Timeline - Anne of Windy Poplars, The First Year. This chapter occurs before chapter 8.

Chapter 8: His Stupid Hands

The sound of the snow and ice shifting off the roof replayed in Anne's head over and over again. It was such a sudden and harsh sound, but very familiar too. Scrape. Scrape. She followed the annoying sound to the last time she had heard it so persistently. Depression and sadness overwhelmed her as the memory engulfed and dragged her backward in time. She was sixteen and Marilla let her put her hair up for the service. Matthew had died. The first man that had ever cared for her was gone.

Matthew's funeral had brought more folk to Green Gables than expected. She knew it was rude of her to leave the parlor of mourners, but it would have been more upsetting for them to see her come loose at the seams and cry inconsolably. She sought solitude from the crowd in the pantry where she scraped the plates clean of leftover funeral cake and cookies. Marilla was functioning better. Cool and composed, nothing could touch Miss Cuthbert, or so her guests thought. Anne heard Marilla's steady, unaffected voice from a comforting distance as she worked.

She felt fortunate that there were so many plates as she dispassionately ran the back of her knife over them for the slop bucket. Scrape. Scrape. She tried not to see the Blythes enter the parlor. Gilbert's father and mother tried to comfort Marilla. Gilbert asked where Anne might be.

Anne held back tears and thought, "No, not today. I can't deal with him today."

Gilbert Blythe looked at her when he wandered too close to the pantry. Anne could feel the weight of his hazel eyes. He said nothing but Anne knew he was begging for her attention. He was making her heart race as he waited for her to return his gaze, and it was getting more difficult not to by the second. It was the one time in her life she really wanted to return his stare, to show him she wasn't cowed, but she couldn't risk it. She knew that his face would be perfectly composed with just the right amount of concern; and just the right amount of wonder; and just the right amount of love. If she looked at him, she would cry. She knew it! And what would he do? They weren't friends, but he wasn't her enemy either, not really. That had been her invention, her attempt to scare him off. Gilbert understood her like no other. They were kindred.

He stood there and waited, his hat in his stupid hands. If she cried, he would hug her. She just knew he would. He would wrap his arms around her, and hold her close, and make the ache go away. And then she would accept all the love he had for her and lose herself to him. Whatever they were as children would be over and they'd be something different henceforth, something enviable. Anne wasn't ready for that yet. Why didn't he understand?

Luckily, Diana Barry saved her from the travesty of accepting his sympathy. She pulled him away and back into the parlor, hard. Anne kept her head down and stared at the plates that had to be washed. A faucet of tears was dripping onto them. Her pride was no help. She looked back to the spot where he had stood certain of only one thing.

He could have helped her heal.

Anne didn't know how long she was out when she began to stir. Her head hurt terribly and the tiny bit of candlelight that she saw when she cracked her eyelids open intensified the pain. She wanted to sit up but just trying to move caused her stomach to rumble and flip. She heard Marilla softly say, "Lie still, Anne! We're all so worried for you. You've been out for hours and hours."

Anne moved her hands down to her stomach and tried to hold its contains inside of her. The scraping noise she kept hearing over and over again was a branch on the window. Remembering that Snow Queen had been cut down last March, Anne asked, "Where am I?" She knew she wasn't in her room without needing to see.

"Gilbert carried you to the guest bedroom, Anne." She stroked Anne's brow carefully. In the darkness, she adjusted Anne's cover and by her shadowy outline and the soft complaints Anne made, Marilla knew she was trying her best not to wretch.

"Here you go dear," Marilla said as she placed the sick bowl into Anne's hands. "Best get it over with."

After Anne had finished Marilla rubbed her back. Anne slumped forward and exhibited some improvement. "What time is it again?"

"About two o'clock. You're probably thirsty. I'll go get you some water. Do you want to change into your nightgown?" Marilla picked up a garment that had been spread out on the foot of the bed. "I brought it downstairs hours ago, but I didn't want to disturb you. Gilbert said not to move you if at all possible."

Anne then noticed that her clothing was unbuttoned as she removed her arms from her gray blouse. Her corset was already off. "Who took off my corset?"

"Helen cut it off along a seam. She spent the rest of the afternoon mending it on my Singer," Marilla answered. "It was important that you could breathe and move unrestricted. Gilbert insisted that it be done." Marilla took the clothing Anne handed to her for the laundry.

Anne burrowed back into the pillows, feeling a million times better in fresh garments. "Where is Gilbert?" She thought about the memory that resurfaced. She knew in her heart that Gilbert wanted to be with her.

