Amanda had the letter that Matthew had written to her in her hand before the sound of Marilla's footsteps faded away. Settling back down on her bed, she started to read yet again. But before she got too deep in, the girl decided to go sit by her window, instead. The moon was so bright and lovely that night, and she felt it would fall perfectly over the precious paper as she savored every word that Matthew had written to her

And, on the practical side, it would also save on candlelight and/or lamp oil.

Settling next to the window, the young woman began to read again:

My Dear Amanda,

I've tried to write this five times now. And it's not getting any easier or any better. But I think I finally know what the problem is. It's not that I'm some over-the-hill dumb country farmer who can barely scrape a few words together. It's not that I've never tried to write a letter like this, not to any girl in my whole life and I don't even know where to begin. It's not even that I can't write romantic flowery prose if my life depended on it.

All that's true, guess I don't need to tell you that, do I? But the real problem is, my precious Amanda, that I should not be writing this down at all. It's wrong, you see. I oughtta be looking into your lovely face and saying this to you in person, not trying to put it on paper. But, you see, I guess I'm too much of a coward to do that. When you are there in front of me, the words just won't come out.

And, they don't seem to want to come out now, either. But I started this note, and I'm gonna finish it, even if I do it really bad.

I could fill up pages of my ramblings, I suppose. You sure deserve pages, a whole book even. But I won't waste your time. What it all comes down to, my dearest Amanda, is one simple thing. My life has changed so much and so fast ever since I saw you stepping off that train at the Bright Water Station. My thoughts have changed, too. Everything for me has changed. And this old, broken-down, over-the-hill country farmer is having a real hard time even imagining his life, my life, after you leave Green Gables far behind to go back to your fancy mansion on the hill. Amanda, I can't bear the thought that I might never see you again.

I asked what it would take to make you happy. Well, if you come to the barn tomorrow morning, you just might find a nice furry little surprise in the hay loft, many furry little surprises, even. Claim any you want, just don't let Marilla catch you sneaking them in the house again. Remember last time? We were both in trouble for days after.

You said that you wanted a farm. Well, Green Gables is a farm, isn't it? It's a mighty good farm if you'll forgive my boasting.

And, for that other thing that you mentioned ... Well now, I reckon that's something that we really should speak of in person. Wouldn't be right to put it on paper.

Suppose it's wrong for me to be telling you all that, wrong and selfish. I suppose it's even improper, and I know it. I ought to just keep my mouth shut and keep all this to myself. It's what I'm best at, right? I should just let you go on and live your life. But I just can't do that. It, it hurts to much not to say all this to you, my sweet Amanda. So …

Just then, Amanda's head gave a sharp nasty jab of pain. It drew a faint gasp of surprise, indignation, and irritation from the girl, and she knew that her letter reading for right now was over. With one hand clamped to her forehead and Matthew's precious letter clutched in the other like a lifeline, Amanda tottered back to her bed and lay down, carefully tucking Mathew's letter underneath her pillow.

Amanda was not the only one having trouble sleeping that night, but for Matthew, it was dreams That plagued him, Dreams of years ago

…

Matthew Cuthbert stared hard at the tiny footprints that led straight into his barn. The thing he noticed, other than the small size, was that the little one was limping badly, and had apparently lost one shoe somewhere. Once he climbed into the loft, the owner of the footprints was not hard to spot. Her dark hair stood out starkly against the hay in which she had almost completely buried herself.

Wait. Her?

Dread warred with utter disbelief in Matthew's mind as he knelt down and peered at the Green Gables intruder. All that was visible, aside from a marvelous cascade of tangled hair, was a tiny pale upturned little face. The end of her nose was red, and tears

had washed away some of the grime that coated the poor child's skin.

Suddenly Matthew was overcome with sympathy. He felt dreadfully ashamed for practically cowering in fear. Little girl she might be, for surely no boy ever had hair as long as that, but the child was clearly in some distress.

Very gently, Matthew reached out a hand and began to brush away the hay. He had not gotten far when the child gave a startled and pitiful cry and sprang up. She scooted away from him, one arm raised up to cover her face. As the ragged and torn sleeves of her dress slid back, Matthew saw the marks that covered her arms. They were deep angry welts. They were clearly lash marks.

