Timeline - Anne's House of Dreams. Approximately two or three months into Anne and Gilbert's marriage.

For a shorter narrative, I am combining 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 even if I elect to take liberties.

Chapter 37: Witch

"Finally, it's nice to see you're here. I've been thinking about homesteading in the lobby." Gilbert complained in a joking manner. He was close to the passenger car's exit, or close enough that he could talk over the crowd on the platform and be heard by his intended audience. Dr. Felder was corralled by two slow-to-move passengers on the steps and couldn't disembark from the train. He smiled and waved back. Dr. Blythe came closer and added, "I escorted Miss Cuthbert here a few hours ago. She was headed back to Avonlea, alone."

"Really? Miss Keith stayed behind?" The surprised doctor shook his head, realizing he'd be encountering Dora sooner rather than later. He worried about the ramifications of his letter, assuming she had read it.

A warm, gray smoke surrounded their legs as the train emitted exhaust. "Well, shall we go?" Gilbert urged.

The conductor shouted, "All aboard" and Eugene sidestepped to give the pressing crowd room. They bypassed the interior lobby and headed toward the hitching posts along the street.

Gilbert shuddered as an icy wind engulfed them and Eugene found himself tugging his muffler back into place.

"Dora wanted to stay with us a little longer, and honestly, I'm glad. I'll worry a lot less knowing Anne's not alone in the house."

"Oh dear," Dr. Felder's Adam's apple bobbed as they stopped at Gilbert's buggy. Gilbert circled the carriage to untie his horse. "More fainting spells, is it?"

Gilbert's weak frown confirmed Eugene's suspicions.

Monty shook his head which filled the air with jingles and Eugene dropped his satchel and medical bag into the back. That's when it happened. When he tried to spring up to the front bench, he lost his balance and fell on his rump.

Two giggling ladies passed as he picked up his eyeglasses and hat. He forced a return smile to the women before making a second attempt. This time, he took Gilbert's steadying hand that pulled him to his seat.

"What a way to impress the ladies!" Gilbert chuckled. Eugene's cheeks grew pink as Gilbert fixated on his clumsy display. "That pair, sisters. Can't remember their names, but I do recall they're single."

Eugene reconstructed his dignity, replying. "Oh, I'm not looking, at least, not anymore, if I was at all."

"Giddup!" Gilbert urged Monty and they lurched back when the rig jolted forward. Monty was ready to go, sick of standing in the cold wind.

The bells were plentiful and called attention to Dr. Blythe's vehicle. Some even yielded to him as if he were a fire wagon. Monty loved the new tack and the excessive number of bells on his harness and reins. Once warmed up, he seemed to prance, trotting in a manner that enhanced the music. Everyone watched. Some pointed.

Speaking over the jangles, Gilbert predicted. "Don't give up. Someday, the right one will come along, and when she does, you'll marry again, Gene. That's not just me wishing it for you, it's Anne too."

"Says the newlyweds. You know, Gil, it's not all happy fun times." Eugene could remember the quarrels. He regretted them so. He and Victoria had always fought hardest when they were preparing for a concert. "Marriage can be a lot of arguing."

"And a lot of making up." The silly, unadulterated grin Gilbert wore told Eugene more than he wanted to know. He shook his head to disapprove, a gesture which disagreed with the broad smile now on his face too.

The truth was Eugene missed having a mate. The physical aspect was important, but it wasn't more important than the emotional support. It would take a special someone to see him for himself. He was more than his medical degree and the trappings that came with his profession. She would have to embrace the motivations that defined his core. Unfortunately, most of the women he encountered were dazzled by his title and potential salary.

"You're thinking like a small-town doctor there, Gil. In a place like this, a physician just can't be single, can he? I bet you broke a few hearts when the locals found out you were already married."

Gilbert's face grew rosy now, he was very aware of the unsolicited looks he sometimes harvested from the opposite sex.

"There's a few that speak to Anne rather crisply at church."

"So, Anne goes out still?"

"Oh yes," Gilbert tilted his head in thought. "She doesn't feel faint sitting or resting, it's just when she moves suddenly. I've examined her, and everything seems on track. But you know, we've got seven months to go. Maybe she'll adjust."

