Chapter 24

The parlour of Orchard Slope was buzzing with energy on the summer's day, packed tightly with guests and heavily scented with roses and orange blossoms. The low hum of conversation surrounded Anne and Gilbert in the seats that Diana had assigned for her friend, much closer to the front than either of them felt was comfortable. When they had arrived, Mrs Lynde had commented to Marilla on the how well the young pair looked together, however, Marilla found herself watching her girl with concern in her eyes- despite their physical closeness, she couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. There had, however, been little time to talk to them in person.

Of course, there was always going to be gossip at the wedding that was rumoured to have cost Stephen Barry a pretty penny. Moody Spurgeon McPherson had been asked to be the best man- and Fred Wright's cousin had his nose out of joint. Scandalised women commented on the brazen way Gilbert Blythe kept his arm around his wife, and that her hand was seen to rest most indecorously on his grey-clad knee as well- no one but Anne knew that it was to stop him from incessantly jiggling his leg. Gilbert was already wound so tightly that Anne feared it would immediately draw unwanted attention to the two of them.

She looked around the small room, seeing how few of their classmates were there. Charlie had not been invited, due to a rather tactless comment he had made to the bride last summer, saying that long engagements rarely lasted. Jane was now teaching on the faraway plains, and Gertie and Josie were visiting their aunt in Summerside- thank heavens, Anne thought dryly. She didn't think she could handle Josie at the moment.

Aunt Mary Maria was quite enough.

Gilbert's father had met the younger Blythes at the Carmody station. If the pair seemed slightly out of spirits he chalked it up to the long journey and made talk easily as they drove the short distance to Avonlea. An exhausted Gilbert roused himself to answer his father's questions, leaving Anne quite thankful to be left in peace- somehow, being home with the family made the tension between them all the more noticeable. She listened to Gilbert tell his father that yes, the house was fine, college was fine, and the football season ended well. Didn't they have a big dance to go to before they came home? Yes, they had. Very successful affair.

When they pulled up at the front gate of the Blythe farmyard, Gilbert handed Anne out of the buggy, and she looked up at the familiar house wistfully. Marilla was less than a mile away now, and Anne swallowed, feeling like the child wanting to crawl into its mother's lap for comfort. They would see her tomorrow, she hoped.

She watched Gilbert lifting out the suitcases, and he gave her a slight smile as he caught her eye. "You could use a nap," he said quietly.

"So could you."

His broad shoulders sagged, and he sighed. "Well, that's what tonight is for. Although I think Mother will be too excited to let us go to bed too early."

John Blythe dropped the last bag on the veranda and turned to the exhausted couple. "Oh- er, Gil, take Anne inside to settle into the spare room," he said, frowning and awkwardly playing with his hat. "Better do it now."

Gilbert froze, examining his father's face. "Why?" he questioned, his voice suddenly lowering. "Dad?"

Anne's startled eyes swivelled between father and son, and she blinked at the odd look Gilbert's face, who seemed to be trying to figure something out. His gaze swung up to the house, and then she saw the moment that his breath left him in horror. "Dad, no. You said she wasn't coming yet!"

"Well, she wasn't meant to be," John said reluctantly. "But she wanted to see us, and to meet Anne, and George needs a break from her. She's resting upstairs now."

To Anne's bewilderment, she found herself being whisked through the house while Gilbert brought their bags into the spare room, most uncharacteristically muttering under his breath the whole time. She hadn't even seen his mother yet, and was out of breath when they reached the spare room.

"Gil?"

He shut and locked the door with more force than necessary, and to Anne's surprise, he threw himself onto the wide bed with a groan. "Why now?" he suddenly bellowed, making Anne's eyes fly wide open.

At his subsequent silence, she crept to the side of the bed. "Gil, you're starting to worry me," she said cautiously. "It's your Aunt, isn't it? Aunt Mary Maria? Surely it won't be so terrible." She watched him struggle up on his elbows to glare at her.

"She's Dad's cousin. And she's a vicious, blood-thirsty old harpy."

Anne's mouth fell open in shock. This was her Gilbert, who never said anything unkind about a woman- let alone a relative!

"Gilbert-"

He came up to his knees on the mattress, pleading with her. "Anne, I'm not kidding. She's not like the rest of the family- she's an absolute nightmare. She can sniff out any weakness- she will poke at every sore spot she can find," he said bleakly. "And you and I have a pretty big one right now."

Anne sat down on the bed beside him, watching Gilbert with something akin to pity. "She can't be any worse than anything we've faced over the last six months."

