A/N: I know I said initially that this story was a one-shot, but it ended up that I couldn't help adding on to it. Should be 3 chapters total, when completed. This is how I imagine things would have realistically gone down had Gilbert actually had to go to war. Please r & r! Thank you :)
Dearest Gil,
I wonder if it would be wiser not to mention this, for fear of appearing less attractive in those dark brown eyes of yours, but I've grown so fat I can barely reach over the table to write this letter. If kicking is any indication, your child has made it clear that he will be every bit as feisty as his adoring mother. I shall bear anything, though, so long as his hair is not red. Excuse my presumption of his gender, but I feel in my bones that we are to have a son, Gil, and I feel even more strongly that he should be named after his courageous father. What does his courageous father think of his enormous mother's idea?
Be assured we are all well here in Avonlea. So well, in fact, that I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have married Diana instead of you. She was, after all, the Bride of my Dreams. But I suppose Fred mightn't have liked that very much. I'm so glad I ended up coming to stay with Diana in Avonlea. I know I had made up my mind that I'd stay at our House o' Dreams, but you can't imagine how depressing it was there all alone, Gil. The house itself even seemed to miss you. Also, you have no idea how taxing this whole baby process can be. Diana, naturally, has been the sweetest nurse I could ever ask for.
Gil, I am thinking of you every moment, and praying for you just as often. I feel as if my heart has been stretched clear across the Atlantic – but don't fear – should it have to stretch across all the seas in the world, it would be well suited for the challenge.
Not a day goes by but I hear some new horror story about the muddy state of the front, so I have sent, along with this letter, a package full of thick socks. I apologize in advance for their lumpiness – sewing is quite difficult when you can barely see over your own stomach – but at least they're warm.
I love you more every minute, and my heart aches with pride for all the good you are doing. I will see you soon – I and a certain little man, whom I feel might leap out of my stomach at this moment if I don't stop writing this letter and turn onto my side.
Love always,
Your very
love-sick, very devoted, and very pregnant lady,
Anne
When he had read the letter over several times, as he did with all Anne's letters, so that it was imprinted in his memory, he carefully folded it and slipped it into his pocket. His heart was throbbing with a thousand powerful emotions – excitement, sorrow, warmth, anxiety, but most powerfully, as always: love. Love for his beautiful wife, magnified a thousand times by each adorable word she had written, and for his unborn child.
He pulled the letter out of his pocket and smelled it, desperate to find a trace of her scent. He softly kissed the page, knowing that her own hand must have touched it only days before. He had known, when he was leaving her, that it would be hard, the hardest thing he'd likely ever have to do, but he had not known it would be like this. He could not have anticipated the throbbing ache that came to reside permanently in his chest, or the sharp lump in his throat that would probe him whenever he thought of his Anne, which was always – but most surprising, he found, was the quiet strength he received from her. It really was as if her heart had stretched over the wide ocean and was warming his, so that even as he slumped through the cold, muddy trenches, stitching gruesome wounds, seeing a thousand horrors every minute, somewhere deep inside, he was comforted. He felt that comfort even now, as the screams of his fellow soldiers echoed all around him, and the world suddenly went black…
Anne had been so busy running errands with Diana all morning, that for the first time since Gilbert's departure, she was not at the post office at exactly 2:00, when the letters were delivered. The ladies had been taking care of all the last minute purchases for the baby, which was due any day now. It had been a truly delightful day – one of the few bright spots in the girls' lives since their husbands had gone off to the front.
The ache was still there, a subtle throb in her heart, constant as ever, but it had been somewhat subdued in the last hours, as the mother-to-be and her bosom friend picked out various baby toys, bonnets, and anything else they felt Anne's child would absolutely demand upon entering the world. But when Anne glanced down at her watch and saw that it was nearly 2:30, she dropped everything at once, and began running towards the post office.
"Anne Blythe, slow down!" Diana cried, running after her. "That baby is going to fall out of you!"
But she would not be delayed. Breathlessly, she asked the attendant for her letter.
"Here you are, Mrs. Blythe," the woman answered, handing Anne a thin envelope. "My goodness, child," she said, marveling at Anne's rather large stomach, "you must be due any moment now! Mrs. Wright, how can you let her run about this way in her condition!"
Diana laughed. "I do try to keep her under control, but you know Anne – when she has her mind set on something, there is no stopping her."
The two women chuckled, oblivious to the ghostlike expression that had crept over Anne's face.
