Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this reimagining of the life of our beloved Anne Shirley. In this alternate universe, the Cuthbert siblings simply could not afford to take care of Anne, and they agree that she needs to go live with the Blewett family. This story will definitely earn its M rating. I'd love to read your comments!
Anne walked dreamily through the beech trees, enjoying the journey home from town. She had so rarely been allowed to leave the Blewett's home for the past six years that even a trip to the mercantile to acquire some flour was a special treat. She stopped to gaze upward at the green leaves swaying gently in the breeze and sighed. Only two more months. Two more months until she turned 18. Two more months of servitude to the Blewett family, and she'd finally be free.
Anne heard the dinner bell clanging from a distance and picked up her pace. If she didn't hurry back with this flour, she'd never hear the end of it from Mrs Blewett!
"Anne! Anne Shirley! What on earth is keeping you? Quit lollygagging and get in here right now!"
Anne bit her tongue and rushed towards the house. Six years of beltings and nights without supper had done a right miracle on her tongue, Mrs Blewett liked to brag to the neighborhood. She wasn't that sassy little 11 year old who Providence had dropped in her lap anymore, no not at all. She was still a skinny little snip of a redhead, but even Mrs Blewett had to admit she was much quieter these days.
An hour later, Anne lay in her tiny cot up in the attic room that she had been told to be grateful for for the last six years. Here, late at night after the Blewett parents and their never-ending passel of children were finally fed and in bed, Anne would read one of her few books, if she had a bit of candle to use, or she would imagine. Imagine how life would have been if she hadn't been an orphan, passed from house to house. Or imagine how the future would be.
Anne knew that her red hair and slim figure would likely scare away any prospective husbands, and she hadn't enough schooling to be a teacher. Two months away was freedom, but freedom was also frightening, without a home of any sort to go to. At least tomorrow was Sunday, and since the Blewetts were never much of a churchgoing family, Anne was allowed to take herself to the small, white church in Avonlea for services.
It was always bittersweet, walking amongst the people of Avonlea and worshipping with them. She had spent one glorious evening in a white and green home in Avonlea, when she first came to the island, and even now it pained her to remember that night.
The Cuthberts, an older man and his sister, had sent to the orphanage for a boy, and through some dreadful mistake, Anne was sent instead. The Cuthbert siblings scraped by, but didn't have money to raise a girl who couldn't help much with the outdoor chores and also afford to find a boy to help around the farm. So, the next day, Anne fell into the lap of the Blewetts and there she had stayed.
Mrs Blewett was on her best behavior that day, and told Miss Cuthbert repeatedly what good care she would take of the poor child, how she'd never want for anything, that she would go to school with her own children, and to church every Sunday. Anne quickly learned that the real motivation for taking her in was that she had experience with children, and Mrs Blewett seemed to birth another child nearly every year.
Anne went to school, sure enough, and enjoyed learning. She caught up with the other students quickly and remained at the head of the class, until one fateful day that a tall boy with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile walked into the classroom. Gilbert Blythe. Anne rolled fitfully on her cot, remembering that day.
Gilbert had tried to get her attention, and upon failing, he grabbed her long red braid and called her Carrots. Anne was righteously indignant and cracked her slate over the obnoxious boy's head. He hurt her feelings excruciatingly, as her red hair was her one true sore spot, and she told Mrs Blewett when she arrived home that she would never return to school while that Gilbert Blythe was there. Mrs Blewett was secretly very happy, as she'd now have an extra pair of hands to help with the children. A few months later, Anne finally had the desire to return to school, but the promise that she would attend was long forgotten.
Going to church every Sunday was the only promise that Mrs Blewett actually kept. She grumbled about it every week lately, but her husband kept reminding her that Anne wouldn't be their problem for much longer, and maybe she could at least find a husband going to church.
Anne, of course, had no plans of finding a husband, but she happily played along with their plan, so as to enjoy at least a few hours of peace away from the chaotic household. The only part that truly frustrated Anne was that Gilbert Blythe. He never missed a Sunday meeting, and he'd been trying to get Anne to forgive him all these years, but she pointedly ignored him. He had tried walking her home once, about a year before, and she refused to say a single word to him the entire walk.
Anne finally drifted off to sleep on her small cot in the warm, windowless attic. Her sleep was haunted, however, by dreams of a tall, roguishly handsome man with curly brown hair and piercing hazel eyes.