Jerry stared down at the math problem on the slate in front of him with a look of mistrust, always suspicious when he solved the problem too quickly and worried that he missed something. He sat at the desk nearest the window at the front of the class for his lessons and as he blew away the chalk dust from his slate the tiny white particles drifted into the air and caught the warm sunlight beaming in through the window panes. He finally stood up and turned the slate around slowly, wincing nervously as the teacher looked up from her desk where she was grading papers to check his work.

"You've finished already?" asked Muriel as she put her pen down. As Jerry nodded, she squinted her eyes to see his answers and didn't hesitate to let the smile grow on her face. "That's your final answer?"

Jerry sighed and said, "come on, Mrs. Stacy...just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

She immediately stood from her seat and walked over to her bookshelf that held all of her favorites: Wordsworth and Keats, Shakespeare and Homer, Austen and Brontë. "Not only did you solve it correctly, Jerry, but you did it in record time!" As he began to celebrate, Muriel bent over to the very bottom shelf where she kept all of her mystery and fantasy novels, searching for a reward for yet another successful math test that would suit Jerry's taste in fiction.

"Oh, wait!" Jerry interrupted. "If you wouldn't mind, I think I'd like something a little different this time. Something a bit more...sensible, possibly? I want to read a book along with Diana." Muriel held back a surprised look as she listened to his explanation. "We plan to write to each other and give our opinions, so I'd like for it to be a sophisticated story."

Jerry seemed confident in his decision to deviate from his typical selection, so Muriel stood up and browsed the shelf that held the volumes she was looking for. As she handed a rather heavy book over to him, she explained, "Great Expectations should be exactly what you're looking for. There are still plenty of villains and battles to keep you intrigued, but also a fate-compelled love story to charm Diana as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stacy!" Jerry looked down at the heavy book in his arms, hoping its weight would emphasize his intellect to Diana. "This will definitely impress— I mean, this will be perfect. Is the lesson done for today? Mr. Cuthbert wanted me to help with the cows before dinner."

"Yes, you may be on your way...but Jerry," Muriel placed her hand on Jerry's shoulder, "I do hope you are reading simply for your own enjoyment and the enrichment of your mind. Impressing a girl, while completely natural for a young man your age, is not something that should be driving your education."

Jerry smiled down at his teacher who was a few inches shorter than he was at this point in his growth spurt. "Don't worry, Diana and I are just friends writing to each other about our common interests. I read because I love stories. It is something that, before, was only available when my mama would whisper them as she tucked us in each night. Now, stories are here," he said as he held up the book she had just given him, "ready for me at every moment of every day. Other than playing music, I do not know of anything else that makes me happier than reading."

"What about music that tells a story?" Muriel asked with a grin.

Jerry pondered her statement for a moment and replied, "I suppose all music tells a story."

Muriel smiled brightly at that and said, "I suppose it does." She started walking back over to her desk to sit down as she said, "You have a story to tell, Jerry, don't forget that. There are many people that want to hear your story, whether through song or simply just conversation."

As Jerry considered her words carefully, Bash entered the vestibule of the schoolhouse and quietly dusted off the frost that had covered him on his ride over. He overheard their conversation as he hung up his coat and hat.

"Mrs. Stacy, may I ask you a question?" She looked up from her papers and nodded encouragingly. "If Diana was someone I, uh, had feelings for...would it be so bad that I was trying to impress her? Is the spectacle of searching for love not the plot of half the books ever written?"

Bash quietly chuckled to himself as he stayed out of sight in the vestibule, not wanting to interrupt what sounded like such an important conversation.

Muriel said, "It's not bad to try and impress a person that one might have feelings for, in essence. My warning is only meant to make sure you are true to yourself. Love comes easily and unexpectedly sometimes, and other times it is, well, a little more complicated…" Bash and Muriel both were very aware of the complications of love and simultaneously shrunk at her words from their separate corners of the schoolhouse. They had both recently begun to contemplate the obstacles that love created, though neither of them had gathered enough courage to speak it aloud to the other, as of yet. Muriel suddenly added, "wait, did you say you play music? I didn't know that!"

