Surprise! This is a little story that has been in my mind for a few months, and was re-awoken by Mrs Blythe's appearance in OMDWY. I'm hoping to add to the Golden Days episodes gradually, so hopefully you will see some more of these soon, in amongst the other updates! Thank you for following, reading and commenting!

Cate.

A Mother's Touch

Anne saw her last pupil leave the schoolhouse one windy Friday, and sank back down onto her desk chair, her head aching. She shuddered, hearing the footsteps on the ground again, the heavy door crash against the wall, and Barbara Shaw's seemingly shrill voice.

"Teacher, oh teacher I forgot to get my picture book! Aunt Mary said I must have it back home today." She ran up the little aisles, knocking three chairs over in the process, and making poor Anne feel as if she had an insistent drum beating against her temples. Barbara straightened them up awkwardly, and Anne tried to not flinch with every apology, every scrape of the wooden legs on the uneven floorboards.

"Dear, I can do that for you, there's no need to worry-" Anne pleaded.

Barbara tripped up the aisle, coming to stop against the desk that Anne had been leaning on. She tried to smile at the young girl and seem like her normal self.

"Teacher, you look awfully pale, like the picture of the marble lady in my uncle's book. I think she was someone pretty important because Uncle Henry said she was blessed, or something. Are you blessed?" she asked curiously.

Anne gave a little smile. "I'm a little tired, Barbara, and just need to go home."

"Would you like me to walk with you?" the child asked brightly.

Anne's smile became a little fixed. "No dear, I think it would be best if you ran along now; Millie Andrews is waiting for you, you see."

A high pitched goodbye and another echoing slam of the door, and Anne was alone once more. A headache had come from seemingly nowhere earlier in the afternoon, and she had begun to shiver, although the October weather was still quite warm. It was another few minutes before she could make herself stand, and gather her belongings with shaking hands.

Davy and Dora had been out of school for a few days with a heavy cold the previous week, and Anne reflected with irony how generous Davy was with all things- hugs, kisses, and sharing his diseases. She thought with a sigh of the weekend she had at home alone- Marilla had taken the twins to Spencervale with her for the weekend, leaving Anne to fend for herself. It was just as well, she though thankfully. She only wanted to go to bed as soon as she got home anyway.

On the way home from the schoolhouse, Anne stopped at the post office for Marilla. She spoke to the clerk, whose voice seemed unnaturally loud to her ears, and then stepped out onto the veranda. She reached out a hand to steady herself against the rail, her head suddenly spinning, and gulping in the fresh air. She heard someone coming to stand beside her, however she couldn't quite turn her head to see who it was.

"Why, Anne, dear!" Cora Blythe's cordial voice came, and she looked into the girl's pale face. "What have you done to yourself at school today?"

Anne attempted to smile. "Nothing. I think Davy's cold is all that is the matter. It seems to have just hit me all at once this afternoon."

Cora looked at Anne sceptically, with a curiously Gilbert-like expression in her eyes. "There is a rather horrible influenza going around; if it's come up that quickly it probably isn't a cold." She put her hand to Anne's forehead and clucked her tongue. "Come on dear, let's get you home," she said comfortingly.

Anne let herself get put in the buggy beside Mrs Blythe, feeling completely miserable. Cora drove them through the countryside talking pleasantly, however when she pulled up at the Green Gables yard, she commented on the quiet. Anne climbed down from the buggy, and Cora tied the horse briefly to see the girl inside.

"Dear, is Marilla in? We should let her know you aren't feeling well."

As they walked up the veranda steps, and Anne fumbled with her key and smiled weakly. "Marilla is visiting some distant relatives, she took Davy and Dora along so that they could meet some cousins of theirs." Cora walked her inside the kitchen doors and placed her satchel down on the kitchen floor.

"Anne, you don't mean to tell me that you're home alone?" Cora said, taken aback.

"Oh, I don't mind being alone-" Anne protested, however she was interrupted by the brown haired woman.

"Oh, this won't do at all," she said briskly. "You're coming home with me, dear."

Anne's white face immediately turned a coral pink, and she began to protest. "Mrs Blythe, I'm sure I will be fine, all I really need is to go to bed."

"And what if you take a fall, or find yourself too unwell to call for help?" Cora said, her clear voice logical. "Dear, go and pack a little bag, you can come and stay with us for the weekend."

