Chapter 25

On a warm Sunday afternoon, a very dubious Susan dropped Anne at the corner of the shore road, promising to be back for her in an hour or so. Anne took her stick under one arm and stood looking over the ocean with eager eyes. The sea was a splendour of grey and blue that day, and out towards the horizon, she could see a fishing boat moving steadily towards the harbour. With a lighter step than she had had in months, Anne wrapped her shawl around herself as she moved down the slope. How long had it been since she had done this?

Anne had intended to head for the firmer sand, however, it was only another step and she found herself slipping on the dry slope, and tumbling down the rest of the way with a cry of shock. When she had caught her breath she sat up and untangled her skirts, thankfully unhurt- and thankful that no one was there to see Miss Shirley sprawling so inelegantly at the foot of the hill. However, before she could move, an unexpected but most familiar voice called to her from down near the water.

"Well, that landing was spectacular, I must say."

Anne pushed the fall of red hair from her face and gave Gilbert a droll look. "Oh, be quiet. And why is it always you who finds me?" she said breathlessly.

He shook his head, jogging to where she sat. "Because you're lucky." She chuckled at the sight of him, his curls windblown and in the old football uniform that he used to wear at Redmond.

"You kept that outfit, Gil?"

Gilbert looked indignant as he dropped to his knees before her. "I spent seven years on the football team, Anne; of course I kept it. Come on, let's see the foot."

Anne rolled her eyes. "I didn't hurt myself this time at all- I just slipped."

At his stern look, she grumblingly put her foot out, and he swiftly checked her ankle for further injuries.

"Well, that seems fine, so I don't know what you're fussing about." He moved out of the way to avoid her shove with a laugh. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Anne settled her dress around her comfortably and sighed in contentment. "Susan is at her sister's house, and I asked if she could bring me here while she visited. She thought I was crazy, of course, but the view is marvellous."

Gilbert turned to sit beside her, looking out at the deep blue of the water. "It's why I run here, especially if it's been a rough day."

Anne looked at him curiously. "Oh. Was it a rough one?"

He shrugged. "I've had worse." At the gentle nudge from her elbow, he grinned wryly. "There are days when medicine would be simpler without the patients, that's all."

Anne laughed. "You used to say that about teaching, too." She turned to study him with a slight smile. "Seeing you like this really brings back Redmond days, Gil."

To Gilbert's surprise, insecure feelings that he had become adept at suppressing suddenly flooded him. "Anne, you only saw me like this for two years."

She hesitated, seeing the off note she had struck so swiftly. "I did see you in the last two. I even came to your games now and then."

"I didn't think that would be Gardner's scene."

Anne chuckled. "It wasn't. 'Uncouth and unkempt', I believe he called it."

Gilbert made a mock bow. "At your service, Miss Shirley."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Roy didn't go. If I went to a game, I went alone."

He sat in silence for a moment. "Why did you?"

Anne busied herself by dusting the sand off her hands. "Because I missed you, I suppose."

Gilbert found his cheeks heating, as an unidentified emotion rose inside. He'd made the decision that it wasn't going to be like this- they would talk calmly, he wouldn't accuse, wouldn't lose his temper. Now, something inside him broke and he turned furious eyes towards her.

"You say you missed me back then."

Anne looked at him warily. "I did."

"Then why didn't you respond when I reached out to you?"

An almost speechless Anne floundered. "When? How?"

Honestly wanting an answer, Gilbert tried to calm down. "I came to Patty's Place sometimes."

Anne shook her head, bewildered. "I thought you were there to see the others, you hardly spoke to me-"

"I was waiting for you to speak to me! For you to show that somehow you still had a place for me in your life!"

Anne looked defeated. "Gilbert, I missed you constantly. That never stopped hurting me."

Gilbert turned to her in anger then, asking the question he had tried to answer for six and a half years. "Then as petty as this sounds, why didn't you dance with me on the biggest and most important night of our lives? The one we planned together, the one we worked towards for four years? Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Anne's look was fearful. "Gilbert, why are we talking about this now? You said that you wanted to start again- that you didn't want to go over old territory."