Gilbert's jaw clenched. "She could really hurt you, Anne."

"She can't."

Gilbert reached out to brush a loose curl from her cheek, his smile sad. "She's cruel, love."

There was a strange look in Anne's grey eyes that was there for a moment, and then it was gone. In its place was the steel that he knew so well. "I don't believe you will let her hurt me, Gil. I won't take her words on. As for us, we'll muddle through somehow." She looked at her husband, an eyebrow raised in challenge. "We'll just have to go to war again."

This made him laugh, and she was pleased to see his mouth quirking upwards. "You think we can?"

Anne's look was gentle. "We're a good team, Gil. We'll show only what we are prepared to show, nothing more. We'll sort ourselves out in time."

Gilbert eyed her, his exhaustion showing. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not used to seeing you unsure."

The sound of voices could be heard through the door, and Gilbert shuddered. "You know, you and I could be out that window in half a minute. We could get lost in the orchard before we have to see her. Trees, my dryad."

There was a brief moment where Anne considered it, laughing for the first time since the dance. "Your mother will be organising tea for us," she reminded him quietly. She tiptoed to the door, opening it a crack to peer into the hallway. "I don't hear anything now."

"Maybe she ate my parents."

Anne stifled a snort, and removed the jacket of her traveling suit. In the mirror, she saw Gilbert straightening up his coat, and he caught her eye. "I'm sorry, Anne," he said quietly.

She turned to him, her hand nervously smoothing the fabric of her cream blouse. "Perhaps she won't be so terrible."

"She is," he commented dully. "She's demanding and nosy, and never has anything good to say about anyone." He sighed, rubbing his lean face in brown hands. He looked over to where Anne watched him in compassion. "Oh, I'm sure you're right, Anne. We can face this. I'm sorry, though- she won't be pleasant. And I didn't mean to scare you- especially right now."

Anne crossed to his side, her face serious as she reached up to straighten his tie. "Together, remember? For better or worse."

Gilbert's smile was faint, but he nodded. "This might be 'worse'." He took her hand in his and led her up the hallway, stopping at the voices in his mother's parlour. "Last chance, Anne," he muttered. "You, me and the Haunted Wood…"

She shook her head at her husband with a slight smile. "Later, perhaps. Come on. Confident, happy, and crazy about each other, yes?"

"If you're going to survive her, you'd better be."

Anne drew in a breath now, wishing that Mrs Barry had chosen to open a window in the stuffy parlour, as the wedding guests moved restlessly.

Aunt Mary Maria had been everything Gilbert had said- poisonously sweet, asking all manner of questions that she shouldn't, and then smiling over the answers she had been given. So Annie was an orphan, then. An orphan, a working girl, and a resident of a college filled with boys. Had it been her idea to marry while Gilbert was still studying? Did she not consider Gilbert's family in her rush to secure an eligible man?

Anne had been able to remain calm under the attack, however, it was Gilbert who bristled like a porcupine near the old woman, while his parents tried to defuse the conversation. Anne had taken to surreptitiously rubbing his arm to settle him, reminding him that she was fine. Every now and then he would still her hand with his own, his fingertips tracing her rings.

For the past forty-eight hours, they had seemed to move non-stop; from the rush to have themselves ready for the night-train in Kingsport, changing between train and boat and train again to reach their destination at noon on Sunday. Almost as soon as Anne and Gilbert had risen from tea with Aunt Mary Maria, the Green Gables folk had arrived at the Blythe farm, invited for dinner that night by Mrs Blythe to please her beloved daughter-in-law. Anne and Gilbert had been overwhelmed with hugs, advice and comments on how pale and thin they both looked- were they quite well? Were they eating enough?

Anne tried to reassure them, catching the look of near-desperation on Gilbert's face over Davy's ever-moving head, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he asked about Gilbert's football team. She felt it too; the clock ticking down on their time left together, the families who needed to spend time with them, and the much deeper chasm of hurt and misunderstanding that they had not been able to address yet. And it hadn't remained hidden- Marilla had cupped her cheek in her hand, studying her face- it had taken everything Anne had to not cry. She swallowed, steeling herself to keep smiling. Later, when Gilbert had gone, perhaps she would talk to Marilla about everything.

Between travel and their families, the helplessness grew as Anne realised that their time together was fast dwindling. They hadn't talked. All of the progress they had made- had she destroyed their hard work over the past six months? Gilbert had been so hurt by the idea that she had been afraid of him- and yet how could she explain that it had not been him that she feared- why she was afraid that he might not return. She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. That was the worst of it- that it wasn't about Gilbert, really. It was her. She saw now that she was afraid to trust him with her heart- afraid that it would make her more vulnerable than she had ever been.

