of those this week." Anne returned merrily, accepting the cup from him. As she lifted the cup to her lips, she paused for an infinitesimal moment, trying to work the lump from her throat that suddenly appeared at Gilbert's thoughtfulness. It was so like old times- and she suddenly felt as if she had never really appreciated his presence before. As they both watched the bride and groom progress in circles on the floor, she looked across at his untroubled face.

It was so good to be with him again, so wonderful to be at home together. So good to see his eyes again, to not be separated by faceless crowds. She felt a slight squirm of guilt, as she reflected on Christine. No doubt Christine made him happy- she was of course very beautiful. Anne was happy for him, she decided, her jaw clenching. So very happy for him.

She had met Christine at a reception for the Redmond Arts Council, having been introduced by some mutual friends. As representatives for the English and Music programmes they had both been kept close to the front, and Christine had seemed quite interested to talk to an old school chum of 'her dear Gilbert's.' Anne had smiled brilliantly, and asked her to talk about her music. She had no wish to discuss Christine's dear Gilbert with anyone, let alone Christine herself. Of course, she did let slip a few things that made Anne grind her teeth- warmly discussing the Blythe pear orchard, and his laudable ambition to become a dentist.

When Roy had come to collect Anne, she had well and truly had enough, and farewelled Christine sweetly. Roy had then walked her home, extolling the virtues of the Stuart family, their wealth and consequence- and speaking approvingly of Gilbert Blythe's good fortune in landing the heiress. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Anne rather shortly told Roy she had developed a terrible headache and would take herself right to bed instead of the moonlit stroll they had planned.

However, on this night Christine and Roy were far away, and she had this night to share with Gilbert once again. As people began to join the happy couple on the dance floor, she asked herself if it was possible for them to rekindle their friendship again. How she had missed him!

He was teasing her about the ever-ready tears in her eyes, and when he finished his drink he held his arm out to her in invitation. Anne smiled at him, and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. As the whirled around to the lively music, Anne found herself wondering how it had been possible for the two of them to pick up that day where they had left off- it could have been any one of the nights they had shared in years past; before proposals, before hurt and misunderstanding had come between them.

He held her securely and surely, weaving through the other people on the floor. She relaxed in his arms, letting him lead her as had so many times before. She laughed at his little asides about the famous Andrews second left foot, and he grinned down at her warmly. He seemed to pull her a little closer, and she gave a small sigh of contentment.

For Gilbert, it had also been a golden day from the past- an unclouded time with friends and loved ones near. He had spent most of the day at her side. Together they assisted Fred and Diana, together they tackled elderly relatives and disgruntled guests. Their eyes had met twinklingly over tactless comments and bridal jokes, and he had laughed at her as she chased Diana's train around the back yard. He looked down at her now, his throat tightening. If only this could last- or if there were no tomorrow to wake up to. He shook himself, trying to keep his emotions steady. She was here, she was with him. For now it had to be enough.

Some time later, as the formalities of the evening were winding down, Gilbert was introduced as the best man, ready for him to make his toast. Anne was seated beside Diana at the bridal table, and she gave him a confident smile, the one she would give him when they had shared classes at Redmond. Always encouraging, always listening intently. He stood to his feet and opened the piece of paper he had in his pocket. Many speeches he had made before, many times he had ascended a stage to deliver an address- although never before had he felt the need to speak so carefully.

A silence fell across the crowd of guests, and he took a deep breath. He addressed the bride and groom, but perhaps more the beautiful young woman who sat beside them. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 fell from his lips.

"Love… is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,"
he spoke softly.
"Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken."

He folded up the paper, and looked towards the bridal table.

"This is the love the poets spoke about." he said quietly. "It's the love we see when we look at Fred and Diana, and the one we most hope for ourselves. May the steadiness of your love for each other hold you through the tempests of life, may your love not alter as time passes. May you grow together through thick and thin, and may your home be blessed with love and life for evermore."

The room was silent, and eventually applause broke out, when it became clear that Gilbert had finished. Fred and Diana thanked him, and as he sat in his seat beside Anne she leaned across to touch his arm lightly.

