Timeline - Anne of Windy Poplars, The Second Year. This chapter contours chapters 5 & 6.

Chapter 15: Confidantes

Gilbert Blythe made the first two of three connections back to his home without event. The December skies were clear blue and the air sharp with cold. There were few travelers on the ferry or the train. When Gilbert stepped down to the platform he found himself alone in Carmody and ahead of schedule. Normally he went home by way of Bright River but he remembered his promise to visit Helen in her new dressmaking shoppe. The address was written clearly in Helen's slant writing in her letter; two blocks west of the Carmody train depot. The sign Charlie had hung on the facade said, "Helen's Hems."

Gilbert pulled the scruff of his white turtleneck sweater up before adjusting his hat, bracing himself for the short walk. He found her dressmaking shoppe without effort but hesitated before entering. Through the store windows he could see that the shoppe was full of women; young and old, all looking at the negligees and corsets on display. A man walking into the shoppe would create quite a stir. Instead, he walked around the building and found another door in the alley, also labeled, "Helen's Hems". He knocked and waited, swiveling his body and head to take in the view.

Two young ladies were taking a shortcut in the alley and saw him. They stopped chatting and continued on, heads down.

"Gilbert?"

The man opening the door was surprised. He hadn't put on his outer-shirt yet and his suspenders were down, hanging loosely from his trousers.

"Charlie?"

Asking what Charlie was doing there felt automatic and dumb. Clearly, Gilbert had interrupted something.

"Helen insists on fixing my shirt," Charlie explained as he held the door open for Gilbert. "Come in, take a load off for a moment." Gilbert followed Charlie inside to what appeared to be a decent-sized apartment.

"So, this is it?" Gilbert stared into the corners of the room and saw stairs to a second floor.

"Bertie? Is that you?"

Helen sounded happy which calmed the anxieties floating in Gilbert's stomach. She came around the corner with straight pins in her mouth and Charlie's white shirt in her hands. She quickly put the pins into her pincushion and hugged Gilbert.

"Well, how's it going?" Gilbert asked as he gave her a squeeze. "I was going to go through the front door but you have so many customers."

"Gil, let me get you a cup of tea," Charlie interrupted as he disappeared to another room.

"Oh, Bertie!" Helen excitedly said. "Business is going well, tremendously well. I have the best staff and Charles is a genius when it comes to profit."

"Oh, that doesn't surprise me at all. He always displayed a keen financial sense."

Gilbert noticed her diamond ring. He swallowed understanding the implication. He looked up to prevent her from seeing his disappointment welling in his eyes. From over her head, he saw his old friend return with what looked to be a beer stein.

"Sorry for the cup!" Charlie thrust the container of hot tea into Gilbert's hands. "Helen's hardly moved in yet. Mother will come up with some more housekeeping implements after Christmas. We have news." Charlie put his arm around Helen and smiled. Helen's smile was a lot smaller than his, but it was there too. "We're engaged!"

"Oh—well, I," Gilbert stammered unable to express the joy one normally gives with such news, "Everyone in Avonlea's been expecting it," Gilbert finally managed, hoping that it could be interpreted as "Congratulations."

"Thanks, do you want anything to eat?" Charlie smiled at him, his protruded eyes were happy. Gilbert felt a little nauseated and couldn't eat if he tried. "Helen's got a stew going on the stove."

"No actually, I'm on my way back home," he replied. "I had promised to stop in and see the new place, find out if Helen's kept herself out of trouble."

"Suit yourself then, she's a fine cook," Charlie paced out of his view once more. Gilbert then threw his cousin a face of deep concern.

"Gilbert—it won't be for another year yet," Helen said as she rubbed his arm trying to soothe his worries. "Next month Charles and Robert Wright head to Europe for several months. Robert's business acquaintances want to buy my designs! Can you believe it! Anyway, Charles is going to broker my patterns—our patterns I should say. The ceremony will be after he returns."

"But Helen!" Gilbert put his hands up and over his face as if covering his eyes would make the situation go away.

"It will be fine, Bertie!" Helen promised. "He does love me. I would still be living with your parents if not for him. And he understands now. He understands what it means to be in this family. If you would simply answer his letters you'd know all this."

"I do answer his letters," Gilbert defended himself.

"Returning his letter with the postscript, 'We're not talking about this' is not an answer." Helen pushed back on him. "It's cowardly. Anyway, I think you'll be most surprised with how he's grown. Sit down, relax. I promise you, it will be fine!"

