Surprise! I wasn't willing to promise that it would be a shorter wait this time, however, the odds were pretty good- since I wrote this chapter months ago. For everyone who has followed this story over the past seven months, thank you so much- I've appreciated hearing from you all, and I can't tell you how many times you have made my day by taking the time to review. I don't suppose it is possible to write something and not have it contain your heart- thank you for dealing with mine so graciously.

Love, Cate.

Chapter 28

August 20th

(Cont)

John and Janet are to be married quietly next month, and they have promised to send us a copy of their wedding announcement. In the wake of all that has happened over the past few weeks, I am so relieved that this part of their story has ended so well- and so peacefully.

The townsfolk are none the wiser about what really happened with John's mother. It's a bittersweet happiness, but happiness it is- it would be wrong if she could spoil that from the grave. The real tragedy is that Mrs Douglas could have embraced Janet so many years ago, and had all those years with her son and his family- she could have been a part of it. Instead, what did she have? The knowledge that she kept her home all to herself, and her son in misery.

I must admit that while it has been satisfying to be at work, I am more than happy to be returning to Kingsport as a student, and to your side again. Marilla writes that she is looking forward to having me at home for a few days before I go back- although I admit with some guilt that I checked a Charlottetown paper to see what route I would need to take to get to Halifax, should I decide to leave early. I am impatient, you see- and yet our families have been without us for most of the summer. So I shall dutifully go home to be with them for the last time until we are home for Christmas. Your mother has claimed me for the last two days, and they will see me to the train on Saturday morning.

You would have laughed to have seen your mother while she was here at Valley Road- she ended up staying with Janet and I, insisting that the sofa was just fine for two nights. You know how she is with us, however, apparently it extends to everyone- Janet found herself thoroughly mothered while she was here. She commented to me crossly that I was unusually fortunate in my mother-in-law: and I am. She liked her very much, and it was wonderful to see her fuss over the young lovers and shove them out the door with a bulging picnic basket. John looked especially bemused- however, he doffed his hat like a schoolboy, and submitted to her fussing just fine- even if he didn't know who she was.

Your mother and I walked around most of the area, I believe, and I took her to my swamp- it may sound unappealing, however, it is the loveliest place. We don't really have mountains close to home, either, and there is a certain weightiness that it adds to the landscape.

It was wonderful, Gil. She talked to me about what you were like as a child, and the years she spent running the farm while you were in Alberta. I think I had assumed that your uncle had been arranging things- but I was wrong. It was Amelia Blythe.

In return, I told her- everything. I didn't expect to. I had resolved that I needed to tell you where I had come from, Gil, but I didn't think it necessary to speak of it to anyone else- although perhaps necessary is the wrong word, here. Somehow, opening up to you made it possible for me to talk about it with someone else. We might have cried a little, together, but there was something cleansing in it, too. It is my past, after all. It's a part of me. And I began to remember other things, too- things that gave me hope back then- somehow, that was never killed in me. And I wonder if there is something a little miraculous about that.

A few weeks ago, I started writing again. It's a little different to what I have written before, and I don't know that I will do anything with it, however, I thought I would try. A long time ago, I told you that my ambition was to make life more beautiful- perhaps in my innocence, I believed that needed to be to the exclusion of everything that was not. I'm coming to see that life is both ugly and beautiful- and while I would infinitely prefer to keep my pen to the latter, perhaps the former gives it meaning.

I miss you.

I know that we haven't really talked about what happened between us before we left Kingsport- but we will, soon. You will light the fire, and I will make us tea, and we can talk- oh, how I miss being able to talk with you. Our hearth will be home once more, and we will be together. And there is nothing I want more than that.

I'll be at the station at approximately nine next Friday night, slightly dishevelled and most likely trailed by the ever non-effervescent Mr Sloane- and I think I may safely promise you that I have no compunction about embarrassing him horribly to greet you in the way you wish. I'm holding you to your promise that we won't be away like this again: from now on, wherever you go, I go too.

Soon, and very soon.

Love, Anne.