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. "We didn't need to back then," he said, with some difficulty. "But it matters now, Anne. You're in my life again, and I'm thankful- but if there's going to be real trust here, then there are things that I would like answers for." His voice was brittle, but he turned to her with watchful eyes. "Is that alright?"

Anne's heart was pounding, but she lifted her eyes to his bravely. "Alright." She swallowed, not knowing how much to say. "I- I said no to your dance because I was angry."

Gilbert turned to her, his glance sharp. "Right. So you carried my flowers that morning."

"I did."

"You kept catching my eye at the ceremony."

"I- I know."

Gilbert's hands were clenched, and he asked the next question through gritted teeth. "Then in the name of all academia, what did I do to you between then and the dance that night?"

Anne clenched her hands, her eyes stormy. "I refused the dance because I heard that you would be proposing to Christine Stuart that night."

To Gilbert, this was a shock he was not prepared for. He shook his head, trying to process this. "What? Who- who told you that?"

"Phil," Anne said shortly.

Gilbert's anger bubbled up. "Phil told you? Phillipa Gordon?"

"Yes," Anne said tersely. "On the way to the dance, Phil told me that you were to propose that evening. I had no reason to not believe it was true. And I was hurt and embarrassed and angry."

He turned to look at her squarely. "Anne, even if it had been true, and surely you know by now that it was just a rumour, why would that matter to you?"

Anne exploded at this. "Because you sent me flowers, Gilbert. Because that day you unmistakably reached out to me, and because I wanted to find you there- only to learn that you were about to pledge yourself to a woman who hated me-"

"For Pete's sake, who said that?" he asked, bewildered.

Anne gave him an impatient look. "Her actions, Gil- and her friends. Claire Hallett was constantly in my ear about Christine's dislike for me."

Gilbert frowned, trying to understand. "Let me get this straight. Phil told you I was proposing. To her."

"Yes. And I felt like the biggest fool in the world-"

He groaned. "Anne, I don't get this; back then, what did it matter to you if I did?"

"Because I went to that dance wearing the enamel heart!" Anne said furiously. There was a long, shocked pause as she realised what she just said out loud, and flung her hands up in defeat. "Gilbert, I went there knowing that you were thinking of me and wanting to show you that I was thinking of you too- that it mattered that you were still in my life and on that day of all days. And to hear that on that same night you would promise yourself to her, I- I couldn't handle that. I couldn't be calm and disinterested when what I was wearing certainly told me otherwise."

Gilbert's eyes were dull. "But I would have remembered- I never saw it on you-"

Anne's eyes were like flint as she pulled a small chain from her dress. She took it off with shaking fingers and handed it to him. A locket Matthew had once given her hung on it, but hanging behind the pendant was a pink, enamel heart that Gilbert would have sworn she had never worn. "I broke your chain that night," she said stiffly. "On the way to the dance Phil spoke, and I realised I couldn't go there wearing it. Not if she was with you. I was foolish enough to tear it off, but I could never let go of the pendant. So I kept it here."

Gilbert stared at the chain, utterly speechless. The heart wasn't the bright pink it had once been- it had rubbed against the locket, and time had worn the enamel thin. The warmth of the pendant made him swallow, and he had to force himself to not look at the collar it had nestled under. So she had worn it- and by the look of it, had done so for years.

Anne's voice was distant. "I know how it must have seemed to you back then. But Gilbert, you mattered. More than Roy, more than anyone else there that night. I knew that then. And maybe I had no right to be upset about Christine, but I was. I was selfish and angry and hurting. And so I said no to the dance. Roy proposed to me the next day, and I realised that I couldn't accept him. He didn't belong in my life. When I would put you before him- a friend's flowers, a friend's gift- and when I knew that I would always have chosen to put you before him, I couldn't accept him, regardless of what state we were in at the time."

Gilbert put his head in his hands, breathing heavily. "I- I can't believe this. I thought that you hated me. Or that Roy had seen the flowers and told you to stay away from me."

Anne's face was taut. "No."

Gilbert's head was swimming, and he sat looking out to sea for long minutes. How did this keep happening? Over and over the two of them had revisited the past, only to find that they had both been completely mistaken about the other one- what else was there? He looked down at the necklace in his hands and felt his own heart break as he gave it back to her. "I'm glad that you kept it," he said slowly. He watched Anne fasten it to herself carefully.

