John stopped the buggy in front of the Blythe residence. He watched as Gilbert hopped down and started to unharness the tired brown mare.
"I'll take care of it. Need to clean her shoes."
Gilbert kept his head bent over his task. "I can do it."
John knew that he'd have to double check his work - there was no way the lad was focused enough right now. But all he said was: "Alright, son. See that you wash up in time for supper."
Sarah Blythe frowned when she heard only one set of footsteps enter the house. "Dear, is that you?" she called from the kitchen.
"Coming," his voice called back from the hallway. She hated how tired he sounded, the same exhaustion that came to haunt her husband whenever he thought of Gilbert. Speaking of which...
"Is he at Green Gables again? He promised to have supper with us tonight."
"He's out back with Majesty." John's body appeared in the kitchen. "We dropped Anne off on the way."
She heard the unspoken reproach loud and clear. Not the most vocal man by nature, John Blythe communicated mostly through his eyes and his stance. Over the years, Sarah had become fluent in his abstract language: she read the current reprimand on his face without difficulty.
Well, tough, she answered with a huff of her own. It frustrated her to no end that he chose to remain blind to the redheaded root of the problem. The legendary Blythe loyalty was indestructible, and right now it was preventing John from seeing the source of their boy's hurt.
Sarah pounded the dough on the counter: she'd have to deal with that later.
"So," began Sarah once food had been dished out. "Was the train ride from Moncton long?"
John looked at Gilbert.
Gilbert blew on a spoonful of beans. "It was fine. I'm used to it."
"You've been traveling so much, it's a wonder you haven't dropped," his mother couldn't help but cluck.
John looked at Sarah.
Sarah looked at her son.
"It's fine, muttered Gilbert.
"Well," Sarah carried on with a false air of insouciance. "Walter's birthday is coming up soon, will you be celebrating here, or in the Glen?"
Gilbert looked at his father.
John looked at Sarah.
"I'm not sure," answered Gilbert despondently, pushing a bit of bacon around with his spoon.
Sarah looked at John.
John looked back at her.
Gilbert didn't look up.
After the dishes were put away and the floor had been swept, Sarah found herself staring at a clean and empty kitchen thinking, now what?
She tried to find solace in the fact that her two men were both at home, and in good health. John had gone out to the stables to recheck Majesty's hooves, and Gilbert had retreated to his room. It ought to be enough, just to have them close by. After all they'd gone through, Sarah Blythe had learned to count her blessings.
Yet, the grain of loneliness blossomed inside her bosom like a tumor. Ever since her parents' passing (her father had gone just before her own wedding; her mother had only lived to meet Gilbert as an infant), Sarah had relied heavily on the love and affection of her husband and child. And nature had cruelly threatened to take them away from her, but Providence had mercifully allowed her to keep her small core of a family. John and Gilbert were healthy and well, and truth be told, she resented them a little.
It was a horrible admission from a mother and a wife, but it wasn't any less true. She was jealous of their symbiotic relationship, envious of the effortlessness of their male camaraderie.
Oh, they loved her, that she knew as a fact. But she wasn't quite on their level, didn't exactly belong in their tight bond. Yearning to be included was a lonely feeling, one that should have been assuaged by the gain of a daughter-in-law.
Maybe Sarah hadn't tried hard enough - perhaps she even resented her, for earning John's affection so easily, and for making Gilbert open up so easily. Perhaps she could have been friendlier in general, extended a hand more often to the grown woman who'd clearly been out of her element in married life. There just was an aloofness, an egotistical penchant in her behavior that rubbed Sarah the wrong way.
She shook herself, and reached for the kettle to fill it with water. The fact remained that Gilbert wanted things to work, and it seemed that Anne was making efforts. And after all, she was the mother of her grandsons. So, Sarah would make some tea, and start ironing things out, starting with her son.
Gilbert was lying on the made bed of his childhood room, staring up at the ceiling as he meditated on his life so far.
It seemed all the great chapters of his life were marked by struggle. Nothing had ever been handed over to him without an uphill battle. As a result, he had needed to display a certain grit that wasn't always asked of his peers: he'd had to demonstrate his determination and strength of character just to bring himself up to their level.
His efforts hadn't been for naught: in the end, he'd gone to school with his hard earned teaching wages and scholarships; he'd surpassed his entire class, scored the prestigious Cooper prize; he'd won the girl of his dreams' favor; he had made his name a somewhat prominent one in his area of work.
However, people tended to forget that all the success and recognition had come at the price of much sweat and tears, and this aggravated him more than anything.
Amidst all the reminiscing, one memory kept circling back: something his Uncle Dave had said on Christmas Eve, many years ago. Gilbert had come home from Redmond for the very first time, and (though he'd never admit it) was basking in the pride and praise over him his parents had been dishing out generously. He couldn't recall the context, what turn the discussion had taken after dessert, but he remembered the exact inflection of his great uncle's condescension as he'd proclaimed: "Not that you'd know: you've had an easy life, Gilbert. You just wait and see."
Respectful reverence towards his elders (drilled into him by his parents from a young age) made Gilbert hold his tongue. He did his best to internalize his outrage, but every cell in his body vibrated with the injustice in those harsh words. How could the man, a very dear relative he'd admired so, imply that Gilbert's life had been easy? University classes were brutal, and he'd just spent the past semester elbowing his way into the academic and social elite circles, being snobbed at every corner for lacking of an appropriate background. Nothing about Redmond was easy.