"I'd be happy to have a look," Dr. Felder offered. It was the least he could do. "A second opinion never hurts, although, I suspect it's a problem with the vascular system. Maybe the uterus is pressing... "

"Gene," Gilbert shook his head 'no'. "It's not that I don't want your help, but I'm thinking that the problem isn't medical."

"What do you mean not medical? Those fainting spells sound alarming. That's symptomatic to a medical issue."

Gilbert glanced side to side from his perch behind Monty. Now that they were out of town, his horse had lost interest in showing off since no one was watching. The bells muffled from lack of movement.

"I haven't even mentioned this to Anne yet, but." Gilbert hedged. He should tell Anne his suspicion first, but he hadn't managed to find the time. He was concerned the conversation might go badly, but, practicing might strain out his worries. "The baby is a witch, like me. My mother went through the same thing. There's no remedy for Anne's vertigo."

Dr. Felder dragged a hand down his face realizing he wouldn't be much help. "You know, I forget about your powers sometimes. But, that would make sense. It is a bit puzzling when you look at it in the abstract."

"Well, we can talk about it later, we're almost here now." Gilbert chin-pointed towards a large house hidden behind a grove of maples. "Thanks for coming with me on this call. Saves me a trip."

"So," Eugene mentioned as the conversation lagged. "Heal any more cows, lately?"

Gilbert snorted, "I shouldn't have told you that if this is what I get in return."

"Oh, relax, Gil. Be glad you can expand your practice if you must. You'll always have work."

"So, the conference didn't help your situation?"

"Not really," Eugene answered. He was too tired to feign his normal cheerfulness. "I need support from patients. When we were at school, I thought educating the educators would be enough, but it's not. I must reach women with my message. I'm afraid that most doctors are not as frank about reproductive issues as they should be."

"I think they're as frank as society lets them get away with." It sounded like an excuse as Gilbert said it. It rang true though.

"Yes, there's a certain amount of social conditioning I'm fighting. Sex is explained with tall tales and by observing dogs and cats mate. That deluded boyfriend of Miss Keith's has such bad ideas about conception as a result."

Gilbert held his tongue because he didn't want to be admonished by Eugene, who had a habit of pointing out the risks he takes with his powers. But Ralph needed to be educated about matters of procreation and Gilbert meant to deliver that lesson. It was his responsibility as a physician. So, the other morning at the crack of dawn, he bi-located to Ralph's bedside table as a tiny man and woke Ralph. He then explained to the blurry-eyed and confused Andrews why coitus interruptus doesn't work. The episode ended with Ralph running out of the room in a panic.

"Changing the world will take a lifetime, but in the meanwhile, what can I do to help you?"

"Do you want a piano?" Eugene offered. He had lost his case against his Pringle in-laws and he inherited his deceased spouse's favorite piano as a concession. "It's was new in 1820. Very compact as it's an old-style square shape. I'll arrange for a tuner as well once it's moved. It's meant to be played, Victoria would like that. I can't look at it without feeling heartbreak and selling it is out of the question." Eugene recalled Gilbert's gleeful expressions on marriage and reminded his host that he wasn't the first to invent such affection. "We fell in love playing music, you know."

Very practically, as they came to a stop in Mr. Morgan's large stable, Gilbert answered. "Gene, I'm sorry, but, I don't think I have room for it. Besides, Anne and I can't play it. We'd just look at it and wonder how it's done." Gilbert handed Eugene his medical bag from the back. "But, I'm flattered you'd trust me with something that means so much to you."

*/*/*

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Morgan." Dr. Blythe wiped his feet thoroughly on the doormat. He could tell that the occupants of the house weren't allowed to wear shoes inside, just slippers. There was a shoebox on the porch.

"I see you brought a tag along!" Mrs. Morgan noticed the medical bag Eugene carried with a deliberate lowering and raising of her head. "I hope we're not going to receive two billings."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Blythe stepped aside to introduce Dr. Felder properly. "Dr. Felder is a buddy of mine who's visiting this weekend. I'm taking him on rounds, if you don't mind."