"I sent him and Helen home," Marilla confessed. "He was determined to stay though, I almost had to get the rolling pin." Marilla chuckled but Anne did not. She read Anne's silence as a disappointment. "He's going to be a fine husband, Anne," and Marilla's voice cracked a bit with sweetness, "But I need to do this, to sit up with you, to help you. You're my little girl, Anne, and I need to know you need me still. You're not married yet."

Anne closed her eyes once more as she laid on her back and Marilla fetched Anne the promised water. Was Gilbert really so protective of her as to oust a doting Marilla Cuthbert from her side? Marilla wasn't one to mince words. Anne ached to know Marilla felt displaced. How could she not know there would always be a place in her heart for her, that no one could dislodge, not even Gilbert Blythe. It did not matter how keenly she felt Gil's longing to protect her as she hurt. She was being loved and cared for by the woman that raised her since age eleven. She told Marilla so and it was a long pause before Marilla could easily breathe again. Anne did not mean to damage her stoic countenance.

"Do you remember what happened?" Marilla asked as she placed a cool mug into Anne's hands. Anne sipped first, slowing, trying not to gulp. Her head still felt funny. She wanted to know why Gilbert hadn't healed her. Instantly, she knew that he had tried, but just couldn't do it. Anne placed her fingers behind her ear and felt the kiss Gil had left on the lump he couldn't quite cure.

"The snow from the roof fell on us. What happened after that?"

"Anne, it was pandemonium. I about died from a heart attack when I saw all that snow, ice and then that huge branch come down on you and Rachel. The pair of you were fainted dead away and Davy was jumping all over the place in a thirteen-year-old's panic. Imagine how much more surprised I was when Gilbert touched Rachel's exposed belly and healed her. And then… well, you know how curious Rachel is. Helen and I were trying to keep her distracted as Gilbert tried unsuccessfully to heal you. Land's sake child! I have no more current wine in the house."

Worried-"Rachel doesn't know about Gilbert, does she? We were going to get her to his uncle and..."

"She doesn't have a clue which is why Gilbert is still going to bring Dr. Dave around. I'm sure he'll be checking in on you too." Marilla brushed the fine threads of red that grew from Anne's hairline back behind her ear. "But there's another young man that wants to see you first. If you feel up for it."

"Davy?"

"Yes," Marilla sniffed and stopped in the door frame. Her long shadow cast against the wall from the faint light of her candle. "Be kind to him, Anne. He was very frightened for you… and now he's fearful about Gilbert. It couldn't be helped, Anne, he knows."

"Come in, Davy," Anne heard herself calmly say. "Shut the door if you could, please. The light hurts my eyes."

Anne heard Davy backtrack his steps to close the door. The inky darkness helped Anne's headache so much. She sat up a tiny bit, plumping a pillow. Davy took a seat on the bed next to her. Anne reached up and touched his face, noticing how sad it was by the feel. Her thumb ran over his slightly wet cheek.

"You've been crying for me?" Anne was genuinely touched. "All this time? I'm not sure I deserve that."

"Oh, Anne!" Davy wailed, brushing her hand off. "I thought you and Mrs. Lynde were dead. I thought I killed you. You were so far under the snow and Mrs. Lynde wasn't moving. And I knew it was my fault. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I promise never to get on the roof again."

"Hush Davy, hush," Anne finding his hand in the dark. "It's not your fault and I'm fine. Mrs. Lynde is fine too if I understand correctly. There's nothing to forgive here. It was an accident, Davy. It was only an accident."

Davy continued to hold Anne's hand, and with his other, he petted her with great contrition. He didn't know what else to say, but took comfort in Anne's warm grasp, knowing that she had woken up and seemed herself.

"Anne, I didn't know 'bout Gilbert's powers." Davy trembled out, and then he squeezed her hand as hard as he dared. "But I won't say anything to anyone, not Mrs. Lynde, not Milty, not even Dora."

"I'm glad to hear that. You show good judgment. Does Gilbert know you know?"

"Yes. He apologized so many times for not being able to heal you," Davy answered. "Miss Blythe tried to explain a little bit, but I was too upset to listen."

Anne returned Davy's squeeze. "Davy, Marilla seems to think you're afraid of Gilbert now. Please tell me it's not so."

"I didn't know." Davy quietly defended himself. "He scared me because he was so worried about you and he seemed... I dunno, almost like he had a fire inside him trying to get out. When he stopped trying, then he seemed normal, but for a few minutes, he wasn't. I'm not sure what I saw, but it wasn't...natural."

