Chapter 36

The Blythe and Cuthbert buggies arrived at the old churchyard at the same time that Christmas morning, travelling together along newly-cleared roads. Davy had insisted on Anne riding with them, and Gilbert contented himself with watching his wife in the first buggy, attempting to split her attention between Davy and Mrs Lynde. She was adorable this morning, wearing a dark, fir green dress that made her seem part of the woods herself, as she walked outside into the clear morning. He grinned at the sight of her winter hat bobbing in the distance- something he now knew to be a postilion, from a hat-trimming conversation with Phil that had almost killed him of boredom. A ruffled Anne had then sent him out with an errand, reminding him severely that clothes were very important, indeed.

Gilbert leapt down at the fence to help Marilla secure the horse, before making his wife laugh at the possessive way he took hold of her waist, kissing her firmly when she was down on solid ground- regardless of the people watching from the church steps. He grinned at the eye-roll Davy gave, only to meet Anne's amused look.

"Davy has never been very good at sharing, I'm afraid. I tend to forget that he won't be a child for much longer," she said in an undertone. "Marilla says that he is growing quite moody and unpredictable, lately."

"Ah." At Anne's raised eyebrow, Gilbert grinned. "It's normal, sweetheart- he's almost thirteen. It's a rough age for boys."

"It's no picnic for girls either, dearest," she retorted, and he laughed.

"Never said it was. Although one might wonder if the shocking violence you displayed toward me at that time-"

Anne smiled at him sweetly. "Are you quite sure that you want to continue with that thought, my darling?"

He chuckled, placing her hand in the crook of his arm, and moving toward the doors of the church. "Not really, no. Although I do love it when your eyes snap like that."

Aside from a disgruntled look when Anne joined her husband in his family pew, Davy was relatively well behaved through the service. He livened up when he discovered a line of ants crawling along the top of the pew in front of him- however, he was mindful not to cause a disturbance in church. Instead, he happily watched them crawl their way into Mrs Elder Thomas' hat.

As the congregation stood for the opening hymn, Anne couldn't help but wander in her imagination as she looked around the small building. Prissy Andrews was home for the holidays- Mrs Priscilla Evans, as Mrs Harmon pointed out smugly. Her niece had married very well, indeed- as her daughter was set to do this summer if Diana's information was correct. Mrs Evans was accompanied by an adorable toddler, the very image of the young gentleman beside her. Mr Harrison was standing beside his wife, tugging at his collar, and looking mutinous when she shook her head at him reprovingly. Anne had to suppress a small smile. He did loathe his Sunday dress- and yet for Mrs Harrison's sake, he would comply. Neighbours Anne had known since she came to Avonlea, some of whom had known Gilbert as an infant- the very children she had taught, now three years older, and taking their first steps into the adult world. Mrs Lynde had told her that Barbara Shaw was trying out for the Entrance, this year.

Anne's gaze then connected with Diana's across the aisle, and the bright flash of a smile from her friend warmed her heart as it always had. She was standing beside her Fred, unconsciously placing her gloved hand on the belly that she had confided excitedly to Anne seemed to have actually grown a mite! Minnie May had said scornfully that it likely just cake, but that couldn't be it, because she hadn't eaten any cake…. She looked wonderfully happy, though- and Fred was fairly beaming.

The faces in the choir had changed as well. There was a new organist there; little Mr Baldwin had needed to give it up, so Marilla said- his poor hands were too twisted by rheumatism to continue. The new reverend was competent, Rachel had said with a sniff, although it would be several years before he would be forgiven for not being Josiah Allen. Anne couldn't help a little sigh, then. Mrs Allen had written to her shortly before they had left for Avonlea, saying that she hoped she would be able to visit in the summertime. The two little girls she and Reverend Allen had welcomed into the world were growing old enough to travel, and she spoke longingly of returning to Avonlea to visit.