It was the last week in August when the Carmody train pulled into the station, and Anne watched as the familiar sights of the countryside met her eyes, and she smiled at the first sight of the ocean in the distance. She had left Valley Road behind her quite cheerfully that morning with the gratitude of the school board, and a nice check that would ease the costs for the last year of college. John and Janet had taken her to the station that morning with their own grateful thanks and a large basket of food- far more than a two-hour train ride to Avonlea warranted, however, Davy would no doubt have it disposed of in no time.

A large party made to disembark just as the train pulled to a stop, laughing and chattering in the aisles, and Anne kept her seat patiently waiting for them to pass. She could look out over the wilderness beside the station from her seat, and gave a little sigh, a little smile as she remembered the Book of Revelation moment beside the train. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she thought of Gilbert, still working hard in the newspaper office. He was frantic to come home, he had said, counting down the hours until they were together again- and so was she. She had so much to tell him- so much that she wanted to talk about with him. She rose from her seat when the porter came on board to help her with her bags, and she kept her eyes down as she disembarked from the train, needing the time to steady herself before meeting the family.

When Anne was once more settled on the Carmody platform, she looked around curiously through the few people waiting- and then as a family moved out of the way, she saw Gilbert, his impossible presence leaning against one of the posts.

Anne was still for a second, so in shock was she- but his grin was enormous as she dropped her bags with an undignified shriek, and his long-legged stride quickly consumed the distance. He caught her in his arms then, lifting her clear off the ground and kissing her with a face that had not been shaved for several days, making her laugh at the scratch of his jaw as he peppered kisses across her face. His arms held her to him tightly, and as they stilled she heard him let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Never again," he mumbled against her skin, making Anne laugh again as she clung to him.

"But then you're so happy to see me when I return," she teased, drinking in the familiar scent of him. She leant in close to kiss him again, her eyes tracing over his features hungrily. "Why didn't you tell me you would be here?" she asked softly, not seeing the curious looks given by others on the platform.

Gilbert shrugged, grinning. "I finished up early. I knew you would be here for a week before we went home- and I couldn't pass up the chance to have some time together." He turned then, looking around to find her bags several yards from them. "Anne-girl, however did you manage to toss them so far?"

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck in a most satisfying way. "It was the surprise of the thing, Gil. I couldn't ask for better." She kissed him again, suddenly stiffened in his hold. "Gil, I'm supposed to be going to Green Gables now- you aren't staying at the farm, are you?"

He snorted, well pleased at her hesitation. "I'm not leaving your side again, thank you very much. I wrote Marilla a fortnight ago to ask if I might stay with you- she told me they'd find a place for me somewhere."

Anne grimaced. "Hopefully that doesn't mean the hired man's room downstairs."

"It's still closer to you than I've been for almost three months." He pressed a hard kiss to her smiling mouth, before moving back to study her carefully. "You look different, somehow, Anne-girl."

Anne flushed, wondering if he could see the change in her so quickly. "I just can't believe that we are here together- although I wonder if you are as tired as I am of living out of your suitcase. I've become spoiled living in the Mushroom."

Gilbert let out a pleased bark of laughter. "I wasn't aware that our humble home could spoil anyone- although I have a surprise for you about that when we get home." He bent down to pick up the bags she had dropped and put his arm around her as they walked toward the buggy. "I only got here yesterday," he said easily, pausing to nod at the grinning station master. "When I was offered the chance to finish up early I had to take it- and your letters made me quite unable to wait for you in Kingsport."

"Oh?"

He chuckled, as they walked down the steps, before heaving the bags into the waiting cart. "Yes, all that talk about what we would do if we were at home together- and you would talk about roaming the woods unchaperoned. All I could think about was the last time we did that- and I couldn't pass that chance up now, could I?"

Anne swallowed, knowing exactly what night he was referring to, and she blushed as he helped her into the buggy, his hands firm and warm on her waist. It brought to mind a series of vivid dreams that had plagued her at night during the worst of the summer heat, and it was with an effort that she shoved the images away for the time being. "Well, we will just have to see about doing that," she said softly, tucking her hand into his elbow as soon as he was beside her. He turned to smile at her, and she marvelled again at the way Gilbert's presence felt- how had she not seen what he had always made her feel? She was glad that she had worn the green dress that he liked- and then felt foolish for caring about her clothing when Gilbert was finally with her.