Gilbert parked himself on Helen's sofa as she left to finish Charlie's shirt. Charlie returned with a serving of potato stew on a plate.

"You sure you don't want any?" He asked once more. He leaned his face into it and smelled the aroma of good food.

Gilbert shook his head. "I brought a sandwich for later," Not wanting to sound completely ungrateful for Charlie's hospitality, he added, "The tea is nice though, I was chilled. Thank you!"

"No problem!" Charlie replied setting down his plate and dabbing his chin with his napkin. "I'm glad you're here Gil! I've been wanting to talk to you about this magical legacy in your family. Well, not really talk about it with you, Helen insists I leave you alone, but –looking back at our friendship. I see now I owe you an apology."

"For what?" Gilbert's curiosity outweighed his inclination to deny his abilities to Charlie.

Helen interrupted Charlie's speech as she handed him back his shirt. Charlie stood and put it on. Helen buttoned it up for him to review the drape of her alteration and the reinforced buttonholes. "Yes, I think that will work better for you now."

"Thank you, Love," Charlie said and he pecked her cheek. Helen frowned at his lack of discretion in front of Gilbert. Gilbert could hardly comment as Charlie pushed shirttails into his trousers and pulled his suspenders up and over his shoulders. Didn't he just slap Helen's bum?

"Hey, you treat Helen with respect," Gilbert blurted out.

Charlie laughed aloud, "Yes, of course. Comin' from the quintessential gentleman that bundles with his fiancée. Do you have a cab back to Avonlea, Gilbert? We can split fare, I'm headed back too," Charlie paid no mind to Gilbert's admonishment.

"I was going to walk home, take a shortcut home through the woods," Gilbert grabbed his satchel. "It's only a couple miles for me."

"Oh, no! You shouldn't do that," Charlie ejected as he put on his coat. He held Gilbert at his shoulder. "There's a rabies epidemic. Sick foxes, 'coons. You need to stick to the road.

"Really? Rabies?"

"I'm serious!" Charlie continued. "It started with bats, now it's spread to other woodland creatures. There's even a bounty, but you have to deliver the carcass to the Charlottetown constable to collect it. I do not recommend your shortcut, so you might as well come with me in my cab since we're going the same way."

The road from Carmody back into Avonlea had changed since the last time Gilbert traveled it. The large trees that once canopied the by-way were cleared. In their place were small shacks that were quickly made from cheap lumber. Black smoke curled from the stovepipes into the frosty air. Gilbert sat back astonished by the change. It was ugly. Did Anne know that one of their favorite spots on the island had been cut down?

"New Halifax," Charlie muttered, but Gilbert's questioning face invited more details. "Parliament is trying to break up the black community in Halifax. We've got a small community here now. Good workers and they work cheap too. Keep to themselves, mostly."

"I don't think I've ever seen a colored on the island."

"They have their own schools and churches. Unless you're employing them, you probably won't."

"I will when they're sick," Gilbert sat in silence, thinking of those thin, poorly made homes. "Those houses are hardly suitable dwellings. Poverty is a disease too. I see it all the time with patient casework at school. We should help them improve their buildings. It would save lives."

"You might be right there Gil, you usually are, but you're asking a lot for this backwater place. Remember how hard it was to raise money to save our village hall?"

Gilbert did remember—the two of them canvassing together, trying to outline the merits of new shingles and new paint on a public building. It was like squeezing blood from a rock. He also remembered how Charlie persevered to that goal. "I'm sure you can think of a way, Charlie. One thing I always liked about you is you were never satisfied with status quo," Gilbert pointed out, "If you thought you found a better way, you'd stick to it."

"Thanks for the compliment—if stubbornness is one," Charlie returned. "Gilbert, Helen interrupted me in her apartment, don't think I've forgotten. I'd like to finish apologizing to you and get it over with. I know you'd never fish for it."

"Well, if you feel it's necessary, I cannot think what it's for."

"It goes back to when you and your father were leaving for Alberta."

Gilbert shrugged in a manner indicating disbelief, "You want to apologize for something that happened when we were twelve?"

