Welcome to April! Four chapter in four months- and I'm so annoyed that it's taking me this long! And no, this is not an April Fool's joke- just this story taking its own sweet time to write itself. Believe me, the frustration is even worse at my end. Thanks go to Kwak and Carrots, you've both been in my corner since this all began, and I'm so grateful to be working alongside you- and to Lizzy, FkaJ and Alinya, and the myriad of other writers and readers who have been so cool. Ros, you're a champion! You've been great, all of you who have read, followed, commented and messaged- you've given me the confidence I never would have had in my own writing if I'd never tried this. Thank you for being so patient.

Love, Cate.

Chapter 37

The Christmas holiday had taken an unexpected turn when Anne came down with a head cold some days after Christmas. She and Gilbert had moved to Green Gables as planned, however, it was only a day before the coughing and sneezing girl was confined to their bedroom, which became the centre of the house for the time they were there. The little white room hosted the family morning, noon and night, and Gilbert had to shake his head at the collection of chairs that collected around their bed, as a never-ending supply of tea and company was brought to Anne's side. She would always collect people around her, he supposed.

Uncle Dave and Aunt Katherine came to visit before they left Avonlea, reassuring Gilbert breezily that there was no need to check on her- she was fine. There were tonics made from both kitchens and enforced by Marilla, and Anne sat like a queen against her pillows, laughing at the antics of the children, and the war of kindness that presently existed between the two households. Gilbert's mother visited daily, and Marilla would bring her knitting into the bedroom by her bed, watching her girl from the rocking chair with a tender smile she didn't often allow to show. A laughing Anne confided in Gilbert that everyone seemed quite happy to have her in one place- and he suspected it was true. Dora brought tea to the little room, and her needlework to show Anne, shyly telling her of the subjects they were studying at school. Davy's big boots clattered up and down the halls, calling back messages to the couple that made Mrs Lynde complain about her poor ears.

Gilbert would allow himself to be dragged from the bedside from time to time, however most mornings he could be found in the chair beside the bed, a textbook in his lap, and a cup of tea beside him. At times he snoozed with Anne; at others, he read aloud to her, despite her hoarse protests that equations were meant to be enjoyed silently.

On this particular afternoon, rain was falling outside the window, turning the frozen ground into something that even Davy dared not cross. Anne was at present buried under a mound of pillows and blankets, sound asleep after a morning of constant company- and as Gilbert looked up from his books, he had the sudden realisation that the two of them were beyond exhausted. The senior year hadn't been an easy one to navigate, he knew; and since they had returned to Redmond- well, sleep had not exactly been high on their list of priorities, with the increase in workload.

Not to mention the other distractions between them…

"Gilbert?"

He looked up to see a hand blindly pawing around the covers, and chuckled. "You couldn't be bothered to sit up and talk to me?"

"I can't," she complained, inexplicably, and he began to laugh, seeing that she had twisted herself into the sheets and was stuck fast. He had her untangled in a minute, and Anne sat up with a yawn, making him smile at the adorable way she rubbed her eyes, red curls coming from the loosening braid down her back. She sighed as he smoothed the blankets back over her and handed her a glass of water.

"Weren't you going to the Wright's house this afternoon?" she asked drowsily.

He shrugged as she sipped the water, before flopping down beside her on the big bed. "Fred called past an hour ago and cancelled on me. Said his father needed some help this afternoon. There's a note from Diana for you on the dresser, she wants us to call around for supper the night before we go back. She wanted you to have time to get better first, and didn't want to miss us."

Anne was silent as she watched Gilbert roll over to pick up his latest essay from beside the bed. He was scratching notes in the margins as her eyes traced the lines on his forehead and the still ink-stained fingers from that morning.

"Gil, I've been thinking-"

"Hmm?"

"We're very tired."

There was a pause as he scribbled out a line, not looking up from the paper. "Well, we're already in bed, love."

"You're very tired."

At this, a bemused Gilbert turned to her, brown eyebrows high. "Again, I'm lying down. What more do you want?"

She shifted the covers back with another yawn to reach for her robe. "We need to rest better," she said thickly. "Haven't you noticed how tired everyone is becoming, back home?"

"Which 'everyone'?"

