Dr Chamberson stood at the window, looking down to the great oak tree in the garden below. The last of its red leaves had fallen but there was still a flurry of colour dancing around the tree. Quite literally. She was dancing. Or at least trying too. Anne was still a little less than graceful on her feet but she was able to achieve a solid twirl on her toes before she collapsed in the chair. It would be inhuman not to laugh at her antics, and at least up here his laugh wouldn't break her magic.
It did, however, catch the attention of his esteemed colleague. "Ah, it must be at 2 o'clock."
"Hmmm?" Dr Chamberson answered, with a distracted air.
"Well, you certainly aren't here for my dazzling wit and charm. Every day, you find some reason to stop by around 2 o'clock. You ask me a few questions and then gaze at the old oak." Dr Taynes stood up from his desk. "As much as I appreciate the distraction from reading about paediatric gastroenterology, I do feel the need to point out she is not your patient anymore."
A soft, low chortle rolled out of Dr Chamberson as he turned to face his friend. "You are, as always, quite right. Anne is not my patient anymore but she is such a delight. And even just a brief sight of her spirit is enough to soothe a weary soul, don't you think?"
Dr Taynes stood next to Dr Chamberson and looked down to the garden. "Absolutely in agreement. Trust me; she is a joy in my day as well. So, to maintain our secret, are you going to tell me what is on your mind today?"
Dr Chamberson turned back to the window. "See her dancing down there? Look at freely she moves. Yes, I can see she is still stumbling a little and a tad uncoordinated. However, she is uninhibited here. All of her dreams, from her coma, were all about things holding her back. Fear of social expectations. Fear of love, albeit the wrong love. Fear of failure. But she overcame all of that and woke up."
Down below, Anne stood up. She straightened her shoulders and assumed a dancing position. This time, she was determined to achieve two twirls.
"She is so determined. No one is ever caging this dragon again." Dr Chamberson sighed. "She will be an amazing teacher for the children. In fact, I predict the most brilliant turnaround in the history of paediatric rehabilitation purely because she will inspire them to return to life. I just need to convince her to return to her life."
"Her life?"
"Yes. The hospital and all of the lovely little securities we give her. It's just a fantasy. She has to face the real world. What's out there…"
Anne twirled twice and collapsed on the damp grass. Her head was spinning and her ears were ringing but she did it! She achieved two twirls! A small laugh escaped her, just as Nurse Foster came running out to the garden.
"Anne, what in the heavens are you doing out here?! I was told you were heading back to your room for lunch!"
"Oh, Kate. I need to practice. There is a Winter dance coming up soon and the rehab nurses said I might be able to try dancing! Wouldn't that be a lark? Oh, I know I wouldn't be able to dance the whole night but if I could just manage one dance, it would be such a celebration!"
Nurse Foster bent down to help Anne brush off her skirts. "Yes, it would indeed be a celebration but I swear! You could have told me first!"
Anne smiled and said, "No. I need to do some things on my own. Just to know I can."
"Like, perhaps, walking outside the hospital?"
And just like that, the smile dropped. "Yes. Well. I'm working on it…"
Nurse Foster sighed. Any hospital staff who knew Anne also knew her fear of going outside the hospital grounds.
"Don't look now but your dancing efforts are on display again."
Of course, Anne instantly felt compelled to look around. "Is Gilbert here?" She did not think to look up to the windows above and thus missed the hurried exit of Dr Chamberson.
Nurse Foster, however, seized the moment. "Gilbert is the first person you thought of? You have a ward of kids counting down the days until you open the "Hospital School". You have a bunch of doctors who look at you like the miracle coma girl. And you have a shadow of nurses wondering why you have turned down the handsome and rich Roy Gardner… Yes, yes, *I* know why you did but *they* don't. You have all of these people who are constantly looking out for you and you think of Gilbert?! Methinks the lady needs to share some words with me…"
At that moment, Anne suddenly felt like a young girl being questioned by Diana on her feelings for 'that boy'. Instinctively, Anne wanted to vehemently deny everything! How could Nurse Foster dare to think of Gilbert and Anne in that way!
A soft breeze rolled through the bare branches of the oak. It broke the spell of history and old mistakes. Anne looked up at Nurse Foster and smiled shyly.
"I still owe him a dance. To say thanks. And if I have learned anything from my time in hospital it's that we don't always have second chances. It may not mean anything to him anymore but I want to give him that dance."