"Yes, I do," Charlie answered. "I admit it took me a long time to see a bigger picture with Helen's powers. But once I did, I understood you much better, Gilbert. And it occurred to me what our problem really was. It was never about Anne, was it? Although I never believed you when you yourself would tell me so. I recalled most unpleasantly what I did now and I'm unhappy with myself for it. "

Gilbert hiccuped slightly suddenly remembering the two of them talking on the shoreline of Barry's pond. Gilbert recited some carefully crafted words explaining why he and his father were leaving Avonlea. He recalled that he tried to tell Charlie about his family and what was expected of him. His reveal had backfired painfully.

"I laughed at you Gilbert when you tried to tell me what you were, back when we were boys. You know—with your abilities." Charlie paused to watch Gilbert's reaction, "I was very mean-spirited. I can't say I didn't earn your distrust."

Gilbert flinched as Charlie poked the old wound. "I remember now," Gilbert whispered, "But I wasn't sure about telling you, so I did try to nestle it in a joke." He swallowed down the memory of Charlie's cruel laughter and his attempt to backtrack his confession.

"Gilbert, I'm very sorry for laughing at you," Charlie finally concluded. "Although, to be fair to my youthful past, I probably would have laughed anyway, no matter how you dressed it. I never did believe you. Thought for sure you were pulling my leg."

"I should have never tried to tell you," Gilbert sighed. "I was twelve, I was leaving, you wanted to know why. We were best friends at the time. Only one positive repercussion came from it. You put a fear in me not to tell anyone. I forgive you Charlie, but, I'll never be comfortable in talking with you about being a witch."

"That's more than fair," Charlie returned. "Now, can you be happy I'm going to marry your cousin?"

"No!" Gilbert said forcefully. The truth was though, Gilbert did feel a little more at ease with Helen's decision.

Back in September, around Gilbert's birthday, he realized with a bit of shame, he had been neglecting his parents when on the island. He wanted his folks to know that he still their one and only child, and he also wanted them to see his growth with magic. Gilbert had mastered the supernatural power of bi-location and was incorporating that ability with his healing powers. He could heal people with pinpoint accuracy, which meant, he would never again have a healing like Diana and her baby. He had learned control.

He proudly showed his father and mother his new power. Gilbert sat quietly in the living room as his other self unpacked his luggage. His mother first came around the corner, her hazel eyes wide with amazement. She had just talked to him in his room and was also still there. But there he was in front of her too! Similarly, John rubbed his chin as he returned from Gilbert's bedroom to the parlor, also witnessing both of his bodies.

"You do that better than Ray does." When John was a boy he was the one that had to watch over his brother's dormant body. "But you know, Raymond, he never understood that his magic was there for a reason. You've taken a power that seems random and are using it to improve your healing, and I'm proud of you for that. Ray just thought it was fun stuff." Laughter followed and his father went into a story about his boyhood. "You wouldn't believe the pranks he pulled. There was this one time he was mad at some old schoolmaster. That poor fellow was caught drinking moonshine whiskey and your uncle decided to double up on him with bi-location. I think that poor man swore off the bottle the rest of his life."

"That was a horrible thing to do!" Gilbert voiced, but his hazel eyes were smiling in contradiction. It had already occurred to him his power to tease had expounded a hundredfold. "These powers aren't about us, are they? They're about helping people, I would say it's God working through us, but that sounds conceited. I don't quite mean it that way, but it's close."

John's eyes lifted to a decorative cross hanging on the wall. He had taught Gilbert the moral path well. "How'd you discover you could do bi-location?"

Gilbert jumped. He surely couldn't tell his parents that he had been fantasizing about Anne, not after bringing up God and His righteousness. "Well—let's just say it had something to do with Anne. I wanted to see her and I found a way—accidentally, of course." He then felt his face turn redder than a pickled beet.

His mother lifted her brows to her hairline—clearly understanding more than what Gilbert admitted to. She was about to say something but her husband interrupted, advising, "Let it go, Geri. He's a man now." The silence that followed was full of innuendo. The cross on the wall now seemed overtaken by shadows. "There hasn't been any more accidents, has there?" His father inquired gently.

Gilbert's heart skipped a beat, "Nothing that I can't shut down fast, Father."

Visiting Anne in her bed happened infrequently, but it still occurred, especially when Gilbert felt stressed. He would fade in and fade out next to her. As soon as he realized what was happening, he stopped it. That did not stop Anne from noticing his comings and goings as fast as they were. Anne fired off letters to him complaining about being haunted.