Anne huffed impatiently. "All of us. We have finals and plans to make for the future. Phil has a wedding to prepare for, and her mother is hounding her constantly about it, despite the exams that come first. Stella and Priss are flagging- and I've never seen Charlie as unsettled as he was last week."

Gilbert's voice was gentle, and he caught her hand. "We can't save them from it, love- we all have degrees to finish."

She scowled at him, stumbling over the slippers beside the bed. "I know that. I just think that we need to be mindful-"

He pulled her back down onto the bed, and faced her calmly. "We will be."

"And you need to stop working so late into the night at home."

"You're as bad as I am when it comes to that, Anne-girl. What's got you worried?"

She slumped down to place her head in his lap, and sighed. "Oh, nothing," she mumbled and was silent as he helped her pull the ribbon from her hair. "We need a holiday," she said eventually. "Marilla is worried about us. She mentioned something about the Spencervale doctor thinking that I was too pale, one summer- and she's convinced that you and I are going the same way again now."

He gave her a droll look, smoothing a broad hand over her curls. "Pale is something no Blythe ever is, sweetheart."

"I beg your pardon, this one is," she shot back, making him grin. "Oh, and I'm sure you were pale when Professor Hallett came into that tent to find us tangled together on the floor."

He gave a shout of laughter at that and scooped her up into his arms. "Perhaps just then. You're not really concerned, are you?"

She looked up at him and sighed. "Not about me, no. However, I do know just how hard you work yourself when the pressure is high. I don't want to see you grow unwell, this term."

He bent down to kiss her temple with a smile. "I'm not. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm not the one keeping the whole household awake coughing through the night. We need to get you better."

She struggled upright, a look of stubbornness on her face, despite the fact that a stuffy nose rendered some words inaudible. "I am fine. I am getting up tomorrow, and I will be celebrating New Year's Eve downstairs in the parlour with you."

"You're not fighting to go to the New Year's Eve dance, then? Davy says it's going to be 'killing' with the whole town there," he teased, well pleased to see her regaining some spark. He chuckled then at the look of disdain on her face.

"Heavens, no. I am not up to dealing with Josie Pye and her ilk with a head-cold. I just want you, dearest- and hot tea," she added, making him smile.

"I'll see what I can do."

Mrs Lynde initially threatened to remain at home from the dance to tend to Anne, clearly doubting Gilbert's ability to do so- until Anne herself diplomatically suggested that Mrs Pye would be happy to commandeer the Ladies Aid refreshment stall in her stead. That decided it- to the hall, she would go, and Gilbert and Anne were left to their own devices, their private celebration a world away from the noise and gossip of the community outing. Of course, it came at a price- Mrs Lynde's lecture on the nature of man and his addiction to the flesh was delivered to the invalid before the good woman left for the evening, determined that no advantage should be taken of an empty house and Anne's prone state. Anne had laughed until she cried at Gilbert's slightly green complexion, commenting that Mrs Lynde seemed to not know how to relate to the two of them- were they married, or not?

It was nearing seven o'clock in the evening on New Year's Eve when Anne came down the old staircase looking for her husband. She headed toward the parlour and found Gilbert on his knees stoking a roaring fire. The lamps were warm and friendly, and a tray of tea things sat beside the sofa, finished off with some of Marilla's famous plum cake. He looked up when she came in, grinning at the sight of her warmly wrapped in her nightgown, thick stockings and a robe.

"You did specify comfortable", she teased, coming to his side just as he rose.

"I did. Give me a minute, and I'll be the same."

Anne sat on the old chair that had been Matthew's, smiling at the sound of Gilbert capering up the stairs two at a time. She remembered the winters she had sat up with Matthew and Marilla in the parlour, sometimes reading to them aloud from her books, scarcely pausing for breath, she supposed. The winter she had spent in Charlottetown had seemed so bleak on those icy evenings, remembering the warmth of the parlour and Matthew's gentle chuckle. She had longed for her own- and Marilla's short letters, although guarded, had shown her how necessary she had become to the pair of them as well.

When Gilbert entered the room again, he found Anne curled up in a chair that sat in a dim corner. "You'd be closer to the fire on the sofa, Anne-girl."

"I'm closer to Matthew, here," she said dreamily, and she startled when he picked her up, and sat down in the chair himself, settling her back on his lap. He bent his head to kiss her forehead, smiling as she snuggled into him. "Oh, I've missed this," she said drowsily. "You and I, and a fire, and time to ourselves."