Anne was paying little attention to her surroundings and found her hand being tugged, reminding her to sit down. Gilbert gave her a sly wink, and she blushed slightly, knowing she had been found out. He left her to her musing then, his arm somehow managing to sneak around her waist with a playful squeeze.

Anne's letter to Mrs Allen on the occasion of their marriage had been a decidedly difficult one to write, twelve months ago. Gilbert had suggested that they simply announce it as they had to others, indicating that they were simply impulsive; however, a worked-up Anne had insisted on earnest confession to the Allens. The Reverend and his wife had been both wise counsellors and loving friends, and Anne was unwilling to bend the truth as they had needed to do with so many others. The result was an unintentionally hilarious letter written by both Anne and Gilbert, one that broke the poor minister completely- collapsed on his sofa in laughter, his wife wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh, the poor darlings," she had choked before dissolved into giggles as well, before sobering up, and settling down to write a long and very understanding epistle back.

Anne smiled, remembering the way Gilbert had teased her at her relief when they received her warm, congratulatory letter. Mrs Allen had reminded them both how well they were suited and how much they had already accomplished together, before encouraging them to make the most of this time before they would finish college together. Perhaps this summer, she would be able to assure her in person that they had.

All around her was change, Anne realised. Avonlea had grown, even as they had. It was strange- there was a restlessness in her heart that surfaced every now and then- one that Gilbert occasionally succumbed to as well. Being so close to the end with five months to go, into a future that as yet was shapeless. She swallowed, knowing the work they had ahead of them- and she had not yet allowed herself to dismiss the possibility of medical school. Gilbert may change his mind- and she needed to be prepared for that, despite the fledgeling dreams of a little house near Phil, that her imagination had already begun to create.

Before she quite realised, the minister had finished his sermon, and she found herself being guided to stand beside Gilbert, who shot her a little questioning look. She drew in a deep breath, shaking her head to clear it of her abstraction. There was time enough for decisions to be made- for now, she would enjoy the time with their loved ones.

People seemed to relish the opportunity to remain talking after the service, and Anne stood to chat with Diana while Dora and Minnie May giggled about the young men standing by the fence. Anne hid a little smile at the look of faint trepidation on Dora's face, recognizing that she had no intention of talking with the creatures- not yet, at least. Minnie May had no such fear, and several young men were following the sight of the pink bows surrounding the careful curls she had cultivated on her head.

Nettie Andrews soon came to talk to Diana, and Anne again was hit with a feeling of unreality- on her arm was Billy's firstborn child, a round, solemn infant who stared at Anne with unblinking, dark eyes. Who was Nettie talking about, now? Herb Spencer was engaged to a young lady from Carmody. Diana gave Anne a curious look, not immediately recognizing the name.

Anne remembered him, of course- the man Ruby had loved so. Anne mustered a smile, then. He was a good man- he deserved to be happy. Just then, a harassed Nettie had realised that she had forgotten something and turned to deposit her baby into Anne's arms after Diana shied away from him in horror. Anne couldn't keep her laughter contained at this.

"You are having a baby, dearest, you really must learn to hold them at some point."

Diana screwed up her nose, in mistrust. "He's staring again. It's so strange."

Anne adjusted him on her hip, chuckling. "It would be much stranger if he wasn't, Di. Babies watch- it's how they learn."

"No, he looks deeply suspicious about something."

Anne gave the little boy a tickle under his chin, and she was enchanted to see him break into a sudden, toothless smile. "Oh, look at him! He's perfectly content. Don't you think that he favours Jane a little?"

Diana looked at him dubiously. "Perhaps a very little…"

Gilbert had been making his way through the crowd with Fred, and he blinked in stupefaction when he finally reached Anne's side, to see her holding a dark-haired infant.

"I'm fairly certain you didn't have that when I left you."

Anne laughed, and the baby's smile broke out again. "This is Billy and Nettie's little boy, Gil. His name is Angus, would you believe."

Gilbert's eyes twinkled at her mischievously, and he raised an eyebrow as he prodded the fat little hand that clutched Anne's finger tightly. "Hmm. So that makes him Angus Andrews?"