Other arrangements were created to curb those nocturnal visits. Anne would meet her spook at regular intervals in the cemetery off of Trent Street, usually in the late afternoon before the supper hour. Twenty minutes was as long as Gilbert could stay, even with adjustments. He kept his body more ethereal when bi-locating. It was less jarring on him and allowed his dormant body to do normal things; like quietly sit or perhaps hold a book and feign reading. Keeping his other body flexible also allowed him to modify his appearance slightly. He was trying to hide his new mustache from Anne until it was thicker.

Geraldine studied her son as his pinkish cheeks returned back to a normal flesh tone. He had obviously had some sort of experience with Anne. He would have never had turned that red if not. Hadn't they, herself and John, and Marilla, encouraged Gilbert and Anne to be physically close? If their children had crossed a line, was it really that surprising? He wasn't a boy off at school anymore, Gilbert was a man preparing for marriage. She saw how he longed for his bride the few hours he had been home. And strangely, she pitied her son more than she questioned his actions.

Later on that afternoon, she caught Gilbert looking out the window towards Green Gables. He did not mention Anne, but she knew. "There now Gilbert—give me a hug and go say hello to Anne. I'm sure you'll want to bundle tonight. It promises to be cold."

"Mother, I was planning on focusing on you and Dad at the start of this holiday. I do love you too, you know."

"That's sweet but, you're in love with a beautiful young woman and there's something dreadful about spending time with old folks when you don't have to." Geraldine went and found Gilbert's coat and handed it to him. "It's quite alright Gilbert. Anne's probably wondering why you're not over there yet anyway."

"Listen to your Mother," John said from the other end of the house.

A little perplexed, Gilbert stuffed his arms into his black woolen coat and proceeded to put on his gloves. His father approached with an outreached hand and his mother retreated into the kitchen. "Gilbert, you take the sleigh now. Hitch Rival up. Avoid walking in the woods. There are reports of rabies around us. Take the shotgun, in case you do encounter a sick animal. Do it a kindness. Mother and I are staying in tonight. We won't need it."

Gilbert's eyes lifted at the slight intone to his father's words. Mother and I are staying in tonight. Gilbert saw clearly he was being pushed out the door. The man that stood before him wasn't just his father, but a man that loved his wife as much as he loved his betrothed.

"Dad!" Gilbert admonished, not really wanting to know more.

John Blythe never shied away from Gilbert on any subject. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and led him to the door.

"Since Helen moved out, it's like a second honeymoon," John admitted. "Don't be in a hurry to come home tomorrow morning either. We're enjoying our empty nest."

Gilbert sheltered Rival in the Green Gables stables next to Marilla's two dairy cows. He thought Rival next to the cows would be less upsetting to Marilla's team of horses. He knew immediately when he saw the sorrel that she was expecting a foal. He also knew that the sorrel was particular about strange horses. The stall Gilbert put Rival in needed to be cleaned. It was a completely selfish use of his powers, but he didn't want to go in the house smelling like a barn. He went to the far end to sit on a bench and then bi-located the second version of himself to do it. In the middle of raking, Davy found him.

"Hey Gilbert," Davy said crisply. His breath froze in the cold, dry air.

"Hey yourself!" Gilbert replied.

"Let me do that for you," Davy grabbed the rake from Gilbert's hands. "Saw you comin' from the Harrisons'. Dora, Anne, Miss Brooke and I were getting the tree from that little wood between our fields. I realized you and Anne would probably want to bundle tonight, and I needed to do the chores for your horse! So I ran over. Sorry!"

Gilbert stepped away and disappeared like a mist in front of Davy. Davy dropped his jaw in awe.

"I'm actually over here, Davy," Gilbert said from the bench. Davy turned around agile as a cat ready to spring. Gilbert waved. Davy's eyes were huge in his head. "I was just using my powers to clean the muck. I didn't want to go inside and stink."

Davy still needed time to process what he just saw.

"Is it true about the rabies epidemic?" Gilbert approached the young man.

"Yes," Davy woke up. "Folks are spooked something fierce, worried that some 'coon will come out and get them. That's crazy, 'coons stay away from folks. But Marilla makes us stick to the road and walk together now to school." He paused. "Did you get my letter?"

"Yes, along with Marilla's," Gilbert answered. He placed a hand on the side of Rival, he was waiting patiently to be unhitched. "I've been thinking about your question a lot actually."

Davy stopped raking and tried his darnedest to look convincing. "So, do you agree?"

Gilbert chuckled over Davy's earnestness. "I think I do. I don't want you and Dora to have secrets from each other. There's something unholy about it. She's your twin. I'll try to tell her tonight."