It hurt even more that the comment had come from someone who knew all about his years in Alberta. What was so easy about watching his father skirt death before Gilbert himself was even old enough to shave? And being separated from his mother as a young boy for three whole years, was that considered an easy life?
Gilbert had turned to his mother, expecting her to chime in with her typical protective defence: she freshened Aunt Katherine's tea with a beatific smile. Hadn't she heard the slight? He looked over at his father, who merely puffed at his pipe, without a care in the world. Just like that, Christmas was ruined, and Uncle Dave carried on insouciantly, unaware that his only nephew on John's side wouldn't meet his eye for the rest of his visit.
Looking back now, Gilbert could see how naive he'd been. Uncle Dave had known; maybe his parents hadn't, but Anne certainly did. He could see clearly now that his life had been quite easy.
A soft knock made him start. "Yes?" he called.
The door opened, and his mother came in, carrying a laden tea tray. "I thought we could have a little dessert up here."
Gilbert sat up and cleared his nightstand for her to set down the tray. She pulled up the chair from against the wall and poured the tea, waiting for Gilbert to take a bite of the walnut tart before speaking.
"Are you ready to talk about what happened in New Brunswick, at the orphanage?"
The honeyed nuts lodged in Gilbert's throat. He swallowed repetitively to force them down. "It was terrible," he said plainly. She said nothing, so he continued. "You've never seen anything like it, Ma. The children - they have nothing. It's an embarrassment, the way these places are run."
"I'm sure the city is doing its best to care for them." Her patience irritated him.
"Ma, do you know what else is in Moncton? The headquarters of the Intercolonial Railway of Canada. Those kids, when they come of age, the ones who don't get sold to factories, they slave away on the tracks. And that's the lucky ones, because they survived, and even if it bears too much similarity to slavery, they have legitimate jobs. The others - the girls - you can't imagine what they're made to do, in the streets, in houses...Lord knows where else."
"Sweetheart, they don't know any better," she tried to explain tenderly.
"Well, whose fault is that? It's not just that we don't educate them: we barely even feed them. We starve them, and then punish them for needing food. It's criminal!"
"Now, Gilbert," her voice became firm for a while: "I agree that perhaps the system may be a bit...flawed, but you cannot assume responsibility for the poor management of an institution."
"Why on Earth not? It's my fault as much as anyone else's. It's more of my fault, actually, for living with someone who knows firsthand how corrupt such establishments are, and for choosing to ignore it!"
She laid a calming hand on his forearm. "I understand that you're upset, and it's your right to feel that way," her quiet voice contrasted with his shouting. "But running around, pointing fingers isn't going to solve anything."
His shoulders slumped over in defeat. "I know. You're right. I'm sorry."
Her lips gave a small, painful quirk. "So, what are we going to do?"
Gilbert stared at his mother in surprise. Had she just said...we?
"I need to make things right with Anne. I know it seems that she's in the wrong, and she admits that what she did was wrong - but I'm to blame for this, too. You might not approve of her, but if you could see her - I mean, really see her the way I do, the way Dad does, the way-"
He just barely kept it from slipping out, though his lips had already shaped the first consonant: he might as well have yelled the name. Her eyes shone darkly, but he carried on. "I think you would come to see that she is an astoundingly good person, even though she's not quite conventional. There's a lot of things she missed growing up, her past is... she was never properly loved. Mama, she needs to be loved."
She already has you, the petty side of Sarah Blythe itched to point out. Your father was quick to take her side as well. What do you need me for?
But there was no reward in such thoughts: only bitterness and misery. Plus, he'd called her 'Mama' - the endearing epithet used only in dire circumstances to make her cave in to something big, or when he was desperate. The tears glossing over his eyes indicated that it was probably both.
"Alright. I'll try."
He grabbed her free hand and squeezed it, and she offered him a watery smile.
There was nothing she wouldn't do for her boy.
oz diva: I am not a shrink, though I am very amused at how much indignation Kenneth has been causing! I was just trying for a very intelligent person, and repressed all his empathy. That is why his only interjections are neutral observations.
AnneFans: So true! LMM's AoGG is pretty much narrated through Anne's eyes.
Anne O' the Island: I've been wanting to show Barney's notes for some time. Still looking for an organic way to bring them up, and then a way to transcribe the scribbles with a computer keyboard. And call-me-Kenneth is part caricature of a shrink, part...my dad. Who is not a shrink, but an extremely booksmart and very kind human being, who has trouble using both his intellectual and empathic traits simultaneously. :P
stillpink: Make some room on that soapbox for me! Anne definitely needs an epiphany, not only for her attitude towards Gilbert, but the way she acts towards others in general.
OriginalMcFishie: Agreed! Anne's treatment of Gilbert is rather like abuse at times.
Lavinia Maxwell: Hope this lived up to the expectation!
NotMrsRachelLynde: Thank you! We're working towards some understanding, and hopefully some healing, very slowly.
elizasky: Things are still pretty rosy in M-rated land for now! Hopefully I can get the timeline right here :)
guest: Thanks for joining the series! I agree with you, Jonathan Crombie was the perfect actor for Gilbert. I haven't seen him in much else, but I found him to be excellent in the Sullivan movies, he really embodied all the facets of Gilbert's personality beautifully. His passing away is very sad.