"Just the fiddle. My family has played together every night since I can remember; music has always been a part of my life."

"You should teach the children! Our music class is severely lacking an instrument and my singing leaves much to be desired," Muriel joked.

Jerry shrugged and said, "but I don't know how to teach it, I can't even read music myself. I just play by ear, like the rest of my family."

"Well, then you should learn to read the language of music; if you can already read two languages, you might as well add another!" Muriel thought for a moment, trying to determine the best possible way to make that happen, then added, "what if I find a book for you? I have a friend in Halifax that is a music teacher and would most likely be able to recommend a few to get started with."

"That sounds wonderful! Thank you, Mrs. Stacy!" Jerry began to gather his things as Bash finally made his entrance, deciding he was no longer in danger of interrupting such an essential conversation. On his way out, Jerry greeted Bash who was holding a saw in his hands. Jerry gave him an odd look as he left and Bash walked up to Muriel's desk where she was still working.

"I see you've blatantly gone against my wishes, Sebastian Lacroix." Muriel leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms while suppressing a smirk.

"And I see you've decided to punish me by usin' my full name? Ouch…" Bash grabbed his chest as though her reprimand had caused him physical pain, but he couldn't keep the smile off his lips. "Besides, I'm only here because I'm tired of hearin' about your desk that pitches and rolls worse than a ship in a storm." He held up the saw that he was carrying and said, "so I've come to fix it for you."

"Yes, well, you could have just loaned me the saw and I would have done it myself! It's the only tool I don't have since I don't get into woodwork too often…"

"I could have, that is true, but then I wouldn't get to see what all the fuss is about with this brand new schoolhouse!" Bash looked around the room and took in Muriel's perfect handwriting on the chalkboard, the neatly arranged desks, the brand new supplies for the children to use while expanding their minds under Muriel's instruction. "I haven't seen it since I helped with the framing; it looks a lot better and feels a lot warmer with walls and a roof."

Muriel laughed at his joke as she stood from her chair and started to clear off her desk so that Bash could cut off the tiny bit of the leg that caused all her wobbly trouble. He helped her move a heavy stack of books that she had sitting on the corner and then slowly turned the desk onto its side to begin measuring the legs. They worked well with each other in content silence, Bash sawing away as Muriel swept up the dust. They were used to each other's presence at this point in their friendship, well acquainted with how the other one thought and how best to quickly accomplish a task together. They had built the fish smoker together, then worked on replacing missing panels in the barn. Bash had helped Muriel re-work some of the mortar on her fireplace and clear some overgrown ivy that was ruining the stonework of her walls. Each time, they would seamlessly fall into the rhythm that they found themselves in again at that moment, the rhythm of two people that enjoyed each other's company and were compatible in more ways than one. Muriel glanced at Bash as he wielded the saw with precision; Bash caught the scent of bergamot from the tea Muriel always drank. Their arms brushed against each other, something that always seemed to happen in every project they worked on together, causing a rush that was ignored by them both as they focused instead on their task at hand.

When the desk was perfectly balanced and Muriel's belongings restored to their proper place on top of it, she finally broke their peaceful silence and thanked Bash for his help,

"It's no trouble, really." Bash looked down and saw Muriel's hand resting on the desk next to his. The temptation to feel her hand in his overwhelmed him, and he wasn't sure why. He knew he loved Muriel, she had become as much his family as Gilbert was. The universe had given them a bond that only blood usually shared, as though it had brought them together on purpose. But now he was confused as to why that bond was turning into something different, something he didn't expect. Unsure of his own intentions or what her reaction would be, Bash placed his hand over Muriel's as she looked down in surprise at their sudden connection. Slowly, she turned her hand until she was able to clasp his and hold it tightly, suddenly having the nerve to encourage his offer of intimacy, as small as it was.

Neither of them looked at each other, still unable to face what was growing between them. As they sat in silence holding on to each other, something shifted. It wasn't an icy draft creeping in from under the door. It wasn't the sun setting through the window and leaving them in darkness. The shift was in their bond, slowly moving from friendship to something deeper. Something warm, something bright...something complicated that would have to be kept secret.