The smile on Davy's face was thanks enough. If Gilbert could, he would rather take Davy's knowledge of his powers away, instead of expanding his circle of confidants. Nevertheless, Gilbert conceded that if Davy had proven himself a good ally, Dora promised to be even more steadfast and reliable.

Davy returned to pitching clean hay into the stall as Gilbert unhitched and unbuckled Rival from his gear.

"The two-of-you-at-the-same-time power: That's the new one, right?"

"It's called bi-location and it is new to me, but others in my family have done it. It's also becoming more and more an extension of my healing powers." Gilbert took the rifle out of the sleigh and unloaded it. "Davy, I can project my healing powers to a degree now outside of myself, when I need to. Channeling my powers through touch is less and less necessary."

"And that's good?" Davy asked not sure if his question was a feeble one.

"It's very good," Gilbert reassured Davy's inquisitive stare. "And for me, it's a huge relief, I finally feel like I'm in control." But Gilbert stopped talking as he saw Davy was lost in his response again. Gilbert thought back to how he was at fourteen, "Would you like to see me do it again?"

Davy smiled nervously. "Yeah, it's rather hard to believe."

"Alright," Gilbert put the rifle down and stood before Davy. "Watch closely," A moment later Davy heard Gilbert call him from behind, even though he hadn't taken his eyes off of him. Davy's eyes widened and he turned to check.

"I'm over here," Gilbert waved at from the far wall of the barn.

"And I'm here still too," the Gilbert next to him nudged.

Davy blinked and felt really flabbergasted and confused.

"So, what you think?"

The fourteen-year-old replied hoarsely, "Don't do that when you tell Dora. That is really weird."

Marilla filled Gilbert's teacup full and quietly sat down next to him. She pointed to the plate of plum puffs on the table, suggesting he take the edge off his hunger. She was still horrified that she had called Gilbert 'John' when she saw him with Davy. Her poor eyesight and the mustache Gilbert had grown fooled her completely. He looked so much like his father now, it unsettled her. She hoped he wasn't aware of her thoughts, not that mind reading was ever his talent, but sometimes, you can tell just looking carefully at a person you knew well, what they were thinking.

"I'm sure everyone will be back soon," Marilla said. "Although, I'm not sure where Rachel wandered off to. She's probably putting the finishing touches on Katherine's gift in her room."

Gilbert touched the rim of the rosebud china cup. "We can talk more freely with them away. I want to know, have you considered my offer, Marilla?"

Miss Cuthbert enjoyed hearing her name. "Gilbert Blythe, now you've decided to start calling me by my Christian name, after years and years of not doing so."

"I'm motivated to convince you," Gilbert answered with a mischievous grin. "I want to charm you, literally. I can restore your eyesight if you want me to. And I'd be very happy to do that."

"Your offer is a wonderful kindness, Gilbert," Miss Cuthbert replied, barely able to keep her face in check. "But, I can't get over how folks would react around these parts if I were to suddenly get my eyesight back. There would be a lot of questions, and.." She girded her decision with vocal hardiness. "They expect me to go blind one day. People would hunt for a reason if I don't. It's not safe for you."

"I see," Gilbert then choked on his unintentional pun, but Marilla laughed loudly. "I'm sorry. Do you want to explain it to Anne then?"

She was still laughing. "Oh, I can say something, I'll tell her you gave it your all."

"I appreciate that," His hazel eyes laughed with her. "Speaking of explaining things, I did get your letter and Davy's. Are you sure you want me to tell Dora?"

"Only if you want to," Marilla stood up and put her hand on her hip in thought. "It was Davy's idea and I don't care if she knows. Dora, she's predictable. She won't go flying off the handle and speak out of turn. I know you'd prefer the twins not know at all, but if Davy does, I don't see why she can't too."

"Then there's Mrs. Lynde, she'd be the last left in the house."

"I never figured out why you don't trust her."

"She's so outspoken," Gilbert answered. "She'll even tell you that."

"Those are two different things," Marilla said, now filling her own teacup. "I've been trusting her as a friend since we were girls. I trust her with my life around here. Anne would have never gone to Redmond if it wasn't for Rachel, that's a fact. You owe her in my opinion." Marilla words sounded a bit too contrived, perhaps defensive.

Gilbert felt a chill wash over the back of his neck. "You told her already, didn't you?"

