I'm back! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in, like, half a year, but I've been really busy and since it's so cold, two rooms in our house aren't going to be accessed until it's warm again, and one of those rooms is the computer where I have all my fanfiction drafts. But this is just a quick writing because I decided it would be WAY too cruel not to update until April. So, here's Chapter 3!
Lilies of Avonlea: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry for keeping you waiting. I promise you this will be finished sooner or later.
A/N: I decided to forward the timeline: so this is about... two weeks before Christmas, still first year of Gilbert at med school
"Say, Anne, who're you writing to?" Davy asked, peering over Anne's shoulder.
Anne quickly covered the addressee. "Gilbert, darling. Aren't you supposed to be playing with Milty?"
"Yes, but he ain't being a good boy."
"How so?" Anne asked.
"He won't let me play with his top. And say, Anne, it's a bully top too." Davy let out a heavy sigh. "But I suppose it's only a toy."
Anne smiled at him. "You are becoming a very good boy, Davy. When Gilbert comes back for Christmas break next week, we three will go to Simon Fletcher's store and you can pick out a top for yourself."
Davy brightened. "Really, Anne? Oh, thank you so much, Anne!"
Anne laughed, ruffling the ten year old's curls. "Meanwhile, I think you could last a week watching, couldn't you? And you do have a wonderful new wooden ladle for making snowmen, don't you? Or is that Dora?"
"That's Dora, but Gilbert sent me a bully toy wagon for my birthday." And with that, Davy was off again. Anne smiled, turning back to her letter.
Dear Gilbert,
I am in such a bittersweet predicament right now. As much as I am looking forward to being married to you, there is that pang of regret leaving all the schoolchildren behind. It is such a fascinating experience watching them improve day by day. Thankfully, I still have two years left. Should I be thankful?
I hope this letter reaches you before you leave, but if not, then you will be hearing about this again. You know you love my somewhat-daily updates on the Avonlea School. Just two days ago, Annetta Bell came dashing into the schoolhouse, panting and out of breath. "Teacher! Teacher! There's a – a strange thing down by the frozen pond!" How confused I was! Naturally, I walked outside with her to investigate and would you know, that 'strange thing' was in fact Davy Keith and Milty Boulter tangled together, wrestling with their ice skates on. You can be sure that Davy got an earful by Marilla and Mrs. Lynde and me when we were home. As for Milty, I think what I said to him in school beat all his mother would ever dare say to her 'precious darling Milty'.
As for Mrs. Donnell, she came again after school of that 'strange thing' incident. I was positive I hadn't done anything to anger her, for Jacob – excuse me, St. Clare – was perfectly fine in his studies and his sister Mary was doing quite fine as well. Yes, Gilbert, Mary still comes to school dressed as a silk princess. Don't – don't, I can hear you laugh as you read this. I have had enough with all the girls teasing Mary and the boys attempting to woo her. But nevertheless, Mary is a headstrong girl and she is doing well. I like her enough although she is a tad bit like Dora, too homely. Anyway, Mrs. Donnell came up to me after the students left and said, "My, my, Miss Shirley." To which I replied, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Donnell." As the schoolma'am, I must respect pupils' parents, while Mrs. Lynde will strictly not. Then she said, "I hear that you are reading fairy tales to the students and taking them on rambles through woods?" Well, yes, I was. I nodded, confused as I wiped down the blackboard. "Well, Miss Shirley, I'd like to think it my duty to tell you that it isn't right to try and change all the students' nature into that of the queer Paul Irving's. Mrs. Harmon Andrews told me he was every so queer to her … her … what's his name? But that's not the point. I don't want my children growing up with queer notions in their heads. Will you try and remember that please, Miss Shirley?" How I laughed when I reached home, Gilbert! I did my best to console this 'collision between a fashion plate and a nightmare' and she left, somewhat better.
On a brighter note, I assigned the Fourth Reader classes (Davy and Dora included) to write a composition on what they thought of Avonlea. This was Paul's.
Avonlea
by Paul Irving
Avonlea is the dearest place on earth. The woods hum with life, the fairies and dryads going about their daily life there. How pleasant it is to walk by and simply feel the vitality pouring through the leaves. By my little home with Grandmother near the beach, the Rock People visit me every day, and I welcome them readily. Nora is ever so sweet, the Twin Sailors every so teasing, and the Golden Lady ever so beautiful. You know, Teacher. Asides from the nymphs that inhabit Avonlea, the people are the nicest I've ever known too. My teacher is the greatest teacher of all and I feel that nobody has ever understood my thoughts as she did. My classmates are nice and we play together very well. All in all, Avonlea is a magical place.
Isn't it perfectly beautiful, Gilbert? He could use some work on grammatical issues but his thoughts are so sweet!