"Oh, it's much worse than that," Diana piped up. "They named him after his maternal grandfather, too. Adam Blewitt."

Anne looked at her friend in shock. "They named him Angus Adam Andrews?" She exhaled and gave the little fellow a droll look. "That is quite a name to live up to, little man."

"And just think, in another life he could have been your son, Anne," Diana said in unholy glee, causing Gilbert to unceremoniously choke, as Fred thumped his back. "You did hear about that, didn't you, Gilbert?"

"Yes, I- I err, did."

Anne gave Angus Adam a roguish smile. "I think you have just the parents you were meant to it, don't you, little love?"

At this point, Nettie rushed up, her breathing heavy as she took her son from Anne. "Oh, goodness, I am sorry; the minister's wife is such a talker! I do hope Billy has the wagon ready, the family will be there for lunch almost as soon as we arrive home. We must go. I suppose it will be you and Gilbert having one, soon enough, won't you? Mark my words, though; there aren't enough hours in the day when they come along."

With this ominous-sounding prophesy, she left the young couples behind her, all looking mildly discomposed. Diana told Anne that she would see them when they came for dinner the following day, and was swept up with the Wright connection within a minute- leaving Anne and Gilbert alone once more.

There was a startling look on Anne's face that made Gilbert pause, and his voice was soft.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

She shook her head, summoning a smile. "I- it's nothing, Gil."

"You'll have to do better than that, love." He gave her a curious glance, then. "Do you think anyone will need us for a little while? I wouldn't mind stretching my legs before everyone gets to the farm."

The couple were sent off with an indulgent look from Gilbert's parents as they turned to walk home together, and Anne let out a breath of relief when they walked into the wood, and the silence of the winter's day surrounded them. The canopy of the Haunted wood had kept the forest floor clear of snow through the night, and the trees were a welcome respite from the wind.

"How many times do you think we have walked these paths together?" Anne asked absently.

"Countless." He sighed, his look contented. "Ahhh, this is what we needed- just to be alone for a bit." There was silence for a time, and he turned to see that Anne was walking along, deep in thought, and reached out for her gloved hand. She gave him an odd, half-glance.

"I was asked several times this morning if we had any news of our own."

"You mean, other than our imminent graduation?"

She turned to him, with a wry look. "I don't believe that was what they were referring to."

He gave her a wink and grinned at her. "Face it, we're boring now, sweetheart. The wedding is over, the scandal clearly disproved- now they want us to procreate to maintain their interest."

Anne wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust. "Ugh! You scientists do strip the romance out of life. And it's so unimaginative. Do people have no concept of what university entails?"

"They don't. You know that," he said patiently. "College was our goal- and we're almost there. And I don't see why it should bother you- their opinions have no bearing on us."

Anne seemed to grow even crosser at this comment. "We have this once-in-a-lifetime chance to finish our education- to decide what we want to do with our lives. Rushing into parenthood would be foolish-"

Gilbert swung her around to stop her under a tree, suddenly serious. "Hold on, Anne-girl, who said anything about rushing into that?"

Her grey eyes were glittering, and she scowled. "We don't know where we will end up living. We don't know what career path you will take, and we need to keep the option open for you to study if you wish to." He opened his mouth to comment on this, however, something was odd about her argument- and he decided to wait as she ranted passionately. "How many women would have sacrificed anything for the opportunity that we girls now have? It's not right to squander that responsibility for personal gratification- and whatever joys may come to us later in life, it won't be what it is now- don't we need to take this time to make the most of our education?"

Gilbert straightened up then, his look stern. "Look, wherever you are getting this from, it isn't coming from me. I specifically said that we would wait, if you remember."

She slumped against the tree trunk, her grey eyes filled with turmoil. "I know that."

"Then where is it coming from? Not the gossiping old bats back there, surely."

There was a pause then, and a dispirited voice he hardly recognised. "It's from me."

Now utterly bewildered, he grabbed onto the branch beside them to study her face. "This isn't one of your most rational moments, love."