He chuckled. "You know you wanted to come home for the holiday, sweetheart."

"I did." There was quiet for a time, and Gilbert was just wondering if it would have been better to send them both to bed when she spoke again, her voice the dreamy one he loved. "When did you first want to kiss me?"

He gave her a startled look and grinned sheepishly. "Probably a bit earlier than you realise."

"And that was…?"

Gilbert shifted her weight on his lap, before resting his brown head on one hand to study her in the lamplight. "Within the first year, I knew you, certainly."

Anne shook her head slowly, a slight smile curved in her lips. "I will never understand that, you know."

"It makes perfect sense to me."

"I should have thought myself unlikely to attract your attention, then," she said thoughtfully, as he ran his hand through her loose curls. "I bordered on rudeness in most of our interactions- and greater Avonlea was rather suspicious of me in the beginning."

"They didn't see what I saw." He saw her yearning look and smiled. "You were bright and imaginative- and you weren't afraid of anyone. I loved that."

"Everyone is afraid of something."

"Then what were you afraid of?"

She sighed against his shoulder, smiling at the slight shiver he gave when her cool fingertips slipped between his pyjama shirt buttons. "I- was afraid of not fitting in."

"Anne, you never played the popularity games at school-"

"I still needed to belong. Children feel it so acutely when they aren't like anyone else. Whether it's their clothing or feeling that they are behind everyone else."

"You're preaching to the choir," he said dryly. He laughed, then. "No, not the dresses- the lack of puffed sleeves never bothered me. Besides, it was far more interesting watching you without all of the ruffles."

"Gilbert Blythe!"

"You wanted to know when I first thought of it."

"Yes, well, I didn't think it would mean you had been watching me," Anne protested.

"I wouldn't have had to just watch if you'd given me the time of day. We were in a single classroom- and I saw you almost every day."

She huffed, a smile lurking in her eyes. "Puffed sleeves wouldn't have changed that."

He shrugged in apology. "I could see you, without them, sweetheart. Not miles of fabric, or ribbons covering everything- or- or, well, even the bustles that the boys used to conjecture about."

"That does not make me feel any better," she grumbled.

He pulled the hand that had been in the act of retreating back over his heart and spoke quietly. "I saw you. How slim you were, yes, but you were anything but fragile. Like a young tree in the wind. You held your head up high- you carried yourself so proudly. It was breathtaking, to me."

Anne knew better than to argue with him, however, her voice was oddly tight when she spoke. "You didn't notice the other girls?" she said, in an effort to tease him.

"Oh, I saw them. They made sure that they were seen. Even Jane used to preen when she had a new dress. That was a huge shock when I got back."

"Jane?"

Gilbert laughed, slipping one hand into her robe to cuddle her closer. "No. All of them. I left playmates behind," he said, frankly. "I knew them from the time they were born- I even played in the dirt with Diana when she was young. I got back to find that they had all become starched and stiff, and not one of them would talk about anything real."

"Diana was never like that!"

He gave her an apologetic look and squeezed her waist. "No, but by then, my mother had royally offended hers, and they weren't exactly knocking on our door when we got back."

Anne scowled. "Really?"

He scratched his nose in unconcern. "Oh, she accused Dad of missing his scheduled turn to cut the grass in the churchyard. She didn't think that her husband should have to do it twice- but Dad was only weeks from being sent to Alberta. She cast it up to mother sometime later, and, well, the Nelson temper erupted. You couldn't have done it better." Anne was quiet for some time but turned when he continued, his words uncertain. "Anne, the other girls- they were the valley, to me. You were the horizon."

Her eyes glimmered greenly in the firelight, and she turned to slip her arms around his neck, kissing him in a way that robbed him of all rational thought for several minutes, her slender hands sliding into his hair. She pulled away when they were both breathing heavily, her eyes dim with unexpected tears. "I thought I had taken your horizon away," she said softly.

He shook his head, before getting to his feet, carrying her to the sofa and placing her down on the quilt there. "Only if you left. But you didn't go," he murmured, kneeling down by her side. He bent down to kiss her, his hands resting on either side of her head, twining a red curl through his fingers. She smiled when he pulled back to meet her eyes again, his hand cradling her cheek.

"I couldn't leave my heart."

