Chapter Seven

"Anne is alive."

Gilbert gripped the sheets tightly in his fist, teeth clenched and brow furrowed. The image of Anne standing inches away from him on the landing flashed in his mind and made him flinch. He had been convinced that it was only a terribly realistic nightmare and nothing more. He had thought perhaps his wishful thinking had taken a sinister form or that he had been so vulnerable that he had started seeing things. He had managed to soothe his raging mind. Yet there was Dr Brown- all sincere and grave, trying to tell him once again that Anne was alive.

His first instinct was to flee- to board a train and go back to Four Winds as soon as possible.

"She is alive?" he managed to say through quivering lips. "No, Dr Brown- that- can't be true."

Dr Brown eyed him expectantly from the chair beside the small bed.

"But it is true." He clasped his hands together and said pointedly. "Anne has been living here with Julia for a year now." He waved his hand towards Mrs. Shirley who stood by the door like a statue. "In fact that was why she wrote to your neighbor Mrs. Moore. She has been trying to locate you for months."

Gilbert blinked at him, his mind torn between his wish to believe and the fear of having his hopes slashed once again.

"I don't believe you." he said bitterly. He couldn't dare to hope again for sure, but then why would Dr Brown play such a cruel game with him?

Dr Brown let out a long sigh.

"Look, Gilbert, I know this is hard." he said exasperatedly. "Seeing her like that- I am surprised you didn't have a heart attack. But it's time you believe what I say. I don't mean to brag, but I was the one who saved Anne's life. I have seen her recover for months. She isn't dead."

He stared at him for a long time and then swallowed.

"How?" he said hoarsely.

Dr Brown leaned back into his chair and folded his hands thoughtfully.

"You are aware of the train accident that took place." He spoke calmly. "From what I have heard- Anne jumped from the train to save herself from the fire and landed somewhere near the rails at the outskirts of Bolingbroke- a little less than two miles from here. Some men who were returning to the town from a house construction spotted her lying there covered in blood." He paused to look at Gilbert's shadowed face before continuing. "I don't live far away from where they found her. They immediately came to me and I was the one who escorted her to my house in the very same buggy that you were just seated in. I won't lie to you, Gilbert- it was a miracle that she survived. She has endured a long recovery, but now I assure you she is almost as healthy as we are. I have been treating her for a year now."

Colour drained from Gilbert's face as he heard the story. He felt strangely numb- should he believe or should he not?

"I met with the police." He murmured in a husky voice. "They said her- her body was found and she was badly burned. I even identified her ring and her luggage."

Doctor Brown nodded gravely.

"I am well aware of the fact." His tone was bitter. "I went straight to the police when I found out that you have believed Anne to be dead for so long and had a conversation with Officer Watson who happens to be my patient. It is saddening that they have mistaken some other lady for Anne whose family may not have any idea as to what happened to her. He said he would do his best to find out who she was, but these things take time. They have no clue how such an unfortunate error happened."

"Was she burned?" he asked eagerly.

"Not a bit," the doctor said with a wry smile. "But she was in grave danger nonetheless. Jumped from a train- I was surprised I found her alive! She had lost plenty of blood and her collarbone was fractured. If I had reached her an hour later, the lie that you have been living would have been the truth."

Gilbert's face was aghast. He realized that what he was hearing was indeed the truth. It still felt like a blow, but he took it better this time.

"Then why didn't she come back? Why no one ever told us?"

"There are a lot of pieces missing in this puzzle, Dr Blythe." he muttered. "Anne couldn't travel to Avonlea, so Julia kept writing to you. But you never seemed to answer."

"That's not possible."

"As I said, it's all a big mystery still." He raised his hands exasperatedly and stretched. "But I hope you believe me now."

He identified no emotion- neither happiness nor disbelief. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to fully believe him unless-

"Can I see her?" he asked slowly, preparing himself for coming face to face with her this time. He couldn't- he wouldn't faint again- he told himself that firmly and sat up straighter. Dr Brown turned to gesture at Mrs. Shirley who nodded and left the room swiftly. Gilbert caught his breath as he realized that Anne might walk through that door any moment.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Doctor Brown asked and his brow rose skeptically.

Gilbert nodded. With a pounding heart he saw Dr Brown leave the chair with a sympathetic look in his deep dark eyes.

"I think the two of you would be better left alone." He said smoothly. "But if you need anything or if you faint once again, I'll be in the living room."