Anne blessed the darkness. Her own jaw had dropped as she thought over his telling. Davy had a tendency to exaggerate but she suspected that his description of Gilbert, trying everything he knew to help her, was spot on. She supposed the mixture of Gilbert's inability to heal her and his protective nature was a difficult sight to reconcile for his young eyes. Anne wasn't going to explain what he saw, she wasn't sure she could. Instead, she adopted a different approach for the young man.

"The other day I told you that you didn't need to give me a Christmas present. I've changed my mind on that. There is one thing I do need from you, and only you can give it to me." Anne softened her voice and slowed her speech so Davy would understand that she wasn't mad at him. "You do understand that Gilbert will be my husband. I need you to not be afraid because when we have children—you'll be Uncle Davy. Doesn't that sound lovely, Davy-boy? You'll be so good at it, I know it. So, how can you be the best uncle in the world and be afraid of Gilbert? Providence chose you and Dora to be our children's family. Don't give up just because things are a tiny bit different than you thought."

"What should I do Anne?" Davy asked. "I'll do anything to make you happy right now."

"Maybe try and see Gilbert as the brother you never had instead of 'that boy' that likes me. Gilbert doesn't know what a happiness it is to have a sibling. Will you do that? For us?"

"Yes," He brushed his face clear off new tears. He had always looked to Gilbert as his role model, given the very short supply of men at Green Gables, but now he had permission to regard him as such. Anne managed to change the way Davy saw Gilbert, and the change was just enough to help smooth out his fears.

"Hello Anne," Gilbert said as he entered the guest room. "How are you feeling?"

Anne was lounging on the already made bed in an old dress, her legs stretched out before her, her hair was neatly tied back in a very low ponytail. Gilbert could see that Marilla had let her have breakfast in bed earlier. The tray perched on the side table was ready to be collected. He left the door to the hallway ajar. Anne could hear the voices of other visitors. Gilbert's father and another man's voice that Anne only assumed belonged to Dr. Dave.

"Mr. Blythe," Anne started to say, "If I answered that question with the strictest honesty you may find my revelations shocking and brutal, so I will inform you that I am better this morning, no thanks to you."

Gilbert smiled uncontrollably as he took a spot next to her on the bed. He leaned in and kissed her with it. Anne immediately responded with a kiss back for him and she found her hand on his shoulder. He spoke with a sigh of relief, "You sound like you! And I like it." There was another kiss and then he reached around her ear and felt the lump. Anne flinched.

"Still tender?"

"A little. I get dizzy if I stand up for too long." Her gray eyes smarted from the poke. She gently took his outreached hand into hers and a blush of happiness spread as their palms clasped. Anne felt better already just to touch and look at him. She was also distracted by the fact that they had been kissing on a bed, but perhaps it escaped his notice. Anne started in on him with her questions, "I'm so curious, why you couldn't heal me? My burned hand seemed to be nothing."

"Well," Gilbert looked at her apologetically with his warm eyes. Had they really just kissed so easily on a bed? "I think it was because I healed your hand just before it happened. My magic was already inside of you, and recognized itself when I tried to heal you again, and so….'"

"Oh, that's right," Anne said. "You can't heal yourself."

"Or it could be because Mrs. Lynde's stomach issue was much more advanced than I thought. Healing her exhausted me some. I do have limits."

"Is everything working out with Mrs. Lynde?"

"Her healing was quite extensive but complete. Uncle Dave is doing a song and dance right now about how she needs to eat certain foods to cure her stomach." Gilbert chuckled again. "I didn't know that Uncle Dave's powers are specialized to just stomach ailments. He didn't need me for that, but she was quite bewildered for a while with the onslaught of debris you two got nailed under. So it was probably just as well that I did heal her. And I learned a lesson yesterday. I should have waited for everything to calm down before coming in as I did. But you were hurt and I didn't think. As a result, I scared Davy. I need to learn and slow down."

"Well, you are relearning things, you haven't had powers for over a decade, so don't beat yourself up. As far as Davy goes, I've talked to him. I told him that he couldn't be afraid of you if he means to be the uncle of our children. He seemed to really like that idea. I told him he should see you as his brother now."

A small smile grew across Gilbert's chin and the smallest change in coloring was enough for Anne to know Gilbert was pleased. "So he's not afraid of me anymore?"

"He might be careful around you for a while. My guess is one day he'll forget or he'll have a situation where he won't care." Anne paused, "I wasn't going to tell you all that, but, this head injury of mine makes me more forthright than usual."

"You are a wonderful woman!" Gilbert glowed. He picked up her hand and kissed it.

