Hello lovely readers
I am very pleased to be posting on this story again and thrilled if you have clicked on it after another unfortunate time lag of, incredibly and regretfully, over a year. I am happy to report that there are already three chapters written beyond this one, so I am hoping to gain some momentum with my narrative again, especially as we are going to get to the juicy parts!
And may well you imagine my grin to have written my opening line below!
I have mused much in the past about the length of this story and where it is headed. I've always had a clear direction about where I want it to go and thought at one stage I might aim to finish it up at around 40 chapters. But I am learning that the story wants what the story wants! I don't wish to do a disservice to all these years of writing (and all your years of reading!) by trying to pin it down anymore. The end of this current section definitely arrives at a midway point in the narrative, however (much as the end of First Year does in Anne of the Island) and you will know I take my favourite novel in the series as touchstone and guide here.
Thank you for all your recent, heartening responses through comments and reviews and I hope this update finds you well. Thank you to all those who have left reviews for my other stories too x
With a very special birthday remembrance of the late Jonathan Crombie, a gorgeous Libran inside and out, who is THE Gilbert for me and so many readers here. I love sharing love and admiration of him in his many roles, but especially the one he is most identified with, and quite rightly. In this endeavour I am indebted to DrinkThemIn, mavors4986 and shilohtwobows, so much more than they can ever know.
*** UPDATE - I have not looked at statistics for this story for a long time, but I have just realized that I have one reader from Ukraine. May I send all good wishes and thoughts to you and hoping you and all your family can stay safe and well x ***
Love
MrsVonTrapp x
Chapter Thirty One
A Rosy Mist of Hope and Illusion
Part Two
Anne of Green Gables.
That would be her calling card for the next fortnight, until it was absolutely time to leave for Summerside. Already her five days in Avonlea either side of Jane's wedding had been expanded to eleven days had then renegotiated to fourteen, so that they could all attend the Carmody Fair, particularly as Tom had been busy behind the scenes in preparing goods both for his stall and additional entries in the prize competition sections.
But she would not think about her departure, when her mind was full of her arrival; standing in the doorway of the little east gable room that Tom had called his for the better part of a decade, her breath caught in her throat to see the solid, sensible furnishings, including a handsome bookcase only Tom could have made; the wardrobe and wash stand; and what made her truly smile – on a little low side table by the bed, not a book but a blade buried in a small piece of wood, as if the occupant might take to creating a new figure as naturally as one might, well, scribble some notes for a new story.
"Tom – what a lovely room!" she grinned, awestruck as much by her surroundings as the very fact they were both there together in the first place. "And oh- your view! The tree, with all her blossoms as snow, preening in such queenly fashion!"
Tom smiled himself, slow and delighted. "You always did have a thing for trees."
He watched Anne take a quick, wondering circuit, pausing to admire one of Marilla's braided rugs, and the handsome tobacco striped quilt she was reliably informed was from Rachel Lynde, the year he turned eighteen.
"Please put my bag down and come and sit for a moment, I beg of you, Tom," Anne urged, seating herself on the bed.
He did as bid, sitting beside her bemusedly. "So," he grinned.
"So," she answered, smiling just as broadly.
He gave her a look of quiet joy.
"Welcome… home, Anne."
Well, that did it. She could utter no further conversation even if she wanted to; she was taken up by floods of happy tears, and quite honestly, that was the best possible thing he could have said, and the only thing she realized she needed to hear.
Anne embraced the gentle rhythms of life on a farm, and more to it, life within a family. It was a strange and beautiful time and she savoured every moment, wondering on occasion if she should pinch herself and risk waking from this loveliest of dreams.
She baked in the kitchen with Marilla and young Dora, and started a piece of embroidery – for the first time in her life – under Mrs Rachel's eagle-eyed (and reluctantly approving) tutelage. She milked cows with Matthew – slowly increasing in both confidence and proficiency, so that even Davy couldn't laugh at her anymore – and learnt to ride a horse (or at least sit upright in the saddle) whilst that merry, rambunctious young man led her gentle charge around the yard. She picked apples with the twins and told them stories as they sat under the trees eating the literal fruit of their labours, until they felt their stomachs twinge in protest. She sat, squeezed in with Tom, as he directed his mighty thresher along the fields, it groaning and howling like a wounded animal, and other times walked the farm with him, chatting about all and nothing at all, finally led into the barn and up to the loft where he showed her, with a quiet, burning-faced pride, a virtual treasure trove of handmade wooden items, in baskets full to the brim and additionally safeguarded in old tablecloths and whatever other means he had to keep them, and the wonderous spinning lathe he used to help fashion the dreams and visions he housed in his head.