He didn't know for how long he stared at her as if she were a ghost. He simply sat there, leaning against the headboard and continued to be amazed at the sight of her perched in a chair so close to him. Minutes later or hours later, she smiled at the incredulous look on his face and gently grasped his cool hand with her slender one.

"Gilbert, say something."

He closed his eyes savoring the sound of his name on her lips and the warmth of her hand entwined with his. He couldn't believe it wasn't a terribly lifelike dream. Perhaps the most realistic and beautiful one that he had had since she died.

Even if this isn't real, I am glad she is alive.

He slowly lifted his eyelids and allowed himself to look at her. She was staring at him patiently as she sat in the chair, her face strained and body tout. He noticed her hair was braided but a few stray strands fell along the sides of her face and reached out slowly to brush them away with a touch as light as a feather. She leaned into his hand ever so slightly and he couldn't help but let his fingers linger on her smooth skin to trace the contours of her beautiful face, enjoying the blush that graced her cheeks.

"Are you real?" he whispered, almost fearfully.

Instead of answering she bent forward to leave the chair and brushed his lips with her own, her kiss so tentative that he felt her fearing that he would lose his consciousness once again. With a small smile forming on his lips, he allowed himself to pull her closer by the waist and kissed her deeply, agonizingly. She responded almost immediately, moving her lips with maddening slowness. The feel of her breath, the familiar lily of the valley scent of her hair- it was pure bliss. He let himself lose into the passionate moment, forgetting the existence of everything that surrounded them.

As their kisses became more heated, he prayed for every inch of self control that he had and gently pulled himself away from her, regretfully so. She also seemed to regain her composure as she moved away from him, standing near the bed, breathless.

Breathing heavily, he sat up properly and beckoned her closer. She gently moved to settle beside him on the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her beloved red head lightly and grasped her hand tightly in his with a sigh of content.

She was real.

They stayed that way for a long time. He would have savored her quiet presence for hours, but there were many things that needed to be spoken, many questions remained unanswered. He didn't know where to begin.

"I don't know what to say, Anne-girl." He said in defeat.

She looked at him with a smile. Her eyes showed that she understood him.

"Then don't."

He nodded and sat there silently, caressing her long, delicate fingers till she broke the silence.

"How is James?"

"He's alright." He said reassuringly, sensing the longing in her voice. His heart fluttered to think what James would do when he would know his long lost mother had returned.

"Does he miss me?" she asked, her question tinted with fear.

He set his jaw and thought the question over.

"He asks about you sometimes." He answered. "He knew you went on a train and he has assumed that you just haven't returned yet." He looked at her gently. "We didn't think he was old enough to understand death. A part of me wanted to shield him from it."

"I am glad you did that." She said faintly.

"I know."

"When did you move to Four Winds?" she continued, sensing his inability to comprehend yet.

"After one month of the accident." He replied. "Uncle Dave died, Anne. And he always wanted me to take over his practice- in fact it was his dying wish. I couldn't refuse Aunt Katherine, I just had to go."

"It must have been difficult for you." she mused. "Setting up your new practice and looking after James at the same time."

"Well, I took Marilla with me." he shrugged, planting a tender kiss on her palm.

"But Diana said she returned soon." Anne pressed forward.

He looked at her nonchalantly.

"Yes, she returned once I-"

He paused midsentence, his words frozen on his lips. Winona. How could he forget about her? That he had married? He pressed his quivering lips together.

What am I going to do?

"She- she returned once we got settled over there." He finished hastily, hoping she wouldn't notice the stammering. Anne seemed to blame it to his state of shock and only gave a brief nod.

"When are we leaving for Four Winds?" she queried. "I've been dying to see my little Jem for so long."

Gilbert's heart sank in his chest. How was he going to tell her? He felt like he had betrayed her; that he had cheated, even if he had believed her to be dead. What kind of husband marries another woman after four months of his first wife's death?

You married her because you had to, not because you wanted to.

But he had married her nonetheless. And that was the only thing that mattered. He couldn't tell Anne why he had taken the decision- not without talking to Winona first.

And for that to happen, he had to take Anne to Four Winds. He flinched at the thought of having Anne, Winona and James in the same house.

Would she be able to bear that James calls Winona Mama now? What would she think of Nora?

He could never abandon Nora, he knew that for sure. And he couldn't do that to Winona either. They had nowhere else to be and it was all his fault. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever decided to leave them.