When long minutes had gone by, Gilbert sighed, his eyes clouded. "Anne, the thing I really want to know is about the summer after. You know I had typhoid- and I assume that you know I nearly died."

Anne's face paled. "I did, Gil."

His face was tense, and she saw with shame the way he had withdrawn from her, folding his arms on top of his knees. "I don't remember anything of it- just waking up when it was over. I had letters from people who had heard, I even had a letter from the head of the Redmond board wishing me well. Fred and Di sent a message, and I got a letter from Jane. And I kept waiting to hear from you- I knew that you would know- and when the doctor finally let me leave the house, I went to see you." He watched the shock cross her face, but didn't relent. "I came to Green Gables, and you weren't there. Marilla told me that you had gone, and wouldn't be back that summer. You knew I was sick, and you left. With no word, no note. You left. What was I meant to assume? If I'd forgotten that you refused to dance with me, I couldn't ignore the fact that you didn't care enough to write. That was the moment I gave up on a friendship with you- that was when I decided I needed to move on and forget you. It killed me to do it- but I couldn't waste any more time wishing for something that I couldn't have."

In the silence that followed, he watched her, hoping against hope that something- anything she could say would explain it.

The pain on Anne's face shook him to the core. Her tears seemed to scald, and almost he told her to forget his question- and if it wasn't for the fact that something deep inside told him that he needed- that they needed to have this answered, his heart might have failed.

Anne's voice faltered, and he had to bend close to hear her on the windy shore. "Gilbert, I can't begin to tell you how much I regret leaving. It was my biggest mistake."

He bent to look in her eyes. "Why did you go?"

"Because I couldn't stay," she whispered brokenly, her eyes pleading. "I can't explain, Gilbert- it was like something out of a nightmare, and then I heard your voice- and it destroyed me." She froze then, knowing now that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Gil, I was at Echo lodge when you became ill- and I returned home to find out that you were dying. It hurt me like nothing else ever has." Gilbert was unmoving, and he watched her intently.

Anne hesitated, and she shivered at the memory of his hoarse voice echoing through his parent's house. Almost she told him then- almost she spoke the words that had hurt her for years- and but her fear wouldn't allow her to speak. She could lose what little of him she had now. Sonia's words had not eased the pain of that day for her- even in delirium, her presence had managed to hurt him. Anne licked dry lips and stared out at the gulls hovering over the sandbar, until she realised that a sober Gilbert was watching her. The days that followed that dark night flooded her mind, and slowly she began to speak, her voice low.

"At first, I didn't dare leave the house in case word came. Marilla- insisted- after a few days that I couldn't help you by moping- and she encouraged me to attend Jane's wedding."

Gilbert found his voice then. "I forgot that happened."

Anne's smile was twisted with hurt. "I wish that I could."

"Why? What happened there?" he asked.

"Josie."

Gilbert's head flew up, his eyes suddenly cold. "Why? What did she tell you?"

Anne turned from him to stare sightlessly at the shore. "Josie gave me the news that you would recover- and she told me that all the town knew but me. She said that it was because you didn't want to see me, that your mother had said so. Oh, Gilbert, the maliciousness in her tone," she said, her voice shaking. "I never understood before just how much she hated me. She then told me she had heard from Charlie that Christine was coming the following week to be with her fiancé. We were standing side by side while Jane was getting married, and she smiled at me while she said it. I believed her, Gilbert. I only realised the truth when I saw you in Four Winds that Christine wasn't with you- I only saw then that Josie had lied."

Gilbert's mouth was open, his eyes horror-struck. "How could she- how could she think that would work? I would have contradicted it-"

Anne's voice held a bitterness that he had seldom heard from her. "But it did work, Gilbert. She told me- and I couldn't face it- I couldn't face the two of you being together when you rightly despised me. I went home only to pack my bags." She wiped her eyes wearily. "I have never been so terrified in all of my life as I was for you. I couldn't go to you again- I had hurt you too much. I know that I shouldn't have believed Josie- and I should have stayed, no matter what she said- but I believed her. I thought that I had no right to go to you. I'd been so cruel, and you were right to not want me there. As far as I knew, you were an engaged man."

"But I wasn't!"

