Chapter 14 - Second Storm
Marilla Cuthbert stood on the Green Gables front verandah and surveyed the darkening skyline with a worried eye. Anne had recently set out on foot to visit the homestead of old Mr. and Mrs. Diehl, a neighbourly visit she sometimes undertook to check in on the elderly pair, but Marilla doubted Anne would have time to get there before the rain started. And it surely looked like they were in for quite a storm, Marilla thought, eyeing the ominous clouds overhead. Over the years Marilla had come to understand that Anne didn't like storms, thunderstorms in particular. Anne had never relayed exactly why she didn't like storms but Marilla was attuned enough to pick up on the unspoken fear and to take care that Anne was never alone whenever a storm was imminent. Perhaps Marilla wasn't a great one for offering physical comfort but she knew Anne was easier in her mind when other people were around her and so Marilla had always vouchsafed her that at least. But today was a different story. The change in the weather had come up so precipitously and without any real warning. Anne was out alone and on foot, and there was no way to reach her before the storm hit. Marilla knew Anne would not have ventured out today if she'd known of the upcoming conditions, for it had been bright and sunny all week long and this morning promised more of the same. Marilla's brows wrinkled with worry over the situation and a knot of anxiety grew in her belly.
"Goodday, Miss Cuthbert."
Marilla jolted from her thoughts and turned to the voice, surprised to see Gilbert Blythe sitting astride his horse on the piece of lawn just past the far end of the verdandah. Marilla'd been so preoccupied worrying about the weather and Anne she hadn't heard him ride up.
"Gilbert Blythe, what a pleasant surprise," Marilla said, affecting the expected pleasantry, but meaning the words as well. Marilla has always liked young Gilbert Blythe and although she had never told Anne outright it was always her opinion that if Anne were to choose a certain matrimonial path she could find no finer prospect than Gilbert Blythe. And in a reciprocal vein, it was obvious to her and everyone else that the young man in question was hopelessly taken with one Miss Anne Shirley. But Marilla didn't believe in interferring in such things, and so she never spoke of it to Anne. It was Anne's choice whatever her life's path took and Marilla supported her whether it was her decision to marry or not. After all, Marilla herself had survived a life of spinsterhood so she could certainly vouch that it wasn't as grim a prospect as some would lead others to believe, in fact, Marilla was quite proud of her own independence, and she certainly didn't believe in marrying just for marrying sake. It was something every woman, and man, had to decide for themselves.
"What brings you out all this way, Gilbert?" Marilla asked, perhaps a tad slyly. Everyone and their cousin knew what brought Gilbert Blythe out to Green Gables so often, and even Marilla Cuthbert took a secret delight in the teasing question.
"Anne mentioned she wanted to check in on the schoolhouse soon before term started and I though we could go today, if she wanted," Gilbert replied easily, seemingly oblivious to Marilla's sly teasing, or perhaps just more focussed on his own agenda of seeing Anne. Gilbert tilted his head upwards to view the sky. "But by the looks of that sky I think we're in for some rain," he noted, hoping he would be invited inside instead, not just to escape the coming downpour but as a opportunity to visit with Anne.
"Yes, we're in for some rain," Marilla repeated Gilbert's words with a frown, her thoughts once again brought back to Anne's predicament.
"Something wrong, Miss Cuthbert?" Marilla's worried expression had not escaped Gilbert's notice.
"I'm just a little worried about Anne," Marilla replied slowly, as Gilbert perked in sudden alarm. Marilla was worried? About Anne? "She left about a half hour ago for the Diehl place and I doubt she'll get there before the rain starts," Marilla explained. Suddenly Marilla pulled herself back from her worries and remembered herself. "But where are my manners?" she chided herself. "Gilbert, won't you come into the house and shelter from the storm? No use anyone else getting soaked today," Marilla observed with practicality.
But Gilbert hardly heard the suggestion. "Anne's out in this?" Gilbert met Marilla's eyes to ask, his mind zeroed in on that isolated detail, even as the sky grew darker and a low rumble sounded in the distance. "Anne doesn't like storms," Gilbert said aloud, remembering her fear that day at Ruby Gillis' garden party and what she had told him once of being lost in a storm as a child. Marilla met Gilbert's eyes with surprise over his spoken acknowledgement. So he knew it too. Marilla didn't know why she should have been surprised. They both cared about Anne. It was no wonder Gilbert had picked up on something she herself had discovered long ago. Marilla held Gilbert's gaze and slowly nodded her head.
"No, Anne doesn't like storms," she repeated his assessment, a look passing between the pair, a silent acknowledgement of their mutual understanding.
"Miss Cuthbert, I'll see if I can catch her," Gilbert made the sudden decision. "Probably not soon enough to escape the rain, but...but at least she won't be alone," Gilbert explained.