For a moment, the two friends smiled. And then Anne noted something peculiar over Nurse Foster's shoulder. Something red and small, hidden on the wall near the doors. It was easy to miss as you walked out to the gardens but on your return to the building, the image could be seen very clearly.
It was a chalk drawing of a dragon.
Nothing too elaborate or fancy but it was very distinct. Small wings. Long tail. Long-ish snout. Very much British style dragon.
Anne walked over to touch the image. As she reached out, she noticed another red dragon inside the hallway, about 50 metres away. It was larger and easier to see. The dragons seemed to be leading her away from the rehabilitation centre and towards … the front entry hall.
"Anne? Anne, where are you going?"
Anne turned back. "I … need to do something." Anne turned and followed the dragons down the hall. Nurse Foster was stunned at this sudden turn of events. Slowly, she followed Anne at a safe distance, so as not to interfere with whatever was happening.
The dragons lead Anne to the front main doors of the hospital. She knew they were going to take her outside. The idea terrified her but she trusted the dragons. This was her sign. She was ready.
She turned the door handle and with a shaky step, Anne left the building.
Anne made it all the way to the footpath before she realised she had no idea where on Earth she was going. She hadn't seen a single red marking, dragon or otherwise, to guide her. Surprisingly, it wasn't the noise or the 'busy-ness' of the road that overwhelmed her. It was this new sense of complete autonomy. Anne had not felt like this in years.
She looked down the street and vaguely remembered the tea-house. It was close enough for her to walk on her own. But she didn't have any money! Once again, Anne had been so caught up in the adventure she had forgotten to do any preparations first! Anne was hoping the lady … what was her name? Mrs Caroll? Yes, maybe she would remember Anne and allow her to sit by the fire before returning to the hospital.
A cold wind blew past Anne and she realised she was not wearing a coat. No coat, no purse. Oh yes, this seemed more like the old Anne. She laughed as she thought how lovely it would be to write of this to Marilla… except she didn't have any paper or pencil either!
"Well, that does it then," she said to herself. "Get thee to the teahouse, Miss Anne Shirley. And figure it out there!" Slowly but surely, Anne walked in the direction of the teahouse.
It took considerably less time to reach her destination, compared to her previous visit with Gilbert, and this only excited Anne further! When she stepped inside, her face was positively beaming. While the glow in her cheeks could be passed off due to the cold outside, the shine in her eyes was definitely something else. There was a fire or spirit or something burning right out of her, with such power and release. There were only a half dozen patrons in the teahouse but everyone single one was immediately attracted to gaze upon Anne in wonder.
"Hello, miss! Come in out of the cold! It's so lovely to see you again!"
Anne smiled towards the voice and saw Mrs Caroll greeting her at the door. "Oh, it is so good to see you again too! I came outside and I wasn't really sure where I was going and then I remembered your delightful hearth, like a big warm hug, and I simply knew I could come here to rest … I mean, may I please sit by your fire to rest?"
Mrs Caroll let out a strong motherly laugh. "My, you are filled with the words, aren't you? Any friend of Mr Blythe's is a friend of mine. Come, come. Sit, lass, warm your toes, and I'll fetch you a cuppa."
Anne was relieved. The fire was warm and toasty, with an extra blanket by the side just in case. The high-back chair was beautiful with a worn feel to it; oh, the stories this chair could tell, if only it could talk. Once again, Anne's hand began to itch as she suddenly gained some inspiration to write.
Mrs Caroll returned with a tray carrying hot tea, a couple of biscuits and a notebook with a pencil. Anne's head whipped up to Mrs Caroll. "Are you some sort of angel? I was regretting my sudden desire to go for a walk. Or more accurately, I was regretting my utter brain-scatteredness and forgetting to always carry a pencil."
Mrs Caroll's smile was warm and sincere. "There are three chairs here, love. There is the 'talking chair' to your right. Slightly back from the fire with a shorter seat than the others. Those who like that chair tend to sit forward and give big long spiels in their chats. If you ever see Mr Wallace in this chair, be prepared for a looooooong night. I'll point him out to you; it's a matter of self-preservation." The two ladies shared a quiet conspiratorial laugh, and Anne realised she now really wanted to meet Mr Wallace.