"Well, that will be Amos's decision. He might be bedridden right now, but there's nothing wrong with his mouth. He'll tell you if he doesn't want it." Mrs. Morgan opened the door wider and swooped her arm in a gathering motion. "Com' in. Com' in. You know the way."

The wide-hipped woman closed the door and waddled a few feet in front of them, wrapped in a crocheted shawl with rust-colored tassels. She disappeared into her parlor as Drs. Blythe and Felder removed hats and overcoats.

Gilbert took his time to memorize some of the house's features. It was large and airy, but not so large it couldn't be cozy. He liked the walnut banister. It was the kind children would love to slide down to the curled-in end. He imagined the Morgan's were forever telling their children to stop playing on it. A problem he coveted in a weird way.

He needed to upgrade his home, ideally, buy it outright from the owners and add on to it, or finance a new house in town. Marilla disapproved of their house of dreams. She said it was too small. Gilbert knew this already, but Marilla's pronouncement added urgency. She reminded him of the promises he made when he'd sought permission to marry Anne. He agreed that Anne and their children deserved better.

Dr. Blythe advanced to an interior door and Dr. Felder followed. Before entering his patient's room, Dr. Blythe explained, "Mr. Morgan is recovering from a minor stroke. He's a great patient though. Has a lot of grit. I think you'll like him."

Dr. Blythe wrapped the door and a gruff voice answered back, "Ah, Good Lord woman, we've been married fifty-six years, you don't have to knock any more, I tell you."

Dr. Felder snickered and Gilbert deadpanned, "It's Young Dr. Blythe and Dr. Felder, whom I want to introduce."

"Oh!" A clatter of things hit the floor.

Books maybe?

"Ah, shit! Alright, come in, but mind you, I've got debris on the floor. I just knocked over all those damn knickknacks the wife leaves on my side table."

Ammonia filled their noses as they entered the room. The maid worked hard to keep Mr. Morgan in clean sheets. He was incontinent. As for the man himself, Mr. Morgan rested on his back with the covers pulled over his front and wore a striped bed shirt. His walking cane rested next to his bed, dusty from neglect.

"Say, are there two of you?" The old man squinted. He picked up his eyepiece that hung from a chain from his neck and placed in on the bridge of his nose.

"You should show him bi-location." Dr. Felder elbowed.

Dr. Blythe ignored Dr. Felder's quiet suggestion, instead, taking the first steps into the depths of the large suite. "Hello, Amos. Meet my colleague, Dr. Felder."

"Hmm," The elderly man tried to peer around Dr. Blythe to analyze the new face. He stopped his efforts when Dr. Blythe had finished walking across the room.

"So, how do you feel?" Dr. Blythe sat down alongside the mattress, one leg propping him up, so he didn't slip.

"I'll get with you in a second." Mr. Morgan promised.

Amos positioned himself so he could be seen by the new fellow in the room that still stood near the door. He waved a finger to Dr. Felder and instructed, "Bring the chair, Sparky, won't you?" He then pointed to the other side of his bed, indicating Dr. Felder might sit next to him during the house call. "Young Doc here likes to hover, but no need for you to stand. He's quite the talker, asking me this and that. The exact opposite of Old Doc. He hardly said a word."

"Uncle Dave never treated you for stroke though. May I?"

Amos Morgan consented with a roll of his eyes. He didn't care for this part of Young Dr. Blythe's examinations.

Dr. Blythe gingerly picked up the gentleman's hand to ascertain the extent of his improvement. He had already observed that Amos was feeling better. The patient moved in his bed easier than last week and his conversational quips indicated some recovery. A quick reading using his powers should tell him what the patient couldn't articulate.

"Now Amos, squeeze my hand."

"You're a real sweetheart of a guy, I can tell." The old man joked and squeezed as directed. He never liked having his hand held by a man and humor helped him manage that awkward feeling. "Why is your hand always so hot?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Amos." Dr. Blythe apologized. "I was just testing your grip as I can tell a lot from it. You've got some strength back. Probably why you accidentally knocked over this décor." Gilbert looked down at a couple of pictures on the floor before returning his attention. "I don't think you could have done that last week."