He had a curious smile on his face as he clicked the reins, and as they began to move Anne settled in contentedly at his side.

"Marilla wrote back to me that she was very glad we would have a small holiday before term began- I thought there was a hint of reprimand in that, to be honest-"

"Most likely," Anne added cheerfully.

"And my mother is wild with excitement at having us both to stay for a few days together as well. And this time, with no Mary Maria."

She chuckled, then. "I was supposed to be staying there in your stead, in any case. I know how she misses her boy."

Gilbert smiled at her, daring to lean in to kiss her lips while the horse jogged along steadily. "And you told me that you missed me too."

"Like you would not believe." She clasped his arm, her eyes shining as she lifted her nose to the smell of the ocean. They drove through the woods that separated Carmody from their hometown, enjoying the simple bliss of being together again. "Oh, Gil, tell me that we can take the time to wander our places," she said softly. "I love our families, and we need to give them our time, but we've waited so long for this."

He grinned, taking her hand to kiss it. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. If I thought I'd get away with it, I'd run away with you right now."

Anne lifted one auburn eyebrow, her eyes twinkling. "Would you really cross Marilla or your mother?"

"To get you all to myself? In a heartbeat." He passed the reins into one hand then, his other slipping around her waist audaciously. "But I'd never cross you."

Marilla stood at the kitchen door watching Gilbert assist Anne down from the buggy feeling distinctly emotional. The Anne who ran up the veranda steps was not the one who had left them two months ago, and as she pulled her into a warm embrace, she sighed in relief. She turned to welcome Gilbert with a smile, noting with some amusement the big Blythe grin on his face, as well as the overnight bag he had in his hands.

"Well. I think the world can see the two of you are in better shape now," she commented, amused to see the pair of them look at each other blankly. "What? Did you think we couldn't tell when something was wrong?"

Anne followed Marilla in through the doors, her eyes huge. "W-we?"

Marilla somehow kept the smile from her face, moving to pull the kettle from the stove. She nodded at Gilbert. "Oh, your parents and I. We do talk, you know- especially when we've all been worried about you. Last year was a trying one for all concerned- but it's done now. Now, your mother is expecting you both on Wednesday, isn't she?"

Gilbert grinned. "Yes. I'll have to drop the buggy back home to dad soon, though."

Marilla moved something fragrant from the stove, her look calm. "Well, you've got some time this morning, Rachel and the twins won't be home for a few hours. She took them into town to get fabrics and new shoes for the pair of them- they've both grown overnight, it seems. I'd been a mite head-achy yesterday, and Rachel said she'd take them for me." She lifted her hand at Anne's look of worry, a stern look on her face. "Oh, don't look so concerned, child. I suppose you could say that I earned that one- I was doing some embroidery that I should have left well alone."

"Marilla, I could have done that for you," Anne said quietly, coming to wrap her arms around Marilla's waist. "I'm sure it could have waited until now."

Gilbert had stood back watching as Anne and Marilla talked, and he smiled at the brusque kiss Marilla placed on Anne's red head.

"There, now. All's well- and perhaps I've learned my lesson this time. Now, there's no point cluttering up the entryway with your bags- you can take them right up to your room. You might as well take Gilbert with you."

Anne hugged her again, turning to see Gilbert standing somewhat awkwardly with all of the bags in his hands. She walked over to him with rosy cheeks, unaware that Marilla was trying not to smile at the bashfulness still between the young couple. She sighed wryly as they left the room, hoping that Rachel's instincts were right- else it would be an interesting night for everyone.

Gilbert followed Anne up the stairs, unable to keep the smile from his face to be following Anne to her bedroom. He stopped when Anne turned into the eastern room, and the smile grew, thinking how well it suited her. The pretty apple-blossom paper, green curtains and white furniture all sang of the girl he had known; however what evidently hadn't been there before, was a big, double bed.