Mrs Caroll continued. "The chair opposite you is the 'Thinking Chair'. It has a much deeper seat and the wings come right up and over your shoulders. That's Mr Blythe's chair. I've never seen him sit anywhere else. You probably didn't even realise it yourself. This is the chair to sit by the fire, engage with the other two chairs, and still watch everything else in the room. Others have fallen asleep in this chair, lost as their dreams mix with reality. But not Mr Blythe. He sits there gazing at the fire, thinking about all of the world's problems, or at least his world. I have asked him if he at least has somewhere more comfortable that he sleeps instead and he simply smiles."
"And then this chair." Mrs Caroll crouched down next to Anne's chair. "This was my husband's chair. Oh no, don't you worry about it, lass. I'm so pleased to see you choose this one. Very few do. Many look at the worn fabric and choose one of the others. But I can't bear to part with it; either dispose or re-do the cover. This was David's chair to his last day. He was a writer and artist. Always had a pencil and book in his back pocket. And the number of times I would find charcoal hidden in his pants. I'd only forgive him if I found it BEFORE laundry day." There was a sad twinkle to her laugh.
"David would sit in this chair and write whatever was on his mind. Where others would talk or think, he would escape into a whole other world. If you were able to bring him back, he would often be happy to share his stories with you. Faraway lands, grand adventures with knights and faeries and wee-folk. He particularly loved writing about his dragon; a huge green beast who would fly away with him, back to Ireland and green meadows of lore. It became such a predictable state, I knew to always bring a pencil and paper with his cuppa."
With a low moan, Mrs Caroll slowly stood up. "Very few people choose this chair, lass. But the ones who do always seem to light up when I bring pencil and paper for them. It's like the chair knows what is deep inside." With one last tender touch of the chair, Mrs Caroll turned and slowly walked back to the kitchen. Anne was left wondering over her words, and the history that rested upon this 'throne of stories'.
Many hours later, Gilbert found Anne sitting in the exact same chair. She was casually writing in the notebook, oblivious to the comings and goings of other patrons.
"She's been there all afternoon. Hasn't moved except to say a quick thank you for her cuppa before she dives back into the book again."
Gilbert looked up to Mrs Caroll. "That's my Anne-girl." He caught himself as soon as the words left his mouth. She wasn't his Anne-girl, but he knew this was closer to the Anne hiding within than the Anne he had seen prior to the accident. Still, it was rather presumptuous of him to have made the statement.
Mrs Caroll hadn't really noticed. "I used to say the same thing about my David. Be gentle when you speak to her. They never like being startled."
Gilbert smiled in agreement and gently walked over. Anne looked up only when he sat in the highest winged chair, smiling at his choice and glancing briefly at Mrs Caroll standing in the kitchen doorway. Mrs Caroll replied with a soft chortle, saying to herself "... every time…"
"Good evening, Gil."
"Good evening, Anne. I'm glad you are aware of the hour. Nurse Foster was starting to worry about you. I took a punt you might be here."
Anne smiled. "I thought the hospital staff might be glad to see me finally step outside on my own."
"Always. It's an important part of your rehabilitation. However, you really should tell someone where you are going. And at least bring a coat. Now that the sun has gone down, it is mighty cold out there."
Anne noticed her coat hanging over Gilbert's chair. "Well, I'm grateful for a friend who is far better prepared than I. Plus, you knew exactly where I was."
"Yes, Mrs Caroll's hearth is a reliable destination." Gilbert looked across at Anne and noticed she was nearly at the end of her notebook. "I know you've been here all afternoon but have you almost finished writing in that book? That's amazing!"
She blushed a little under his praise. "I remember so many life lessons from my dreams. Things my dragon taught me. Things that would be great to teach children to help them in their own recovery. When I start teaching in the new year, I'm not simply covering their ABCs. I need to inspire them to get up and try again. Just like Drage did for me."
Gilbert smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."
There was a quiet pause in the conversation. Gilbert relaxed next to the fire while Anne toyed with the corners of her book.
"Gilbert… Um, will you go to the Winter Dance with me, please? I … well, I owe you a dance."
The question seemed to have come from nowhere. At least that's how it appeared to Gilbert; Anne had been dwelling on this thought for almost a week.
"Anne, I would be honoured. Thank you."
And that was the perfect time for Mrs Caroll to bring over some soup for their dinner.