Anne looked at her, panicking. She couldn't- why, it would be completely inappropriate for her to stay in Gilbert's home! She wasn't that unwell, she would be fine-

It was at this point that she was hit with a wave of nausea, and she steadied herself against the kitchen table until it passed, breathing deeply.

"Anne, dearie, I have a feeling that you have a fairly stubborn streak in you, as evidenced by the well-deserved lump on my son's head," Cora said, amused. "This isn't one of those times for it to be put to use. Go and pack a bag for a day or two, dear. I'm sure Marilla would look after Gilbert or Diana if they found themselves here when they were ill." She pushed the girl in the direction of the stairs gently, and added as an afterthought- "And you might as well give me someone to fuss over, Gilbert won't be home until much later in the weekend. He has a meeting with the White Sands board."

Anne moved on wooden feet up the stairs, and into her little gable room. She pulled a bag onto her bed, and slowly put the things in it that she might need. Mindful that Mrs Blythe was waiting, she rubbed the back of her hand across her clammy forehead. It wouldn't be quite so strange if Gilbert wasn't home. And she could easily come back home in the morning when the worst of the illness had passed. She closed the carpet bag and walked down the stairs on slightly unsteady feet. Cora was waiting in the hall for her, her face kind. She locked the door behind them and put Anne in the buggy to take her home.

That night, Anne lay in the spare room of the Blythe farm at three in the morning, wide awake and miserable. She lay still, trying to keep her body from shivering. She was piled high with blankets and still felt thoroughly chilled. Her head had eased, however, she thought with longing for her own little bed, and familiar sounds of the wind in the trees behind Green Gables, and the sound of the children's soft breathing coming through her door at night.

As a little tear fell on the lace trimmed pillow slip, she tried to avoid the thoughts that had truly been keeping her awake. She had visited this house so many times by now, that it seemed strange that she had only just entered it for the first time a year ago. A year of work and play, of Gilbert's teasing and easy comradeship. The easy passage the two of them had formed between their houses, where both felt comfortable in the other's home.

Not the spare room, however, and certainly not in nightclothes.

Anne closed eyes that hurt, trying to send herself back to sleep. Mrs Blythe had ushered her in through the front door, to the astonishment and amusement of Gilbert's father. She had taken her to the spare room, instructing her kindly to don her nightgown and to climb into the waiting bed. Anne had done so dumbly, not having the energy to argue the point anymore. It had been the start of an evening that completely bewildered the girl.

Mrs Blythe was in and out of the room with a cold compress, and bringing cool drinks and hot tea. She had attempted to bring in some chicken soup, however another bout of nausea had hit, and Cora had been there with a bowl and a cool washcloth to mop her face afterwards. Anne had been terribly embarrassed, however Cora had dealt with it calmly and matter-of-fact. She hovered over the bed of her young charge, smoothing the hair back from her face, and checking her temperature against her soft wrist.

Now, in the hours of darkness, Anne tried to contain a shuddering breath. This was so different- so unfamiliar to her. Was this what her own mother would have been like? Would Bertha Shirley have held her hair back without concern, touched her face with cool hands that soothed? Pulled the warm covers up and tucked them around her as if she was eight instead of almost eighteen? Was this how Gilbert had been cared for, his whole life?

Anne raised one hand to wipe more tears from her face. Marilla had cared for Anne through illnesses with a sternness that masked her own worry. She knew that. She saw the caring in the brusque tone, in the way her hand would shake when she pressed her own briefly. However, it wasn't until this night that she saw the tenderness of a mother- and for her, a waif in someone else's home! It was this that brought the tears on a little harder.

The door opened a crack and to her surprise, Cora entered the room in her dressing robe, carrying a low candle.

"I never sleep properly when someone is unwell in the house," she whispered, with a smile. "I'm just checking on you." She put her hand to Anne's forehead again. "You still have a little bit of a temperature, dear. Suppose we take some of these heavy blankets off."

Instinctively Anne shook her head, her eyes pleading; and Cora laughed. "You remind me of Gilbert when he was sick. I used to have to wrestle the blankets off him when he was a boy, even when his temperature was at its highest. He fought like a tiger to keep them on him. How about I take this blue one off you, and I'll leave the others?" She touched the girl's cheek lightly. Anne nodded, and Cora moved the heaviest of the blankets to the little bureau. She came back and smiled at her in sympathy. "Dear, I know you feel miserable right now, however, you should feel better by this time tomorrow. Go to sleep now, and we'll see how you feel in the morning." She smoothed the red hair back from her face, and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. Anne eventually did so, and she was not awake when Cora came to check on her at sunrise.

