Let's Pretend
Gilbert threw his pencil down with a sigh. He looked around the Blythe kitchen, much dimmer than usual in the early afternoon. Anne and he had been studying for most of the day already. Both had assignments that had to be in the post by Monday, and both felt the lag on their minds and bodies.
The fire in the kitchen was blazing, adding some much needed warmth to the room. His mother, watchful and clucking had been coming and going all afternoon, content to oversee the pair of them in their usual pursuits.
Mrs Blythe caught her son's eye, and watched rub his face with his hands. Her eye then fell on the red-head beside him, who writing frantically and uncharacteristically silent. Gilbert's mother shook her head with a small smile. Both had taught school all week, only to turn around and work on their own studies as soon as the school house was closed. She had never fully understood her son's drive and ambition- now, she saw it reflected in the young woman who sat beside him at the kitchen table, pausing only when looking for the correct word.
"Gilbert dear, your father will be in for tea as soon as he finishes in the barn. I need to call on Mrs Ferguson briefly this afternoon, so you will need to get that ready; and you and Anne need to stop and eat something soon." She said, with a stern look at her boy.
"Mother, we ate earlier," he replied, rolling his eyes. "We just kept working."
At this Anne looked up from her work. "Truly, Mrs Blythe, you have looked after us wonderfully. We're not fading away." Anne said with a smile and a sparkle in her grey eyes.
"Well, see that you do now. Marilla won't thank me if I send you back worn out and undernourished."
As she swept out the door, Gilbert stood from the table and moved into the kitchen as his companion kept working.
"Gil? Do you need help with that?" Anne said suddenly.
"I know how to boil a kettle, thank you Miss Shirley. I do this for company all the time."
She chuckled. "As you wish." She suddenly put her pen down with a groan. "I have officially reached the point where I do not care."
"Of course you do."
"No, I don't. I don't care what the square root of the hypotenuse is, I don't care who started the Gallic wars, and I don't care if I used too many adjectives in my last three essays." Anne said, vindictively.
Gilbert laughed. "It's late November. We're just tired."
"You too?"
"Why do you think I'm listening to my mother and making tea right now, rather than procrastinating and going back to the books? Wouldn't that be more like me?"
Anne chuckled.
"Perhaps. Your mother is a dear to look after me like she does. I'm sure she reports back to Marilla how much I am eating. I would expect her to fuss over her boy; however I'm just the person who keeps you tied down."
Gilbert flushed, and busied himself with the stove.
"What do you mean by that?" he said after a moment.
"I keep you tied to your books; I think she would prefer to see you outside more." Anne replied with a shrug.
"Maybe so, but college doesn't pass itself now, does it?"
Anne got to her feet restlessly, and wandered over to the kitchen window. She looked out on the rain soaked fields with a sigh, and then turned back to the cosy room to find Gilbert setting a plate of food out. Something about the way he was doing it made her chuckle.
"I never realised you had such a strong domestic side, Gil."
"Nor I you." Anne looked up at him sharply, but he continued in a teasing tone. "After all no mice drowned in your pantry this week and you only burnt half the biscuits last time we were at Green Gables to study." He dodged the tea towel she threw at him, and laughed watching her try to remain angry.
"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes." She muttered crossly. "Must you be such a tease?"
"Come on, you wouldn't like me to stop altogether now, would you?"
Gilbert left the tray on the bench, and returned to the table.
"I think you will be like this all your life, Mr Blythe."
"I know. I'm delightful. Back to work?"
At this Anne slumped down, putting her head down with a groan. "I don't remember why we're doing this."
Gilbert chuckled, and put his hand on her arm "Come on Anne, it's alright. One essay left, and we still have tomorrow if we need it."
"Oh, but Gilbert, I promised to spend time with Diana tomorrow after church; we have been working so hard and she is feeling a little neglected." Anne said, apologetically. Gilbert's heart fell, but he smiled anyway.
"We still have time. We'll get it done, I'll even be able to get you home tonight before the storm starts, and all will be fine."
"Are you sure it won't hit till tonight?" she said dubiously. "Marilla will need my help with Davy later."
"What about Dora?"