—

"Jerry! Viens ici!" Ella was yelling from the front door of the Baynard's house into the open wilderness that surrounded them, unsure of where her older brother was and too impatient to find him. So she yelled. "Viens ici, maintenant!"

Jerry popped his head around the corner from around the back of the house and simply said, "in English?"

Ella rolled her eyes and said, "come here!"

"In English - and nicely…"

Stomping her foot impatiently, Ella repeated, "come here…" then reluctantly added, "please!"

Smiling at his sister's compromise, Jerry walked around the house and up onto the porch to ask what she wanted.

"Papa said that he needs more wood for the fire before Mama can begin, uh, le potage?"

"The soup," Jerry answered.

"Yes, the soup. I am starving Jerry, please, you must hurry! I will die if I do not eat soon." Ella stated it matter-of-factly as though that would make Jerry move quicker.

"Only someone as dramatic as you would learn the word 'die' before you learn 'soup'...tell him I will bring it in quickly so that I am not responsible for your early death." He chuckled as he walked right back to where he had been before Ella called for him, sitting by the woodpile writing to Diana. He had finished the first two chapters of Great Expectations on his day off from Green Gables and was writing his response to Diana's letter that he had received a few days earlier. Before he started piling wood to carry inside, he read over his letter to make sure that it had no errors and signed his name at the bottom.

January 14, 1900

Chère Diana,

Thank you for your letter, it surprised me to hear from you so soon.

I am also happy for new beginnings, especially with you, Diana. I know that things were difficult for you last year, as they were for me, but I am happy to have a chance to start again. Mr. Cuthbert always says, "when something ends, naturally, something new begins." Of course, he is talking about turnips...but I like to think that although that part of us ended, something new may begin now. Perhaps something even better. I will admit I thought of you often for the past few months. The way your smile would grow when you saw me step out from behind a tree, or the sound of your laugh when I would try to be funny. I am glad to get to know you more too...the small taste of what we had wasn't enough. I also want a life with you in it, whatever that may bring.

Listening to so many instruments play at once must have been amazing! I am sure they were much better than I am, but thank you for the compliment anyway. I have heard of a phonograph but never seen one. I'm sure Anne loved it! Mrs. Stacy is arranging for her friend to send some music books so that I can learn to read music, like you. Maybe one day we can play together?

I have started reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, in case you are interested and have time to check your school library for it. Mrs. Stacy recommended it, and although I'm only two chapters in, I can say that it might be one of the most interesting books I've ever read. The way Dickens writes makes the characters seem like real people! Pip always talks so lowly of himself, and yet he acted so kindly to that stranger. I think someone's actions show who they truly are, no matter what they or anyone else says about them. What do you think?

I hope you are having fun at school and can't wait to see your letter arriving in the postman's hands soon.

Bien à toi,

Jerry

Earlier, on a whim, he had sketched a small scene on the bottom corner of the letter before Ella had come calling for him. It was a small version of himself with a confused look on his face, holding a book that said "reading the language of music" in one hand and a violin in the other. It was how he envisioned his venture into learning to read the notes on a page would look: comedic. It seemed amusing at the time when he was lost in drawing his sketch, but now he wondered if Diana would laugh at his caricature.

"It doesn't matter…" Jerry mumbled to himself in French as he folded the paper up and stuck it in his pocket to post the next morning. "I think it's funny." He was learning to not let the worry sneak into each thought regarding Diana.

As he entered the house with arms stacked full of wood for the fire, his father ran over to help him. "What took you so long? I was going to come and check on you to make sure you hadn't chopped a finger off!" Mr. Baynard teased.

"I was just finishing up a letter, sorry Papa."

Mr. Baynard's face fell serious as he rested the last log on top of the pile and turned to examine his son's face. There was a small smile hiding in the corners of Jerry's mouth that didn't want to be seen by his father's intuitive eyes. "Was it a letter to Mademoiselle Barry?"