"Ah." Gilbert blinked at Anne, who turned to him with an amused look. "Marilla told me that they had something new for my room," she said drolly. "She did not specify what, exactly."

"It wasn't there when you came home last?"

Anne turned to look at the bed, running her hand over the bedspread, guessing that it was some of Rachel's work. "No, not at all."

"Do- you mind?"

Anne turned to meet his hazel eyes, her heart melting at the guarded hope in his manner, as he gestured at the bed.

There was a slight blush on her cheeks as she shook her head, and she smiled as he relaxed.

He slipped his jacket off broad shoulders then, smiling to see that Anne's expressive eyes immediately moved to his arms, her lip tucked neatly between her teeth. He turned away to hide the look of sheer delight on his face at her reaction to him, before moving to the window to look out at the view.

Anne dropped her hat on the big bed with a contented sigh. "I had thought that since I was married, they might wish to give Dora my bedroom soon- they certainly aren't obligated to keep one for me, now."

Gilbert turned back to her at the wistfulness in her voice. "Sweetheart, they'll want to keep one for you to come home to," he reminded her, as he hung the garment on the bedpost. "Otherwise we'd always stay at my parent's house. Marilla would want you to be able to come home."

Anne's grey eyes met his, then, and she moved to stand beside him. "I have now," she said quietly, and Gilbert dropped what he had been holding, and pulled her into a tight hug, blinking fiercely at the way her hands clung to him.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Anne shook her head against him. "No, I'm sorry-"

"Anne-girl, I'm sorry about everything," he interrupted, his voice catching as he pulled back, needing to see her. "I'm sorry that it took eleven years for you to find safety- and that I was the idiot who attacked you when you first came."

"Gil, shhh." He looked down to see a tear fall down her cheek, although she was smiling. "It's over now. It's all done. I'm here."

Gilbert tried to control his emotions, his hands holding her waist. "I don't even know how to begin to talk to you about everything."

Anne bit her lip, her eyes caressing his face. "Then let's not," she whispered. "We can unpack it later- or not at all."

She saw the sudden cloud fall over his expression. "If you think I can go back to how we were- how we used to be-"

Anne placed a finger over his mouth, her look firm. "No. I'm not suggesting that. What I am saying is that it might take us years to work through everything we told each other- just let it happen in its own time."

Gilbert pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes twinkling. "What did I say I'd do if you did that again?"

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she pulled away from him, suddenly shy. "Duly noted. When did you want to take the buggy back to your father?"

He paused to kiss to her nose, quite unable to stop touching her now that they were together again, before stepping away to resume rolling up his shirtsleeves. "We'll go now. We can walk back from there- it's the first of the walks we wanted to do, wasn't it?"

Anne chuckled. "It was the first of our walks anywhere, Gil. It sounds lovely."

When their belongings were safely stowed away, Gilbert held his hand out to Anne, and the two of them walked downstairs together to meet Marilla, now pouring cake batter into waiting pans. Marilla shooed them from the door then, telling them that they may as well be off- perhaps she had seen the looks on the young couple's faces, divining that they wished to be alone. Whatever the reason, she reminded them that the others would be home at noon and that the children were most impatient to have the younger Blythes home again.

Anne and Gilbert were affectionately welcomed at the farm by Gilbert's parents, and it was almost half an hour before they were able to tear themselves away, reminding Amelia that they would see them at Green Gables for dinner the following day. Amelia exclaimed over the pair of them, declaring that they had never looked better- until eventually, she caught the glances exchanged, and sent them out the door, saying that they no doubt had better things to do than sit inside on their last week of summer.

Gilbert took Anne's hand in his as the door closed behind them, chuckling as he heard his father's amused voice through the door- "For heaven's sake, we'll see them tomorrow, Milly."

Anne smiled as they walked to the front gate where she had first taken his hand, five long years ago. They stood at the entrance to the Haunted Wood, and Gilbert looked at Anne expectantly.

"Are we heading back to Green Gables now?"