Anne gave a chuckle. "No, she's better behaved than I am. Davy is a different kettle of fish. I just want to be on hand by their bedtime."
Gilbert shrugged. "Dad says it will hit at about nine, that's why he's getting the animals settled early. I can take you whenever you want; although I think Mother is planning on feeding you up at dinnertime as well."
"I'll take your fathers word for it. Marilla wasn't really expecting me by tea time anyway." Gilbert kept his face neutral, but inside was jubilant.
Anne looked up into his face, the face of her most unexpected friend. Diana had asked her what it was like to be friends with a boy, and Anne had only been able to shrug. He was fun, and intelligent, and seemed to understand her in a way that even her bosom friend could not. She squirmed slightly. If only Avonlea would let them be without assuming… things. She sat up, pulling away slightly.
"Thank you." she said, with a sheepish smile. "I know, I'm just being a drama queen."
"It's because you're just a girl…." Gilbert teased, earning a punch on the arm this time.
"And to think I thought boys grew out of this." she said, her eyes narrowing. "I seem to deal with mischievous boys all day at school, and then come home to you."
Oh, if only…. he thought longingly. Gilbert sighed. Did she really have no idea what she was saying to him? Still, she wouldn't appreciate being called on it, best to just move on- after a careful mental note to dwell on that later. Interrupting his thoughts, Anne turned to look at him, determined.
"So why are we doing this?"
Gilbert frowned. "College, Anne. You know that."
"No, why." She emphasised. "There has to be something beyond that, to motivate us to do all this work when we are so tired- we need to remember what it means to us." She sighed. "At least I do."
Gilbert went over to the fire to place another log on it, and was surprised to see that Anne had followed him, and was sitting on the rug in front of the old hearth. After a moment's pause he settled down there as well, pretending he hadn't seen a glimpse of her ankles as she crossed her legs on the floor.
"So what motivates you?" he asked.
"I don't know this week. Maybe becoming a famous author?" she said thoughtfully. "I keep changing my mind. I want to be educated, I want to know and understand the world we live in, and I want to make people happier. But how that comes from essays on long ago wars, I don't quite see this afternoon."
Gilbert studied her. She was drooping a little but talking to him earnestly; he wanted to keep her in this moment that just belonged to the two of them.
"For me, it's the future." He said slowly. "I can't get there without study, and I would also guess I can't get there without doing pretty well. Redmond is the doorway."
"For being a doctor?" she said, remembering their conversation in the springtime. He smiled and nodded. Anne watched him, leaning back on his hands and staring into the fire. She wanted him to continue. "What does it look like?" she said softly, bringing his eyes to her, puzzled. She grinned. "Paint me a picture Gil. What does it look like for Gilbert Blythe to be a doctor?"
"I don't know, I haven't done it yet—"he replied, confused.
She clapped her hands, turning to him, and crossing her legs under herself. (More ankle… he thought, suppressing a grin.) "You know Gilbert, imagine it. Imagine how you want it to look for you."
At this Gilbert became a little red. Not wanting to admit how much he imagined her being a part of his dreams, he floundered.
"I'll go first then, and you follow me." She said with a grin. "Alright, I am of course sitting at a writing desk, and my bookshelf is beside me; and on it are a row of earlier stories, with my name on the spine. And I have a letter on my desk from someone who read one of my stories, who says it made them laugh and cry; and that it changed their life completely to read it. Hopefully because of all of the wonderful studying we are doing both now and later." she gave a sigh at this, and clasped her hands. "Now you go."
Gilbert smiled, wanting to play along. "Alright. My Uncle Dave is a doctor; I spent a couple of summers at Four Winds with him when I was younger. You know, when we weren't speaking…." He drawled.
"Oh be quiet." Anne said, putting a hand to suddenly embarrassed cheeks. "What about it?"
"Well, I used to go on rounds with him sometimes. So I kind of saw what it would be like."
"No Gil, play the game. Imagine it's you, what does it look like?"
"Fine, but I'm not looking at you." He said with a mock scowl. "You're way better at 'let's pretend' than me."
"True, but go on." She waited expectantly, and eventually he obliged.
