Author's Note: This is a short story with literally no plot of the courtship of Marilla Cuthbert and John Blythe. I hope you enjoy! Again, there is literally no plot.


The terribly chilly winter air nipped at both of their noses as John walked Marilla home from school that winter afternoon. It was extremely cold and dreary that day; the sky filled with large unfriendly looking grey clouds, and there was a consistent bone chilling breeze that rustled through Marilla's long chestnut colored hair, blowing it around her shoulders, and also blowing both of their colored wool scarfs into their faces. Although there wasn't yet any snow on the ground, it was obvious that there soon would be.

They flinched each time a particularly hard blow would come, temporarily stopping their conversation, and pulling their coats snugger around themselves.

"I'm such a ninny for forgetting my gloves today," Marilla said, stopping in the middle of the path, and beginning to rub her numb hands together, now turning pink from the cold. "I picked them up this morning, and set them down on the small table next to the door before Matthew and I were to leave for school, but then Matthew ended up spilling his porridge, and after that debacle, we were in such a hurry as to not be tardy, I left them right on the table."

A small smirk grew across John's handsome face, and he subtly offered: "Well, my hands happen to be exceedingly warm, despite the fact that I forgot my gloves just as you did this morning." He lifted his hands to offer them to her. "Perhaps I may offer you some warmth?"

A smile grew across Marilla's face, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek, causing him to grin in delight. They'd only been courting for a few months, since Marilla's sixteenth birthday, but each kiss, each gentle caress, still felt as new and as dear as the first. "Very smooth." She laughed, but accepted his offer. John set the schoolbooks on the ground that he had been carrying for her, and eagerly took her hands, beginning to rub them with his own.

John marveled at how small and dainty her cold trembling hands were, while Marilla was in awe with the fact that even though his hands were calloused from farm work and chores, and were slightly rough, they still remained warm, gentle, and welcoming.

After a few moments, Marilla began to feel the warmth return to them, and she softly murmured her thanks, before pulling them away. John picked up the discarded books, and the two continued walking, and chatting together, their hands brushing, as they came to the end of the path with Green Gables in view.

"I'll see you at church on Sunday then, Mar?" He asked her when they came to the gate, and he handed her books back to her.

She opened her mouth to reply yes, but stopped when an idea came to her. "John, can you stay for tea? I helped Mother bake some scones yesterday afternoon, and there's still plenty left. Also, we can look over the homework that is due on Monday, and see if--"

He interrupted her by kissing her forehead. "I'd love to." He murmured.

She smiled.

When the two reached the front door of Green Gables, Matthew opened the door and greeted them shyly. Even though all of the students were dismissed at the same time from the schoolhouse, Matthew always managed to make it home before Marilla. He was always the first student out of his seat and out the door the second class was over.

After taking off the numerous amount of jackets, coats and scarves that they had on, and leaving them to hang on hooks by the door, then setting their schoolbooks down on the wooden bench, Marilla led John by the hand into the kitchen. Mrs. Cuthbert looked up as they walked in, pausing from rolling out dough that she had spread across the kitchen table. She smiled at them. "Afternoon, Marilla, John." She greeted. "Come in for tea, I presume?"

"Yes, Mother, if that's alright. John and I were just going to look over our homework, and you know how I've been having such an awful time with the geometry lately, and John, well, being as clever as he is, I'm sure could help me."

"Of course, that's perfectly alright. It's so bitterly cold outside, it's a wonder you made it home without your fingers and toes falling off. Your Father has already predicted that it's going to be a harsh winter, and this is just the start of it."

Sighing to herself, Mrs. Cuthbert straightened herself from the position she had been in, leaning over the table in order to roll out the dough, and she wiped her hands on her apron, walking away to fetch a kettle to boil water in.

"Your older brother is outside chopping wood. I told him that it was much too cold to do it now, but he insisted. He's such a thoughtful one, your brother. Bless his heart."

Mrs. Cuthbert loved all of her children dearly, but it was no secret that Michael was her favorite child. She always spoke very highly of him to friends and family, she valued him for the excellent grades he received while he was in school, and proudly spoke of the strong work he carried out on the farm.

Marilla merely smiled at her mother in response, and gestured for John to take a seat at the table. When her mother's back was turned as she tended to the kettle, she kissed John's head after he had taken a seat, and whispered in his ear, "I'll fetch our schoolbooks."

Darting out of the kitchen, her dark hair flying behind her, Marilla picked up her schoolbooks that were left on on the bench, and hurried back. Mrs. Cuthbert set the tea to steep and resumed rolling out her dough, occasionally stopping to add more flour to the rolling pin so that the dough wouldn't stick.

John helped Marilla with her homework, as they sat side by side at the table, secretly holding hands underneath the protection of the table. Marilla smiled to herself as she felt her hand being stroked and gently caressed with his thumb.

But it wouldn't last. Hearts would soon be broken, words angrily spewed, and tears shed.

But in that moment, that precious moment, they were happy.