Anne woke up with a start.
The moon was bright, filling her room with beams so luminescent that she wanted to bathe in them.
She rolled over to her left side and lifted her head back to look out the window. The dear old world looked just the same as she had remembered. The dryads were dancing in the meadow and she could hear the crickets singing under her window.
Across the room, Anne could see Marilla's shawl draped across the back of the wicker chair. The amethyst brooch sparkled in the moonlight. She smiled, how she loved that piece more than any diamond she had ever imagined to have seen. But it wasn't like Marilla to leave her shawl in Anne's room. It belonged hanging up on the hook tucked just underneath the stairs where it was in easy reach.
She'd have to return it before Marilla noticed it was gone. Marilla would be furious if she saw the broach was missing! They'd been through that before.
She sat up in her bed, adjusting the sheets. She frowned as a sharp pain shot up her leg when she tried to move. The pale bandages around her ankle shone in the liquid moonlight. Her ankle was twice as thick as it should have been. There would be no sneaking out into the meadow to dance with the dryads tonight, nor would she be putting Marilla's shawl back. She'd be lucky if she could get out of bed let alone down the stairs.
What had she done?
Like a lightning bolt, it all came back.
The surprise going away party for Mr. Phillips at the McPherson farm. None of the students were excited about the party. Going away parties were strange, especially when it came to this one. Was the proper response to mourn or to celebrate? None of the students had known the answer which is why they had hung back from the party, choosing to stay outside instead of going inside to say their goodbyes. Anne thought herself an accomplished actress, but even she could not produce tears at the thought of the teacher's departure.
The only student at the Avonlea school who was able to feel any sort of emotion for the teacher was Prissy Andrews. And even she had been a strange mix of emotions - she had seemed much more reserved and levelheaded than someone who was losing the love of her life due to a disagreement with the school board. But maybe that was just the Andrew way. They were Avonlea royalty and royalty wasn't allowed the same range of public emotion as the masses. Anne had read that in a book once, pitying the royal families of the world ever since. How horrible it would be not to share your emotions with those around you!
That certainly wasn't the Pye way. Josie and her sisters had been at the party - they never missed a social setting. Josie had mocked Prissy once out of earshot, saying that she would have flung herself into her love's arms at the thought of being separated. In her usual understated way, she had then thrown herself at Gilbert Blythe, winking at Anne as she did.
Gilbert had caught Josie - what other choice did he have? Anne had almost felt sorry for that person. No one deserved that kind of clinging. It was one thing to express your emotions and quite another thing to make a spectacle of yourself - Anne had heard that from Marilla many times in the last two years and was starting to believe it herself.
Anne blushed when she remembered that she had voiced those opinions out loud. What followed was the latest skirmish in the war of wills between Josie and Anne. This time the casualty was Anne's pride...and ankle. Had she really fallen off? The last thing she remembered was looking down at Josie and seeing Gilbert Blythe's face. He looked...concerned. That had given her a strange little feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her wish they were friends. That she had told him she forgave him.
Instead, she fell off the roof.
How utterly unromantic. Now he probably thought she was uncoordinated as well as spiteful. Not that she cared what he thought. Much.
It was only in the middle of the night and in the safety of her room that Anne would admit that not only was Gilbert a worthy foe, he probably would have been a chum if he hadn't called her Carrots. But such thoughts were only safe to air when no one else was around to see the chinks in Anne's armor. If her imagination was the shield that had kept her safe from the effect of the harsh realities of her life, her pride was the breastplate, her intellect the helmet, and her cutting wit the sword. One day she would have to dismantle the armor but not today. She'd dismantle it when her own knight in shining armor came. Then she'd be the lady in the green kirtle, more bewitching than Guinevere, and lovelier than words could ever dare to express. One day.
She glanced over at the small table under the window. There, stems wrapped hastily in twine, were a half dozen lily-of-the-valleys. Her favorites.
Matthew must have brought them to her.
Kind, dear Matthew. He was the father and grandfather she never had all rolled into one man in overalls. He never talked about the stories that made him who he was. She had heard whispers from Diana and the Pye girls, but no one knew the truth. Maybe one day he would tell her but Anne knew the value in letting the past stay dead. She could imagine all sorts of wild adventures that had mellowed Matthew into the caring man that he was now. It was safer to imagine. Matthew was far better than any imaginary knight in shining armor. He was her flesh and blood champion.
Nestling back down on her pillow, she snatched the bouquet and laid it on her chest. Yes, she was Anne of Green Gables and she was home in her own bed. But tonight, she was Elaine, the lady of Shalott.
One day she would tell Gilbert Blythe that she forgave him. Maybe even one day they'd be chums. Until then, she would dream of a forbodden secret suitor who left bouquets in her bedroom as she languished in her sleep. Now that was romantical.
When Marilla came in the next morning, Anne was still sleeping. But a bouquet of was resting under a chin and she looked as though she smiled in her sleep.
Her Anne was back.
So many kind notes from people! Thank you!
I'm trying to flesh out some of the Avonlea characters. In many ways, they are familiar strangers to me. But each one of them has a world of stories encased in their skin. Histories and emotions that swirl, little universes centered around each one of them. We're just used to an Anne-centered universe. So. I'm trying to peek in on the other planets and find out what makes them tick. This is still very much Anne's story...but let's just imagine for a bit.