"Diana, would you step outside with me please?" Anne said very calmly, with perfect annunciation.
Diana followed her outside curiously. "What is it, Anne? Are you alright?"
Though Anne could control her voice tone, her hand was shaking rather violently.
"Yes, I'm fine. I just…Could you tell me what this means? I can't quite make it out."
Diana looked down at the white card Anne was holding. The black print was somewhat smeared by Anne's sweaty fingerprints.
We regret to inform you that Officer Blythe has been listed as Missing in Action. Should we receive any information concerning his status, we will notify you directly.
Diana reached for Anne's hand and was shocked at how cold it was. But Anne instantly withdrew it and rested it shakily on her swollen stomach.
"That one line – 'Should we receive any information' – what does that mean, Diana? 'Should we'? What if they should not? It doesn't say anything about that! What if that's all the information they ever receive, that he's gone, that he's missing, what if that's it, Diana, what will they do then? It doesn't say! Is there a phone number, please, or an address on the card, anywhere? There has to be – oh, God!" she cried, clutching her stomach.
"Anne, Anne, calm down, you know you're not supposed to get excited…Anne, are you alright?"
For Anne had slumped to the ground, crippled with the sharp pain of a contraction. Diana recognized what her friend was feeling at once and called for help.
Much later that night, a pale faced Anne lay on a pile of pillows with a little lady wrapped in her arms. Diana sat quietly in a chair beside the bed, marveling at her bosom friend. Though Diana already had two children, she felt that in this childbirth, Anne had surpassed her in some way. Fred had always been at Diana's side through the ordeal, but Anne had been all alone. Looking down at her, Diana marveled at the expression on her face; it was a look of solemn radiance.
"I know what I'm going to call her," Anne said weakly, gently stroking the baby's thin, soft hair.
"What?"
"Joyce. Because in this cruel, hostile world, where bad, terrible things – " she inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to cry. Diana reached over and squeezed her hand. After a few moments, breathing deeply, she went on.
"My little baby is a spot of joy in this world. And we will have to tell her, Diana, we will have to remind her every day of how happy her parents were, for that short time, how deeply in love – what joy it was…" she broke off again, silent tears running down her face.
"Anne, don't talk that way," Diana said soothingly. "He'll be back. And you two can tell little Joyce yourselves, or rather you can show her, because you'll be happy like that again, just like Fred and I will be. But now you need to rest."
The days, weeks, and months went by, bringing the war to an end, and Fred back home to his wife, but there was still no word from Gilbert. Even so, Anne faithfully wrote him a letter every day, meticulously describing each development, no matter how small, of their little dimpled lady, trying, with all the power in her, to sound joyful. If somehow the letters got to Gil, she had to make sure they were happy; she couldn't afford to add any pain to his life.
Dearest,
What do you think? She's taken to smiling whenever I come in the room. And when I hold her close to me at night, telling her stories of you and I as children – how long ago that was! – she even laughs. She has your eyes, Gil, big, brown, filled with laughter and joy.
We get on very quietly here at Green Gables. Diana begged me to stay with her, but after Fred returned, I felt like an intruder. I am happier here anyway, and I still see Diana nearly every day. The old place is rather lonely at times, but I have such sweet memories to comfort me, and of course I have our Joyce, who is a constant source of happiness. Marilla and Matthew would have been overjoyed to know that I was living here with our daughter. Davy Keith has been very helpful with the farm. His wife is the most adorable thing I ever set my eyes on, save our little lady, of course.
I miss you and love you more deeply every moment, Gil, and am constantly imagining your return. Even Joyce misses you; she looks almost sad, at times – if such a thing is possible for a sweet, cheerful baby – when we are visiting with the Wright family. But I tell her every day how brave her handsome Daddy is, and how, when he returns, any day now, he will lift her up in his arms, kiss each of her tiny dimples. I tell her how she can't imagine the feeling of warmth, security, and love, that one feels when held tightly in the arms of Gilbert Blythe.
I spend nearly all my waking time imagining that feeling, and dream sweetly of it every night.
Love,
Your faithful
ladies,
Anne and Joyce
Blythe
Eventually little Joyce learned to stand on her own, and then to take a wobbly step, and soon she was a full fledged walker. Anne informed Gil of everything concerning their daughter. But as the months passed, she began to wonder, deep inside, if anything could be worse than this wretched blindness that was turning quickly into hopelessness...