At this, Anne pushed past him in anger, forcing him to jog to catch up with her as she stomped down the path. "No. It isn't, Gilbert. It's completely illogical, and not at all what you would expect of a good Redmond student. I know that." She stopped cold, and rounded on him, a suspicious glistening in her grey eyes. "I am the one who is wishing that I could tell them- tell you right now that you and I are having a baby, a beautiful little baby all of our own." She didn't miss the way Gilbert only narrowly avoided walking into a nearby tree, his mouth gaping in shock.

"Anne-"

"Yes, I know," she said crossly, folding her arms. "It's selfish and thoughtless and foolish, and not at all something I thought I would be feeling, only a year after our wedding, and just months before we are due to finish our degrees."

With a prayer for sanity, Gilbert pulled her down to sit on a convenient, fallen log. "You- you actually want this? Now?"

"Yes!" she shot back before her shoulders dropped in defeat. "Well- that is- well, I do. But we can't."

He sighed, a look of wonder on his face. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

She swallowed, her eyes on the hand that still held her own. "I- I suppose ever since we left Avonlea in June, last year." She looked up in some fear when he bounded to his feet, walking a few steps away from her. When he spun around, she refused to meet his eyes, fearing his reaction. "The night of Diana's wedding- the night we spent by the pond- it changed everything, for me," she muttered, her cheeks flushed with more than cold. "I went away from you the next day finally knowing that I was in love- and our future became so real, and vivid. I started to see who we would become." She broke off and sighed as he knelt down in front of her, his eyes unspeakably tender as he ran his hands up her arms. "I wasn't planning on saying anything to you about it. I know that it can't happen now. We- we have so much before us. And I feel so guilty for even thinking about such a thing, right now. What would the girls say to me if they knew?"

"I imagine that they would support you, just like they always have," he said gently.

She seemed to be wrestling then, her lovely face clouded. "We fought so hard to get here."

"Well, we've almost made it, love. And we're not pregnant." He bent down to catch her eyes, a wry look on his face. "Not even close."

Anne seemed to recover some of her poise, and she shot him a naughty look. "I don't know about you, Gilbert Blythe, but it feels a lot closer than it ever did before."

He gave a little snort of laughter and sighed as he pulled her into his arms, and she nestled into his coat lapels. "I know. I want to throw caution to the winds, too. But- I- I don't want to take any opportunities from you, sweetheart. To finish college- even to write the way you always wanted to."

Anne snuggled into him, her look wistful. "I told you; it's me wanting it. It isn't like we have the time to think of this, at college- and I know that it is more sensible to wait. But here, people are moving on with their lives, and I wonder- I wonder what it would be like to really begin ours."

Gilbert was quiet for a time, before pulling back to study her face. "Anne, if I don't choose medical school-"

Anne pulled away, now visibly upset. "I don't want you making this decision based on an impulsive want of mine."

He exhaled, rubbing his face. "I'm not. I only want to do what is best for you and me- and for our future family." There was a slight pause, and Gilbert gave a wry chuckle. "Can I tell you something? I know that we weren't always on the same page, but ever since last Christmas, and the fiasco that was, I've had a secret fear of us having to break the other type of news to our families this Christmas."

"A secret fear?" Anne challenged, making him laugh sheepishly.

"Oh, not the baby itself- just having to admit to Marilla and my parents that we'd jumped ahead of ourselves again."

There was a peal of laughter from her, then. "So you'd be fine with us becoming parents in our little Mushroom right now- only you don't want to tell people back home about it."

"Tell me you don't see some romance in that, love."

There was a pause, and Anne's eyes were soft. "I do." Her cheeks flushed then, and she was silent for a few minutes, while Gilbert waited patiently. "Well- we haven't done that."

"No." He gave her the warm smile that was for her alone and bent to kiss her forehead. "Anne, there's no point worrying about this. Wanting a baby- or I should say, our baby-" here, his cheeks flushed brightly in the cool wind- "It doesn't make you any less ambitious, or a bad co-ed, and it certainly doesn't mean you aren't grateful for being where you are. We're just- a little ahead of ourselves."