Ah, so he understood that too, Marilla realized, nodding her consent and her gratitude. "Thank you Gilbert," she said, but he had already turned his horse away, digging his heels into its side. Marilla watched his retreating figure with both a worried and thoughtful expression on her face.
Out on the road to the Diehl place, Anne suddenly became aware of the darkening sky and her carefree demeanour was replaced with one of unease. This outing was to have been just a pleasant visit to a neighbour but the change in weather brought new and ominous circumstances. At first Anne merely hastened her steps, hoping to make it to the Diehl place as fast as she could, and hopefully ahead of the rainfall. But when the first low rumbles of thunder began all rational thought deserted her and she turned instead back towards home. It mattered little that she was closer to the Diehl place than to Green Gables; she merely acted on instinct, and that instinct told her to seek the safest refuge she knew-home. When the drops of rain started in earnest, she lifted her skirts and ran, her heart pounding both from exertion and from fear. Oh how she hated storms. She always had. Ever since, since...well, she didn't want to think about that now. Remembering an unhappy childhood incident did little to help her in her current predicament. It was raining harder now, blinding her as she ran. She was already soaked through to the skin and the virulent winds whipped and tore at her clothes.
Suddenly lightning flashed followed seconds later by a loud clap of thunder. Anne hooked one arm in front of her face, shielding herself from the rain and the lightning as she ran onwards, turning a sharp corner to cross-cut her way over the nearby field. Suddenly a flurry of motion in her path startled her and she dropped her arm and cried out. A huge beast was rearing up before her, frightening in itself but doubly so with all the accompanying rain and wind and thunder.
At the unexpected meeting and Anne's cry, Gilbert Blythe reined his horse under control, and slid quickly from its back. He reached Anne in a step or two, and took hold of her arm, his other hand holding his horse's reins.
"Anne, it's me! It's Gilbert!" he shouted to her over the deafening storm. But Anne struggled in his grasp, twisting and turning as she fought him and her panic with equal force. Gilbert pulled her closer, tightening his hold. "Anne, it's me!" he called again, his face mere inches from her own. Suddenly Anne stilled, the familiar voice permeating her frightened senses and she looked up to meet Gilbert's eyes, almost weeping with relief at the features of his familiar face. "Here, come with me. I know a place we can shelter from the rain," Gilbert said, waiting for Anne's nod before he took her hand in his and led her away, his other hand pulling his horse along behind.
It wasn't far to the Turner barn. Well, that is if you could call it a barn. It was a makeshift structure to the say least. Set out by itself at the end of a field, away from any other buildings, its purpose was merely to store the odd bit of hay and farm equipment. Gilbert let go of Anne's hand to pull open the large industrial-sized door just as a clap of thunder sounded. Anne bolted past him into the dim interior while Gilbert led the horse inside and then closed the door behind them. The room was small and lit only by two windows, one each on opposite sides. Smelling some fresh hay, the horse wandered off into a corner to nibble contentedly on the unexpected offering. Anne stood facing the rough-hewn barn wall opposite the door, her arms clasped around herself as she shivered with cold and fright. Gilbert stood behind her, not certain what to do, how to help.
"Marilla will be v-vexed with me," Anne observed in forced lightness, reaching a shaky hand up to unpin and remove her bedraggled and soggy hat, her teeth chattering with cold. "This is the th-third hat I've ruined this s-summer," she relayed the amusing tidbit, woefully acknowledging her sorry luck with hats. "I already lost one at Moody's b-bonfire a few weeks ago. I'm sure I set it down on the bench near the fr-front porch but when I went back it wasn't there. And then there was the one I left on the fence post in the milking pen. D-Dolly make a quick lunch of th-that one," Anne ruefully acknowledged. "And now this one. I'm sure it's s-soaked beyond repair," Anne babbled on aimlessly, hanging the hat on a nearby peg as she rattled on, like she often did when she was nervous or anxious.
Gilbert spotted a blanket hanging on a peg near the one Anne had hung her hat on. It was an old, worn blanket but it looked clean enough. He reached for it and held it open to Anne.
"Anne, you're cold," he said with implied invitation.
Anne nodded at the truth-she WAS cold-and allowed Gilbert to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. She was trying desperately to appear calm and unruffled. The last thing was wanted was to show weakness, especially in front of Gilbert. She thought she was doing a good job of it too, at least she hoped she was.
So it was a surprise to her that when the next bout of lightning and thunder ripped the sky she suddenly found herself in Gilbert's arms. Maybe it was the little cry of alarm she'd unknowingly uttered at the loud noise that had caused Gilbert to pull her into his arms, or maybe she had stepped towards him of her own, albeit unknowing, accord. It had happened so fast the genesis was uncertain. The only certainty was that she now stood pressed close against Gilbert's body, her own body enfolded in his embrace, his strong arms circled about her back, holding her close and her face turned into his chest.
"There, there, Anne. It'll be over soon," Gilbert said, like he was comforting a small child. And remembering the stories Anne had told him of her childhood long ago he knew that in some ways he WAS comforting a small child.