"Anne," he said, breathlessly, and her gaze was tender as she pulled him down to her, the precious weight of him both soothing and inflaming her. "I don't want to crush you," he muttered, and she gave him a curious smile.

"I never feel that. This is where I feel safe."

Gilbert chuckled. "This is where I'm home. Here, with you." He hesitated, looking at her regretfully. "You still need to get better, love. Maybe we should wait."

Her hands ran over his broad shoulders before locking around his neck, and she shrugged innocently. "Then make me feel better. You were doing a wonderful job. Why stop now?"

He could only laugh- until her lips moved to his jawline with determination, and his body melted as he mumbled endearments into her hair, her hands pressing him to her.

Anne could feel the moment he gave in and sighed in satisfaction, loving the strong arms that snaked around her form tightly. She shifted to pull him closer, shivering at the feel of his firm body cradled between her hips. The way he moved instinctively against her caused a flaming in her belly, and her breath caught at the blaze of adoration on his face- and she found herself wondering briefly- what if- what if we didn't-

Anne suddenly stilled and began to laugh, as her hand paused to brush the soft quilt beneath them. "Gilbert, you had this quilt here already."

"Er- I did…."

"You planned for this, didn't you?"

He grinned wickedly. "Well, I don't want you getting cold, do I? And if we happen to spend more time lying than sitting on sofas, well, that's just one of our many peculiarities as a couple."

"And we do prefer it," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Although didn't Mrs Lynde warn us about you taking advantage of my weakened state?"

"We're married and can do whatever we want," Gilbert said smugly. "I knew there was a bonus to getting married early. If it's what you want, and what I want-"

"And I am very sure that we do-"

"Then I will stay right here with you in my arms, all night long."

Anne looked at him, beaming. "Happy New Year, beloved."

"Happy New Year." He bent to kiss her forehead, relishing in her closeness. There was a slight pause, then. "Anne- this next year- we don't really know what will happen."

"I suppose not," she said softly.

"Anne, I swear to you-" he said haltingly before she shook her head.

"No. You don't need to promise me anything," she said firmly. "Together is the only one I need from you. We will just take tomorrow as it comes."

He exhaled, his eyes caressing her face. "Together."

On the third of January, Gilbert sat on the Kingsport train with a book in one hand, while the other smoothed over the red head that lay on his thigh. Stella and Priscilla had thoughtfully left Anne to sleep, after observing the purple shadows under her eyes, and the scowl she gave her young husband after he insisted that she rest. He stopped reading for a moment when she shifted, smiling at the contented mumble she gave.

The farewell had been quiet at the station that morning, with Marilla insisting that the couple didn't need a circus to send them off this time. Only Gilbert's parents and she were there, and she tucked Anne's shawl around her with a gentle pat.

"Marilla-"

Gilbert had his arm around his wife and began to laugh at the hoarse voice that erupted from Anne this time. The symptoms of the cold had mostly subsided by now, and she had woken up feeling refreshed on New Year's day- with no voice at all. This had been hilarious for all concerned, as she protested that she really was recovered. Of course, it was hard for Anne to not talk, and her recovery took a little longer than it might have done otherwise. She had braved the cold the previous night to spend time with Diana, and had sat watching Fred, he and Diana converse, her hand tightly within Gilbert's. At one point Diana had brought out her sewing, a little gown she was working on that made Anne catch her breath, her grey eyes burning into his and holding the unuttered word of someday.

Gilbert looked across now to where Priscilla slept on Stella's shoulder, and chuckled. Stella was trying to reach for her bag without disturbing her, and he grinned. The train was relatively empty this time, and the six Island college students were spread over the dim carriage as evening fell.

"I'd help, but-" he gestured down to where Anne was lying, and Stella rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, this pair! They never used to go to sleep on the train so easily."

"She had a cold over the holiday," he explained, before nodding at Priss. "Was she ill too?"

"No, her mother was," she said, stifling a sigh. "She's been poorly for some time. I think Priss was glad to be able to do something for her, to be honest. It's hard for her to be away so much."

"For us all," he commented quietly. His parents had been full of plans for them for the summer, and even Marilla had hinted that they would be pleased to see the couple for an extended time- whatever their plans were afterwards. The subject had evidently been canvassed in their absence, and Gilbert felt it at the back of every comment, every question from the Avonlea folk. He could only admire Anne's composure as she deflected the conversation away from the subject, with suitably vague replies, her hand closing over the forearm that grew tense in his frustration. It soothed him to know that Anne was not concerned, and he resolved to only listen to her.

