Timeline - Anne's House of Dreams.
For a shorter narrative, I am combining the events that occur in this book and introducing ideas and characters in a different order. Some characters I am not using at all. It is very helpful to know the events of this book still even if I elect to take liberties here and there.

Content warning - swearing
Special thanks once again to MrsVonTrapp for the beta reads of this chapter.

Chapter 33: Dora's Keepers

Finding Davy was easy. He wasn't even a quarter of a mile away from Green Gables. The difficult part would be stopping Davy as he marched towards the Andrews' farmstead. In his hand, he swung what appeared to be a very old and probably unreliable dueling pistol. His carelessness concerned Gilbert. For all Gil knew, the gun could explode from being jostled. Yet, Davy proceeded ignorant of anything but revenge. He was so unaware of his surroundings, he had forgotten Ralph wasn't even in Avonlea. Ralph was in Charlottetown!

This wasn't Gilbert's first attempt at disarming someone with a firearm. Two Christmases ago he tackled Fred and stopped him from using his shotgun. He could do that again, but as soon as Gil considered the option he immediately scrapped it. Fred's rifle was big and stable. The pistol was small and uncertain. Davy might fall on it and find himself mortally wounded. Even with healing powers available in his dormant body, Gilbert wouldn't risk it.

For a while, Gilbert racked his head for a spell to jam the pistol, but couldn't think of one on the fly. Unlocking Tomgallon's file cabinet had been his solitary attempt of that sort of discipline. Jamming the gun would require precision and Davy's quick pace prevented Gilbert from even making the attempt. One misplaced word might produce a dire consequence rather than the desired.

He could swoop in from overhead as an owl or hawk and use his talons to carry the pistol away. But he hesitated to act on that idea too. Talons would tear up Davy's coat and hand. There would still be a struggle and the gun still might go off. There was nothing to stop Davy from trying to defend himself from a bird of prey.

Gilbert needed to neutralize the danger by getting rid of the bullets. What if he got Davy to fire those shots off first? Maybe instead of stopping Davy, he could give Davy a target, something big and frightening. A bear! He could form his second body as a big, hungry, Canadian grizzly bear and scare Davy, causing him to fire those rounds. Yeah, that might work.

Or, I could form as Ralph.

Gilbert's heart skipped. It was so simple, just give Davy exactly what he wanted. Ralph Andrews. With any luck, Davy would make good on his sworn objective. It was just his second body at risk. Nothing permanent would happen so long as he kept himself fluid.

"Davy!" Gilbert-as-Ralph shouted from the side of the road. "Looking for me?"

Davy stopped in his tracks as his nemesis walked out from the darkness and into his crosshairs. Davy blinked hard a few times, testing that what he saw was really there. Almost as an afterthought, Davy remembered the gun in his hand.

"Ralph, you're a God-damned piece of shit for what you did to my sister! You stay where I can see you." Davy pointed his gun with an ease that would have surprised Gilbert if he wasn't so suddenly nervous. The two-barreled pistol looked a lot bigger at the other end.

"Now, you're going to pay!" Gears clicked as the firearm was cocked. The gun seemed to shake a bit in Davy's hand, and then, it steadied.

"No, wait!"

Self-preservation set in when Gilbert heard the gun discharge, not once, but twice. Even though his second body was flexible, it did not stop him from feeling the bullets whizzing through his specter. The inertia caused him to fall. Gilbert shuddered on the ground for a second or two and sensed his dormant body shaking, struggling to maintain himself as a Ralph Andrews projection.

"There, I got you, you piece of shit!"

Davy repeated this statement a couple of times, adding explanations for his behavior, such as, "You had it coming" and other choice words underscoring his thoughts. But the more Davy said these things, the less convinced he sounded.

Gilbert could see Davy's outline approach and could not animate. He needed to shut his Ralph-body down and reform as himself, his default semblance.

Davy's breath smoked white as the weapon fell from his limp hand. He stared at his victim's still and glassy eyes. Gilbert thought he saw a brand-new panic disfigure his face. Davy buried his reaction in his hands as dropped to his knees and crouched under the weight of being a murderer.

"Oh God, I killed you!" Davy's statement was not one of pride but was penitent. "Ah, shit, Ralph. Look what you made me do! You deserved it too. You did!"

Finally, Gilbert moaned, "Davy?"

Davy dropped his hands from his face as he heard his name. Was Ralph dead or not? Davy crept closer on his hands and knees to the body that lay on the ground, just in time to witness its disappearance in a sudden puff of wintergreen scented mist.

"What the...?"