The afternoon sunshine was breaking through the colourful leaves when Gilbert strode up from the barn to greet his father smoking on the porch. He dropped his bag near the front door and sat beside him with a sigh. John Blythe took his pipe out of his mouth briefly.

"All well?"

"Just a routine meeting with the trustees. It was fine." Gilbert said, with a sigh. "Where's ma?"

John looked at him, a small smile on his face. The twenty-year-old beside him was more man than boy now, and there was no way John had missed the way his son looked at Anne Shirley- and he himself never saw her without the surprise that his son fancied Marilla's girl. He worked to repress a little chuckle. The boy had no idea who his mother was caring for at that moment.

"Oh, she just has a visitor staying."

Gilbert groaned. Probably one of his mother's cousins from New Brunswick, gossiping aunts who would tweak his cheek and discuss who he looked like in front of him, complimentary or not. Maybe he should go hide out at Fred's.

"You'll want to stay around; I might need your help sometime later," he said mildly. Gilbert stifled a sigh and nodded. "You'd better take your things up to your room, your mother might need you to get on with some chores."

Gilbert walked inside, seeing his mother bringing a tray out of the spare room. She quickly placed it on the table and ran to give her son a hug.

"Darling, I'm so glad you are home!" she said softly, causing Gilbert to give the closed bedroom door a curious glance. Who would be in bed at this time of day?

"Ma, who's staying here?" he asked, puzzled.

All of a sudden Cora got the same look on her face, as she had when she had to tell his father she had adopted yet another kitten. Gilbert frowned at her, still not understanding.

"I happen to know she needs someone to look after her, that's all. Marilla is away, and she has been terribly sick with no one to care for her-" Cora said defensively.

"Anne? She's here? Anne's here?" he said, his voice sounding ridiculous loud, even to his ears. He headed unthinkingly for the spare room door, and Cora quickly caught his arm as he reached for the handle.

"Gilbert Blythe!" she said crossly. "Come away from there at once! Have you no sense of propriety at all? Anne is supposed to be resting."

He pulled up short, his face flushing. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "You just surprised me."

Cora shook her head. "Go and get changed, dear. If she is a little better tonight, you can visit with her a little." She watched the young man nod and drift towards the stairs, rolling her eyes at the dreamy smile on his face.

That evening, Cora checked on Anne and found her still quite unwell. In deference to her son's pleading eyes, she told him she would allow a short visit with his miserable friend.

Gilbert's senses were on high alert as he followed his mother into the dimly lit room, feeling as if he would hit the roof if anyone touched him. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't care- but it was Anne! She was staying in his home! Cora watched the besotted look in her son's eye, and she smiled.

"I'll give you twenty minutes, and then we need to let her sleep. Do you understand me, Gilbert John?"

Gilbert nodded, trying to keep the ridiculous grin from forming on his face. Under the mounds of blankets, he could make out Anne's small form, looking up at him with a sheepish smile on her face. He immediately lost his own nerves, in trying to ease her own. He sat down on the little rug beside the bed and looked at her cheekily, her face now on the same level as his.

"What have you done to yourself?" he asked, and she gave him a small smile.

"Oh, just lying around." she joked tiredly. "Your mother kidnapped me when she saw me yesterday. She thinks that I don't look well. Personally, I am feeling marvellous." she said wryly, with a little chuckle.

Gilbert laughed. "Well, since you are the colour of the pillowcase, I think Mother might be right."

A spark came into her grey eyes, and she frowned at him crossly. "You should be polite to your sick friends." she grumbled, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You wouldn't have been expecting to find me here. Your mother was quite determined to look after me."

He looked at her, unable to disguise the tender look in his eye. "I'm sorry that you're sick, but it's nice to see you. And you're in good hands. Mother was Uncle Dave's surgery nurse when she met dad."

Anne smiled. "I think she's wonderful. She scolded me for trying to get up and has fed me hundreds of cups of tea over the last few hours. And she's checked on me every hour since she put me to bed yesterday."