Anne looked out on the verdant foliage with a look of concentration. "I don't know," she said, at last. "Hester's garden is too far- as is your apple tree."

Gilbert bent down, his eyebrow quirked. "Anne, I know that we've missed home- but we're here for a week, sweetheart- we don't need to do it all today."

Anne rolled her eyes. "I just want to go somewhere right now- somewhere specific. I just don't know which one."

To this, he began to laugh, pulling her into his arms. "Anne, that makes no sense whatsoever- oh, I've missed this."

Anne slapped his arm crossly. "Fine. Then you pick a place."

Gilbert, evidently persuaded that his beloved was not behaving quite rationally, sighed and grabbed her shoulders, bending down to look into her eyes. "Pick a place for what?"

Anne spoke slowly, trying to be as clear as she could. "You pick a favourite place- somewhere special to us. One that isn't too far away so that we can go there now."

He grinned and tugged on her hand. "That I can do, my dryad." Together they set off into the woods, and Anne's face lit up some minutes later when she recognised their destination.

"Of course! Lover's lane! You're right, I wasn't really thinking, was I?" she said dreamily. "It's perfect."

Together they walked up the old path in the morning light, Anne still marvelling that she was with Gilbert after all this time away, and in their hometown. Only that morning she had been in Valley Road contemplating another week without him- and she had believed him to be in Halifax. Now, the wind purred through maple leaves beginning to don their autumn dress of colour, and Anne found herself studying her husband as they strolled together. She had missed it all- the strong lines of his jaw, his smile and the twinkling hazel eyes that she loved. There was still the hint of the boy she had known in his appearance, and yet the man she had grown to know was the one with whom she had fallen in love- the one who had stood by her side valiantly as they walked an uncertain pathway together. How had she not realised it then?

Gilbert was surprised to feel her tugging on his hand as they walked through the woods, and she led him toward a dappled hollow they had often gone to take refuge from the summer heat- a green hollow by a corner of the creek, dotted about with the blue of asters, and goldenrod waving like bright fairy torches by the bank. Gilbert followed her, noting absently how the trees had grown since he had last been there. She sat down on the smooth grass and waited for him to stretch out beside her.

Gilbert eyed the hectic flush on her cheeks curiously.

"Anne? You seem nervous."

Anne drew in a shaking breath. "I suppose I am- a little. I wanted- that is, I had a plan about how I would do this, and then you were there at the station, and so that won't work because Kingsport is too far away and I won't wait that long-"

"Anne, honey, breathe-"

"I am!" she said, exasperated at herself for stumbling over such an important moment. Was she to reach this place only to be unable to speak? She huffed in silence for a moment, and Gilbert's brow lowered.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked, and she shook her head, her eyes mutinous.

"Not exactly- well, not at all, really. I just wanted to tell you something."

Gilbert's eyes twinkled. "Did you do something bad?"

Anne chuckled, her cheeks red. "No. Why is that the first conclusion you jumped to?"

"I'm not jumping- not yet," he teased lightly, and then moved until he sat directly in front of her, his long legs crossed in Turk-fashion. His fingers began to trace the curve of her hand, his smile twisting in mischief despite the unease in his heart. "Come on, sweetheart, you've got me here captive. Tell me."

Anne sighed, her eyes on his beloved face for a long moment. "I wish we could go back in time," she said softly.

Gilbert's face showed his shock. In all of the things they had discussed while they were apart, he'd not seen a hint that she regretted their time together. Was this what she was struggling to tell him?

Anne's low voice continued, then. "I- regret- that I didn't see things as clearly as I do now. It occurs to me that I could have saved us a good deal of hurt if I had only understood what I felt. I didn't, though- but you know that. I suppose I didn't know any better, really- and I was afraid of what we had between us."

Gilbert licked suddenly dry lips, more than a little afraid himself about where this was heading. "Well- alright."

Anne moved closer to him, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. "When I saw you get on that train two months ago- it took everything I had to not abandon my teaching position and come with you."

His gaze softened. "It was hard for me to leave you too, sweetheart. It was the longest ten weeks of my life."