"And I didn't know that!"

Gilbert surprised her by flopping back on the sand with a groan. "It always seems to come back to what we didn't know." He looked up at her sharply, then. "What do you mean I was right to not want you there?" He watched her shiver, her eyes frightened, and sat up quickly, his concern for her overriding the argument. "Anne, what is it?"

Anne's eyes were on the sand now, and she had pulled away from him. "I suppose- I mean, that I assumed you didn't want me there because of- of her."

Gilbert let out an explosive sigh. "Well, Anne, you were wrong." He scowled at the horizon, thinking through her story. "Did Marilla never tell you that I went to see you?"

Anne wiped a tear from her eyes. She shook her head dully. "No. She would have assumed it would only hurt more. I didn't tell her why I was leaving- but she knew that it was about you. It was a year later when she finally asked me what had happened."

After a time, Anne spoke, her heart breaking at his silence. "Gilbert, is there any way you can forgive me?" she whispered. "I can't change what I did at Convocation, or- after. But I was so desperately sorry for saying no to that dance. I was sorry that I didn't stay- I was sorry for giving you any reason to think that I didn't care. I did. I was terrified- I thought you were going to die, and that I would never get to tell you how sorry I was."

Gilbert's arms were clasped around his knees, and he breathed deeply of the fresh ocean air. There was so much in his head that he needed to sort through- information that his heart and head were warring over, however now was not the time. For a moment he said nothing, trying to keep his reaction light, and finally nudged her shoulder with his.

"We're too old to hold grudges, right?"

He watched her give a faint smile as she wiped her eyes. "You aren't old, Gil."

Gilbert snorted. "I'm three years older than you, remember. I'm an exhausted doctor who has to have his tea just right, and who can go to sleep just about any place, any time."

This made her chuckle. "That's lifestyle, not age, Gil. I've always thought that men seem to improve as they age."

"Ah. You think I've improved, don't you." His tone was smug, and he was pleased to see her laugh, the weightier subjects for now put aside.

"You're as handsome as you ever were, Gil. Just look at the way the unattached ladies watch you on a Sunday morning." He turned to her with a comical look, to see her looking out to sea with a grin on her face. "Trust me, they do. I always sit up the back so that I don't make so much noise coming up the aisle."

Gilbert shrugged. "We always used to sit there in the first two years at Redmond. Although that was because we didn't want anyone to see how much we talked through the service."

There was silence until he stretched out his legs, looking at the sun starting to sink in the sky. In the afternoon light, he studied her face.

"You barely seem older than we were back then."

His heart gave a twinge when he heard her disbelieving laugh. "I certainly don't feel young. I think last year aged me."

Gilbert's voice was gentle, then. "Come on Anne, that's grief, not age."

Anne tipped her head to look at him, her voice flat. "Gilbert, when you carry a walking stick and need assistance to do everything- and when you dress like this- it makes you feel older."

"Well, one of those things you can change." At her confused look, he sighed. "Anne, I've watched you go through mourning twice now. I know how much you loved Matthew and Marilla- but they wouldn't want you forever in this." He tugged on the black skirts that fell on the sand beside him and gave her a little smile. "I hate to see you in black. I think you'd feel better if you let yourself wear normal clothes again, irrespective of how long it's been. You always wore such pretty clothing." He ignored the slight blush on her cheeks and spoke gently. "Anne, did you ever think that the black has been a way for you to hide for the last eleven months?"

He saw the shock in her eyes and turned to face her squarely. "You can ignore me if you want to. But I wonder if you're hoping to not be noticed- if somehow there's a part of you that you aren't letting people see anymore."

Anne was dumbfounded by his words. "And you think by wearing colours I'll change that?" He only looked at her as she processed this, and Anne gave a sigh of frustration. It was her turn to fall onto the sandy slope, her arm shielding her eyes from the sun. She didn't see the grin that Gilbert gave at that moment- in the old days she might have stormed off the beach. There was no doubt about it- her lack of mobility meant more got talked out these days. She was silent for long minutes, and when she opened her eyes he was leaning back on his hands looking at her, his expression amused.

"You know, every now and then, I'm glad I hit you with a slate," she grumbled.

He grinned. "Every now and then I'm glad you did it too."