In a moment that made her throat throb, they invited both Pris and Gilbert for a visit, Anne preparing for this occasion with a flurry of extra cleaning and baking as if a true daughter of Green Gables, smiling with her own shy pride as their guests were presented with her attempts at both plum puffs and apple turnovers (in appeasement fashioning the signature pastries of both ladies of the house) and accepting their generous and fulsome compliments that made both instructors and student flush with pleasure. Then, as Anne linked arms with Pris, they all followed Davy out to the edge of the cherry orchards where he had set up an obstacle course, pitting, perhaps unwisely, the representatives of Blythe Farm and Green Gables against the other, in a most challenging circuit that culminated in a riotous horseback race to the finish line, with Tom teamed with rider Dora and Gilbert shouldering Davy. Both teams launched themselves across the line within a hair's breath of the other and, fortuitously, couldn't be separated – or at least not by egalitarian linesman Matthew, though Rachel, not known to be silent in her partiality, would have clearly called it for Tom and Green Gables if given the chance.
As Tom showed Pris around the farm after a break for tea and cake, Gilbert took the chance to draw Anne away, back to the nearby fabled wild apple tree that had been witness to such passionate scenes earlier during their Easter holidays.
Gilbert collapsed against the trunk, browned by the summer sun as the bark he rested against, and flushed still from his endeavours carting Davy around half of Green Gables.
"Young Davy is deceptively heavy," he groaned goodnaturedly, pulling Anne down to rest beside him. "I'm convinced it was only pride that got me over the line."
"Our Redmond football captain was nearly bested, then?" she grinned teasingly.
"Not on your life!" he growled, clutching her waist, hazel eyes flaring. "But Tom is more than your average competition, and I swear the fellow is as strong as an ox!"
"Well, you made a great showing for yourself," Anne placated, kissing him on his tanned cheek impulsively. "And thank you so much, Gilbert."
"I'll gladly accept the thanks and the kiss – and more besides," he grinned. "But I'm not quite sure what they're for?"
Anne took his large hand, cradling it in her two small ones.
"Because, Gilbert Blythe," she answered throatily, "I know you hoped to spend a little more time together this past week than we have managed, and you haven't mentioned it once. I'm so grateful for your understanding, Gil."
He took a moment to reach up to tuck a red tendril back behind her ear, pausing to cup her cheek, noting her healthy color and the vivid green sparking her grey eyes. Her seven darling freckles stood out vividly and her hair was sunkissed and relaxed into a loose, soft updo he longed to pull down and run his fingers through. She was healthy and happy, having embraced life at Green Gables and indeed Avonlea, with no lingering doubt or guilt over Tom… or Katherine Brooke… or indeed anyone at all, to mar the perfection of her Island interlude. He was not about to bemoan a few additional hours away from her, when he had gained so many more with her already.
"Well, Miss Shirley, I am gamely trying the sharing thing I was once not very good at," he smiled softly. "How do I have the right to claim all of you, when so many others love you and are likewise lining up for some of your time?"
"I can't believe this last year…" she sighed. "All the friendship and love that has come to me… and it all started with you, Gilbert!"
"No, it started with you, Anne," he reminded firmly. "Although it would have been helpful to me if you hadn't turned out to have been quite so popular!" he kissed the tip of her nose.
"Well…" she smiled up at him with a gleam in her eye, "my time is yours now, Mr Blythe."
"Indeed it is," he chuckled low, his lips seeking hers to resolutely make the most of it.
Pris had not been sorry to note Anne drift off with Gilbert, and the other residents of the beautifully named and situated Green Gables take the opportunity for a relaxing summer's afternoon, much as she enjoyed their obliging and merry company. She was pleased to be able to take a quiet breath, fall in step beside a quiet man, and drink in the pleasures of both.