I feel as if I have bored you enough with my 'country schoolmarm tales'. So I shall sign off here. Mrs. Lynde is back from Mrs. Harmon Andrews', and Marilla is starting supper. Farewell, Gilbert, until next week!
Yours,
Anne
PS I promised Davy that you and I would take him to Fletcher's store to buy him a top like Milty Boulter's.
Anne sealed the finished letter in an envelope and started to get up from the table. Mrs. Rachel came bustling in from the kitchen door. "Marilla, you will not believe what Mrs. Harmon just said."
"Oh?" Marilla said drily. "I suspect it had something to do with… Anne, maybe?"
"Partially," Mrs. Rachel said. "Oh, Jane is engaged. To a millionaire. Believe me! Why, she's got beautiful doilies out of silk and satin and she's got on this rich frock of bright blue silk that nobody in Avonlea could afford."
"Oh, how wonderful!" Anne gushed. "How lovely for Jane. She does deserve the good things in life.*"
"Humph," Mrs. Rachel said. "Well, Anne, I'll believe it when I see him. Now, if he were a dashing young, good looking man, I'll think better. But if he were old and grumpy and stingy and overall a moody person, then I shall give Mrs. Harmon a piece of my mind."
"Did she say anything about Anne?" Marilla asked, tossing a glance over at the girl who was getting ready to go to the post office.
"Plenty. Mostly, she was sighing about how tragically most long-term engagements ended up broken. But we know that Anne and Gilbert were made and meant for each other. Now, Anne, don't you take a word that Mrs. Harmon says."
"I listen with one ear, Mrs. Lynde."
On her walk to the post office, Charlie Sloane overtook her. "Hullo, Anne." He said.
"Afternoon, Charlie," she replied politely.
"Wonderful day, huh? Just a little cold."
Anne did her best to smile a little, to give Charlie some moral support. "Well, it is winter. Excuse me, Charlie; I'll be going in to the post office."
"May I walk you back?" Charlie asked, still having feelings for this red headed damsel.
"Oh, that's alright. You must be sent on an errand by your mother. I wouldn't want to bother your time," Anne spoke with a declining finality, and Charlie nodded stiffly and went into Fletcher's store.
Anne's walk back was silent and she beheld two letters, one from Phil and the other from Gilbert. The moment supper was over, she betook herself to the east gable to read them. Phil's came first.
Queen Anne,
How wonderful the days have been! My baby has finally come, Anne, and I'm dreadfully terrified over what to name her. Anne? Amy? Shall I name her Queen Anne? That does have an aristocratic tang to it, Anne, even Jo says so. But Jo has suggested the names Mary, Julianne, and Phillipa. No way am I naming my daughter after me! What do you say, Anne? I have told Jo that I won't name my baby until Anne has suggested something. Please suggest something, Anne, please do! I haven't anyone to talk to and it's dreadfully lonely. I do believe that Rose is a perfectly delightful name. But alas, so is Joanna, Julianne, Anne, Priscilla, Stella, Iris, Orchid – no, where did that come from? Violet… Jamesina… Anne! Help!
Your dreadfully left-minded friend,
Phil
Anne laughed delightedly over Phil's letter, refusing the temptation to pick up the pen and write back immediately. I'll write back tomorrow, she thought. Personally, she did think that Julianne was a wonderful name. Julianne Blake. Yes. Now, she turned to Gilbert's fat envelope.
Dearest Anne of Annes,
Your stories bring me to tears of laughter every day. I shall miss these humorous encounters! But alas, I will be even more delighted to finally be married to the girl I've loved since I was thirteen and she cracked a slate over my head. Can you guess who she is, Anne?
There really isn't much going on in Redmond right now, except for tests. Believe me, Anne, I started this letter yesterday and I've the right mind to finish it now. I didn't get so far as 'Dearest Anne' before David came and told me that the physics exam would cover a few things that we had just learned, and that sent your poor Gil into another frenzy of studying. There really isn't much to do but study around here, but I've made a few good chums. You remember John? David? Ronald? They still tease me of Christine, though they know I am engaged to a redheaded damsel.
Recently Phil wrote me a little note, saying 'You should thank God that little Philippa Blake is in your life, Gilbert Blythe. Roy Gardner and his wife have just had their first child and if it had been Anne in that position, she would be a mother now.' I know I should thank Phil, but if there ever was a girl who knew how to bug a man, Philippa Gordon Blake would win the Cooper.
Do you know, Anne, I recently passed my Year One midyear exam with a 100%? Aren't you proud for your Gil? I must go now, for if I keep writing, I won't stop until I'm on the train to Avonlea, and John, David, and Ronald have been taking turns yelling through the door for me to hurry up so we can go to the reception.