He grinned at the sight of Stella finally nudging Prissy over to lean on the window to sleep, heaving a sigh of relief when she could reach her bag again. In the distance, he could hear Charlie pontificating about something, and he picked up the Chemistry journal Professor Wiseman had insisted he read over the break, absently stroking through Anne's soft hair on his lap. The scientific world was changing so quickly around them. It would take a lifetime to keep up with it- and who knew where the world would be by that time? The professor had seemed quite happy to not discuss his upcoming exams, focusing instead on the research into germ theory that he was conducting at the university with his top student. The agar plates in the lab were blooming prolifically before they had left Kingsport, and Gilbert had been asked to document their findings for the board, and to write a paper about the spread of contagious illnesses in the city.

Professor Wiseman had made no secret about the fact that he was at the university primarily for research- a big part of the reason he had jumped at the opportunity of gaining an intern for the year. Gilbert rotated his stiff shoulder, and lay his brown head back against the seat with a slight smile. Perhaps a week in bed had been just what he needed, before the insanity of the final semester began. He allowed his eyes to close, trying not to be impatient for the work that lay waiting for him in Kingsport. He'd watched with joy as Anne's ambitions had begun to take flight in recent months- and there was a deep relief inside that ambition was not done with him yet, either. He wouldn't know himself if it didn't.

He scrubbed his tired face with one hand, trying not to shift the girl on his lap. There was an hour or so before they would reach Kingsport, and he allowed the chug of the engine and the rocking of the carriage to relax his tired muscles, as he tried to still his mind. Little ideas about the work that he could do within the world of education had been bubbling inside for months, the possibilities about the world he could help create, the life he and Anne would build together. He breathed deeply, willing his body to find rest.

All of that was in the future, of course- and for that, he would just need to wait.

Redmond had been back in session for a week, when Anne finally laid her completed manuscript before her husband on Friday afternoon.

"It's- it's the final final copy; I've included the last of Professor Winston's changes," she said, nervously.

"Mmm."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Do you need me to move the lamp for you?"

"No, I'm fine here, love."

"Oh. Er- good." After another lengthy pause, in which Gilbert could clearly hear the ticking of the clock- "Would you like a cup of tea? To help you read?"

"I already had one, sweetheart. Carry on with what you were doing."

"Oh- I- er, alright."

When he hadn't been able to turn a page in some time, he was disconcerted to realise that Anne hadn't moved either; her grey eyes were fixed on him, with a half-crazed look in their depths. "Anne, you don't need to watch me."

"Certainly not! I'm- I'm cleaning, that's all," she said, somehow managing to sound both scandalised and guilty at the same time.

"The counter is shining."

"I am sure that Mrs Lynde would say that a house could never be too clean."

"Do you not have some classwork to do?"

"Not at the moment." She briefly moved to tidy the lounge, her brow puckered in worry. "Please do be careful with the pages, Gilbert, it's the only copy-"

This harried comment made Gilbert throw down the manuscript, and his look was grim as he picked up his protesting wife around the waist, and deposited her neatly at the front door.

"Gil, what are you doing?"

"Dearest love, you are going to Patty's Place. NOW."

"Well, really!"

"Yes, really," he said, aggravated. "I refuse to read something this important with you looking over my shoulder- it took me fifteen minutes to read the first page with all of your clattering around. I finally have the time to look at it, and the girls are wild to see you, so go now. I'll be along this evening as normal. "

Anne donned her coat and hat with as much dignity as she could muster, her chin high. "I was planning on making a cake, this afternoon."

"Not in this mood, you won't. I'll stop at the baker's on the way for you. Now go."

Phil's laughter was abundant as she ushered Anne inside the warm lounge room that afternoon, taking the coat from the petulant damsel. "Honey, you had that coming," she said, her brown eyes twinkling. "You know how precious you become about one of your creations."

"I do not!"

"You chased me from your bedroom once when I accidentally-"

"Deliberately-"

"-read just a little bit of one over your shoulder!" Phil said calmly. "You clearly can't settle down when someone is actively reading your work; so if want your husband to read it properly, then leave the man in peace."