Not that Tom was so quiet here, in what she thought to herself as his natural environment; he was all relaxed affability, confident and at ease, explaining a little more of the workings of the farm with a patient pride, and talking to her as an equal who knew a reasonable amount about these things herself, albeit, she was at pains to remind him, on a far smaller scale. It was just in assorted company he generally stood back, allowing others to push forward with their views and talk and opinions, although when pressed he was more than capable of offering his own, and more thoughtful and considered than most.
She had looked, almost despite herself, for any remaining partiality for Anne and found, to her secret relief and gratification (and no doubt Gilbert's) barely a trace of it. It seemed he regarded Anne as fondly as ever, but without the fire that had burned in those soft blue eyes several months before. Far from looking longingly after Gilbert and Anne as they started chatting quietly, lover-like, as they all dispersed after the Davy Keith-led shenanigans, he had instead turned to her, catching her blush as he noted her gazing at him. Well, it was impossible not to, to be fair. Tall, tanned, handsome and strapping, with sun-ripened blonde hair and smiling eyes, he had virtually overtaken noted athlete Gilbert with room and breath to spare. His face was ruddy from his exertions and the sheen of perspiration at his brow and showing through patches of his soft white linen shirt hinted at an earthy good health that was, frankly, quite intoxicating. And being so tall and broad, even having inches on herself, she felt… well… almost diminutive around him… which flattered that feminine side of her that didn't always get to feel so, with her height such a challenge to so many men of her acquaintance.
They had made a slow, looping circuit and came back to the barn just down from the main house. Here Tom paused, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
"Would you… like to see what I've been making for the Carmody Fair?"
She smiled brightly. "Do you even need to ask?"
He gave a self-effacing chuckle, leading her into the barn and then directing her up the ladder to the loft. The air was warm and hay-scented, and a large window allowed a blinding shaft of light. It was a surprisingly wide, sloping space that needed them to hunch over in places, and she giggled as at one stage he turned back to warn her of a beam above before almost clunking his head himself.
Ahead of them was a well-positioned corner by the window, and below that a low stool and a great wooden wheel, which Tom explained was the treadle lathe, operated by foot to help turn the wheel's revolutions. Beside that sat basket upon basket of wooden toys and small objects, with larger ones cradled in any available material, and a neatly stacked pile of wood of varying types and thickness, ready to be transformed.
With an encouraging nod from him, she investigated the nearest basket, gasping in delight at its treasures, then searched the next basket and finally unwrapped one of his finest efforts, a chess set that was to be his competition entry.
"It will be my gift to Matthew – er, Mr Cuthbert – after the Fair," he nodded. "And I'm working on other gifts for Christmas for the family, and, er, some of the – "
"Local children?" she looked to him with a smile.
"Yes, although I am afraid my ideas outstrip my skills, although I am still going over to Mac, who sold it all to me, over to Carmody, on occasion, and hope to look out for him when I have my stall."
"I'm sure he will be proud as punch of you, Tom."
"Well… we shall see." He seemed to flush as she regarded him intently.
"You know, your lathe was mentioned in one of my Art History books," she offered.
"Oh, yes? Mr da Vinci?" Tom asked.
Pris felt her eyebrows fly to her forehead. "You've seen it?"
"His sketch? Yes, I have. Mac sold me all his tools and things and he had a few books, too, and I found it in one of those. I poured over it. Very impressive. They say they are not sure if it was one of his inventions or just something he had seen, but I like to think he was responsible for it. As well as his artistic side he also had an amazing mind." *
"Yes, he did…" Pris agreed, wonderingly. "Tom, how terrific of you, to investigate so much on your own! I admire that tremendously. Study is hard enough when you have a roomful of friends with you and a lecturer standing by."
He blinked a few times at her praise, and ducked his head for a moment, self consciously.
"You are perhaps the first one since, well, since Anne, to mention any learning to me that didn't involve the farm," he gave her a curious, steady look. "She was always on about me keeping up with my studies, but I'll admit I found school… well… a challenge. Didn't help that Gilbert was there, showing us all up, of course!"