When Marilla had taken the Green Gables family home again late that night, after she had heard all of the Avonlea news and they had caught up on some of their own, she and Gilbert had been sent to bed by a fussing Amelia. After the previous night it hadn't felt so strange to be sharing a bed- however, Gilbert had tossed and turned for an hour before getting up to tell her that he was going for a run. She'd thought him joking, until she saw shoes under the long pyjama bottoms and cotton vest- and she had laughed, pleased when he gave her his old grin. Gilbert reminded her that he used to do this all the time- a few laps around the farm, and he would be able to sleep. He'd kissed her cheek before leaping out the spare room window, and she had fallen asleep to the sound of the wind in the nearby orchard.

Anne flickered a glance toward her husband now. He was looking better than he had last night, however, she could tell that he was still wound tightly. She reached out to take her hand in his, trying to ignore the discussion going on several rows back.

Mrs Harmon and Mrs Sloane were talking, now. They were appalled at Anne Shirley- could she not keep her hands to herself in public? It was a terrible example for poor Diana- they were surprised that Lenore Barry hadn't put a stop to it at once. Perhaps they were already in the family way. Anne, of course, would make a terribly flighty mother- and if the besotted look on Gilbert's face was any indication, he would be no better. Perhaps someone should have a quiet word with John Blythe about that... Like a pair of babies themselves, they were, so Mrs Harmon said condescendingly. Playing at marriage in that cottage in the city- why, Amelia Blythe had said it was no bigger than a washing basket! And did she really think that green was an appropriate colour to wear to a wedding?

Gilbert frowned slightly at the rude comments and bent down, his mouth close to her ear. "Don't listen to the old cats. I love this dress on you," he whispered.

Anne looked up, pleased to see that he had calmed slightly. "I know. You seem to like the green."

"On you? Always." He took her hand in his, looking around surreptitiously. "I should have thought they would be on time. Is the bride running late?"

Anne shook her head, her smile wistful. "No, she's ready- and so happy. They're just waiting on the pianist."

Diana had asked that Anne be present while she was dressed an hour earlier, and Stephen Barry had come to collect Anne from the Blythes in time to assist her. Her bridesmaid was quite put out about this, however, Diana had stubbornly insisted that her married friend was to do it. Anne stepped into Diana's bedroom, her heart already fragile at the sight of her beloved friend, something that was echoed on Diana's face.

Diana moved to embrace Anne tightly. "I was so worried when Marilla said you were coming late," she said tearily, pulling away from Anne to flap her hands on hot cheeks. "Oh, Anne, I didn't want to do this without you!"

Anne tried to smile. "I'm here now, dearest- Gil and I were delayed, but we would never dare to miss this."

Diana turned to hunt up a handkerchief, giving a sigh of relief. "I should hope not- especially since I never got to be at yours, Mrs Blythe. We can make this one do for both of us."

Anne nodded, her eyes tender. She set to work on Diana's gown, and the two of them talked for some minutes before Diana was caught scowling in the mirror while Anne was hooking up her skirt. To her surprise, Anne began to laugh.

"Di, darling, you will look wonderful- however you should try to manage a smile, for Fred's sake."

Diana turned around to sit on the bed, regardless of the state of her skirts. "It's just- strange to actually find myself here, after three years. And my mother has been impossible today, coming in and out, lecturing me about being responsible for a home, and for a husband- Anne, did anyone give you the talk about the wedding night?" she asked suddenly. There was a moment of silence, while Anne gaped at her friend.

"Di, you know- Gil and I- we haven't-"

Diana's shoulders fell, her eyes pleading. "I know, darling, but you've still lived with a man for six months now- and I don't know who else to talk to about this. Mother was quite clear that it isn't to be discussed with anyone- and it all sounds so horrid, the way she tells it. But it can't be like that- can it? Surely not with Fred."

Anne hesitated before gathering her skirts together to sit beside Diana. "I don't know," she said softly. "Gilbert says-"

Diana's eyes widened comically. "You've talked to him about it?"

Anne chuckled, her look thoughtful. "Yes. I mean, at the end of the day, it's only about the two of you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but mother apparently felt that this morning was the time to give a lecture she could have given me months ago- and according to her, men want it all the time, Anne," Diana muttered. "And you're not supposed to let that happen."