His heart thumped extra hard as he reached forward to feel the vacate spot where Ralph had been. Slowly, he sat back on his legs and stared into the darkest part his surroundings, completely confused and terrified. Where did Ralph go? Davy tentatively stood and did a sudden about-face and collided into Gilbert.

"Watch where you're going." Gilbert stepped back in surprise.

"Oh my God, Gilbert!" Davy circled the ground in strange and expressive dance, pointing and gesturing. "I shot Ralph and..." His frantic pantomime continued with hiccups of speech that explained where his flailing arms failed. "He was here on the ground, toes pointed to the sky, and he vanished right before you showed up." Davy's last sentence was spoken with a dawning cadence. "Hey, wait a second!"

"Whoa, Davy!" Gilbert put his arms up as he let Davy plow him down. At least if Davy was going after him, he wasn't going after Ralph.

"That was you the whole time, wasn't it?" Davy flipped Gilbert over to his back and held his arms. It had been a long time since Gilbert had been made immobile.

"I'm sorry, Davy, but I had to stop you." Gilbert struggled against Davy's pin. "For your own sake, but for Dora's too." Gilbert pleaded with his eyes for not only for Davy to understand, but to free him.

"That was a mean trick," Davy informed him, letting Gilbert go.

"You're right, that was a horrible trick." Gilbert rose from the ground as Davy dagger-eyed him. "You've got what you wanted, you shot Ralph dead. Even if it was by proxy. But I saw your reaction too. Killing Ralph doesn't seem like such a brilliant idea anymore, does it?"

"Ralph still needs to pay! How could he call Dora a whore?" Davy grunted back. He wasn't going to deny the remorse he bore for a few seconds. Incongruously, Davy also remembered how delighted he was to see Ralph fall. "What he did is inexcusable, Gilbert. He deserves it. Something has to be done!"

"All in good time," promised Gilbert. "But not this way. There are more urgent matters, but later on, we'll retaliate. Davy, you forget, she's my sister too."

"You mean that?" Davy quizzed.

"Of course I do. Once Dora's crisis is over, we'll think of something."

Davy shivered as an icy gust swept through him. He had departed Green Gables without his hat or gloves. He braced himself and tucked his bare hands into his armpits against the wind. As they hurried back, Gilbert got an earful of all things Ralph.

"Gil, I believed his apology. I thought him sincere." Incredulity emoted from Davy's statements.

Gilbert sympathized. He too assumed most people walked the earth to do good and that most were trustworthy. It was always a hard lesson when someone failed to return basic human dignities.

Davy continued, "And he respected Dora when they broke up by not infringing on her time. So, I told Dora to go back to Ralph and try to fix things, as, I thought he changed."

"Davy—this is not your fault if that's the point you're trying to argue." Gilbert placed a comforting hand on Davy's shoulder. "You've tried to be Dora's keeper in the past and never could. This is no different. You're not to blame! And if you were to ask me, I would say, on the whole, you've shown that you have a very heroic heart."

"Because I want to kill him?" Davy muttered as he shrugged off Gilbert's hand. No amount of flattery would offset the anger Davy still felt, even if he was convinced that murder was probably too extreme of a response.

"No, you're a hero because Dora was going to run away." Gilbert stopped walking and so did Davy. "You stopped her from doing that, whether intentional or not, you saved her life."

"What do you mean?"

"When you gave away your mother's diamond ring, you saved two girls, your twin and your sweetheart. You gave Miss Marin means to escape and simultaneously removed Dora's."

"But Dora doesn't have to run away," Davy argued. "Just because Ralph is a jerk doesn't mean she had to go."

"She's scared," Gilbert reminded Davy. "Having a baby is wonderful when you're ready for it, but it's also a terrifying event if you're not prepared. She not thinking of anything but how to save face and what's best for the baby. She believes she's alone. Very alone."

"But she's not alone." Davy kicked the ground. "Even if Ralph's not interested, the baby will know what it's like to have a father with me as its uncle. And I'll make sure it has a better life than what Dora and I experienced before Mama died."

Gilbert blinked at the man that stood next to him. Davy was willing to step in and support Dora. And, it wasn't outrage spawning his declaration, but love. Gilbert wished Dora could see Davy's tender worry manifest into loyalty. If he was moved, Dora should be more so.

"If only…"

"If only... what?"

"Davy, the baby isn't going to make it." Gilbert shied away from looking directly at him as he mentioned the word ectopic and explained as best he could in layman's terms. "It's not in the right place to grow and Dora could die if she doesn't get proper care."

Davy twisted around to challenge Gilbert with a shaky voice. "She...she can't die from it. Having babies is normal, isn't it? Even if it's not normal, you can fix it, right?"