She gave an unsteady chuckle then, her eyes caressing his beloved face. "I think mine was longer. You see- I understood something when you left my side- because it hurt me in a way I haven't hurt since Matthew died."

Gilbert clutched her hand in shock. "Anne-"

Her eyes were distant as she tightened her fingers around his. "I could never blame him for leaving us- he didn't want to go. And I know that you didn't want to leave me either."

Gilbert leant forward, his hands cradling her face tenderly. "I didn't, love. It nearly killed me to go. We won't be apart like that ever again, I promise."

Anne closed her eyes at his touch, and then gently took his hands from her face, her heart pounding hard in her chest. "I'm in love with you, Gil," she whispered.

There was silence for a moment, his eyes raking over her fiercely. "I- what?"

Anne blinked in shock. "I have been trying to decide how to tell you that for two months now, and that's how you respond?"

She got no further when Gilbert pulled her tightly into his arms, his gaze burning into her own. "No, no, no; you're not going to get mad at me now, I just want to be sure that I heard you correctly-"

A faint smile was on Anne's lips, and she moved her hands to hold his face close to her own. "I am- utterly- irrevocably and most insanely in love with you, Gilbert Blythe."

His hands were tangled into her hair then; a sound, it might have been ecstasy or pain fell from his lips and then he was pulling her onto his lap, his arms around her waist as he kissed her breathlessly.

"When?" he managed against her mouth, and she gave a choked laugh, pulling back to see him as her fingers lightly traced his cheek. She shook her head, smiling.

"Since- always."

Gilbert chuckled, squeezing her waist. "No- I mean, when did it happen?"

Anne snuggled closer to him, her look tender. "It didn't happen. I think I always have." She was silent then, as she tried to gather her wayward thoughts. Gilbert watched the play of emotion in her eyes and smiled at the dreamy look she gave. "I had a white night the night you left here," she said softly. "I couldn't sleep, and I found myself outside under the moonlight, wandering through Marilla's garden in my nightgown." There was amusement in her voice, and Gilbert chuckled.

"Now, that's my girl."

"Indeed." Anne paused to press a kiss to his jaw, and rested her forehead against it for a moment, feeling all the headiness that came from finally telling him of her love. "The roses were so fragrant, and there was a breeze coming up from the woods- and the moon was so bright that it showed every blade of grass. And I saw it." Gilbert gave her a puzzled look, and Anne shook her head with a slight smile. "When you are a child you think that the moon is either present, or it isn't. But when we get older we realise that it's always there, whether we can see it or not, shadowed by the earth, or just beyond the horizon. But then I saw the train take you from me, and I knew," she said softly. "I knew that I loved you. It's always been there, even when it was shadowed behind the things of my past, behind anger, and even behind our friendship. I don't know how or when it began- I don't even care. Sometime, since that first night at your gate, I fell in love with you. I just didn't know that I had."

Gilbert rested his head against her, a blissfully content smile on his face as he shifted her more firmly against him. "Well, I know where I was- I remember the moment it happened to me."

She looked up at him, her grey-green eyes yearning. "When, Gil?"

He bent to kiss her firmly, his broad hand resting on her stomach, causing untold numbers of butterflies to take flight. "Probably on some level, since I was fourteen. But it was just a happy day," he said quietly. "I came to take you for a row on the pond. It was sunset- and I was helping you out of the boat, and you stepped close to me like we were about to dance- and suddenly you weren't just my friend- you were the woman I loved."

Anne's eyes were glistening, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "You make me wish I had one of those moments to give you."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "You don't think that moment at the train station counts? I do. Although if I'd known I'd have thrown myself off the train to get to you, no matter what work was waiting for me," he said dryly.

Anne lifted her hand to cup his chin in trembling hands. "It hurt me so terribly to see you go- and I kept wondering what would happen if you never came back to me. I felt that I didn't deserve you. I'd lived with you for six months, and yet I never truly appreciated you- appreciated what you mean to me. If you hadn't- I couldn't have told you- you wouldn't have known-" her voice was shaking, and Gilbert closed his eyes in utter happiness, raining down soft kisses on her cheeks.