"Daddy. I'm sorry I burned supper, Daddy" she gasped, her blue eyes wide with terror before it slowly began to dawn on her that the tall older man before her was not her Daddy. As she looked him over, this did not appear to comfort the child, however. Her terror only grew, and she turned and bolted away from him.

This poor little waif. She looks just like a frightened rabbit, Matthew thought, his fear of females all but forgotten and his tender heart breaking for this strange child.

But the frightened rabbit could not run far. She made it down the ladder and almost to the door when she gave a cry and crumpled to the ground.

"Oh, good heavens!" Matthew gasped. He rushed down and scooped the child up off the barn floor without hesitation. "What's your name, little one?" he asked gently, though he thought he knew. He thought it must be that poor little mistreated Randall girl. Did Rachel and those other women friends of hers know what shape this child was in? Matthew would be mighty disappointed if they did and had not tried to do anything about it.

The child stopped crying as soon as he picked her up. "I ... I am called Amanda, Sir," she whispered fearfully, peeping out at him through her long tangled hair.

"Well now, welcome to Green Gables, little Miss Amanda," Matthew said, still speaking as gently as he could manage. "I'm Matthew. Don't be scared. You're safe here, little one."

This did not reassure her, however. She continued to tremble violently from head to foot, breathing very rapidly as she lay in his arms. And she was burning up. Matthew could feel the terrible heat even through his work clothes, and even though he knew nothing about children, he knew what happened when the fever was this bad.

The poor startled man made soothing noises and cuddled the child even closer against his chest as he sprinted for the house. "Marilla!" he called in earnest. "Marilla! Help! Come quick! We got company!"

…

Rachel Lynde had tears in her eyes. Matthew could not remember ever seeing or even hearing of Rachel Lynde crying before now. It was a startling sight to behold, but what was worse was that Marilla looked as if she might join Rachel any second.

And Matthew's gentle heart plummeted down into his shoes. If the two strongest women he ever knew were on the verge of falling apart, things were dire indeed.

"She's sick, Matthew," Marilla told her brother. "Her ankle is the worst sprain he has ever seen, but that's not the worst of it. Because of malnutrition and exposure… Well, the doctor told us it …" Marilla swallowed then went on. "he said that it would be a miracle if she survives this night. Rachel and I will need to give her cool baths to try and break the fever."

"Bring her down to my room then, Marilla," Matthew said quietly. When Marilla and Rachel both looked astonished, he went on, "Well, ain't that easier than carrying all that water up and down stairs all the time? Bring her down and put her in my room. You and Rachel tend to her while I fetch the water for you."

Getting up, Rachel Lynde threw her arms around Matthew and gave him a quick tight hug. "Marilla, your brother is an angel. He's an absolute angel!" Then she let him go and ran from the room and up the Green Gables stairs to collect the child.

And Matthew ran to start fetching water.

It took almost a day and a half, Rachel, Marilla, Mathew, and Rachel's youngest girl who had been the last housekeeper to work for Amanda's ill-tempered Father, all pitching in to help. Marilla had gone to fetch get a sip of her current wine. Rachel's daughter was washing sheets down in the kitchen in a large tub as Matthew brought in another bucket of cold water.

The poor child thrashed and moaned and cried pitifully in the throes of her high fever. All too often, some phrases came clearly from her tortured little body. "No. I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry. I'll be a good girl," she groaned, and Matthew's tender heart twisted with rage at how this child was so badly maltreated by her own father, the very man who should always love her and fight to protect her. Yet, at the same time, his heart nearly broke with compassion.

"Marilla's current wine is the only thing that gives this poor child any relief," Rachel Lynde fretted. "Matthew, come here. I need you to hold her while I spoon this medicine down her," Rachel commanded, and Matthew did not hesitate. When he took the moaning gasping child in his arms, he visibly winced as the heat bored into him.

"Shh. Easy now, sweet little one," Matthew cooed, imploring the child to recover. "Easy, Miss Amanda. We'll take care of you. Mrs. Rachel and little Ruth, my sister Marilla, and me. We're all gonna take care of you now. You're safe with us."