Anne scowled and threw herself into her favourite chair. "You are not supposed to be taking his side, you cold-blooded theorist, you."

"Here, now! No name calling, unless we're all here to join in," Priscilla said cheerfully, popping up beside Anne to perch on the arm of her chair.

"Gilbert was trying to read Anne's latest story, and-"

A burst of laughter interrupted the explanation, and Priscilla tweaked Anne's pretty nose. "Did you punish him?"

"I did not!" the redhead said indignantly. "I asked him to read it! And he had the nerve to send me here because he said he couldn't read with me flapping around in the background!"

"Aha, so you admit you were flapping," Phil teased. "And you did come, so you obviously knew he was right."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you early."

Priscilla laughed again and gave Anne a smothering hug. "Never mind, darling. Would you like us to scowl at him when he gets here tonight?"

"Well, I'm grateful," Phil said cheekily. "Now we get you for a whole afternoon! I'll thank him when he gets here."

By the time Gilbert arrived at the house, decidedly earlier than they usually arrived, he slipped in the front door to catch Anne alone in the kitchen, apron-covered and dusted with flour. To his delight she squealed and threw herself at him, evidently having forgotten her ire with him- for the moment.

"I hoped you would come early, Gil; I was concerned that there was no dinner left for you at home."

"I can do it myself, you know- you taught me, after all. But I assumed the girls wouldn't mind feeding me," he said, lifting a basket onto the counter. "I wasn't sure what they needed- so I got a pie to go with your cake."

Anne beamed at him. "Lovely. I have biscuits coming out of the oven soon."

He looked around curiously as Anne continued cleaning. "I don't hear the girls."

"Prissy and Phil are working in their bedrooms- the classics essay is due tomorrow, and I said that I would hold the fort in the kitchen for Aunt Jimsie. She and Stella had to run to the market for shoelaces."

Gilbert came up behind her then, his look sheepish. "Forgiven me yet, for tossing you from the house?"

Anne laughed, much to his relief. "Perhaps this time, yes- although that makes it sound like a tragic novel." She turned to face him with a chagrined look. "The girls seem to be in your corner, in this case. Am I really so terrible?"

He grinned. "You are a tad precious about your writing, my sweet. I can't claim to feel the same way about differential calculus."

"Has a well-meaning person ever used your calculus to sell baking powder?"

"Well, not yet, no."

She gave a small shrug, her countenance falling. "I might be a little too sensitive about it."

Gilbert ruffled his hair and sighed. "It's because it matters, sweetheart. I know that- we all do."

There was a pause, and he caught the intensely vulnerable look on her face. "Do you want to talk about it now?" She only nodded, and he sighed.

"You know I can never be objective- not about this," he said gently. "It's your spirit on the page. Your characters are delightful- they made me laugh- and it's unexpected. It's fresh and vivid, and honest, and I love the humour in it."

Anne's face had shuttered, and she watched Gilbert carefully. "Are there any flaws?"

He hesitated, and smiled. "Probably," he admitted, noting the indignant spark in her eyes. "It's not perfect. I'd dislike it too much if it was. You didn't make a perfect world- and you didn't give your Megan a perfect life, either. You didn't explain the hard things away. It was- real."

Anne nodded now, her shoulders beginning to relax. "How could I explain why some things happen?" she said quietly. "They simply do. And if we knew the reason, I doubt that it would make things any easier." He frowned, not understanding her thoughts. "Why did I lose my parents?" Anne asked. "Why did your father get sick, why was I sent to Marilla and Matthew instead of a boy? What happened to him?" She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "If there was any reason, I don't want to know. I have to believe that there is a way through it- that no matter what happens, there is always another bend in the road."

"And that is why I love you," Gilbert stated, bending over to smile into her eyes. "And it's why I love your story. What do you need to do next?"

"I- I send it to the magazines, now. Professor Winston suggested that- many stories like this start by being serialized- and it isn't quite long enough to be a novel, yet. He didn't want me to expand on it at this stage. He's given me a list of addresses to send it to."

"You sound unsure."

Anne chuckled, hiding her face in his collar. "Perhaps I am, a little. How often do your dreams waltz up and take you by the hand?"

Gilbert pulled her close, his smile huge. "With you? All the time. It's going to happen, Anne Blythe. Just wait and see."