"I know. We're already ahead of our classmates," Anne said softly. "And yet we're behind where a married couple would be expected to be at home."

He stood up then, pulling her to her feet and turning them toward the farm, her hand tucked in his tightly. "We've got our own path to walk- and we'll get to all of that, in time. Pioneers are supposed to be struck with madness, aren't they? That's really what it comes down to. We're pioneers."

Anne laughed, feeling lighter inside. "It was rather mad to propose to a co-ed who fell on top of you in a medical tent."

"Oh, you're far madder than I am," he teased, as they sauntered down the path. "You said yes."

When Anne and Gilbert finally arrived back at the house, waiting for them all were Gilbert's great uncle and aunt, freshly arrived themselves. The couple were beaming as they embraced Gilbert and his young wife, exclaiming at how well they looked, and how proud they were of the two college students. Anne found herself included in the conversation as Uncle David asked after her classes, and Aunt Melanie spoke of their own time in Kingsport many years earlier, and the small town in which her husband had practised for over thirty years. Their grown son was a surgeon in Ontario, with a family of his own- he had once or twice suggested coming back to work with his father, however, it seemed unlikely, at this point. Gilbert's aunt took Anne's hand lovingly, inviting them both to come to Four Winds in the summertime; and to be introduced at once to Marilla and the twins.

Christmas gifts were taken into the parlour to opened later that day, and Amelia soon had the women bustling about setting tables in the dining room, with great platters of food were jostling for position on the table. Davy grumbled a little at being placed at a 'children's' table- that was, until Gilbert plonked himself and Anne down there, and it became the table to be. Dora sat by Anne's side at dinner quietly, overwhelmed by the noise of the small room, and the couple were kept in stitches at Davy's account of the Christmas concert a week earlier. He'd been cast as an angel, apparently- along with Milty. Gilbert tried without success to keep from laughing until his wife muttered that perhaps there was some wishful thinking on the part of the teacher. After that, he had to leave the table in order to sober up, much to the consternation of his mother.

John insisted on taking the children outside after dinner to see a new batch of kittens in the barn, shrugging innocently at the expression on Marilla's face when Dora pleaded to keep one- or three- in the milk shed. Gilbert kept them company, instantly noting the wistful look on Marilla's face as she watched Anne float around the kitchen assisting his mother. Amelia had noticed the same, and sent her guests out to the parlour, promising to bring them a cup of tea, by and by; as Anne caught Marilla up on their news in the warm room.

"Phil is to be married in June, once college finishes- Jo is presently at work on the manse in Patterson Street. Gilbert and I think that we will most likely travel there straight from Redmond, and then come home to Avonlea after we are done."

"And how long is the wedding after your graduation?"

Anne snuggled into the sofa, her smile warm. "Two weeks, I believe. We did talk about coming home first- however, we may need that time to close up the house properly, even if it is only for the summer."

Marilla looked up from her customary knitting, her expression carefully neutral. "I suppose the two of you will need to begin making decisions, soon."

"We will need to, yes," Anne replied slowly. "We still don't know-"

"I wasn't looking for a confession from you, Anne. You've got some months, yet."

Anne gave her a relieved look. "We will let you all know as soon as we decide where we are headed- I must say, this feeling of limbo is extremely frustrating."

"I rather thought the two of you would see the adventure in that," Marilla said slyly.

Anne laughed then, her cheeks flushed. "You would think so- however a little more certainty would be nice."

"Are you planning to work?"

Anne instantly saw the real concern in Marilla's question, and her smile faltered. "I- we don't know, really. Gilbert and I are working on that now. We have a few ideas. And- I'm writing something. My professor thinks that it might be ready to send it out to some publishers."

Marilla looked up, her eyes wide. "Really, Anne?"