Love,
Your Gilbert
Anne smiled fondly over the letter and placed it in her drawer of Gilbert's letters. Phil's she placed in the second drawer which was cluttered with all letters from her friends. "Anne! Anne Shirley!" Marilla's voice rang up the stairs.
"Yes, Marilla?" she hurried down and why… Gilbert Blythe stood in the doorway. She grew so white with surprise that Davy rushed forward in case she should faint. "Gilbert?"
"Surprised to see me, Anne-girl?" he said, smiling slightly.
"I – why – when – how – Gilbert Blythe!" with that, Anne rushed forward into her arms. "But oh!" she withdrew slightly. "I just sent a letter to you!"
"I thought you may as well have," he said, "so I first checked in with the post office when I arrived. I managed to snag the letter away before he sent it."
"But… you were supposed to be here next week."
"Sad?" he teased.
Anne shook her head. "No-o. But… do your parents know?"
"Yes. I went there first to drop off my bags and you can be sure I made a beeline for Green Gables next."
"Well, don't let him stand there in the doorway, Anne," Marilla said briskly. "Come on in, Gilbert, I'll heat some tea and Dora will bring us all some honey lemon biscuits. I can assume you didn't eat much on the train?"
Anne led Gilbert into the sitting room and they sat down together on the couch. Davy came in, saw Gilbert, and let out a wild whoop. "Gilbert! Say, ain't I glad to see you!" Promptly, the little boy bounded over and clambered into Anne's lap. Gilbert smiled. Marilla, coming in from the kitchen, inhaled sharply. Gilbert met Anne's eyes over Davy's head, and they smiled slightly. They all thought of the same thing: the future Blythe family. Only Davy was blissfully ignorant. "Gilbert, you'll help me pick out a real bully top for me, won't you?"
"Of course, Davy, but if you want, I'll make one for you – better than anyone they sell at the store. Would you like that better, or would you rather we purchase one for you from the store?"
"You'll make one for me?" Davy's mouth dropped open and Anne smiled. The two were taking to each other quickly, given how much Davy loathed Gilbert at first.
"Of course," Gilbert reached over and ruffled Davy's messy blond curls.
Marilla cleared her throat. She, Dora, and Mrs. Lynde appeared from the kitchen carrying a platter of biscuits and tea.
"It's good to be back in Avonlea," Gilbert took a generous bite of biscuit and a sip of tea. Anne hadn't touched anything yet, full of the excitement of the day. "Won't you eat anything, Anne-girl?" he asked, prodding her with a biscuit.
"No. Not now," she said. "I'm too happy to eat."
"I'm so happy that I must eat," Davy said with his mouth full of the lemony goodness.
"Davy," Anne chastised gently, "don't talk with your mouth full."
Davy sighed heavily. He chewed furiously and swallowed, gulped down some tea, and looked up at Anne again. She smiled.
Gilbert, meanwhile, was watching this scene with adoring eyes. He couldn't wait for the day that, in their future house, this would happen again. Except, instead of Davy in Anne's lap would be a small boy or girl, with Anne's vivid red hair, his hazel eyes, and Anne's sweet smile. Marilla, catching Gilbert's eye, smiled knowingly. She knew exactly what Gilbert was thinking of.
"How is medical school, Gilbert?" Mrs. Rachel asked. "You haven't been wearing yourself out, have you?"
"No, Mrs. Lynde," Gilbert replied. "I like medical school fine."
"The workload isn't too much that you'll come down with Typhoid again, hmm?"
Gilbert laughed. "No, Mrs. Lynde. I specifically did a research project on the typhoid fever this term. It is actually quite interesting."
Mrs. Lynde shook her head. "Young people these days just won't be afraid of death, will they? Here, Dora, why don't you take a biscuit?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Lynde," Dora said primly.
"Say, Mrs. Lynde," Davy cut in indignantly, "you never asked me to take a biscuit."
Mrs. Lynde stared at Davy. "I don't suppose it's because you have already taken four?"
Davy shook his head. "No-o, Mrs. Lynde. I gave Gilbert one and he and Anne split it."
Anne laughed. "That's alright, Davy. You wouldn't want Dora to not have a biscuit, would you?"
"No," Davy said slowly.
"Mrs. Lynde is just looking out for Dora. You don't need any looking after in the art of eating biscuits as of now. I don't think it'd be fair for you to eat everything and leave nothing for the rest of us, now, would it?"
Marilla looked around the lighted, cozy sitting room of Green Gables through the same perspective as Gilbert. Anne, with Davy on her lap and Gilbert's arm around her, pleasantly talking with Mrs. Lynde and Dora, looked so much older, mature, and yet with that hint of girlish manner she would always carry with her.
Thank you guys so much for reading and being patient. I promise I will try my best to update as soon as I can. As always, review, favorite, follow!
~ bookworm4life