Gilbert shook his head many times. Magic had no answer for this. Neither did science.

"I can't. The baby will die." Gilbert explained as Davy paled. "The way my powers work, they allow me to heal what's diseased or broken, but Dora is neither. And the baby is healthy too. But when it runs out of room to grow and it ruptures her insides, then, I can do something for her, but not before. It's called a blockage, and women have bled to death from them. It's a very serious medical condition. I can't stress that enough."

The gravity of Dora's pregnancy hit him like a ton of bricks. Davy peered to the "C" in the sky, the crescent moon prominent on a plate of the black night. Like the satellite, his insides had been scoped out and only a crust remained. Davy didn't know much, but he knew he needed his sister in his life. They were born together as a 'we'. Davy had no idea how to live without his twin.

"Shit."

"Davy, I will save Dora when the time comes, but I must stay close to her at all times. I cannot be chasing after you." Gilbert implored for his understanding. "Once it starts, she will need me and she will have my help. But I need you to keep your head. No more Ralph chasing and other foolishness."

Davy agreed. "Gil—if you weren't a witch. What would happen then?"

"There are surgical therapies if caught in time. Most aren't. Some women survive the experience but at a price." Gilbert paused before clarifying, "Internal scars from the trauma can cause infertility. I mean to heal her before scaring occurs, but Dora might struggle to have children the rest of her life."

"Can't you heal a scar?"

"No-" Gilbert twitched his mustache. How he wished he could get rid of scars. "A scar is a healing. A biological one."

Gilbert bit back the rest of his thoughts. He suspected Dora might already have scarring. It would certainly explain why she was in this particular predicament if her tubes were already damaged. He wanted Eugene's input and hoped Dora would agree to see him.

"Davy—now that I've explained, would you… assuming Dora allows it, help me tell her?" Bad news always went better when the patient was surrounded by loved ones. Not that he didn't love Dora, but he had a professional task to perform. He supposed this was why doctors were told to defer their family's medical care to another physician. It was too hard to stay objective. He couldn't be both professional and brother at the same time, although, he had tried.

"Yes," Davy stated matter-of-factually as they reached the gate. "Anything for my sister."

In the kitchen with Davy sitting next to Dora, Gilbert finally explained the things about her pregnancy Dora did not know. Her face bore the news without change when he told her how her baby boy had settled into the wrong part of her body. She blinked double as she registered Gilbert's real worry, that her life was in peril. Even Mrs. Lynde, who, observing a safe distance away at the cook-stove, expressed shock as she hiccupped air.

"A blockage?" She was biting her lips as everyone turned to stare at her. "Well, Gilbert's right to be worried if it's true. May Providence help us!"

Mrs. Lynde forgot about the tea she had set to brew and buried her face in her white apron. It was her old habit when she needed a moment to collect her thoughts. While she did this, Gilbert's attention returned to Dora. He observed Dora's worry grow from Mrs. Lynde's sad reaction. Mrs. Lynde could not cloak her emotions with a joke.

"Gilbert—I know I'm not supposed to know about your magic. Not really. And, I'm alright with that by and large. Makes for some rather cagey interactions sometimes, but..." She dabbed the corner of her eyes. "I must ask, would it be alright to pretend that I do know about that Midas touch of yours? You can fix this, can't you? It's Dora!"

Mrs. Lynde started to cry.

"You don't have to pretend anymore." Gilbert gave her a soft, approving smile as she dried up. "I'm going to do as much as I can, you know that. But it's a conversation for Dora first."

"Of course!" Mrs. Lynde returned to her tea making and headed to the icebox for some dairy.

Gilbert apologetically smiled at Dora, who had gone white across from him. Davy too mirrored this look, this stunned, "Is this really happening?" look.

"Dora? Davy? You take yours with cream, don't you?"

"I don't want any tea," Davy said loudly. "Give mine to Gilbert."

Mrs. Lynde ignored Davy's instruction and brought him a cup which prompted an eye-roll. It wasn't a complaint, it was nervous energy that needed to be expressed. She set Dora's cup in front of her and lingered a moment, taking her time to smooth her blonde hair. She leaned in to whisper, "I put in extra cream for you, dear. And," Mrs. Lynde choked-up saying, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you. Please forgive me."

Dora's nestled her cup, not drinking it, noticing how the generous portion of milk fat muted her tea's hue. Dora didn't like tea, but she recognized the extra consideration Mrs. Lynde had given and she was grateful. She told Mrs. Lynde so when she wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed.