At this, Anne frowned. "Why?" she asked suddenly. "Why do we wait all this time to be able to do something that is God-ordained, and then stop? Marriage is more than procreation, surely- it's love, and- and trust." She studied the little white gloves she wore, her eyes clouded. "Gil is right, it makes no sense to view it the way the older women do- you don't want a relationship where there is no true union of hearts and souls."

Diana humphed, her eyes nevertheless beginning to twinkle. "Easy for you to say, Mrs Blythe, you aren't considering it yet."

Anne turned to her, pale but steady. "I've been trying to process this since November, Di. And I've certainly been thinking about it- even if it terrifies me." Her bluntness made her friend blanch, but Anne continued doggedly. "Nevertheless, I can't believe we are supposed to trust our lives- our children- to someone whom we love, without also trusting them with this. That would be ludicrous. Fred won't stop being who he is, Di."

Diana bumped her shoulder with her own, more perceptive than Anne realised. "And neither will Gil."

There was silence then until Anne sighed. "I suppose not." She couldn't help a little wry smile, brushing back the red curls on her forehead. "And I don't see why men are expected to show their desire that way, and why women are expected to suppress it- that seems like a terrible joke on mankind. It can't actually be that way."

"I suppose so." A blushing Diana turned to Anne with a wicked smile. "It's certainly fun to almost do it," she muttered, and Anne's mouth fell open in shock before both girls began to laugh.

"Diana Barry!" Anne gasped, her cheeks flaming.

"That's Mrs Wright soon," she said, cheekily smoothing her petticoats. "I needn't remind you that it has been a very long engagement, Miss I-had-seven-days-to-get-married." Diana stopped, suddenly sobering. "Oh, I know that you are right, Anne. It's just the weight of expectation- and- and my mother indicated he may not be terribly patient tonight. It just- worried me."

Anne slipped her hand into Diana's, and she rested her red head on her shoulder. "I understand, although I don't believe you need to worry- he will want to please you, Di." For a moment there was the silence and blessed comfort between kindred spirits, and Diana sighed.

"Anne, why were you and Gil delayed?" she said carefully. "I can feel that things aren't quite right with you."

Anne paled, drawing away slightly. "We're fine, Di."

Diana shook her head, her dark eyes worried as she turned to face her on the bed. "I can read you better than that, Anne. Is everything alright with Gilbert?"

Anne tried to laugh, tucking a red curl behind one ear. "Di, if this were any other day, I would tell you everything- but it's not. We are- we will be fine," she said slowly. "Please don't concern yourself today."

Diana stilled, her hands reaching for Anne's. "Come on. We have time, just tell me."

Anne drew in a halting breath at Diana's compassionate gaze. "We- we had a fight. A rather big one, if I'm honest. It was so late when he- when we finished. We weren't in any shape to leave the next morning- so we stayed, and got some sleep. We're so tired, and there has been so much pressure with college lately- and we're going to be separated for three months now."

Diana gave her a piercing look and nodded. "That is a lot to handle," she said softly. "But I've seen the two of you work through harder things- and you've disagreed before."

Anne bit her lip, troubled. "Not like this. And we haven't had time to talk about it." She sighed, closing her eyes. "We will be fine, I know that- I just wish it wasn't so close to us having to be apart."

Diana chuckled, surprisingly. "Anne, if I know you, you are probably fighting that more than anything else. You don't want to leave Gilbert. You hated to leave Matthew and Marilla and me for Queens- only your desire to learn got you there. I know how you grieved Ruby- you grieved moving away from the girls- and leaving Marilla for Redmond has always been hard. And you even fought Fred in the beginning, because you thought you would lose me to him."

Anne's eyes were startled, and she licked suddenly dry lips. "It was very selfish of me."

Diana shook her black head compassionately. "You're anything but selfish, Anne. You're just afraid of losing those you love. I've always known that."

Anne tried to still trembling lips, her voice desperate. "How, Di?"

Diana smiled into grey eyes, her hand gripping Anne's. "Because after one day, you made me swear eternal friendship to you in that garden downstairs, Anne. You didn't understand that you had it anyway." At Anne's choked laughter, she pulled her friend into her embrace. "Anne, you'll both be fine- and I would think that you'll probably fall in love with him via his voluminous letters- I saw how you leapt on every one that came from him last summer."

This made Anne laugh, and she wiped her eyes carefully. "You may be right. Oh, I've missed you, Di."