She laughed softly and knowingly alongside him, and he thrust his hands into his pockets, pacing around slightly. "You see, Pris, most people these days think, well, that I'm not interested in learning anything, and for a while there I didn't think I was capable of it. But when I left school for the farm, our teacher Miss Stacey, she gave me a poetry book. It seemed like a mad thing to do – I was leaving school. I wasn't going on with it. But she must have seen something in me that still wanted to learn and to, well, expand my mind a bit."
Pris gifted him a lovely, admiring smile.
"You are a self-made man, Tom. My father was the same. He started on the farm, and inherited it from his own father, but always had a head for figures and has built his own business. To be honest, he doesn't need to run the farm anymore – we could sell it and live off the proceeds of his bookkeeping quite happily – but then, my mother wouldn't know what to do with herself, and she knows nothing herself but the farm, and so…"
Tom's voice was gentle. "He obviously loves your mother very much."
Pris blinked herself, shocked by her sudden tears, and sought a small hay bale to sit down on.
"Yes. Yes, he does. She is sometimes…well, not easy to love. It's her illness, you know. It makes her sharp in her opinions, perhaps a little too exacting. And then, other times, she can be a dear. It's just… well… some days, you don't know which side of her you're going to get."
Tom was very quiet, nodding slightly to himself. He came over to sit beside her, giving a look of shared pain, that resounded still for him down through the years.
"It was a little the same, with my mother, towards… ah, towards the end," he offered quietly.
Pris could only nod herself, throat closing over.
"And so there's your mother… and her vegetable garden," he surmised astutely.
"Yes…" she gave strangled reply, and then a little sob-laugh. "When is a vegetable garden not just a vegetable garden?" Pris found the tears, humiliatingly, streamed down her cheeks, and Tom reached into his pocket for his hankerchief, offering it with a tortured smile.
"I guess we'll just have to accidentally dispose of the other entries in her competition sections," he affirmed with mock seriousness.
She laughed a little more genuinely as she mopped her years, looking askance at him.
"I almost believe you would do it, too!"
He met her gaze, smirking a little and raising a speculative sandy eyebrow.
The burst of a laugh again escaped her, but something else, too. Impulsively, she leaned across to kiss him in thanks on the cheek, catching him by surprise as he turned and landing on the corner of his mouth instead.
Pris froze in blushing mortification, caught in his gaze.
Of course at that moment Dora's soft voice came floating up – of course it did – having been sent out in search of them, wondering if Pris would like a lift back to Orchard Slope with Gilbert, who was shortly to take his leave.
Her blue eyes surveyed Tom's helplessly, before diving across and waving at Dora from the top of the ladder, squeaking out her consent. She had arrived with Gilbert and it would be churlish not to depart with him, and they both knew it.
"Hey Miss Grant!" this from Davy, his excitable tone considerably louder than his sister's. "Did Tom give you a go with his lathe yet? I want to know! He won't let me near it by meself!"
Tom stood too, rolling his eyes, admitting defeat that their contemplative, intimate exchange – and whatever may have happened next – had to be well and truly abandoned now.
"Next time!" he shouted down to Davy in answer, but his look straight at her seemed to make it a promise of every kind to Pris as well.
Anne couldn't believe the crowds; it appeared half the Island had converged upon the fairgrounds in Carmody, which was a bustling little town somewhere in scope between Avonlea and Summerside, but today it fairly bulged at the seams with its visitors, stallholders and carnival attractions. To think at one stage she would have travelled back to Summerside earlier and missed all this… missed the excitement of the twins and the bemused smile from Marilla… Rachel's enthusiastic instructions and Matthew's shy delight… Diana and Fred's quiet joy and Pris's smiling exuberance… Gilbert's pride as he took her hand in his and the broad accompanying grins of his parents… and Tom the overrun stallholder with a beaming face of flustered surprise.
"You look like you need to take on some help!" Gilbert chuckled as they approached Tom's busy stall, having come separately to those at Green Gables who had arrived early with Tom to help him set up.
"Oh Tom, how marvellous everything looks!" Anne gushed, genuinely moved to see such a professional display of such quality and scope.
"Thanks, Anne," he smiled. "And Gilbert, you're not wrong. Half my smaller toys are gone already. I'm lucky the photographer came early when there was something to see!"
"Photographer? Well, you've made it now," Gilbert assented with a broad grin.