Then are you going to do that to Anne?

You can't do that either. You love her.

He reluctantly looked into her expectant eyes, trying to hide the guilt that he felt.

"Perhaps in two or three days." he said hoarsely.

Not until I am ready.


Flashback

The summer had come close to an end and the winds that blew across the sea were getting colder as each day passed. Winona Smith wasn't ready for the winter yet. Or perhaps it wasn't the season that bothered her, but the memories it brought with its chilling breezes and tiny snowflakes.

She gave an inadvertent sigh at the thought and turned her head to look at the grave face of Dr Gilbert Blythe who walked briskly beside her, his brow furrowed and hands deep into his pockets. Quietly, she observed that he did not seem to have noticed the slight coolness of the winds or the flowers that bloomed along the road they walked on. As she thought about that, she realized that she had not seen the doctor show any spark of interest about anything during the one month for which she had worked for him.

She wondered what was wrong with him.

Well, she had heard plenty of stories about the young brooding doctor who had arrived to the seaside town with a two year old son and an old woman named Miss Cuthbert who certainly wasn't his mother. He had come suddenly after Dr Dave's death and no one seemed to know anything about him apart from that he was the old doctor's nephew. They said his wife had died while giving birth to his son and some swore she had died of pneumonia a month ago, but no one knew for sure and Mrs. Doctor Dave refused to confirm.

"Are we done for the day, Dr Blythe?" she asked eagerly as they reached the bend that lead to her little house near the woods.

Dr Blythe, who had been staring at the flickering light at the point, turned to look at her face slightly.

"I believe so, Miss Smith." He replied distantly.

"Then may I go home?" she questioned. The sun had already set and she felt ready for warm dinner and bed after a long delivery and tending to seven children who had chicken pox. Gilbert glanced towards her drooping eyes and she saw a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course you can." He assured her sheepishly. "I know it's too much work sometimes. I'm sorry if I've made you work more than I should have."

She waved a hand nonchalantly in the air.

"I like it." she said solemnly and hesitated before speaking. "I lost my mother to a disease last Christmas. It feels satisfying to be doing this in the light of that."

Dr Blythe gave a brief nod.

"I understand."

"Did your wife die of a sickness too?" she asked before she could stop herself.

She saw him flinch at the mention of her but he chose to remain silent. He turned his gaze down to stare at his shoes and shook his head in decline. She folded her lips, realizing how private that question was. It wasn't professional of her.

"I'm sorry, Dr Blythe." She said nervously. "I shouldn't have asked that."

He looked at her with effort and sighed.

"It's not your fault." he said, his voice heavy. "People are going to ask me that question sooner or later and I'll have to answer it." He took a deep breath. "It was a train accident."

Her eyebrows shot up at his answer.

"A train accident!" she exclaimed. "Well that's- exceptional."

He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.

"So was she." He muttered so low that she almost didn't hear him.

It seems like he really loved her. She thought. My father didn't even look at my mother's corpse properly. She thought with a pang.

"I'll take your leave, Miss Smith." He muttered and tipped his hat at her. "We have a very interesting case to examine tomorrow- be at the clinic by eight. Dr Allen needs some advice regarding a man with a mysterious wound."

She nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dr Blythe." She turned to leave, but paused when she saw him turn off the road and towards the woods.

"Dr Blythe?"

He turned around to look at her absently.

"Yes?"

"You aren't going home?" she asked with concern, hoping she wasn't prying again. He blinked at her nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

"I was hoping I could take a walk before I went home."

She looked at the sky and the rising moon.

"It's too late for that." She observed. "It's not safe."

He chuckled, but there was bitterness in the sound that unsettled her to no extent.

"I'll try my best to be safe, Miss Smith." He replied coolly. "Do not worry on my account."

She nodded and threw a curious glance at him before leaving. She pondered over him as she walked down the road towards her house. If it was true that his wife had died recently, she felt he shouldn't be left alone for long and certainly not into the woods. She looked back at the direction of the spot where he had disappeared moments ago.

She knew it was dangerous for him to be alone while dealing with the death of a close person. She knew that all too well. How many days had she spent roaming around every corner of the town when her mother had died and she had found out about her father's affair? She told herself everyday that she had recovered, but the idea of being into the woods alone into the dark appealed her to no extent. She sighed and turned herself away, but she felt that she would have followed him if she had known him well enough.


Author's Note

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