"I do feel better. True."

"Let me help you pick this up."

"Looks like I'm still in the delivery business." Dr. Felder said as he finished pushing the heavy chair to the spot Mr. Morgan had pointed out earlier.

The old man shrugged, not understanding the joke, but not caring enough to ask. He turned his head as Gilbert arranged the personal tokens, but one picture remained in Dr. Blythe's hands as curiosity glinted his eyes.

"I recognize this place." It was a photo of the entire Morgan clan, taken at the seashore. "Isn't this the Moore's land? And is this grainy white blob in the distance not the house I live in now?"

"Possibly, but, I think you mean the West's land as far as I'm concerned. Dick Moore is a travesty of a man."

Gilbert passed the image over when his patient gestured for it. Mr. Morgan held it close to his face, inspecting it as he spoke to both Dr. Blythe, on his left and Dr. Felder, sitting on his right.

"This picture predates the Wests though. The land was Mr. Selwyn's. Us brothers took our families to that old pier for a picnic. Carlton had just come home from Paris, a bonafide photographer, and was wanting to use all that equipment. So, we lined up against the boardwalk." He tapped the photo indicating the infrastructure that was hidden behind most of the family. "We had a great time until Selwyn said we were trespassing and asked us to leave."

Gilbert managed a jolt of shock. Captain Jim had idolized Mr. Selwyn so much Gil had just assumed that such devotion was warranted. After all, there wasn't many around the Glen to counter Captain Jim's stories. Mr. Morgan was one of the few that could. He and Mr. Selwyn would have been about the same age.

"Sounds like you didn't like Mr. Selwyn. Captain Jim thinks mighty highly of him."

"James Boyd was never here to see his real colors." Mr. Morgan shrugged as he explained. "That teacher had a reputation with the ladies. I told my girls to stay away from him and not to take him up on the private tutoring he offered. No man memorizes so much poetry and not be a romantic. He was a cheat in business too. He was always selling what-ever goods Pirate Willis had, which undercut my business. Never a happier day for me and many others than the day he split town. He was a witch, you know. He knew when to run and where to hide."

Dr. Blythe stiffened again when Mr. Morgan mentioned magic. Captain Jim had convinced him that the schoolmaster had been a respectable man and a devoted husband, but like his patient pointed out, how would Captain Jim know for certain if he was always away? Their friendship had been punctuated with long periods of not seeing one another.

"Might I see the picture?" A voice requested. The old man turned his head from Dr. Blythe and passed the much talked about picture to Dr. Felder.

Gilbert continued to examine Mr. Morgan as Dr. Felder asked about particulars.

"Mr. Morgan, which one are you, sir?" Dr. Felder leaned in so that they could both review the black and white document together.

The man touched his immortalized image. "There I am! My wife is in front of me with the baby. My youngest, Sarah. The other four are there too.." His arthritic finger scanned out the faces, saying the names as he recognized them. "Hester, Abigail, Dorcas, and Charlotte. You might have heard of Charlotte. She writes novels and has made a name for herself in Toronto, writing for love-sick women."

"Can't say I have." Dr. Felder looked again at the indistinct seascape. The sandbar was a fuzzy blip on the edge, balanced by a rolling bluff on the other side.

"How old is this picture?"

"Fifty years or so..." Mr. Morgan said. "That was taken on Easter. My brother's family was in town. It was the last time my siblings and I were all together."

"It's a lovely picture. I can see why you've kept it." Dr. Felder said as he returned the item back to the owner. Amos then attempted to perch it back on the doily-strewn side table. Dr. Blythe helped in the endeavor.

"I never knew there had been a landing there." He shook his head because it was absurd to put a landing so close to a sandbar.

"Really Dr. Blythe? I heard about it from Mrs. Moore. Last time I was here to visit." Dr. Felder chimed in. He was bored in his chair now as Gilbert lifted the sheet to examine Mr. Morgan for sores. "She said that when her father bought the property they tore it down and used the wood to build her house."