"Well, we'll see…" Tom was both pleased and overwhelmed by the attention. "Er, excuse me…"
"Of course, Tom! Good luck today!" Anne urged.
Anne and Gilbert stood aside as an eager family appeared at the stall, their children's eyes wide with wonder and making Anne's own eyes brighten suspiciously at the sight of it. Gilbert saw and drew her away with an arm about her shoulders and giving a reassuring squeeze, knowing without being told how much Tom's success and acknowledgement meant to her.
"Come, Miss Shirley.. I can't carve wood for peanuts but I have a very solid throwing arm, you know."
"Well, Mr Blythe, I do know that! But I'm just wondering how that serves you, today?" she queried with a lovely smile, leaning happily into his embrace.
"Well, so that I can win you an outrageously overblown and overpriced prize, of course!" he raised a dark eyebrow, leading her towards the carnival barkers.
Pris strolled around behind her parents, occasionally greeted by an enthusiastic former student, trying to make small talk with Herb Spencer, who had accompanied them from Spencervale, ostensibly to assist her father should their mother take a turn but whom Pris suspected had been maneuvered by her mother into prime escort position. Certainly, he was not wholly objectionable – even quite affable – though he did seem to rather like the sound of his own voice, when she had instead become so used to the quieter rhythms of a more circumspect man.
Her younger brother had upon arrival disappeared with his friends with an engaging smile and a quick kiss for their mother, off to explore the delights of the fair as a last hurrah before having to turn his attention to his upcoming studies at Queen's. Pris envied him his freedom.
None of them could pretend they weren't nervous for her mother, entered in two of the produce prize sections, as well as her light, mouthwatering sponge cake in the cake and confectionary section, and pinning their hopes – and likely her mother's current health and outlook – on a favourable outcome. A careful assessment of her fellow competitors had her mother smiling a small smile of hopeful expectation, and Pris and her father exchanged a glance of quiet confidence. Their mother had made a good showing and was well in the hunt for several prizes.
After a torturously long exploration of the different stalls they finally arrived at Tom's, to find a veritable hive of activity and a completely flustered Tom hardly able to manage the crowd.
"Hello, Tom, I see you're swamped!" Pris offered, smile wide but tone full of sympathy.
"Hello, Miss Grant. I wish I could stop to properly chat with you." Tom's own smile was warm but fleeting, and his eyes wore a tightness around the edges, his tan face flushed from attempting to answer myriad questions from would-be customers, tote up his sales and add to a long and hastily compiled collection of details of the families requesting bespoke orders.
"I would have liked to introduce you to my mother, Tom, but I see it's not the best time…" Her mother was uncomfortable in crowds and had already backed away from the stall with a delicate frown.
"I'm sorry, Pris…" he looked up helplessly from where he was demonstrating a toy car for a small boy and his parents, whilst another couple were trying to barter the price of a set of toy soldiers.
"It's no matter. You have your hands full, Tom…" Pris turned back to her parents, her father suggesting they all seek some refreshments before the prize judging, offering to have them come back by Tom's stall later.
"Dad, you and Mother go ahead. I'll talk to Tom for a little while and meet you by the competition marquee."
"Very well then, Priscilla. Wish Mr Caruthers the best for the competition – and his bookkeeping," he winked before leading her mother off, Herb Spencer only hesitating for a second before following them, the promise of alfresco tea and scones obviously outweighing her own charms at that point.
Pris headed back for Tom's stall, making a determined path through the crowd to stand beside him behind the wide table hardly shaded by the little marquee it stood under.
"Pris!" Tom was astonished to see her materialize.
"Tom, we need to divide and conquer," Pris was suddenly all schoolmarm efficiency. "You're rushed off your feet trying to do everything! You stick to your side and field all the questions about your products, demonstrate how everything works, and discuss any requests for bespoke creations. I'll take any payments and note down the details for anyone wanting to place a particular order." She eyed the scraps of paper with random addresses he'd haphazardly collected with a shake of the head. "Perhaps I might start you on a proper list."
Tom had little desire to argue her plan, and soon the frazzled look in his eyes gave way to a more relaxed and easy discussion of his wares, whilst Pris charmed all who ventured near with her jolly manner and ready smile, extolling the virtues of the goods remaining and of Tom's skills and talents, far more than the young man in question ever would have himself.