She touched her sore lump again and winced. She almost batted her eyes when asking, "So, magical healer of mine, am I going to sport around this lump all day?"

"No," Gilbert said. "I'm sure I can do it now, enough time has lapsed."

"Well, get to it!"

"You know I have to touch it, Anne." He said reaching for the spot again. She shuddered. This time when he healed her she was able to look at him, to see if there was a change in his appearance, as he held her head with one hand, and carefully laid his other hand behind her ear. She wanted to know what Davy saw. Gilbert's face did change a little bit, but it wasn't frightening. He looked serene. A beautiful warmth came from his fingers. He held his hand there, and Anne wrapped her fingers around his wrist. She felt something pleasant yet foreign sink into her injury and repair it. It was not a dramatic change, not like before with her burned hand, but noticeable.

Gilbert removed his hand after a moment and broke their eye contact. "Well, there wasn't much left to heal, to be honest. You probably should still take it easy today and the next. No climbing trees, Anne! Not even Christmas trees."

Gilbert insisted that Anne have a quiet day, without book reading or fussing of any sort. They sat together and watched other people bustling around, preparing for the Christmas Eve prayer service. Dora was in a fright to finish her sewing and she asked for Anne's help much to Gilbert's displeasure. He took it from her, saying that he didn't want Anne to strain her eyes and get another headache now that she was recovered. So Dora sat next to Gilbert and showed him how to embroider white leaves on the trimmings of her costume much to Anne's amazement. Gilbert's large fingers were able to produce the tiniest, neatest stitches she had ever seen.

Anne excused herself to help Marilla in the kitchen with their mid-day meal, leaving the pair of them bent over linen in a rush to complete the finery in the name of Christmas cheer.

Dora coached Gilbert through the pattern, showing him the difference between a satin stitch, a running stitch, and a feather stitch. Gilbert noticed how focused Dora was, her hazel eyes unwavering from the embellishment. Gilbert turned his head back to his leaves and Dora whispered to herself, "I'm not timid."

Gilbert didn't reply at first but watched Dora turn a lovely shade of pink. "Your color says otherwise," Gilbert teased.

"Mrs. Lynde says I'm timid. I'm not. I'm just quiet." Dora pushed back one of her long braids and adjusted her posture.

Gilbert knotted an end of his white thread. "I agree, those are two different things."

Dora put her hoop down and sighed with great deliberation. She took a careful look at Gilbert. "Can I ask you something, Gilbert?" Dora said very quietly.

Gilbert felt his eyebrows go up. "Yes. I suppose so. You're going to be my sister-in-law one day."

Dora stared ahead for a moment, obviously screwing up some courage. "Why is Davy so protective of me, Gilbert?" Dora asked. "He's never cared before who I've talked to, girl or boy. Now he says I shouldn't talk to the boys."

Gilbert put down his embroidery hoop after cutting a thread. He didn't need to talk to Davy to understand. Dora was a young lady now, probably the first in her class to develop. He was careful with his wording though so as not to embarrass her. "You're the tallest girl in your class, right?"

"Yes,"

"Well, I'm guessing you're catching the eye of some of his friends... because you're so tall." Gilbert answered, "And he probably doesn't like that much."

Dora picked up her needle and returned to work. "Maybe."

Gilbert saw her purse her lips in thought.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Gilbert offered.

"No, I just wanted to understand better. This sounds like his problem, not mine."

Anne and Gilbert sat in a sunny kitchen as Marilla finished serving a late lunch. The three of them were fairly subdued, each of them shorted of a restful night's sleep. Davy, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves as he ate the modest stew. He kept swinging his leg back and forth, brushing his foot along the hardwood floors. Dora had left to visit Minnie May Barry's and Mrs. Lynde had been collected by her son for a family reunion at the hotel in White Sands.

Anne caught her reflection in the glass cabinet doors and then diverted her eyes to the pies she made yesterday, still sitting next to the window covered with cheesecloth. She was regretting her decision to make Gilbert an apple pie as a Christmas present, although they had agreed to not spend money this year for gifts.

Davy glanced at Anne and connected her unflinching stare to the pies.

"Anne, don't you have a present for Gilbert?" Anne had told him that those pies were Gilbert's Christmas present and to leave them alone.

Marilla sat down in her chair across from Davy. "Yes Anne, the rest of us would like you to give your gift to Gilbert."

"You have a present for me?" Gilbert said as he pushed back his plate. He could see that Anne was being shy about it. Gilbert's own gift to Anne was at Orchard Slope where Diana Wright had promised him assistance with her expert hand. He was nervous about his own homespun present to her, but Diana saw merit in his plan.