Anne hadn't meant to let something like this happen, to let Gilbert comfort her, but now that he was it just felt so good, so right, that she could not bring herself to pull away. Let whatever shame she must endure come later, for now she would greedily take what was offered.
"Why does it rain like that?" Anne's voice was small as she asked the eternal question.
"Well...there are some who say it's God crying," Gilbert answered, supplying an answer one might give to a small child to soothe away their fears.
"But why is God crying?" the small voice again, muffled into his chest.
"I don't know." Gilbert paused. "Was it something you did?" he asked, just the barest hint of accusatory teasing in his voice.
A small silence followed his question and Gilbert held his breath a moment. Suddenly there was an unladylike snort and a small fist came out of hiding to pummel his chest. "Gilbert Blythe, you take that back!" an affronted Anne rebuked. "God is NOT crying over anything I did!"
"Well, I'm sure he's not crying over anything I did!" Gilbert replied in mock innocence.
Gilbert Blythe was incorrigible! Anne laughed out loud, surprised that she could. She had never laughed during a storm before, the fear had always gotten in the way and it was a strange revelation to her that such a thing was possible.
Gilbert was pleased he had made Anne laugh. The tension he'd felt in her body just a moment ago had suddenly left her and she felt soft and pliant in his arms. The tremors had stopped too. But neither one of them made an attempt to pull away. They merely stood together, Anne's face now turned sideways to Gilbert's chest, Gilbert's arms enfolded across Anne's back as he held her tight. How well she fit him, Gilbert thought. How well her frame fit into his.
Her fear now abated, Anne marvelled that she felt so safe, probably the very last thing she ever felt during a thunderstorm. For maybe the first time in her life she began to listen, really listen to the storm. She'd never listened to one before, the fear had been like a wall before her, shutting out everything else. But she listened now. The rain on the tin roof above them made a melodic pinging sound that was altogether pleasing. From her position she could see out one of the small windows and she could see a large elm tree undulating gracefully in the wind, its branches engaged in a lively and otherwordly dance. The low rumble of the thunder was like a deep orchestral percussion instrument and the occasional flashes of lightning were a theatrical light show, brilliantly highlighting the elm tree's dance. Even the smells were different. The warm earthy smell of the barn, the hay, the cedar slates, and even...even Gilbert. His clothes were wet from the storm as were her own and pressed so close against him she caught his scent, earthy and manly. She could feel his heart beating beneath her ear and it was a comforting sensation. The horse was nearby, his lumbering body a reassuring presence, the sound of his heavy breaths married with the sounds of the storm as he rummaged through the hay and scrapped an occasional hoof onto the hard dirt floor. The whole picture, the rain, the thunder, the lightning, the barn...it was all so wild and primitive and...
"It's beautiful!" Anne said in awe, unaware she'd spoken aloud.
"What?" Gilbert asked, startled by the comment. But Anne didn't reply, not wanting Gilbert to think her a complete idiot. But this was the first time...the first time she'd ever experienced a storm like this, in all it's beauty and glory and she was awed and overcome by it.
They stayed that was for several long moments more, in a deep and companionable silence, until the the thunder grew more distant, the lightning ceased and the rain petered out into just a few random droplets. The sky lightened and a few sunbeams broke through the overhead clouds and streamed to the ground. Anne inhaled at the sight. Another bit of beauty to savour.
They should start back, Gilbert thought to himself, but he was reluctant to end their sojourn. He was reluctant to let Anne go. Slowly he loosened his arms a little and leaned back slightly.
"We should go back now," he said.
Anne heard the suggestion but she didn't move. It was strange, the thought came to her that she should feel ashamed, but she didn't. She should, shouldn't she? Shouldn't she be just a little ashamed for having stood in a barn wrapped in a man's embrace? Try as she might, she could not rouse a single feeling of guilt or shame. Gilbert had done her a great kindness and he had given her a great gift as well. He had come to her during a storm, he had taken away her fear and he had let her experience the beauty of something she'd never been able to know before.
Anne turned her face up to his, struggling to find the right words as she always did when something was very important to her. It was easy to chatter and talk and ramble on about unimportant things, but something like this was hard for her.
"Gilbert, thank you," she finally said, the words were a bare whisper from her lips, both less than she wanted to say and more than she could hope to. Looking down on Anne's upturned face as he held her soft body in his arms, Gilbert Blythe knew at that moment that he was nothing more than mere flesh and blood mortal, tempted by all the wants and desires and weaknesses of the generations of men before him. As he met Anne's eyes, his own travelled a path down to her mouth, so close to his own, so fortuitously presented to him. He only had to bridge the merest of distances to taste her sweetest, and he fought a tortured battle within himself. One side winning out-perhaps it was the gentleman-Gilbert drew his arms away and took a step back.
"We'd better go Anne," he said, and turned away towards his horse.