"Pris, thank you so much…" Tom sighed his relief during a rare lull in the afternoon, taking a quick, concerned look at his pocketwatch, "but you absolutely must go to meet your parents and be there for the prize announcements."
"Tom, you also need to be there for the prize announcements!" Pris protested.
Tom swept pale blue eyes around his stall, almost depleted of his offerings. He was not yet quite ready to pack up but still loathe to leave all his remaining wares unattended, and before Pris's arrival he had beamingly waved off Dora and Davy's offer of help, urging them to seek refreshments with Marilla, Rachel and Matthew, wanting the older folk out of this strong summer sun. But in his heart he still hesitated, knowing to be there for the competition announcements served as some sort of marker for him, as if he stood on an invisible threshold, waiting to see what direction his life might next take him. If he missed the moment… would he miss his chance?
"You both need to be at the prize announcements – so best skedaddle!" a familiar bell voice piped up, and both turned to see Anne and Gilbert approach, the latter incomprehensibly toting a large scruffy-looking toy bear and his signature grin, the former with shining silver eyes raking in Tom's near-empty stall.
"We'll stand guard, Tom," Gilbert offered.
Tom blinked rapidly, busily processing this offer. "You're… you're sure?"
"Go!" Anne urged, hugging him quickly. "Good luck, Tom! To your mother too, Pris!"
Without another word they raced in unison towards the large competition marquee the other side of the grounds, Tom taking Pris's arm, and then her hand, to help her along, but he needn't have worried; she matched him stride for stride and they both arrived on time, smiling, flushed and breathless. Matthew passed each of them a glass of raspberry cordial and they gulped enthusiastically, before Pris reluctantly moved off, weaving through the crowd to find her family.
He at least had time to catch his breath and his wits, as the prizes for knitting and needlecraft took an inordinately long time. In his youth he had witnessed Rachel's many awards for her patchwork quilts, though he much preferred the clean lines of his tobacco-striped one, and Marilla in her day had enjoyed considerable success with her preserves and red currant wine. He could barely believe it was his turn to wait, pulsing with both excitement and fear, as the woodturning prizes were declared. His chess set sat, primed and perfect, the pieces smooth and weighty, the oak and teak wood expensive to source but worth it for the gleaming contrasting quality they produced.
He'd barely realized he'd won his section until he felt Matthew's hand clap him on the back and Rachel loudly urging him to step forward. He shook hands, collected his ribbon, certificate and prizemoney, and posed for a photograph for the local paper, as if in a daze. The mayor and several locals offered congratulations, including a raspy voice belonging to the grinning visage of Mac, proud as punch of his protégé. Back where his family waited, Davy and Dora whooped and applauded their delight, and Marilla held him fast in a tight embrace. Over the heads of the townsfolk, a flash of blonde seemed to bob up and down as if jumping for joy over his achievement.
They stayed for the baking and produce sections, Pris's mother awarded third in the baking competition and second in produce; a wonderful showing. Back at his stall, Tom approached a delighted Anne and Gilbert who could hardly contain their grins as they fielded the last lunge for Tom's now prize-winning handiwork.
It would be a long time before anyone encountered a finer, happier day.
Chapter Notes
The continuing title from Anne of the Island Ch 29 'Diana's Wedding'…
'She told herself that she longed greatly to go back to those dear merry days when life was seen through a rosy mist of hope and illusion, and possessed an indefinable something that had passed away forever.'
*Leonardo da Vinci was indeed amazing, an incredible artist and visionary as well as a scientific mind ahead of his time. He absolutely made some sketches for a treadle lathe such as Tom now uses, around 1480.