"Stop it with your kisses," Mrs. Lynde winked at her youngest daughter. "They are too sweet for words, that's what! Big hearts lead to big trouble sometimes, but rather a big heart than a stingy one, I say."

Dora cracked a smile, the first one Gilbert had seen on her all night.

"Mrs. Lynde?" Gilbert hastened their conversation, although, seeing Dora smile once more had been worth the interruption.

"Now, you listen to Dr. Blythe," Mrs. Lynde pulled away. "And remember, I love you too."

"Rachel—would you do me a favor and tell Marilla about the blockage? I don't think she'd appreciate me going upstairs and into her room."

Everyone looked up at the ceiling, Marilla's pacing was loud and sometimes it sounded as if she were moving furniture.

"If you can convince her to come downstairs, that would be helpful to me."

"I'll do my best," Mrs. Lynde pulled the hem of her bodice straight down as she mustered up her resolve.

"Dora, I want you to come back to Four Winds with me." Gilbert tried to phrase his demand as a hospitable request. "Stay with us until the holidays are over. It will give you time to recover, and then you can go back home with Davy, Marilla, and Mrs. Lynde and pretend this never happened."

Dora wasn't so sure. She sought Davy's opinion with a sideways glance.

"Dora, do it," Davy urged. "No one can help you the way Gilbert can. And it will give Marilla time to calm down."

While Davy and Gilbert were outside, Dora told Marilla what Davy overheard that caused him to storm off. She didn't expect sympathy from her and didn't receive any. Marilla angrily admonished Dora for her stupidity and Dora had fired back that Marilla had never been in love to understand. It was then a furious Marilla departed Dora's company.

"You actually think Marilla will want me back?" Dora wondered. She was well aware she was still only a ward and the least favorite one at that.

"After all the things I did when we first came here?" Davy rolled his eyes again and huffed, "Didn't I lock you in a shed and lie about it? Yet, I didn't go anywhere."

"Davy, this is nowhere near on the same level. You were just a little boy. I knew what I was doing." Her words warbled in the back of her throat. "I shamed her and everyone in this house. She has every right to kick me out."

"I'm sure Marilla will take you back," Gilbert reassured. "She's not even sending you away, that's my idea and only so I can heal you when the time comes. A train-ride is too far away."

"You and Anne won't mind?"

"No, not at all." Gilbert knew that he should bi-locate to Anne and ask her opinion, but his magic had yet to buoy and there was no way he was going to telephone Anne, not when Green Gables was on a party line with the Harrison's.

"But you have company this weekend," Dora remembered.

"Dr. Felder will understand," Gilbert said. "Especially if you allow me to tell him the facts of your situation. He might even have some advice—obstetrics is his specialty."

Dora brightened a bit and she placed a hand over the space between her hipbones.

"Can he save my son?"

Gilbert would have preferred Dora's pregnancy be healthy, for her own sake, but he was scandalously happy Dora wouldn't be saddled with a baby at such a young age.

"No," Gilbert answered back with a compassionate shake of his head.

"Why do you want to have the baby anyway?" Davy said more bluntly. "Ralph rejected you and his child. That's not right!"

"Davy," Dora's pinched countenance admonished him into silence. "This is your nephew that's going to die. I want him to live. He's part of me. He's part of you too."

"Why don't you go and pack for a few days and we'll get the rest of your things later," Gilbert suggested. "We need to head out if we're going to make our connection in Charlottetown."

"Alright," Dora stood and when she did so, Gilbert and Davy did too.

She looked at Gilbert and Davy as she pushed her chair back into position. Their standing for her was a caring touch and reminded her that no matter what happened, in their eyes she was always a respectable young lady.

Gilbert removed his hat from his hook as Dora slipped by on her way out to the buggy. Marilla hadn't said a word of goodbye to her ward, even though Gilbert saw Dora linger in the entryway hoping for an encounter. Marilla's anger was fierce. He had heard her argue with Mrs. Lynde upstairs. Marilla even stomped down the flight of stairs and made her way to the parlor where Gilbert confirmed the diagnosis.

It just didn't feel right to depart with so much unresolved. Gil didn't know what good it would do, but he entered the parlor to try and placate Dora's guardian.

To an outsider, perhaps the scene he walked into appeared normal. Mrs. Lynde sat in the back of the room, knitting. He stared are her for a moment, noticing the pink yarn she worked. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought to the child he was expecting with Anne. Meanwhile, Marilla paced back and forth from bookshelf to table, removing old bookmarks and finding pages of faded correspondence in volumes older than the house. Dust mixed into the air as she worked.