"That sounds like something Frank would have done, alright." The patient said, "Frank was a good man, he wasn't lazy like some claim, but was riddled with bad health and bad luck. He hung himself in the living room. I think..." The old man broke off. The two faces that looked back at him were wide-eyed now. "I wouldn't put it past that old witch into cursing the place. It's malevolent, what's happened to that family over the years. Particularly with the men of that house."

"Well, that was all a long time ago," Dr. Felder cut-in as Dr. Blythe paled. "Let's find out how you're doing?"

With an elongated sigh, Dr. Blythe reported. "You're lookin' pretty good, Amos. I don't see any sores, but I'd like to listen to your ticker."

"Sure," Amos agreed. He unbuttoned the front of his shirt revealing a hairy, gray chest. It was on par with the crop of longish hair he kept pinned back with his large ears. He jumped a bit when Dr. Blythe pressed the cold metal to his pectoral.

He turned his attention back to Dr. Felder. "What did you say your name was?"

Eugene offered a hand, "Dr. Eugene Felder."

"So, are you policing this one over here." Mr. Morgan indicated Dr. Blythe and the cardiac examination he was performing. "He's a strange coot, I'll tell you that!"

"Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Morgan." Dr. Felder's eyebrows wiggled. "Dr. Blythe and I were roommates in medical school."

"Medical school, what will they think of next? Old Doc never went to a fancy medical school. Or, at least I never heard him mention it. He said he was born to heal." Mr. Morgan stopped as Gilbert moved a supporting pillow. "Oh, you want me to lean forward?"

"It makes listening to your lungs easier." Dr. Blythe informed. The old man bent forward so that Dr. Blythe could hear the three lobes of each lung.

Amos waited for Dr. Blythe to finish before returning to what he was telling Dr. Felder. "Where was I?"

"You were saying that Dr. David Blythe didn't go to medical school."

"Time to check your reflexes," Gilbert announced again, showing him the hammer that he procured from his medical bag.

Mr. Morgan waved approval to Dr. Blythe and returned to his conversation.

"That's right. Yet, he was one of the best doctors I've ever had. He can cure any stomach ailment, I tell you. He was better than old Dr. Crabb. What a monster he was. I'm not sure if that was his real name or a moniker describing his bedside manners."

"Uh," Gilbert interrupted. He was assessing Mr. Morgan's feet. He had the blanket pulled back to Mr. Morgan's ankles. "Amos, can you feel this?"

With one hand holding Amos's foot, and the other free, Gilbert ran a finger on the underside of his patient's arch.

"Some. It feels like water trickling. You sure I'm not peeing?"

"Can't you tell?" Dr. Blythe furrowed his brows together.

"Well, I was trying to be funny, but.." Amos patted himself, checking for leaks. "Half the time I can't tell I've wet myself. That poor woman of mine is sick of changing sheets."

Gilbert put down Mr. Morgan's foot, covered it up, and sat bedside again.

"It sounds pretty typical for what you've been through." Gilbert dropped a hand on Mr. Morgan's knee. "I know the incontinence bothers you, but it might improve if you practice those exercises we talked about last time. Like you're peeing, and you want to stop the stream. Practice those muscles. And, use the briefs we talked about, the ones..."

"I'm not wearing a diaper!" Amos stated flatly. "After all, I was sort of kiddin' when I said I might be peeing."

"Of course you were," Dr. Blythe snickered as he stood up. "Anything else I should know about?"

The old man's breath hitched a bit and he waved a hand to gather the doctors closer to him. "I've had one or two really strong stiffies. You know… like it was when I was a youngster."

"Is that unusual?" Dr. Blythe asked while Dr. Felder adopted an intrigued face.

"Well, you know." Amos blinked down a moment and attempted not to blush. "I wouldn't mind being woken up by them if my bride found them as interesting as I do, but she says she's barren now and I can stop getting so excited. Plus, I do understand I may not be in my most attractive state right now."

"Well, I'd say on the whole your body is just feeling better, testing itself out."

"Keep talking with your wife," Dr. Felder suggested. "It will help you feel better, keeping that conversation going. You don't have to necessarily engage in any activity."