She gave a small laugh. "Really. I've been working on it for the past few months at home, while Gilbert has been tutoring. Around my own schoolwork, of course."

"I imagine he knows about it, though."

"Oh, of course. He's seen a few story-related fits of despair."

Marilla shook her head, with an amused smile. "I thought you might have grown out of that."

"Oh, dear me, no. I don't seem to be able to separate myself from it at all- and I do take it all so personally," Anne said, with evident cheerfulness.

Marilla gave a comfortable chuckle. "I think your reaction to the Baking Powder story taught us all that."

"Will I never live down that wretched competition?" Anne moaned, making the older woman laugh. "My poor Averil! Professor Winston encouraged me to chalk it up to experience, and to write something better."

"So what is it, then?"

Anne smiled. "You might recognise some parts of the story. It's about a girl," she said lightly. "And she is a thoroughly imperfect one- one who moves to a new place, and makes all kinds of mistakes, and has many loving people to guide her."

"I seem to remember a girl like that," Marilla said fondly. "And what happens to her?"

Anne laughed. "She doesn't drown a mouse in syrup, or flavour a cake with liniment, at least- she has a whole set of adventures and lessons to learn all of her own. Her name is Megan- and I have loved writing her. She is surrounded by love as she grows- and that, thanks to you and Matthew, is very much what I know."

There was a pause then as Marilla took Anne's hand in her own, her lips tight with suppressed emotion. She took the time to gather herself, before a smile was allowed through. "I'm very proud, you know. Matthew would be, too."

"I owe it to both of you," Anne said simply, and she smiled, hearing her husband call out to Davy outside. "And to Gilbert, as well- and Diana, the girls, Miss Stacey, dear Mrs Allen, and Mrs Lynde-"

Marilla's eyes twinkled. "Rachel will be thrilled to hear that. Well, they say that it takes a village to raise a child."

The pair talked undisturbed for some time, allowing the pain of the distance to begin to dissipate. Anne told Marilla of the changes that had come to the little home in Kingsport, and the studies that would consume the next six months- and Marilla watched the changes that moved over Anne's expressive face, smiling at the evident happiness there. Time had not stood still at Green Gables, either, and she shared the plans she had for the property - with the children growing older, she had begun to turn her mind to what would need to happen to make the farm profitable again.

Gilbert stood on the back veranda as this conversation was taking place, a contented sigh erupting at the familiar sight and smell of home. The afternoon was crisp, and the scent of damp pines was in the air; and instead of empty, grey streets, there were the limitless hills and valleys he had grown up with. He could hear the tea trolley rattling on the wooden floors, and the sound of his father shaking his boots off at the front door, conversing with someone- probably Uncle Dave, who had been ushered out to see the new horse. With a slight smile, he sat down on the back step, enjoying the peace and quiet for a time. This was shattered some minutes later by a startled holler from the barn, one that had Gilbert leaping to his feet to investigate. What he saw next doubled him over in laughter.

Davy was perched on the top of the ladder that led to the hayloft, whilst his mother's gander sat at the bottom hissing indignantly.

"Need a hand there?"

Davy scowled at him, inching further up. "Don't see why you're laughing; you're down on the floor with it."

Gilbert by this time had a handful of grain and tossed it away from the ladder. The goose glared at him malevolently, however, he followed the trail into a small pen, leaving the rest of the space clear. He moved back to the ladder, grinning.

"That's Hank. He's evil- but greedy. He's likely mad that you didn't offer him something in the first place. Mother's the only one he doesn't dare sass." He put a foot on the ladder, his expression thoughtful. "I haven't been up here in years- are you going up or down?"

"If down means tea with the girls, I'm better off here."

Gilbert shook his head as the tow-headed boy disappeared, and climbed up the ladder himself, testing the rungs dubiously. It held, though. He looked around with interest as he scrambled into the loft. One of his old jobs had been to keep it tidy- evidently, he'd been at college for several years, with hay strewn over the floor, and cobwebs looming in the windows. This was how it should be, Gilbert thought lazily, flopping onto a loose pile of grass. The space within was sweet and warm- he really should bring Anne up here, later. There was a smart boot by his ear that belonged to the younger boy, and he nudged it playfully.