"Thank you for trusting me with this, dearest." Diana stood up then with twinkling eyes, her hands coming to her rounded hips. "Now, you will be coming to my house before you leave the island in September, won't you? None of this false delicacy because we are newlyweds."

Anne agreed with a chuckle, and the two girls stood before the mirror as Anne helped Diana on with the bodice of her dress. Diana made a dream of a bride, the veil softening her dark curls as Anne draped it carefully. Within minutes there was a knock at the door, and Lenore Barry stood in the doorway, her hands clasped over her dark blue silk gown. She turned to Anne stiffly.

"Anne, your husband is waiting for you in the hall."

Anne nodded, pausing to give Diana a quick kiss. "I'll see you downstairs," she said to the bride softly and left mother and daughter alone together.

Closing the door behind her with a sigh, she heard his step at the top of the stairs and looked up to see Gilbert waiting for her there. There was a flush on his cheeks as Anne came toward him, and he took her hand, pulling it up to kiss her knuckles gently.

"I woke to find no wife with me," he commented, as they walked down the stairs together.

Anne turned to smile at him. "You were asleep when Mr Barry came to collect me an hour ago- I wouldn't let your mother wake you until it was necessary."

Gilbert frowned. "You didn't think I wanted to come with you?"

Anne chuckled at his face. "You would have been alone while I was with Diana- and I know that your mother wanted to feed you properly before you came. And besides- when I left, you were snoring," she added in a whisper, her eyes twinkling at the indignant choke he gave.

"I was not!"

Anne grinned smugly. "Oh, you most certainly were, Gil. There is a first time for everything. I do hope it won't become a habit."

The guests waited expectantly as the clock ticked on, and Gilbert started when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He looked up to see Moody's embarrassed face, jerking his head to indicate that he should follow him. Gilbert turned back to Anne, who nudged him to go.

"It might be the groom asking for you," she said quietly. "Go; I'll be fine."

Gilbert rose and followed Moody through the crowd and out to the back veranda, where a pale Fred was pacing.

"He's been like this for an hour," Moody muttered. "I didn't know what to suggest, so I thought we could use someone who's done it and survived."

Gilbert turned to Fred, his look curious. "Fred, this isn't like you to panic. You can do this."

Fred turned to him, his look aghast. "Easy for you to say, you've already done it! And at least you don't have Anne's parents breathing down your neck!" Gilbert raised his eyebrows at his friend, and Fred seemed to deflate. "Sorry."

Gilbert kept his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It's a day of stress for a lifetime of happiness. You know it's worth that."

Fred dropped to a garden seat, his face clouded. "Of course. It's all I've ever wanted. But what if she changes her mind at the last minute?"

"She won't-"

"Rose Spencer did it," Fred mumbled mutinously, and Gilbert chuckled.

"She's not changing her mind, you idiot- she's up there waiting for you. It's all going to be fine." He still looked rather green, and Gilbert gave him a shake. "It's the best decision you ever made," he said quietly. "She'll be with you every day- and you'll not have to say goodnight on the doorstep anymore. She's going to carry your name, your children. She's showing how much faith she has in you, Fred. You'll see." That it was a reminder he needed as well as Fred, Gilbert saw at once, and he broke off with a deep sigh.

There was the swish of a gown and click of the door, and Fred shot to his feet when he saw Diana's mother. "It's time, Fredrick," she said abruptly before shutting the door, and Fred was left in shock, pale and sweating. Moody shrugged behind him in bewilderment, and Gilbert frowned, hoping Fred wasn't about to faint. He placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his mouth twitching. He'd always taken great pains to embarrass his childhood friend in the past- maybe it would draw some blood back to his face.

"Er- look here, Fred, if you feel like you're going to faint- maybe think about- er, tonight. That should get you through it all."

Fred choked slightly, but his normal ruddy colour returned to his cheeks, and Gilbert stepped back, satisfied. By the time the groom ambled sheepishly in through the door a few minutes later, his face remained a dark, brick-red.

Gilbert took his place beside Anne then, and the Wedding March, at last, was heard in the crowded room. Diana swept into the parlour on her father's arm, and Anne gripped Gilbert's hand tightly as she watched Diana pledge herself to the man she loved. He pressed his handkerchief into her hand with a small smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around her. Let the old biddies gossip- they were together.

Within a short time, the solemn minister was pronouncing Fred and Diana to be man and wife, and Fred pulled his bride into her arms to kiss her in a way that quite scandalised their respective mothers. Anne turned to Gilbert with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with tears. Ignoring the chaos of people rising all over the room, he bent closer to kiss her forehead, holding his wife for long moments and allowing them to forget that they were not alone.