The child grew visibly calmer, her crying quieted and her thrashing stilled. Her eyes opened, her feverish gaze fixed on Matthew's face. It seemed as if she looked into his very soul. "Mr. Matthew, Sir,. I'm sorry I stole your apples. I was ever so hungry," the little girl pleaded.

Then, she began to cough again, deep tearing coughs that racked her tiny body to its core. It seemed as if her fever was taking on a vicious life of its own. Matthew held her as her little body seemed to grow hotter and hotter until he feared she would burst into flames and simply burn away right there in his arms.

"Amanda!" With a low hoarse cry, Matthew jerked awake and sat bolt upright in his bed. He sat there trembling for a long time before he could convince himself that it was only a dream, just a dream.

She's upstairs with Anne and Marilla, and she's just fine, Matthew told himself over and over again. Where did that old memory come from? He wondered bemusedly as he rubbed furiously at his face and eyes. It had been a long time since he had dreamed of the day Amanda had first come to Green Gables, the days when she nearly died at Green Gables.

Sighing, and wondering whether or not Amanda had read the note which he hid in her necklace box, wondering even more fearfully what her response might be, Matthew lay back down, telling himself that dream must have been sparked by seeing Rachel's husband carrying Amanda up the road. but he tossed and turned restlessly for another half an hour before giving up and getting out of bed. He was all done with sleep that night, no matter how early it was, so he washed and dressed and headed in to the kitchen.

He expected to sit there alone for at least another hour before Marilla woke up, but he would not have the kitchen to himself this morning. The delicious smells that wafted to him told him that before he stepped into the room.

"Good morning, you're up early Maril ... Oh, good morning, Amanda?" he said, startled to find her already standing at the stove and cooking breakfast.

With a start, Amanda dropped the spoon she had been stirring the pot with. Matthew hastened to retrieve it. He took it to the sink and rinsed it off before returning it to her.

She smiled at him, then they stood for a few seconds staring at one another. "You're up early," they said to one another in perfect unison before Amanda laughed lightly.

""Good morning, Matthew. And thank you," Amanda went on. "Now sit down. Breakfast is almost ready," Amanda told him. "I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I'd get an early start and give Marilla some help this morning.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked with concern as he moved obediently to take his seat at the table, his eyes going to the bulky bandage she wore around her forehead. "Didn't you sleep well?"

"Oh Matthew. I'm turning eggs not flipping the entire stove top. You fuss too much." The young girl gave him a warm fond smile before forcing her attention back to the breakfast she was making. "But I knew you'd say that. Truthfully, I rather expected I'd be all done and sitting down at the table by the time you and Marilla came in," Amanda confessed.

Matthew looked on as she filled a plate and sat it down in front of him. Then, she went to cover the other pot to keep it warm for when Marilla and possibly Anne woke up.

"You're not eating. Is there something wrong with breakfast, Matthew?" the girl asked over her shoulder.

"Well now, I'm afraid there is one little thing missing," Matthew said softly.

"What?" Amanda looked alarmed. "Did I forget something? What is it?"

As the girl whirled around, Matthew gave her a shy but reassuring smile. He got up from the table and pulled out the chair next to his and held it for her. "I ain't used to eating alone," he offered. "Will you come and have some breakfast with me?"

"Oh, Matthew," Amanda laughed and took him up on his offer with a relieved grin.

They sat side by side and chatted quietly. Well, Amanda mostly chatted quietly while Matthew looked on, hanging on her every word.

Amanda could not finish her plate. Her head gave another nasty throb, and unfortunately, Matthew saw her wince with pain that she had so successfully hidden until then.

"I knew you shouldn't be on your feet and cooking," Matthew said with uncharacteristic firmness. He arose quickly and moved to stand by Amanda's chair and held out his arm to her.

"Matthew, really, I'm fine. Please don't fuss," Amanda got to her feet and tried valiantly to reassure him, but as her head throbbed again and she swayed on her feet, the girl knew she had failed miserably. She also knew that she had better grip Matthew's arm to steady herself. Without another word, he took her over to the sofa, and insisted that she lie down at once.

"Oh my Goodness! What is going on down here? Amanda!" Marilla cried.

Amanda winced and pressed a hand over her eyes.