"New shoes?"

"I wasn't allowed to wear my comfortable ones visiting, was I? Your dad got to wear his old ones."

Gilbert snorted. "All of Dad's are old- except the ones he wears to church. And what are you doing away from all of the food?"

"I've lost my appetite."

Gilbert came up on one elbow, his look stern, now. "What's going on, Davy?"

"Nothing," the boy said sullenly.

"You're usually happy to see us come for the holidays- and it's Christmas. What's got you so worked up?"

Davy kicked a rock near his foot and jumped as an angry yowl came from one of the haystacks. "Steady on, it's just a cat. They're everywhere," Gilbert said, dismissively. There was a pause, and Gilbert only raised an eyebrow at him.

"Marilla won't let me quit school," Davy muttered eventually.

"And ten points go to Anne," Gilbert said, under his breath. "Alright. Is that so very bad?"

"They're nothing but a bunch of babies, there. All the other boys are leaving."

At this, Gilbert snorted. "I seriously doubt that."

"Your dad said he didn't go past thirteen," Davy said rebelliously.

Gilbert scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face the almost-teenager. "Dad had to leave school when his father died. He and my grandfather- whom I never knew- had to run the farm between them. It's not the same thing."

"It is so. Who do you think's running Green Gables?"

Gilbert blinked at the harshness in his tone and answered patiently. "Davy, your schooling is important. Marilla has everything under control, right now. Everyone needs an education. For example, how will you know if someone is cheating you if you don't know how to do basic mathematics?"

The boy seemed to be swelling with fury and glared at Gilbert. "They just want me to be like you."

"Whoa, now! No one has ever said that."

"They don't need to! Mrs Lynde keeps telling me that I'll have to be the man of the family soon, but they won't let me do anything about it. I've just got to be a good boy, and learn my spelling." He seethed away in silence then, while Gilbert stared at him.

"You think you need to leave school now so that you can take care of everyone?"

"Yes!" he spat out. "I don't want to go to college! You just had to go there, and now Anne's there because of you-"

Gilbert reined in his anger at that comment, his voice calm. "Hold on, now, Davy, Anne's there because she wants to be. She didn't go there for me."

"She only said she was going after we found out that you were. And, last year, I overheard Marilla tell Mrs Lynde that Anne stayed for you," he retorted, and Gilbert gave a frustrated sigh.

"Look, Marilla meant something different than you think," he stated, his voice firm. "I'll explain that another time. We're at Redmond right now because we want to be. They don't want you to be like us- they just want you to grow up a bit." Davy went to get up in anger, and Gilbert grabbed his shoulder. "You're just thirteen," he said calmly. "When I was your age, I was away with Dad in Alberta. We brought him back home when he was better, and he sent me right back to school. I didn't want to be there. I'd missed three years, there were little kids who were further ahead than I was. And when I got there, there was this skinny, red-headed girl, with the brightest eyes I'd ever seen who wouldn't give me the time of day- who was just as behind as I was- and she was so thankful to be getting an education. It made me want to work harder to keep up with her."

Davy scowled again. "But that's just Anne. She likes school."

Gilbert shrugged, a small smile on his face. "She wants to be the very best version of herself that she can be. So she wanted to keep learning. That's- that's rare Davy. No one expects you to follow us to college- but they want you to be the best version of you that you can be too. If that's a farmer, fine. But be a smart one- be one that goes into it prepared- you'll have a household to support, one day."

Davy heaved a sigh. "I know. Marilla and Dora- and Mrs Lynde, I suppose," he said glumly. "I'd look after Anne if I ever needed to, too."

Gilbert chuckled. "I know you would, Davy-boy- but that's my job, thank heavens. You'll have your own family to look after- so will Dora, I hope. And no one expects you to do it alone- you'll grow into it all. Trust me, Marilla has things well under control. Give yourself a bit of time to grow up- enjoy not being in charge right now. And Anne and I will be there when you need us. "

"Even in Kingsport?"