Not looking up from where he was focusing on getting the logs to catch fire so his mother could begin to cook, Jerry answered, "yes...is there something wrong?"

Holding both hands up in an attempt to show he meant no harm in his question, Mr. Baynard said, "of course not, you can write to whomever you please! I'm proud that you even have the ability to write to anyone at all, much less to a beautiful girl." He placed one hand on his son's cheek as he had done to all of his children since the day they were born. Physical connection was something familiar and heavily sought after by all the Baynards, and by making this gesture Mr. Baynard attempted to soften the words he was about to say. "A beautiful...and very wealthy girl, from a well-respected family. I just want to make sure you are not searching for something you will never find, my boy."

Jerry looked directly at his father and with as much conviction as he could gather he said, "I know what I am doing, Papa. Thank you for your concern, but Diana is the one that has sought out my friendship. I do not pretend to be anything other than I am and she knows that...now. I am not naive enough to think that I would ever have enough money to tempt Diana's parents, but you taught me that when you feel a song deep in your soul you must play it. This is the song I am writing; I do not know how it will go, but I must try to see how it sounds."

With a sad smile that a concerned parent gives his child, Mr. Baynard simply nodded and wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders. "Okay then, I trust you will be careful with your heart - and Diana's. Come, let's help your mother start peeling the potatoes or we will never get to eat and Ella said she will not survive another hour without food in her belly. We wouldn't want that on our conscience!"

—

The airy notes that drifted around the parlor at Blackmore Boarding House were much different than what usually left the piano when Diana played. She was pushing her own boundaries by playing Debussy - someone her mother would have never approved of, but her music teacher at Queens was quite adamant about touting him as one of the greatest composers of their time. She decided she would simply try the sheet music her teacher let her borrow since it couldn't hurt to expand her repertoire and her mother would never find out. Unexpectedly, the moment her delicate fingers began to sweep across the keys, Diana felt a hidden dream within her began to emerge. The song evoked an emotional response that she hadn't been prepared for, causing a pleasingly warm tear to run down her cool cheek. His notes ebbed and flowed in such a way that she felt them pulling her dream of being a musician out from the deepest part of her soul.

She was lost to the world around her throughout the entire song, and when she finally came back to reality she looked up from the keys with just enough time to glimpse Anne leaving the room with a smile on her face. Noticing a letter on the top of the piano that had not been there before, Diana's heart skipped a beat as she picked it up and turned it over to see Jerry's name written on it. Anne usually sat and read on the sofa while she played, but her sweet bosom friend had delivered this letter and left her to read it in privacy. She didn't wait until she went to her room, the letter was opened immediately and read while she chewed on her lip to keep the smile at a respectable size in case anyone saw her. His handwriting was simple and masculine, causing Diana to run her fingers over each letter to try and imagine his rough hands writing those words just for her.

"...the small taste of what we had wasn't enough…"

Her mouth fell open in a most unladylike fashion as she let his statement sink into the very depths of her heart. He also wanted more. He wanted a life with her in it. For the first time ever, Diana let some of the marks against herself fall away. She had done the right thing and began to heal their relationship, and now she was being rewarded with the best gift imaginable: hope.

I bet you guys think I abandoned you! Ahh a whole freaking month went by :( I'm so sorry, my life got SO crazy and then my anxiety kept me from writing, which sucks because it really helps me decompress, but I have been much better lately :) Anyways! I have THOROUGHLY missed you guys and missed Anne and this story. Even though I couldn't write, I was able to listen to the first Anne of Green Gables audiobook and I rented the 1980s movies from my library! I think it helped give me some much-needed inspiration and I really enjoyed them. I still like AWAE better haha, but they really were great so you should check them out if you haven't! Except that last 2000s movie they did was garbage hahaha in my opinion at least...
Okay, moving on. Thank you so much for being patient with me and for all the support for my story. This may not be my best chapter as I'm getting back into the swing of things, but I hope you Derry/Mash shippers out there enjoy it. I just made up Mash, not sure if that's a thing...
Love you all and hope you are happy and healthy!