"Gilbert Blythe, you worry so much about the wrong things," Marilla sidetracked. "Rachel is a friend. There is nothing to fear."

Gilbert wished he had a better response than a stern, disapproving look. He got up from the table and moved into the parlor. The others were back. He could hear Dora straining to bring the tree in and then he heard Anne's laughter as another woman's voice joined in vivaciously. Gilbert stepped around the corner and saw Anne dusting off snow from her coat.

"Anne?" He said softly. She would not be expecting him.

Anne was startled to meet a tall young man with hazel eyes and the beginnings of a mustache which made him look so much older and maturer that Anne had one awful moment wondering if it were really Gilbert or a stranger.*

"Gilbert!" She jumped into his arms before depositing a few kisses on him. "What is this?" Anne asked as she touched the whiskers above his lip.

"Scar camouflage. Do you like it?"

"I don't dislike it," Anne grinned back. "I shall have to get used to kissing you all over again."

The statement took his breath away. It was so improper but it was exactly what he wanted to hear. His pulse revved up a notch and the other words bouncing around the tight quarters of the foyer blended between his ears, but he picked up his name again as she attempted to introduce Miss Katherine Brooke.

"How do you do, Mr. Blythe," Katherine said to Gilbert. She gave him a puzzled look.

"Oh, just call me Gilbert," Gilbert heard himself say to the woman with remarkable coloring. Her light amber eyes did not match her dark hair. She looked as if she were about to sneeze. She rubbed her nose automatically.

"Very well, you may call me Katherine. I'm very pleased to meet you. Anne couldn't stop talking about you the entire way here." She pulled out her handkerchief.

Davy came stomping downstairs and passed under Katherine's nose. Her eyes began to water as the scent increased. Between Davy and Gilbert, Davy seemed doused in the fragrance, which was strange because she hadn't noticed it on Davy before.

"Davy, do you and Dora know how to play cards?" Katherine asked thinking Anne and Gilbert needed some time alone. "I have a deck in my bag. I always carry one. I play solitaire, but I know other games we can play." She pushed the pair into the kitchen. Katherine saw a look of thanks flash over Anne's face as Anne slipped her hand into Gilbert's. Gilbert looked into Anne's gray eyes and grinned as he wriggled his upper lip mischievously.

Dora Keith asked to be excused from the kitchen after the third round of "Old Maid". She poked her head into the parlor to find Anne and Gilbert sitting together on the sofa, enjoying the fire before them. They were washed in the red tones of flickering flames. She hated breaking their circle. Anne was curled up along his side and Gilbert had his arm over her shoulders. They looked almost asleep but both of them stirred when the door opened.

"I'm headed up for the night, Anne," Dora said with a slight yawn. She was bored more than tired. "Gilbert, I have your five dollar prize upstairs, shall I go get it?"

"You won five dollars?" Anne squirmed trying to sit up straight, Gilbert stopped her from changing her position against him.

"Sure, go get it," Gilbert answered Dora.

Dora shut the door and Anne touched his ear to gain his attention. "What prize did you win?"

"You know how Dora showed me how to embroiderer last winter?" Gilbert confessed, "I embroiderer a sampler under her direction last summer and she entered it in the Charlottetown Needlecraft Exposition. And I won third place!"

"You did not," Anne accused. "Mrs. Lynde follows that exposition like a hawk. She would have told me and everyone else around here if so."

"Yes, I know. Which is why I entered my sampler under a pseudonym."

Dora closed the door behind her as she re-entered the parlor. She had combed out her long blonde hair and pulled it back into a low ponytail that swung down to her knees. It swished like a frayed, golden rope. In her hand was a five-dollar check. She passed it to Gilbert, but Anne snatched it away from him.

"It says, 'Pay to the Order of Betel Brightly'." Anne snickered. "How'd you come up with that name?"

Gilbert ignored Anne at the moment as he watched Dora leave. "Dora, I want to talk to you about something important, could we visit a moment?"

Dora nodded and found a spot in front of Gilbert on a footstool.

"Anne?" Gilbert patted her knee. "Go to the kitchen, make sure we're not interrupted. It's time Dora knows."

"Oh," Anne muttered. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder as she stood. Dora watched Anne leave. There was an excitement in her step which didn't agree with the reassuring touch she had given Gilbert.

"Am I in trouble?" Dora asked him. Her hazel eyes glanced down to the end of the ponytail. She played with the end, twisting it into submission.