"Matthew, for Heaven's Sake! What is she doing up?" Marilla demanded as her eyes swept the kitchen. "Don't tell me she was cooking breakfast?" Marilla was appalled and angry all at once. "Girl, I declare, what am I going to do with you! You know the doctor told you to not exert yourself! And you, Matthew, letting her."

"I did not let her. She already had it most ways done when I came in," Matthew protested feebly.

"I heard the two of you laughing in here," Marilla said it almost accusingly.

"I made her lie down as soon as I saw how much she was hurting," Matthew protested.

"Well, I don't know what foolishness you two might have been planning for today, but she will not be getting up off that sofa this morning. Unless it's to go straight to bed," Marilla declared.

"Amanda? Oh my! What is wrong?"

A horrified Amanda sighed and listened helplessly as Anne came bustling in, all sleep tousled and worried.

"Do you know what this one was doing?" Marilla said brusquely to Anne. 'She was down here cooking breakfast."

An impressed Anne beamed at Amanda. "Oh! Amanda, that is so sweet of you to fix breakfast for Matthew and Marilla," Anne cooed as she reached out and gently brushed some soft hair from Amanda's face.

"Do not encourage her. It is not sweet, Anne Shirley! It's foolish!" Marilla cried. "What if she had fallen and hit her head on that blasted stove!"

"Now Marilla, I wouldn't let her fall," Matthew tried to sooth his sister.

Amanda could not take any more of this. "Um, excuse me," she put in. "I am still here and very much conscious, thank you."

Everyone fell silent, even the still put out Marilla.

"I'm sorry," Amanda apologized. "I couldn't sleep. I only wanted to make myself useful."

It was Marilla's turn to heave a long and drawn-out sigh. "Matthew, get back to that breakfast that this poor girl cooked for you before it gets cold," she said to her brother. "And Anne, go fetch some cool cloths for Amanda's head. And you—" The woman put a firm hand on Amanda's shoulder as she started to sit up. "You stay exactly where you are, young lady."

An obvious reluctant Matthew did as his sister bid him, but not before he quickly touched Amanda's cheek. The touch of his work-hardened hand was quick, fleeting, gone almost as soon as it was felt, but the blush of pleasure it brought to the injured girl's face was not so fleeting, her only consolation being that Matthew had turned away and did not see it… she hoped.

Anne saw it, however, both the blush and the reason for it. The ever-observant Miss Anne Shirley bent and gave a conspiratorial little grin to Amanda before rushing off to follow Marilla's instructions.

And this left Amanda more or less alone with Marilla. If she saw Matthew's tender gesture, the lady pretended not to have noticed it. Still, Amanda half expected another scolding, but the woman simply drew up a chair by the sofa, and rested a hand gently on top of Amanda's head and sat in silence for a long time.

"I'm fine, Marilla. It does not hurt so very much, truly it doesn't. And I made enough breakfast for everyone," the girl ventured a little timidly.

"Yes, I can see you did," Marilla conceded. "And don't think I'm not grateful, child. I'll fix myself a plate as soon as Anne gets back and can sit with you a while."

Amanda opened her mouth, ready to protest that no one need sit with her at all. But she took one look at Marilla's stern expression and thought better of it. The girl reluctantly accepted that her mornings usefulness was done. So she gave in graciously if somewhat reluctantly to Marilla and Anne's ministrations.

Instead, she let herself lay back and half closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and thought about the last paragraph of Matthew's letter. She had read those final lines once the pain had ebbed. In truth, she could think of little else, and it was the one thing that had thrilled her so much and had all but guaranteed she would not be getting any sleep that night.

In the final paragraph, Matthew had said:

…So, I suppose all I really been trying to say, is that this broken-down old farmer … No, no, that ain't the right way to say it. Oh, my Amanda, I can't imagine Green Gables without you there. I can't picture the rest of my life without you in it. My darling Miss Amanda Claire, I don't ever want to imagine my life or Green Gables without you in it.

A/N:

Hello patient readers. I hope everyone is doing well, and having tons of fun reading.

Welcome back to any long-time returning readers, and a huge welcome to any and all newcomers.

A special thanks to Wolfpire, who left me the most unexpected and lovely guest review the other day. It's readers like you who bring joy to a humble fanfic writer's heart. 😀