"That was lovely, Gilbert." She said, her grey eyes sparkling with tears. "It was a lovely tribute to them." He looked down at her and smiled, not willing to speak lest his own voice betray him. It had been his tribute to her- although he couldn't tell her that. Perhaps one day she would understand.

When the evening was drawing to a close, Anne and Gilbert walked with everyone to see the bride and groom leave, and stood at the gate watching the two of them drive away, as guests walked back inside.

"What are you thinking of, Anne?" he asked her. She turned her eyes to meet his candidly.

"Of new families, new beginnings." she said softly.

He tried to smile. Of course. Like her and Roy. Stubbornly he pushed the thought aside. Whatever would happen after today, this was his last night with her, and he wasn't going to waste it with thoughts of the inevitable end.

"Come on, I think it's time for the best man and bridesmaid to get out of here. Let's see if the Lake of Shining Waters is where we left it." he said, making Anne laugh again. She went to gather her packed bag, and the two of them set out into the night.

Dropping Anne's bag at the gate of Green Gables, Gilbert proposed a walk through Lovers Lane before they went inside. Their conversation was light, and the night beautiful- how then to account for the subtle shadow that began to fall over the two of them? Words seemed weighted with underlying pressure, and each look that passed over their faces was tentative and unsure.

Anne wondered if Gilbert was really enjoying himself- his smile was a trifle forced, and she sensed his mind was not on their conversation. For a brief moment she considered asking him- asking him to tell her what troubled him. Then the words seemed to stick in her throat- the year spent apart, and the ever-present spectre of a mocking Christine made her falter, and stay silent.

Gilbert strode along, his hands in his pockets. He laughed and chatted to her lightly, however it was becoming harder and harder to pretend that this was anything other than the last night he would spend with her. She was looking at him- he wondered if she was trying to trace the old Gilbert in the wreck of the present one- or merely wishing he was someone else. There was a sadness in her eyes that hurt him. Those eyes shouldn't look like that- the look that had first appeared when she told him she could not love him.

As they walked home, he looked at the fields they both loved lying in the clear moonlight. All at once she looked up at him, and their eyes held for a long moment. His breath caught in his throat, and for just a moment he saw a longing in them- a longing for what they once had. He knew it echoed in him, and he nearly spoke. Nearly told her how he missed her- that he was sorry. That he loved her.

A cool breeze swept over them amongst the trees, and a cloud swept over the face of the moon. When he saw Anne shiver, he turned them back towards her home.

As Gilbert stood in front of the gate of Green Gables, he did not look at Anne immediately. The charm of the night was undeniable, and he felt himself falling under its spell- or was it hers? He looked at her face, now looking dreamily out into the night, and then the reality of his situation hit him like a thunderbolt. She was lovely, she was enchanting- but she wasn't his. Anne never would be. She would belong to Roy- she would become the property of a wealthy old family soon; forgetting about him, forgetting about the island. The night was only an illusion.

In that moment he paid for every second of the day he had stolen- every moment of delight in her presence now running through him like a knife. He was an idiot, a fool.

He should never have come home.

Gilbert stumbled back from the gate, his face pale; and Anne looked at him, alarmed.

"Are you alright Gil?"

The sound of his name coming from her lips was too much for him, and he shut his eyes against the agony of it.

"Fine. Just tripped." He drew a shaking breath, and turned to her, his face as calm as he could make it. "I should really get going."

He saw the look of sadness cross her face, and he smiled at her, wanting to ease the moment. In the prolonged silence, he took her hand in his and swallowed, hoping she didn't see the way he was trembling.

"I'll let you go, it's been a long day." he said lightly, not daring to look her in the eyes. "It's- it's been a privilege."

When he dared to look up, it was her face that had gone white, and he shuddered at the confusion he saw on her face. "I'll see you at school in September, remember?" she said uncertainly.

He blinked furiously and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek as he had once done so long ago. "Goodbye, Carrots." he whispered, and turned from her to walk down the lane. He heard her call his name and began to run.

There was no more time; and he would pay dearly for living in a dream that could never be his. He ran through the trees they had grown up playing in, the woods they had rambled when they were little more than children. Through places she had named, and the secret corners he had taken her to. In the heart of the forest, at the foot of the oldest tree he collapsed, great choking sobs finally overtaking him.