The afternoon was full of feasting and merry-making, and at sunset Anne and Gilbert sat down in the twilight at a small table, having seen Marilla and Rachel off at the gate a few minutes earlier. Guests were dancing happily while the hired musicians played into the night, a fiddle purring softly underneath the rising moon.

Gilbert couldn't help smiling at the triumphant look now on the groom's face, having gotten over his nerves as soon as Diana was his wife. He looked around at the neighbours he had grown up with, the people who had made up his and Anne's world. It had been a lovely day- and so far they had been able to talk calmly, almost like them again.

He turned to Anne now, his look hesitant. "How are you, Anne?"

Anne blinked. "I'm fine, Gil. Why?"

"You know why. You and I are running out of time," he said in a low voice.

Anne folded her hands in her lap, her grey eyes troubled. "I know."

There was a short silence, and Gilbert drummed his fingertips on the top of the table nervously. "You know, I keep thinking that you should have had something like this," he said, his voice quiet. "We should have done this here- the guests, the celebration- the lack of scandal."

"You and I rarely take the easy path, Gil." Anne was silent, her eyes wistful as she looked around at Diana's reception. "Do you really wish ours had been like this?"

He chuckled then, to her surprise. "Not really, I suppose. I would have loved our families there, though."

She smiled. "I know. But our wedding was quiet and sweet and personal. We didn't have someone else's vision for the day put on us. Somehow, I think it suited us rather well."

Gilbert smiled and after a moment, he offered her his hand. "Dance with me, Mrs Blythe?"

Anne nodded and they moved to the lawn to join the other guests, close to where Diana was dancing with her new husband.

Together Anne and Gilbert moved slowly, and more than one set of curious eyes followed them. Gilbert saw the glances and instinctively pulled Anne closer to him, his fingers curling around hers as he brought their hands close. After a time, he spoke softly.

"Do you have everything you need for Valley Road? The money, the address-"

Anne squeezed his hand, her eyes tender. "It's all ready. Are you?"

He nodded, his focus wholly on his wife in a sudden silence. "Anne, tell me that we're going to get through this," he whispered.

She searched hazel eyes earnestly as they moved, enjoying the way he pulled her close. "We will."

She felt him swallow, and his mouth was by her ear. "When are we going to talk?"

Anne's eyes slid shut, her cheek so close to his broad shoulder. "Gilbert, you leave in the morning- we can't go with that being the last thing on our minds." She lifted her head to look at him then. "We have work to do- and we both need some time to sort things out," she said softly. "I don't want to try and talk before we're ready, only to wind up hurting each other more."

He lifted his arm to spin her in the twilight and pulled her back into him gently. "I don't want to leave you when things aren't right between us." Oblivious to the people around them, Gilbert paused on the dance floor, his voice quiet. "Anne, I need to know that you trust me. The other night- did you really think that I could hurt you?"

Anne sighed, resting her forehead against his cheek. The rest of the crowd faded away, and she felt the arm around her waist tighten. "No," she said softly, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Then why-"

Anne placed gentle fingers on his mouth, her eyes troubled. "Gilbert, I- I've been thinking that I need to tell you some things- things that I haven't told anyone," she said slowly, correctly reading the tension in him. "Perhaps I should have a long time ago." She felt him stiffen and swallowed. "You- you were right, Gil. There were reasons that I was pulling away from you a year ago. I know that I hurt you then- but I didn't know what else to do."

Gilbert bent his dark head to look at her, and his eyes were anguished. "We shouldn't talk about this now?"

She shook her head, her mouth twisted into a painful smile. "We're at a wedding- and you will be gone in a matter of hours. Can we please just enjoy the time we have left together?"

He searched her face, and after a moment he nodded. "Alright."

Her heart broke at the defeated tone in his voice, and she raised her hand again to stroke the strong chin she admired, smiling at the way his manner softened. "I was thinking that I could write to you about some things," she said quietly.

Gilbert pulled back slightly in hurt. "Is it so hard to talk to me in person, Anne?"

She closed her mouth in anguish, shaking her head. She lifted her face so that her mouth was close to his ear.

"Gil, what have I told you about myself before I came to Green Gables?"

He stopped cold then, raking anxious eyes over her face. "Only little things. Who you lived with- what you did there."

Anne blinked unbidden tears back furiously, her eyes over his shoulder. "That is as much as I have told anyone."

