"Thank you Christine. I sincerely appreciate your hospitality," said Anne, wearily. She sat down on the edge of the small bed. The guest room at Christine's boarding house was perfectly sufficient and Anne was thrilled to be off her feet and desperate for a rest so it really could have been a tent in the middle of the desert for all she was concerned.
"No trouble at all. Good night, Anne," said Christine. She turned and left the room, carefully pulling closed the door behind her. Anne flopped down on the bed and shut her eyes, unable to will herself to change into her bed clothes in that moment due to shear exhaustion.
"Who was that?" asked Kathleen who lived just across the hall, as soon as Christine stepped out of Anne's room.
"That's Gilbert's girl. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."
"Gilbert Blythe? Really? Honest to God, I thought you and he were at item, Christine."
"No, no, we're just good friends," protested Christine, lightly. There was something in the way Christine said this, something about the way she shaped the words, that convinced Anne she'd been smiling while she said it.
"Oh go on," said Kathleen. "You two are thick as thieves! So, Gilbert's got a girl from back home, eh? I wonder if she bakes? I'm my experience, girls from home always bake!" Kathleen quipped, her laughter oozing with judgement and condescension.
"Ha! That's enough, Kate."
"I'm just saying, I assumed Gilbert's girl would be, I don't know, better looking somehow? I mean, he's the most handsome gent on campus!"
"I'm going to stop you right there. Good night, Kathleen."
"Alright, alright, I'm done. Good night, Christine."
Anne was stunned. She lay there on the bed, not moving, with her mouth wide open like a cod fish. She couldn't really fault the speakers for their comments; she'd long believed herself to be unattractive so she could hardly hold it against others that they felt the same way. It had been ages since she'd put any real stock in her appearance, however. Her correspondence with Gilbert was full of ideas and opinions and he'd made her feel regarded for her mind and her convictions. In the letters they'd shared, her childhood fascination with good looks had all but slipped away, and she'd come to see herself in a different light altogether. Yet here she was, alone in a dark room in the middle of Toronto completely shattered by the words of two relative strangers. She was ugly, and Christine was magnificent. What was it the second speaker had said about the two of them? Thick as thieves was it? Why hadn't Gilbert mentioned their friendship? Any other evening, her mind would have turned and turned the whole night over with questions such as these and her sleep completely fraught, however total fatigue overcame her within a few minutes. She changed in her bedclothes and crawled into bed, unsure of how to feel about the day to come.
Gilbert was waiting in the parlour the next morning with copies of the day's newspapers. Three of the publications he'd gotten his hands on were from the other side of the world and at least two of them were papers he suspected Anne had never read before, so he expected to be on the receiving end of her enthusiasm when he presented them to her. He was not wrong.
Anne was ecstatic, even more than anticipated. An onlooker may have thought she'd had one too many cups of coffee that morning, but it was more likely a combination of the butterflies she felt at seeing him again after all these months coupled with the anxiety and self-doubt that had crept in the previous evening and her genuine love of the world and all of it's stories. She devoured the news and her breakfast, and hardly stopped talking long enough to take a breath throughout.
Gilbert couldn't get enough of it, enough of her. Love was a funny thing. Ever since that day on the cliff's edge overlooking the ocean, he'd known his heart with absolute certainty. And yet, upon reflection, he'd come to realize that he'd always loved Anne. First in little, curious ways. Then, in strange and uncomfortable ways. And ultimately, in deep and powerful ways. And here she was, sitting before him, practically inhaling her fruit scone and scribbling notes in the margins of the newspaper at a million miles a minute; she was as magnificent as remembered and he was aglow just being near to her.
"I have a full day planned for us," said Gilbert. "I hope you've brought your walking shoes."
"Of course! I am so looking forward to drinking in the city, Gilbert. Your city. You've told me so much and now I want to match pictures to your words and fill in the blanks."
First on the day's agenda, a tour of the campus, and what a beautiful campus it was! Gilbert made sure to stop at every library for Anne, and he'd carved out nearly an hour to show her around the Faculty of Medicine buildings and the Ontario Medical College for Women. It was then he explained that technically Christine wasn't in their class, for women were not allowed (yet!) but she might as well have been. She socialized with their group and was heaps smarter than the lot of them.
"Just wait until tonight!" exclaimed Gilbert.
"What's tonight?" Anne countered.
"Trivia at The Wheat Sheaf. You're going to love it - it's heaps of fun!"
"Sounds … delightful," said Anne flatly, less than amused at the prospect of seeing Christine again in all of her glory.
The tour lasted much longer than the couple had expected and before they knew it the day was gone. It was 3:00 pm and their feet hurt something terrible so it was decided that they would part ways for a quick rest and then reunite for dinner and the much anticipated trivia night.
Gilbert walked Anne back to Christine's boarding house, awkwardly fussing about with his hands the whole time. The closer they got to the front door, the more Anne talked and talked. It had dawned on both of them sometime after lunch that day that, besides their short-lived greeting in the train station the night before, they hadn't really touched one another. And now, with so much of the day behind them and so many hours of not touching between them, going from not touching to touching seemed like an impossible hurdle.
The intimate moment they'd shared in Charlottetown back in September had everything going for it: mind-blowing new information, incredibly tight timelines, and the impending prospect of many desperate miles and months apart. They were brazen and determined to right a wrong and grab life with both hands and so they'd kissed not once but three times!
But, now, they felt young and afraid. So much had led to this visit. So many letters, so much anticipation. And so very much hung in the balance. Their love, their partnership, their future together. It was overwhelming and both were overcome with anxiety and hormones. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and turned to one another.
"I …" Anne and Gilbert said at the same time, challenged at this moment to find the rhythm and flow they'd enjoyed all afternoon.
"You go," said Gilbert.
"No, you, please," countered Anne.
After a short pause, Gilbert said: "I was going to say that we've been here before, in a matter of speaking."
"Yes, indeed. I'm almost afeared that Mrs. Blackmore is going to pop out the front door and remind me that suitors are welcome only on Sunday afternoons as she did after our last … encounter."
"A suitor, is that what I am?" Gilbert asked, cheekily, he's eyes ablaze.
"Um, I didn't mean to imply, I mean I …" Anne stammered. Gilbert reached his right hand to lightly stroke Anne's left cheek.
"Carrots," he said softly, smiling. "We know what we are to one another." Anne froze, caught between her unbelievable desire to devour Gilbert with a kiss that would put Lancelot and Guinevere to shame and her new found insecurity. Gilbert put his other hand on her other cheek and gazed into her eyes. She felt so comfortable there, so completely seen by him, so loved, that she reached for his arms and began to pull him into her. The two were inches apart in this, the moment they'd anticipated for days upon days, when the front door of the boarding house swung open and Christine and Kathleen appeared with an armful of books the both of them.
"Oh my, our apologies, Gilbert. We didn't know …" said Kathleen in a way that made it difficult to know if she'd truly stumbled upon them by accident or if the interruption had been planned.
"That's no bother, Kathleen. Anne and I were just parting ways. I will see you in an hour, yes Anne?"
"Indeed," said Anne coldly. Gilbert shot a quizzical look in her direction, and resolved to inquire further over dinner when the two were alone again.
"Good afternoon, ladies," said Gilbert.
"Good afternoon," the three young women answered back, and he was off.
In the interest of cutting through the tension, Christine offered this: "Anne, I'd like to introduce you to my friend …"
"Kathleen, yes? Nice to meet you Kathleen. You live across the hall from the guest room? It's nice to put a name to the voice. Good afternoon, ladies," said Anne, plowing between the two of them and in through the front door.