"Even in Kingsport."

There was a pause, and Davy grimaced. "I guess I could stay for one-"

"Two…"

"Two more years," he said, with an unearthly groan. "I'll be the only one left."

"You won't. You think the mothers of your classmates want them at home underfoot?"

The pair talked for a while longer, and by the time Gilbert suggested that it was getting colder, Davy was looking far more cheerful. He couldn't help but grin as they walked the path from the barn to the house. Thirteen was confusing enough without the half-listened-to conversations between the adults- he knew that Marilla had been talking about plans for the farm for several months.

"So what are you doing after you two finish college? You're not going to take over this farm, are you?"

His resigned voice let Gilbert know that Davy already knew that answer to that. "No. And- I don't exactly know, yet."

"Does Anne know you don't know?"

Gilbert snorted. "Do you really think I could keep that from her?"

Davy gave the older man a considering look. "Nah. She'd have it out of you in no time. But you've still got to have a job."

Gilbert pushed the boy's hat over his eyes, smirking. "Of course I do. But we don't know where- or what- and it won't be for a few months yet."

"Really? Because Mrs Lynde says that you'll end up having a baby any time now-"

At this, Gilbert turned, his look cross. "Okay. No more sentences that start with something that Mrs Lynde says."

"But she said she was sure. And Marilla-"

"Look, Anne and I will tell you where we are going as soon as we know," he said, now thoroughly discomposed. "And as to us having a baby, no one knows anything about that, but Anne and myself-"

The look of horror on Davy's face would have been comical if Gilbert hadn't understood immediately how his words had been interpreted. "You mean you got her pregnant? By doing that- that THING?"

With a wild glance at the sitting room window, Gilbert clamped a hand over the boy's mouth, his teeth clenched. "Davy, we aren't- we haven't- I just mean that it's our business, not anyone else's. Not my parents, Marilla, or Mrs Lynde, or anyone else who isn't Anne or I. Alright?"

Davy shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "Alright." He shuddered and the shot Gilbert a cross glance as he turned to walk inside. "And by the way- if what you told me last year is really what happens- that's disgusting."

Gilbert was left standing on the steps, laughing. He looked out at the late afternoon sky and rubbed his face in exhaustion, remembering all of the years he had spent loving and waiting for Anne. Thirteen was still so very young.

"How about we revisit this conversation in a couple of year's time," Gilbert muttered, his mouth twitching into a smile.

It was late when the Green Gables folk left for the evening, and Anne and Gilbert stood on the veranda with his parents to farewell the family. The older couple were the first to go inside, to make sure that David and Melanie were settled, and Gilbert slipped his arms around Anne's waist as they watched the lamp on the buggy move down the hill. "It's nice to get some time with you, at last," he murmured, and his wife began to chuckle.

"I've been here all day- however, I know that you mean alone," she teased, before falling silent, listening to the wind in the firs. "So what did I miss?" she asked sleepily. "You were with Davy for awhile."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to the top of her red head and smiled. "Oh, nothing we haven't already heard from everyone else. What are we going to do after college, and are we having a baby?"

Anne laughed then. "What a coincidence! I had the same conversation several times over." There was a silence between them then, and Anne sighed, leaning back against him. "We just don't know what is around this bend in the road, do we," she said, in true Anne philosophy.

"No. But I do know that I want to enjoy the scenery with you as we go."

She nodded, glancing up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. "I agree. Gil?"

"Mmm?"

"I think we should make the most of our time alone, don't you?"

He grinned as he scooped her up from the steps, and turned to go inside. He felt her laughter against his collar and headed for the stairs, stopping briefly on the landing to press a swift kiss to her lips.

Whatever was ahead for them, it was going to be worth it, with her in his arms.

I did say that this would be wrapped up in 40 chapters...

Would you believe 43?

Love to all, Cate.