Gilbert placed a shaking hand on her cheek, his eyes haunted. "Anne? That's what this is about?" She didn't answer him, and after a moment he dropped his hand to crush her into his arms, not caring about the speculative eyes around them. She felt him nod then, his voice tight. "Alright, sweetheart. If you want to write it to me, then write. Whatever you need to do."

After a minute Anne pulled away slightly, her eyes falling before his. "You may not find it easy to read."

"I don't care," he whispered into her hair. "Tell me anything you need to."

After a moment Anne pulled away with a tentative smile, and Gilbert straightened up to claim her hand for the dance, still quite shaken. She gave a wry chuckle, and her red head tipped back in the moonlight. "You couldn't have wanted someone less complicated, Gilbert?"

He grinned, his heart beginning to settle. "Come on, Anne; where would be the fun in that?"

When the moon rose above the distant hills, the bride and groom farewelled their guests behind to drive to their new home. As the people began to depart Orchard Slope, Gilbert took Anne's hand in his, wordlessly tugging her in the direction of Lovers Lane. They soon found themselves deep in their woods and walked in an easy silence before coming to a place they had often gone together- a distant corner of Barry's pond, sheltered by overgrown trees that no one had ever bothered to clear out.

Paying no heed to his good suit, Gilbert walked ahead and flopped down on the grass with a long sigh, and Anne gathered dainty skirts together to sit beside him. For the first time since they had come home, there was blessed silence, and she drank in the scent of the warm night breeze.

"It's so beautiful here," she said softly. "I can't help wishing that we were staying for the summer."

Gilbert sighed, watching the stars move overhead, their lights dulled by the brilliant moon. "I know. And we're not doing another one like this, no matter what comes of next year."

Anne was silent for a moment, her body stiff. "Will you be alright in Halifax?"

He shrugged easily, sitting up to pull off his jacket, and rolling up his shirtsleeves. "Oh, I imagine so. Mr Druthers organised for me to board at the editor's house- I'll be fine. I'll miss home, though."

Anne smiled, running her hand through the soft grass beside her. "As will I. Janet Sweet is expecting me- and Esther writes that I will adore her home. It's called 'Wayside'- such a delightfully temporary name."

Gilbert settled back, smiling as she lay back down beside him. The conversations that had not yet been had sat between them, and he turned his head to see that her hands were beneath her red head, exposing the contours of her breast- he couldn't help but stare, wondering if she would be as relaxed if she knew how he struggled to not touch her, not move his fingers to the pearl buttons at her throat-

"You know that I don't want this either," she was saying slowly, and he studied her yearningly. "We've come so far together, and I worry that it will set us back."

"I thought that you said it was good that we would have some time apart."

Anne exhaled. "I did." She was silent for so long then that Gilbert thought she might have gone to sleep, and he was becoming drowsy himself when she suddenly spoke, her voice raw. "I don't know how to sort out the way I feel when I can't think clearly about us; not when we're together."

"Then why bother?" Gilbert came up on one elbow, a curious gleam in his eye, as he absorbed the meaning behind her words, startlingly open on this last night. "Anne, you taught me to listen to my intuition- that sometimes we can't rationalise the way we feel. Why are you trying so hard to do it with me?"

Anne huffed, not wanting to answer him directly. "Why is it so complicated?"

Gilbert sat up with a smirk that Anne hadn't seen in days. "It's complicated because it's us, Anne. No one else would be as foolish, surely."

He saw the flicker of hurt that crossed her face, and even in the moonlight, he could see that she had paled. "You wish we hadn't, don't you?"

The change that came over him was swift. He bent over her then, and one lean hand cupping her cheek. "Anne, if I could choose, I swear that I wouldn't change a thing."

Anne's teeth clenched against the tears that were rising against his tenderness. After the things they had said- after he had stormed away in the night, and she had cried herself to sleep, sick with regret at her inability to give him what he needed. "But-"

"Anne?" he interrupted quietly, bending close, his warm breath touching her cheek. "I know. But just- for now- stop thinking."

And then his lips were on hers, as they had been the other night, and she caught her breath as he gathered her to him on the soft ground. Gone was the tentative touch, in its place was a welcome heat that seemed to feed on the sweet air of the secluded glen, his lips sliding against hers, her own parting in response to his touch. Desperate to remove the hurt she had caused Anne clung to him, needing to make things right between them again.