"Anne, I know you better than you think I do," he whispered. "It's why I was so confused. Your words told me one thing, but your eyes and your actions kept telling me another. I was just too afraid to let myself believe it."

Anne sighed, loving the warmth of his body wrapped around hers. "I assumed that you would want to hear it in person."

He smiled. "I'm glad you waited. I think I might have quit my job if you'd written it- I barely coped with the distance as it was. And I think- that you were right."

"Well, as much as a woman loves to hear that-"

"I mean when you said that we needed time apart." He stopped to trace his fingers over her lips and sighed. "We were busy and under pressure from all sides- and so we never had the chance to stop and examine what we were feeling. I might have had a head start- but even I had some things to sort out." He caught her puzzled look and exhaled. "I knew that I loved you, but I was holding back from you too. I was afraid that you'd run from me if you knew how long I'd cared for you."

Anne's face was sober as she met his eyes. "I might have," she said softly.

"And when the wedding happened so suddenly, I just assumed that we would figure it out as we went-"

"To be fair, we did, Gil," Anne said logically.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "- and then I thought I knew everything about you, sweetheart, but there was so much that I didn't know. I was arrogant enough to think that I knew everything that mattered. And then I blundered around for the first six months of our marriage because of it."

Anne's hand came up to twist into his shirt, and she eyed him sternly. "Now, look here, Gilbert- I told you that I didn't tell you to earn your pity. I don't want it. And you and I both blundered things- not to mention me starting all of this by falling on top of you in a tent I had no business to be in."

He began to laugh, stretching back onto the soft grass, and taking her down with him. "You don't know how glad I am that you ignored that."

Anne's smile was wicked, and she rolled over to look down at her husband. "Neither of us thought that at the time."

"Hindsight." Gilbert shrugged with a grin, running his fingers through the little curls at the nape of her neck. "I never could have picked this happening from that, now, could I?"

Anne snuggled into his shoulder then, smiling as his arm wrapped around her. "I wonder what this will change," she murmured dreamily.

She felt Gilbert' shoulder shake slightly with his laughter. "Apart from us getting a whole lot happier? Everything. Nothing. We're still married, still students- we still live in a house smaller than the Green Gables kitchen."

"Oh, you exaggerate," Anne said, with a yawn that made him laugh.

"Am I keeping you awake there?"

Anne smiled. "Perhaps. The closer we came to the end, the worse I slept, it seemed. I plan to sleep very well, tonight, new bed or not."

Gilbert turned to face her then, his look loving. "Anne, you've made me the happiest fellow in the world. But- this doesn't need to change anything for us yet, sweetheart. Everything we decided when we married can stay in place if that's what you want. We've got plenty of time."

Anne looked up at his earnest face, her hand stroking his chin gently. "I want it to change, Gil." There was a sudden blush, and she chuckled as his eyebrows flew up. "No- not everything, of course, we do have a degree to finish, after all. I realised though, while we were away- that I'm finally ready for us, now."

"So am I," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her yearningly. "Alright, love. What do you want?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Just you."

Gilbert chuckled as her hands traced his face. "We were wrong, Anne-girl. We kept saying that we would begin properly one day, but we're not where we were nine months ago. I think we've made a rather good beginning, all things considered. Although I was terrified that I'd wrecked it all the night of the ball."

"So was I."

"Although- I think we're better for it now," he added soberly. "We needed to get all that out. The insecurity was poisoning us."

"Including how I made you feel when I wasn't fully there."

Gilbert gave a short sigh. "Yes. Including that."

Her hand was on his face then, and he smiled as Anne cupped his cheek in slender hands. "I'm here now, dearest," she whispered. "I'm with you, with everything I have in me."

There could be no words to this declaration, and Gilbert found himself laughing at the pure joy welling up inside, pulling Anne close to kiss her deeply in the late summer sunshine. There would be time to celebrate with friends and families before they went back home, however, this moment was only about the two of them. Their happiness was in each others keeping, and for the very first time, they both were unafraid.