"No, you're not in trouble," Gilbert sat up, "I'm the one in trouble, with you, maybe. You see, Dora, Davy found out something about me last Christmas and made a promise not to share it with anyone, even you. But he wrote to me last month requesting I tell you this secret. Marilla knows what I'm going to tell you and she agrees you're responsible. And I trust you, so it's time for you to know too."

"Davy, he has been hiding something from me."

"Right," Gilbert answered. "Davy discovered that I am able to heal people, supernaturally, using magic." Gilbert gave the words heal, supernaturally and magic a tad more emphasis. He waited for her reaction. Dora's face started to glow with his news, and she smiled at him. Feeling safe, Gilbert went on, "I'm a witch, a Blythe, just like my cousin Helen, only, my gifts are different. She was a seer and I'm a healer."

"Oh," Dora exhaled. She kept her eyes on the ground and muttered, "Minnie May Barry thought so."

"You cannot tell Minnie May about me...or anyone else," Gilbert said sternly.

Dora lifted her chin and Gilbert saw her face was a tad angry. "I wasn't going to say a thing, Gilbert!" She glanced away and took a deep breath. "How does it work then?"

"Mostly with touch," Gilbert replied. "When someone is sick with either a disease or an injury, I can hold their hand and see what's the matter. It's not hard for me to diagnose, in fact, at school there's a running joke about it, I'm Dr. Diagnosis there. But to heal someone, sometimes I have to put thought into it. I'm far from perfect. Subtlety is something I'm still working on, but I am getting better."

"And Anne knows?"

"She was the first person I told," Gilbert's voice warmed the room. "She had a harder time with the information than she let on, but, she's now used to it. You can talk to her about it if you like. I don't mind."

Dora grabbed the end of her ponytail again. "May I ask you something, but you cannot say anything to anyone about it. But I do think you'd understand."

"Alright," Gilbert scooted closer to the end of the sofa as she turned her head to make sure they were still alone.

Dora plainly asked, "Am I really too young to be in love? I'm fourteen and isn't that the same age you were when Anne broke her slate on your head?"

Gilbert withdrew his gaze for a moment. "And that's when I've always said I fell in love with Anne." Returning his eyes back to hers, "You know my answer then, but why ask it?"

"Ralph Andrews proposed to me," Dora exhaled slowly. "I told him 'yes', as soon as I have permission, I will marry him."

"Dora!" Gilbert almost shouted. "You're fourteen."

"But you just said.."

"I was in love with Anne, true, but I didn't ask her to marry me until many years later." He babbled, "Of course, I spent a few of those beginning years just trying to get her to talk with me. But that's neither here nor there. Please don't commit yourself to anyone yet."

"I'm not of age, so I can't." Dora replied to Gilbert's immediate relief, "but Mother Andrews knows our intent and supports us, but I don't think Marilla would. Unless maybe you and Anne spoke in my favor. Would you do that for me? Marilla could give her consent and allow me to marry early. All she needs to do is sign a paper."

"Marilla will not do that. She would think us insane to ask her to," He couldn't believe how this quiet, unassuming girl had turned their conversation. "How old is Ralph now?" Gilbert was trying to collect facts.

"He's sixteen. He's old enough to start farming and set up a household." Gilbert knew that the Andrews had several fallow fields just waiting for crops. He understood why they might be anxious to return them to farmland. Dora continued, "There's nothing I want more than to be his wife. I love him Gilbert. It's such a terrible feeling to be so in love with someone but not be able to express it." Dora sighed. "Even if you think I'm foolish, I'm relieved to tell someone. I'm really very happy."

"Dora, thank you for trusting me, but you can wait. At least finish school first," Gilbert implored. "I won't say anything to anyone in fair exchange for what I've told you, but my suggestion is you speak with Marilla. She is your guardian and she does know a thing or two about love and sacrifice."

Dora huffed in indignation. "Now you're lying to me. Marilla's never been married or in love. She wouldn't have any idea what it feels like to be so."

"Dora, you're wrong," Gilbert answered. "I know she seems that way, but you cannot judge a book by its cover. But you'll never know for sure if you hide this from her. Talk to her, tell her how you feel for Ralph."

Dora gave Gilbert one fleeting look. A tear slowly dribbled down her cheek. All her hopes had been pinned on him. Seeing no use in arguing further, she quickly departed, holding her handkerchief to her face.

to be continued

*Anne of Windy Poplars