And some incredibly overdue correspondence…
DrinkThemIn: You are always my chief cheerleader and I am so grateful to have your enthusiasm and support of all my writing and especially of this story. Thank you for your positivity and encouragement and the Gilbert love! I am delighted you are enjoying all the character interconnections and how things are beginning to resolve themselves romantically for a particular quartet. This chapter detailing Anne's time at Green Gables was written with such a smile on my face, and I am so relieved it continues to read well for you x
Guest #1 Ch 30 Aug 20t 2021: Thank you so much for your lovely note on the last update, and I'm only sorry you have waited an equal amount of time for another one. I loved your musings about Anne, Gilbert, Tom and relations between Green Gables and the Blythes; there is a complicated history there that still might play out a little more. You are very right to pick up on Tom still rather thinking that everything falls into Gilbert's lap (and he would be right!) and there might be a few challenges in store for him yet. And for Tom! We are gearing up for some interesting times and I hope you continue to enjoy the ride! And it is a pleasure to respond to any questions or comments x
Guest #2 Ch 30 Aug 20th 2021: Thank you for your fun note about enjoying the 'mixed emotions' of the main characters. I do really love comparing and contrasting their circumstances and their evolving feelings for one another. And to occasionally give Gilbert a dig in the ribs! I am so sorry it has been well over 8 months' waiting for another update. I hope you are still reading and thank you for your faith (and patience!)
Guest Ch 7 Oct 26th 2021: Thank you so much for your gorgeous words and encouragement! I am thrilled you have been enjoying this and hope this update brings a smile!
Guest Ch 21 Oct 31st2021: I am so gratified that an avowed Anne and Gilbert fan has made room for the possibilities involving an original character. Thank you for this fabulous affirmation! I am thrilled to be doing something right in the presentation of Tom!
Guest Ch 23 Oct 31st 2021: I am so pleased that The Princess Bride references have been enjoyable for you! It is indeed also one of my own favourites and it has been such fun fitting in a few quotes!
Guest Ch 30 Nov 2nd 2021: Your gorgeous review made me grin shamelessly – thank you so much for your lovely words and support! For decades I wrote only for myself and to now, these past five years, have a readership that is invested and interested in what I write and hopefully entertained along the way is the highest validation for me x I appreciate this feedback so much and am thrilled you have been enjoying this and my other stories. It is great fun to include various film, Sullivan and pop culture references and I am glad they have added to the story. And it is likewise fun to explore the Tom-Pris dynamic and to add a few nuances to Gilbert's character x
Guest Ch 1 Dec 31st 2021: I really appreciate your feedback and the sharing of your reactions to some Anne-Tom developments. This scenario where Anne kisses Tom was certainly going to be problematic and it does muddy the waters of an already messy situation. You are very right that it does break a covenant of sorts that Anne has with Gilbert, even as the kiss also reinforces a bond she has with Tom. I hope in the writing of this scene I was able to show that it was not a planned response but very much of the moment, and there was no deliberate underhandedness attached, and that Anne is genuinely torn between the two of them and had only recently been reunited with Tom. My version of Gilbert here is also someone a little different and slightly more worldly and experienced than canon Gilbert, and having had his own romantic entanglements (eg Maisie) perhaps a little more understanding of the divided loyalties Anne is experiencing. At the same time, I hope you were able to read on to see how this situation was resolved within the narrative, even if you may have hoped things played out differently. Thanks very much for your thoughts.
Guest Ch 30 Jan 5th 2022: Thank you so much for your lovely and encouraging comments here! I am delighted you are enjoying this and really gratified that plot and characters have read well for you x And thanks so much for your support of Tom! It is always tricky to know how an original character will play and I am so reassured that you have thought him a valuable addition. As for updates, I am so sorry you have again waited so long, and am working to resolve delays in the future. Hope you've enjoyed this chapter – and further Tom-Pris interactions!
Guest Ch 12 Jan 8th 2022: As a card-carrying Gilbert girl myself, I am thrilled that Tom has won your affections! I really consider my job done well for him to have been a viable romantic prospect for Anne in many readers' minds. I hope you have since enjoyed how these relationships have developed and the pairings that I am now working towards. I am having fun with the interplay of Anne, Gilbert, Tom and Pris and hope you are too.
Guest Ch 30 April 28th 2022: Thank you so much – and no it isn't! I am very glad to be back writing this story and having more regular updates for you all. Thanks for reading!
Guest Ch 30 April 29th 2022: Thanks very much and I am delighted this version of Gilbert is working for you! I am so pleased to finally be updating this story.
Whitewave: Thank you so much and I am delighted you are enjoying this! It has been great fun for me to take Anne and Gilbert in a slightly different direction with this story and so rewarding to know that readers are happy to read it and invested! It thrills me to know that you have enjoyed my other stories too x