He waved a frustrated hand, shaking off the idea. "The only stick she's interested in is that darn crochet hook." Amos shifted again and Dr. Blythe adjusted the bed pillows behind him. "I know you're married." He spoke about Young Doc Blythe, but then prodded Dr. Felder. "Are you married, Doctor? Sorry, I forgot your name already, old age is such fun!"

"Dr. Felder," Eugene repeated with an understanding grin. "I am a widower, but I do remember being married well enough."

"Oh," Amos looked away, embarrassed for his candor. "I beg your pardon."

"It's alright," Dr. Felder answered. "It causes me no pain to discuss. I came into medicine because of her passing away. I wanted to learn everything I could about obstetrics and gynecology."

The old man's face wrinkled trying to understand the words.

"Women's health that is. My wife Victoria and child died in childbirth."

"That's terrible. No wonder you lost your hair." Amos blinked and Dr. Blythe laughed as Eugene rubbed his bald crown. There was a reverend beat before Mr. Morgan continued his thoughts. "That was rude of me to say. I'm sorry about that. I can't imagine what that would be like. I forget that some women need doctors like that. My wife had no problems. She shot them out like cannonballs from a cannon. The midwife wanted to know her secret."

"I don't find your frankness rude. It's refreshing to me, actually." Dr. Felder said as he stood. Gilbert had packed his black bag a few moments before and was waiting for the conversation to peter out before leaving. "Looks like we need to say good-bye."

"I'll be back in a few days, sir." Dr. Blythe promised.

"It was really nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan." Dr. Felder supplied his own hand once more. "I enjoyed your stories."

"Come back anytime, I have many." As the door latched behind them, he called out. "And you can call me Amos."

* / * / *

"So, what's really going on with Mr. Morgan?" Eugene asked with his mouth full. Mrs. Morgan had given them a half dozen sugar cookies in parting and Eugene was nibbling on them one after another. They were good, a crisp wafer of sweet and sour with hints of almond.

Gilbert looked around to make sure it was only Eugene within his hearing. "There's something going on with his prostate."

"So, heal him."

"The question isn't can I, but should I?" Gilbert unwound his internal debate for a new audience. He and Anne had discussed the 'To heal or not to heal' question. "Here's the thing. Mr. Morgan is very well known and respected in this town. And, everyone knows what happened to him as he had his stroke in the middle of Carter Flagg's store. If I heal him outright, a quick recovery is going to be noticed. And, I don't want another Rhoda Allonby."

"What does Anne think?"

"We think that if I was meant to heal him, I would feel a stronger draw to do it. You know how Mr. Moore's case nags at me. I'm supposed to help him." Gilbert swallowed down the regret in his throat. "But in Mr. Morgan's case, I don't feel that urge at all. In fact, I feel almost the opposite, that this is what is supposed to happen. Sometimes I wield my powers: sometimes my powers wield me."

"I do recall you healed because 'you had to.'" Eugene slapped a hand on his back as he didn't mean to dredge up a bad memory. "I thought it foolish at the time, but healing Tomgallon's son was the right call, and it worked out. Your instincts are not always horrible."

"Ah, what high praise there," Gilbert was hanging between a guffaw and disgust. He really felt he should be more offended, but Gene had seen him and his powers at their very worst.

"I was trying to give you a compliment, it just came out wrong." Eugene apologized and raised his hands. "Honest! You're doing very good work here. No wonder your practice is booming. You know I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it."

"Thanks!" Gilbert's half smile made his chin jut. "You know, I don't think I'd be the success I am without your help during school."

"Really? It was only one year Gil. One year that I helped you manage your powers."

"Still," Gilbert sighed as the road curved over the top of a sloping hill. His home was a welcomed sight in the not far off distance. And in the other direction, through the leaf-bare limbs of the Lombardy trees, a rising moon was dueling with a fading sun. Gilbert experienced a satisfying pang to his soul. An ineffable emotion that threaded him to eternity. This was his life and it was beautiful. He completed his thought not to compliment, but to share the perfection. "It means a lot to call you friend."

to be continued

*Mrs. Morgan and her crocheting stuck with me from Booties for Walter, by elizasky, although, I had forgotten where I had read it when I was working through this update.