Anne sat up at the sound of a call from over the dunes, both of them suddenly brought back to reality.

"That must be Susan. She said she would come for me after she had seen her family."

Gilbert helped her to her feet, and put his hand on her arm, bringing her eyes to his earnestly. "Are you upset with me for asking about all of this?"

Anne sighed, and he waited nervously. "No. It needed to be laid to rest, I suppose."

He swallowed, letting his hand slide down her arm until his fingers brushed her palm. "It did. I hope you know that it wasn't about forgiveness- not now. I just needed to understand."

Anne's cheeks were pink, and she studied the ground beneath them. "I know. And you're right, it does matter now." She looked up at him, unaccountably wistful, and he lightly brushed her cheek with one finger, wanting to erase the sadness there.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Anne."

Anne smiled sadly. "Can you ever forgive me for hurting you?"

He smiled back, a weight he had carried for so long falling from his shoulders. "You know I have. Friends?"

Anne's glance met his own, and his heart leapt strangely at something unknown in her expression. "Always."

Gilbert turned to walk Anne up the hill, carefully assisting her now and muttering asides that had her shaking with laughter. When they reached the top of the hill unsteadily, Anne's cheeks were bright, and her face had a lightness to it that it had not worn earlier. As he helped her cross the dusty road, he gave Susan a courteous nod, trying to ignore her horrified look at his attire.

"Did you have a nice time with your sister, Susan?" Anne asked, trying not to smile at the housekeeper's distress. At her nod, Anne continued kindly. "Susan, Doctor Blythe was a captain of the football, rowing and marathon teams at Redmond. He was getting some exercise when he found me on the beach after I'd slipped in the sand."

Susan put her hands on her hips. "Oh, Anne. This is precisely why I didn't want to leave you here!" she said crossly. "Why you couldn't have just come with me-"

Anne turned towards the setting sun, her bright eyes scanning the horizon. "Oh, but Susan, the shore is lovely on a day like today. It's so cleansing for the soul."

An unconvinced Susan fussed and clucked over her as Gilbert helped her into the buggy. Anne bent down towards him, her face droll.

"Oh dear. I think I'll be sent to bed early for this." At his laugh, Anne smiled. "You know, I have missed our arguments, Gil."

He laughed then and stood to watch the buggy pull away. He waved as it went around the bend, and after a moment began to jog back down the dunes to where a patient Hippocrates was waiting tied to a post. As Gilbert mounted his horse, he thought about the difference in her when she left- the emotions that crossed her face, her laugh, the colour in her cheeks. He smiled then. He knew it. Somewhere, underneath everything she had gone through, Anne had always been there.

A week later, Gilbert Blythe stood in his regular pew at church next to Andrew and Lizzie. He heard the tap of a cane on the floor and turned to see Anne stepping into one of the back pews, glad at that moment she wasn't looking at him. A shy look that melted his heart was on her face, and she wore a simple green dress, with touches of creamy lace at her throat and sleeves. He smiled tenderly, seeing her tuck a vibrant red curl behind one ear as she sat down, and the only thought that made sense through the buzzing in his mind was this- now that's my girl. A gaggle of people entered just then, and large feathered hats and gentleman's bowlers hid her from his sight. Suddenly, Gilbert came to himself and turned to the front, his eyes glassy.

Andrew looked at him in consternation. "What is it, Gil? You look like you're about to faint."

Somehow a pale Gilbert found his voice, and his tone was ironic. "Oh, nothing I shouldn't have seen coming. I've managed to turn fifteen again."

Andrew looked at him in mock horror. "Good Lord, it better not be catching."

The opening hymn began then, and Gilbert was quick to open the book before him, his mind now working too busily to see that the pages were upside down.

After the service, when a shell-shocked Gilbert had himself under better control, he saw Lizzie and Andrew talking to Anne and Susan across the courtyard, and slowly walked over to join the group. Anne's cheeks were pink when she caught his eyes, and he reached up a hand to gently brush the pale green puffed sleeves. To his surprise, her cheeks only grew warmer, and her grey-green eyes faltered under golden lashes. She surprised him, then.

"Not one single word, Doctor Blythe," she muttered before flouncing off, leaving a stunned Gilbert under the trees laughing.