Gilbert awoke at the crack of dawn. His thoughts swung back and forth like a pendulum; from reason to rage, from logic to languish, from desire to despair. He didn't know what to think or what to do. He was a man lost.
He lay in bed for hours, curled up on his side and hugging his knees to his chest.
He was quiet over breakfast - eerily quiet remarked his family between concerned glances - and sensing some difficult questions ahead Gilbert quickly excused himself. Mumbling something about having to check on something or other, he grabbed his cane and his cap and was out the door in the blink of an eye.
He stood in the yard a full three minutes looking out over the horizon, directionless. Unable to decipher the way forward, he headed torwards the family graveyard and turned to his most trusted confidants for advice: his mother, his father, and dear Mary. He crouched down and dug his fingers deep into the grass and the mud. Slowly, he lowered his head to the earth, resting his forehead in the wet soil. While searching for the words to speak his truth, to himself and to his ancestors, a gust of wind came up over him. In that moment, he felt a spirit – The Spirit – run through him like a chill and a comfort The wind was an invitation to feel his loved ones in the vibrations of the earth and hear them in the rustle of the leaves on the trees. And in that moment, for maybe only the third or forth time in his life, Gilbert let go and the tears came fast and furious. He felt everything. The loss of both of his parents and one of his best friends. The toil and the turmoil of medical school. His own brush with death, and of course Anne. He cried and cried over dear sweet Anne.
Some time later, the wind shifted and the sun came out. Gilbert exhaled loudly and turned over onto his back. He stretched his arms and legs outward, forming a snowless snow angel in the grass. With a swift inhale, he sat up. He had sudden clarity. Anne was his family. Partner or not, lover or not, she was important to him and one of the many reasons he'd been flailing this year was because of her absence. Furthermore, they hadn't spoken since that fateful day when she declined his proposal. Maybe he was after closure, maybe something else, but it became entirely clear to him in that moment that he ought to talk to her. Oh, how he longed to talk to her.
Gilbert picked himself up and dusted himself off. He wasn't quite well enough to make his way to Green Gables on foot, nor could he manage a horse in his condition. He summoned his courage, swallowed his pride, and made his way to the barn where Bash was working.
Winded from the walk, Gilbert leaned on the door and cleared his throat to get his friend's attention.
"Gilbert? You look like death warmed over. Is everything alright?" Bash asked.
"Yes. No." After a brief pause, "I'll explain everything later but, in the meantime, can I trouble you to give me a ride?"
"I'd ask where we're going but I have a pretty good idea." Bash set down his tools and readied the Blythe carriage.
The two friends, two brothers, quietly drove to Green Gables. Gilbert ran his cap around and around in his hands. He was nervous, that much was clear. It wasn't long before they crested the mild incline leading to the boundary between the two farms. Bash brought the carriage slowly to stop on the pretext that the ought to enjoy the view but more so because it was clear that his dear friend needed a moment to collect himself before facing whatever lay ahead.
"Dear Lord," prayed Bash aloud. "Thank you for your undying love. Please bless my brother with courage, humility, and the peace that passes understanding. Amen."
"Amen."
"You ready?" asked Bash.
"Ready," replied Gilbert resolutely.
"Alright. Let's go!"
They were still some distance from Green Gables, far enough away not to be heard or noticed, that it was quite a surprise to both when a figure burst from the front doors of the Culther's picturesque homestead wrapped in a blanket. Within moments, the hair of the figure caught flames; the bright sunshine alighting its ruby red colours. There was no confusing who it was.
Gilbert's breath caught in his chest.
"Courage friend," said Bash, gently.
They carried on. They weren't more than half a mile from the figure when another carriage appeared, coming from the opposite direction. It was Gilbert who saw the man first.
"Stop," said Gilbert, calmly, putting his hand on Bash's arm.
"What? Why?"
"Stop, please," he said, a little more urgently.
Bash signaled to the horses who slowed to a stop.
"What are we looking at?" asked Bash.
Gilbert didn't answer. He watched the man park his carriage and hop out. He watched Anne greet him and after a time the two started to walk together.
"Gil, should we carry-?"
"Shhhhh."
Gilbert watched as the two walking companions slowed to a stop and turned to look at one another. He watched as the gentleman spoke to the lady. Gilbert watched as he lifted his hand to her cheek. It was Christopher. Of course it was Christopher. Even from afar, it was clear that the exchange was growing increasingly intimate and, at some point, Gilbert could watch no longer.
"Turn around."
"Is that what you really want?"
"Bash, please, turn around."
Turning around was easier said than done in a carriage. It was possible, but it would be awkward and clunky and may even draw the attention of onlookers. Gilbert made a split-second decision and opted to dismount.
"Where are you going … ?"
"I'll be fine. See you at home."
"See you at home."
For a man is his condition, it was a marvel he made it home at all. Gilbert wandered first through the forest, past Orchard Slope and the Lake of Shinning Waters, and then to the sea. He sat for hours, staring out at it forlornly, all misty and purple, with its haunting, unceasing murmur. He was a man grieving, a man drowning in grief.
He found some comfort that week in family, and in the affectionate gaze of young Delphine, but Avonlea held mostly sorrow for the young doctor-to-be and were he to stay any longer he was certain he would succumb to the melancholy that rippled through him most nights. He must return to Toronto and start a new life once and for all. Onwards and upwards, for the alternative was surely a death of sorts and there had already been too much death in the Blythe family.