She was silent then, some of the thoughts from the previous night coming back to her. His brown curls were so close to her, and she sighed as his hazel eyes looked into her own. "It's what I imagine it would be like to have a mother," she added softly.

Gilbert's eyes stung slightly at her admission, and he swallowed. "You're killing me, you know that, right?" he said lightly. He reached up to take the hand that was dangling limply off the bed. He sat there with her for long minutes in silence. He was still sitting there when his mother came to check on them a short time later, to find Anne had fallen asleep, her hand still in his. Cora gave her son a searching look, and then told him she would come and get him a little later.

Ten years Later

Cora Blythe woke to the sound of an angry newborn cry in the house, coming from her very first grandson. She dressed quickly, greeting Marilla as they met in the little kitchen to be served breakfast by a beaming Susan. Cora had come only the evening before and was yet to meet the one-week-old young man who had captured the heart of every inhabitant of the House of Dreams. Gilbert had picked her up from the station, proudly boasting of his son's alertness and strength, and Anne's rapid recovery.

When Cora was ushered into the little bedroom, she had a warm hug for her daughter in law, and then sat in the ready chair beside Anne to receive the squirming bundle from Gilbert. James Matthew Blythe kept his eyes tightly closed as he was held by his grandmother for the first time. Gilbert was called downstairs briefly, and after a loving glance at the three in the room, he walked out closing the door behind him.

Anne watched Cora's eyes filling with tears, and smiled. And as was also the custom, she pulled out a handkerchief to have a little cry of her own.

"Dear, is anything the matter?" Cora asked kindly.

"No." she said with a little sob. "I just seem to keep crying all the time. Although I can't imagine why." she said, sounding faintly cross with herself.

Cora laughed, and then hushed the startled baby in her arms. "It's normal, dear. It usually goes away within a few weeks." She looked over at Anne, whose red hair was neatly plaited down her back, much the way she used to do when she was younger. She studied the changes that had come to the girl before her. She had grown into a graceful and lovely woman, and she was proud of the girl her son had married. Cora saw a maturity there, the sort of growth that only pain and heartache could bring, and she sighed. Some of that pain was visible now.

"Dear, may I tell you something?" she said softly, her finger tracing the small boy's little hands.

Anne dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief, and nodded, trying to smile.

"Almost thirty years ago I held my baby boy for the first time." she said, smiling down at her grandson. "And you know how much happiness Gilbert brought to us. But, dear, I still had to grieve for my little girl at times, as well."

Anne's lips trembled, knowing exactly what her mother in law was referring to, the thoughts she had tried so hard to banish. "But it seems ungrateful." she whispered.

Cora touched her cheek softly. "It's not, dear. You've done wonderfully. Of course you will miss little Joyce right now, and it won't take anything away from the joy of this little man. You have all the joy of motherhood right here with you now."

Anne smiled at the feet kicking furiously under the long gown he wore. His face was scrunching up, and turning a bright red. The indignant cry made Cora laugh.

"Is it breakfast time, perhaps?" she asked.

Anne gave a slightly hysterical chuckle. "Probably. I think he has had at least three breakfasts this morning alone."

Cora stroked her finger against Jem's cheek, laughing at the frantic way he tried to search for his food. She passed him to Anne. "I would guess that is a yes."

Anne smiled at her grumpy son and lowered her nightgown to slightly awkwardly attach the baby to her breast to feed. When the two of them were settled, Anne sighed and looked across at the woman beside her.

"Did you ever worry about not being enough?" she asked her softly.

Cora smiled. "Of course, dear."

Anne played with the little fingers on one of his hands and shook her head. "I looked after so many children growing up, but it didn't feel like this- it wasn't so terrifying, but it was also never as wonderful as this." she admitted.

Her mother-in-law laughed. "That sums up motherhood perfectly. You are doing so well already, Anne. You'll be up and about in no time, and running after this young man all day long. In the meantime though, I promised Gilbert I would let you rest soon. I need to go and search out all of the gifts that the people of Avonlea have sent this young man; my trunk is overflowing with them."

She touched Jem's fuzzy golden curls and then smiled as she cupped Anne's cheek in her hand. "Perhaps when he is done you can have a little nap, so as to be nice and fresh for the afternoon's visitors. Marilla and I will be in to check on you in a little while." She bent down to kiss the top of Anne's head, and left the room quietly; leaving Anne with a little smile on her face, her finger clutched tightly in Jem's tiny hand.