Anne sighed loudly, thinking that those pies would bring her only humiliation.

"Oh, yes, but...I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I thought of making it. Maybe I wanted you to know that I can cook."

"Miss Cuthbert raised you, Anne. I know you are an excellent cook."

"Gilbert, call me Marilla," Marilla demanded, she had lost count of the number of times she had requested that boy to do so. Marilla sipped at her tea and then wryly spoke. "Do you want to go get it or should I?"

Anne stood, "No, I'll go and get it."

Gilbert watched Anne as she went to the window and lifted the cheesecloth off the pies. Both of them looked good, but Anne decided to show Gilbert the pie that had the best color. She was even surer now her pie was a sorry excuse of a Christmas gift. For goodness' sake! The man grew up on an apple orchard. He had apple pie every night. He could recognize twenty different varieties of apples on taste alone. He didn't need an apple pie as a Christmas present any more than an Eskimo needed snow.

Eventually, she turned from the window and carried it to the table and put it in front of Gilbert. "I made you a pie, Gilbert. An apple pie. Merry Christmas." Her voice was flat and she felt lame to the core.

Gilbert looked at the pie with its nice brown crust and fluted edge, amazed at Anne's effort. His eyes showed approval when he looked at her, his smile was genuine. Anne Shirley made him an apple pie!

"Thank you, Darling," he said as he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist from his seated position. Anne returned to her chair and he continued to say, "You made me a pie!" teasing her about it.

"Stop it, Gil," she said. "It's a dumb gift, I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's not a dumb gift, especially when the money has run out," Marilla said. "I admit, it doesn't have your inventive flair, but I am sure Gilbert was not expecting it."

"I was not!" Gilbert agreed, "It does look good."

"I can't wait to try it." Davy chipped in, "Anne used those special apples she has stored in the cellar." Davy was forgetting he was afraid of Gilbert. "She was on the warpath when she found out Milty and I tried to steal from her stash."

Gilbert looked at Anne with intrigue. "Special apples? Do you have a new variety in your orchard?"

Davy answered Gilbert for her. "Anne only wishes that tree was in our orchard. She spent three weeks last summer walking back and forth to a wild apple tree in the woods. She wouldn't let anyone help her with it either."

Anne started to turn white and she felt goose bumps pop up as she shivered unexpectedly. Davy exposed a secret she wasn't sure she was ready to share. It was too personal. Her breathing became lighter and quicker as she felt his eyes latch onto her. This time, she looked at him, and his face had the perfect amount of wonder on it.

Marilla's eyes went soft as she watched Gilbert respond, understanding what Davy did not. Anne had told her that those apples had been from their tree and she needed to keep them safe. Anne harvested its fruit as she waited for Gilbert to recover from typhoid, not knowing at times if he would even live for the next day. Marilla knew it was Anne's way of saying how much she loved and needed him.

"Anne-girl, this pie is made from the fruit of our tree?" Gilbert's voice was slightly shaky.

"Yes, Gil."

With forced calm. "You walked two miles there and two miles back, every day, for weeks, for the apples, from our tree?"

"Yes, Gil."

"Why Anne, that had to be incredibly difficult."

"Gil... I needed to do something to be with you. You were sick and I couldn't visit. It wasn't proper. We weren't engaged, we weren't even talking like we used to. But I just had to be with you. So I went to the one place where my memory of you was strongest and most vivid, and.." Anne gulped as she felt tears form in her eyes. She finished quickly before the sobs came: "I couldn't bear to let the apples rot on the ground, so I started picking them from the branches... until I had picked the tree clean." Anne started crying freely, recalling those days of uncertainty. She put her hand on his face as she relived that lonesome grief, "I thought you were dying and I thought I was dying too."

"Davy, let's go," Marilla said, standing quickly and motioning with her arms. Davy made a show as he allowed Marilla to remove him from his plate.

"But I want to try it!" Davy protested from an unseen distance.

That made Anne laugh for just a second before Gilbert threw his arms around Anne and hugged her, soothing that painful memory away. His embrace helped her heal from the gut-wrenching hollow, just as she always suspected it would.

"This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received," Gilbert said as Anne continued to cling to him. He ran his fingers through her low ponytail and kissed her crying eyes. "We are meant to be together. Not just in this moment, but in the next, and in the hereafter too. Even in death, we will be together, don't you think?"

"I believe that Gil. I do! I do! I do!" Anne rested her head on his strong shoulder. "I can never say 'til death do we part'. I will always be with you."

to be continued