Marilla frowned at Gilbert as she opened the front of a book and revealed a very frail letter. Gilbert recognized the stationery as his grandmother Blythe's. She moved the delicate object to a growing pile of loose documents and returned the book to the shelf.

"Marilla—I know you're mad," Gilbert acknowledged, "But surely you can bid Dora goodbye."

Three things happened in succession to Gilbert's imploring. The first was an audible and expressive huff of indignation. She then gritted her teeth as her eyes flashed a warning, and then she spoke.

"You hear that, Rachel!" Marilla scoffed. "John's son thinks I ought to set aside my anger."

Rachel's eyebrows shot into her forehead and she dropped a stitch.

Gilbert's lips parted in dismay. Not knowing what to do, he took a few steps closer to Marilla as she wiped those old books free of dust.

"Marilla?"

"The last time I was this angry I said things that changed the course of my life." When her eyes found him, he understood that she spoke of her failed engagement to his father. "I don't trust myself right now to say the right thing. My mind is swimming with all sorts, but none of it for Dora's ears. Everything I'm thinking has this edge."

"When you are ready, you're welcomed to come and visit, and talk to Dora." Gilbert glanced down the stack of papers Marilla had built on the table. His breath bated seeing his father's handwriting now. My darling Marilla was his salutation.

"I'm going to call on Mrs. Harmon and tell her Dora is free to marry Ralph." And with much sarcasm, "After all, I don't know anything about love, old spinster that I am."

Gilbert shut his eyes, blocking out the scene of Marilla needlessly dusting the inside jackets of long-forgotten books. She should let that dust stay settled. He did not want to add to her upset, but someone had to speak up for Dora.

"Dora's better off without Ralph."

Marilla's forehead creased and she inspected at him without lifting her chin as she hunched over her collection.

"She's pregnant, Gilbert. Unmarried and with child! Those two must marry now. I'll get out the Papa's shotgun if I have to. Davy and I are cut from the same cloth."

Marilla sighed as her neat pile tumbled to the ground. Marilla squatted and once again, collected her treasured correspondence, the love letters and other tidbits of affections composed by his dad and his grandmother.

"Rachel—I don't suppose you'd sacrifice a length of yarn I can bundle this mess in?"

Mrs. Lynde still in the corner, sat transfixed and muted. Swallowing, she bowed her head and found her scissors.

"The baby is not going to live." Gilbert reminded Marilla. "There's absolutely no need to rush Dora into a marriage. Not to Ralph. Not to anyone."

"She's told Ralph about the baby, and if she's told Ralph, he's told his mother." Marilla put her foot down. "The fact that the baby won't live doesn't matter. If she's sleeping with him, it's time. Marriage can save her reputation."

"Ralph doesn't love Dora, Marilla. I'm sure of it." Gilbert didn't mean to raise his voice. "Ralph might have said he loved her at one time, but after what she told me tonight, he doesn't. I'm sure of it. Ralph rejected Dora completely. Marilla, he even called Dora a whore."

Mrs. Lynde involuntarily gasped which under-scored Marilla's shocked face. The lull seemed to stretch to eternity. Only the sound of the crackling fire broke the silence.

"Dora didn't tell me that." Marilla's eyes softened as she looked over Gilbert's shoulder. "Rachel—did she tell you that?"

"No!" Rachel rose to bring Marilla a length of wool yarn. Marilla took it gratefully and secured her bundle of letters.

"Marilla, Ralph's a terrible person. I wouldn't wish any women to marry him. Men like him make us all look bad."

Mrs. Lynde nodded enthusiastically. "You can take all the men in the world, stuff them in a burlap sack, whack it with a stick, and hit the right man, every...single…time."

Gilbert jolted her direction, "Really?"

"Don't gawk at me, Gilbert." Mrs. Lynde shrugged before returning to her corner. "Even you've had your moments, you know so."

"Not like Ralph," Marilla defended her son-in-law. "I'm not ready to talk to Dora, but I will be soon."

Marilla stroked her bundle of correspondence.

"I was going to read these letters one last time and throw them in the fire, but I think Dora should look them over first. Maybe she'll stop seeing me as some stuffy, old spinster." Marilla released a teardrop from her right eye and her gray lashes fluttered a moment as she pressed the bundle into Gilbert's hands. "Tell her to burn them when she's done. I don't need to see them again. Tell her, 'the past is the past'."

"Alright" Gilbert unbuttoned his overcoat and slipped them into his hidden pocket. "I'll make sure she knows."

"Gilbert," Marilla called as he departed. "Only Dora gets to read them. And, let her know that I love her and that I'm sorry I failed her."

to be continued