There was a moment when Gilbert paused, his hand on her waist, his eyes seeking permission to continue. He wouldn't move without her consent- and it was with a breath of relief that he saw her nod, and she moved to meet his lips again. with her own. This time, his movements were slow and deliberate, not wanting to rush or push this fragile moment between them. His lips traveled over the light freckles on her nose, her smooth cheeks before moving down to her ivory throat, soft and warm and smelling of apple blossom. A sigh slipped from her mouth, and his heart seemed to pound in his chest as her fingers slipped into his hair to pull him closer.

He stopped momentarily as he cupped her cheek in his palm, marvelling at the feverish sparkle in her eyes. Her hands were on his shoulders then tugging him closer, and with mounting exhilaration Gilbert's body shifted over her as Anne's arms locked around his neck, revelling in the slender hands that grasped, trembling knees that parted to welcome him. His hands were twisted into her golden-red curls, and his heart melted at the little gasping breaths she gave against his lips. Her body pressed involuntarily against his, and she wrapped herself around him as he broke from her lips to kiss the warmth of her jaw, the delicate shell of her ear. He could have sworn that gravity had lost its hold on him- spinning and spinning as his hands slid against Anne's soft curves for the first time, and with a shock he felt her hands on his tie and collar, loosening both to wrap her hands around the back of his neck as she moved her lips back to his mouth.

There was a roar of triumph deep in his heart as she kissed him deeply then, her tongue gently brushing against his, and her breath warm against his mouth- he'd known it. The passion that he felt for her was reciprocated in her truly- and for long minutes he held her, her touch a balm for the hurt of the past few days.

It was with a great effort that he pulled away from her at last, both at the now-painful need coursing through his body and the thought of all that had not yet been resolved. However, she was looking up at him now with an open glance that he had not seen in months, and her hand closed over his own- only then did he realise that it was cupped over her breast. Her cheeks were flushed, however, she didn't move from him, and she stroked the top of his hand as he watched them together, spellbound. When he looked back up, she was smiling in wonder, and he lowered his head to her shoulder with a heartfelt sigh.

"You're so lovely, Anne," Gilbert whispered, and his heart almost burst as he felt her press a tender kiss to the top of his head. There was only silence then as the two of them calmed, lying next to each other on the soft grass as Gilbert's thumb tracing tiny circles on the softness of her breast. She lifted her arms to wrap around him tightly, and they lay listening to the water lapping against the bank of the pond.

Anne's eyes were closed when a night owl hooted sometime later, and she opened them to see Gilbert blinking drowsily beside her. He sighed and bent down to kiss her soft cheek once more, before meeting her eyes in a long glance. He pulled himself to his feet again, taking Anne's hands to help her up. Wordlessly, the couple turned to walk back home, threading their way through old paths they had so often walked. He helped her over the stile, she tucked her hand into his, and the moonlight flickered through the leaves of the trees, rustling together in the perfumed wind.

It was a silent couple who changed and climbed into the downy spare room bed that night. The elder Blythes were long asleep, having not expected them home until late. Anne was still as Gilbert reached out to take her hand, somewhat shyly after the desperation of their heated embrace in the woods.

"Anne, promise me that you'll come back to me," he said in a voice Anne hardly recognised- and she rose up on one elbow in her light nightgown to see him.

She didn't answer right away, taken aback at him voicing such a fear. "Do you not trust me, Gil?" she asked after a beat. In the moonlight, she could see his jaw working, and without conscious thought, she reached up to smooth the curly hair off his forehead. "Of course I will come home," she said softly. "I know we have things to address, but you are my home, Gil. I thought you knew that."

He ran his hand through one of the curls that had escaped her nighttime braid, his look tender in the moonlight. "I'll miss you."

She smiled, suddenly wistful. "I'll miss you too. You'll only be home a day before me- and it's just ten weeks until we're back in Kingsport together," Anne said uncertainly, unsure of who she needed to convince most. "It will go quickly."

Gilbert grunted, burrowing his cheek into the pillow. "I mean it, you know- we're not working away from each other again."

She chuckled, squeezing his hand. "You say that now- you might find that you enjoy the bachelor life again, Gil."

Gilbert smiled, clasping her hand tightly in his own. He lifted his head to press a soft kiss to her lips, and unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he sighed, allowing his body to slide into slumber, safe and secure with her warmth beside him.

When morning came, Mrs Blythe tapped on the door of the guest room, knowing that Gilbert would need to be up early in time for the train. She opened the door a crack, and saw that the couple were fast asleep- and her eyes filled with ready tears. Anne lay curled in her husband's arms, her head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. She closed the door softly behind her, and tiptoed away. She could leave them just a little bit longer.