"Well, I- would get to help people. I would get to see them at their highest and low points, and be there to hopefully help them through it." He began talking faster, beginning to see the picture take shape in his mind. "And there are new scientific discoveries happening all the time now, Anne. There are things that they can cure now that no one was able to fifty years ago. People could live longer lives, and maybe we could prevent so much of the heartache that happens right now. Maybe no one would get sick like my Dad did."
"Or my parents." Anne said soberly. Gilbert looked at her regretfully, wishing he hadn't spoken that thought out loud. Anne caught his eye, and gave him a quick smile. "Don't mind me, you're doing great. Keep going."
"Well, I would have an office at my house, and people would call me there. I would go out with my bag to their homes and see what's wrong. Is that all?"
Anne shook her head. "Come on now Gilbert, dig deeper. Do you have a wife and a family in your house?"
Gilbert swallowed suddenly. "Of course, doctors are excellent catches." Giving the fire an unnecessary poke, he continued. "What about you? I assume you have a prospective husband?" he said in a light tone.
"Naturally. Perhaps a famous explorer or a poet." Anne said with a chuckle, and then added seriously- "I only hope he won't mind the writing desk there as well. Some men may not appreciate that."
"If he loves you he'll let you be you, won't he?" He said carefully. "So, will you be able to manage the writing desk and some children?"
Anne laughed at that. "No doubt it would slow things down a little; especially if I had a lot of them."
"There's always hiring a maid to help out."
Her eyes brightened, and she clapped. "Oh, that is a good idea, we'll do that."
Gilbert's face was a study, trying to hide his exultation at Anne's accidental "we".
"I'd love a big family. Lots of children; I was really lonely as a kid." He said frankly.
"We have that in common. Of course, you could have imagined siblings like I did…."
"Only you, Anne." He shook his head, and continued in the silence. "Children are amazing. Like, in Charlie's family, they all have the same brown hair and those bulging eyes, but then think of Diana's family: Minnie-May looks nothing like her. That's genetics for you. I'm exactly like dad, but then if I'd had siblings, would they be like my mother? It's fascinating."
Anne smiled. "I saw that with the Hammonds. Three sets of twins, only one of them identical. Even in personalities- one child would be tractable and do what they needed to; the other would be a holy terror that made Davy look like a saint. The two youngest girls gave me a terrible time when they were little."
Gilbert watched her face, pensive in the fire light. He still found it hard to believe that she had raised children when she was a child, and was at the same time fighting valiantly not to picture what their possible children could look like. Something else to dwell on later.
"I look like both my parents." Anne said suddenly. "I have my fathers red hair, and apparently my mother's eyes and nose. Mrs Thomas told me that when I asked her, but she also assured me that my red hair would serve as a warning to everyone about me." She chuckled, even while remembering the sting of the comment.
"It tells people you're special." Gilbert said brusquely.
"Well, I hope my children don't end up with it, that's for sure." She said with a wry look. "Babies are so lovely, Gilbert. They are so curious; they watch you and copy your expressions, and they learn so quickly! No, you'll enjoy having lots of them."
"And what if I'm too busy working?" he countered. "What if I keep getting called out at night time to tend to everyone else's children? I always wondered why Uncle Dave never had kids, I hope that's not why."
"Oh, you will. Your wife will simply wait up for you at night, and she will tell you what they did that day - how one of the children nearly drowned the cat by accident, and that another one lost a tooth or began to walk. It will be lovely!" she enthused. "Of course she will miss you when you are gone, but you will always come back to home and hearth, to refresh yourself after saving lives."
Gilbert tried to keep his countenance steady at her comments, and he felt the need to break the moment before he did something stupid, like grabbing her to kiss every freckle on her beautiful face. He got up from the carpet, and grabbed her hand, pulling her up as well.
"I like that picture;" was all he said. "Come on Anne; we need tea, and we have to get on with things. For the sake of those dreams."
"Oh definitely. Now we have something to work for." She said with a huge smile. She walked over to the table, bringing some order to her papers.
"The tea is nearly ready, will you pour?" he asked her.
Anne moved over to take the tea pot from beside him, brushing against him as she did. Gilbert's heart skipped a beat, and he shook his head to clear it.
Please God, he thought with a wry chuckle, please tell me that writing desk can sit in my house….
