The characters are created by LM Montgomery, and are her property... the original characters & storyline are unique to this story are copyright 2021, by Nell Lime.
Author's Note:
TLWtlw - In my option with Gilbert obsessed with Anne for so long which is necessary with her snubbing him for so long, I could see him being convinced he'd win her love and marry her and be that stubborn.
Kushinka - Yes… the Gossip has been growing, and gone over Anne's head… yes they all think she is… but is she?
Faith-hope-and-glory - So the hair allusion is something I think Gilbert should have done and wasn't in the original books :(. I was brainstorming what would have gotten Anne the weakest in her knees the fastest, and him being poetic about her hair was what I came up with. Yes… she's committee to him now, even if he does act out again. Yes, Davy & Gilbert sometimes aren't as interesting as Anne because first of all Davy wasn't around the action early on and later, Gilbert is out of it, and no worries, totally understand, and yes I was really tempted to go into some of the other characters's heads, but found it too confusing to have more than 3 POVs.
Anneomine - Yes Davy in Ch 21 is my favorite chapter in many ways so far. Oh more drama will arrise… Yes I can see Davy of the mind, no one messes with my sisters (except for me) and would be a protective brother. Oh Yes it would have burst if he heard her, with that last line in Ch 25.
Now welcome back to Gilbert's head…
— Gilbert —
Saturday, June 26th, 8:00am
Apple Bough, Avonlea, PEI
There's two worlds. Or three. One where I built when I'd have to hold something to steady me as I'd fear of falling to pieces in the blackness of Anne's rejection. I'm there, now when I feel a hand on my forehead. There's a spot of coolness of metal and I open my eyes blinking. It's one of the dream worlds, for I've never seen Anne look at me with love. She lifts me up helping me to sip something. Broth, and holds me to her.
I drift from there into other dreams. I'm walking with Anne now, laughing about a take notice she's teasing me about writing. Her eyes sparkling with ideas for prophesying a storm for Uncle Abe on May 23rd, at 4pm. Then later the dream jumps ahead to the actual storm. I'd been scared, and I'd rubbed the ring sewn into my billfold praying she and everyone else I loved in Avonlea would be safe as I watched it wreck havoc with the children in the White Sands school room.
I then drift into another dream, of little Anne. I dance with her briefly in the halls, as she demands a story and I sit down with her in the stairs to tell her. But then she's gone. No little Anne left. I start to sob, to cry, only to find comforting arms around me, rocking me. And I look up to see Anne Gardiner, standing with little Anne, both dressed to perfection, all their liveliness gone. Instead models of perfection, sparkling with riches I could never give them, they turn to leave, but when I cry out I'm startled to hear Anne's voice behind me, the one rocking me. "Gil… I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere… I promised until the end…"
I blink my eyes and realize that like a small boy I'm cradled in Anne's arms, she's climbed onto the bed and rocking me, my head buried in her bosom. I have just enough sense to know it shouldn't be there, especially as I hear Mother speaking.
"Anne… I've a fresh batch of the broth for Gilbert…" She startles seeing us, and I force all my strength to pull my head back. I'm certain I'm burning with more then just my fever. "It's time to feed…"
Anne's as red as I feel, when I'm able to register that.
"You too Anne. I'll care for Gilbert. Likely time he's changed." Mrs. Lynde strode in. "I'll feed Gilbert and you see to Anne. She was casting up her breakfast yesterday and I doubt she's eaten much. When did you last eat Girl?"
"Last night?"
"And it's nearly Tea time!"
"I couldn't…"
Mrs. Lynde just nodded at Mother and the two took charge of us. Anne quickly helps me settle propped up with pillows instead of leaning against herself, brushes off her dress and follows Mother out the door.
Mrs. Lynde just mothered me, feeding me as she mumbled. "That girl! She should know better."Not surprised she's loosing weight. Always happens. Not showing yet, but likely will soon. At least you did the right thing."
Right thing? I didn't have the strength to ask. Instead I fell back to sleep. I dream about our little set of rooms, with my dream Anne, Anne Blythe. Only she's as much a ghost as the ghost Anne who haunts me. But I am scared to give her up. So instead I dream of her still. Of a future I will never have. I'm so tired. So sore. Everything aches. There's a blackness beckoning, but then I see her.
My Anne-girl. Standing with a sword in her arms, her flowing red hair glistening. My Anne-girl. She's not letting me pass. Not letting me enter. I see beyond the ghost Anne and little Anne. But this sword yielding Anne grabs my hand, and fights the darkness. She hands me a sword, and makes me fight with her. In a way she's the Anne of old. No romance, the best chum who's got my back. But then I look into her eyes and I have to hope.
I wake later to find Dr. Spenser and several others in the room. He's talking and smiles as I wake. Mother is sitting by my head on a chair, Anne on the other side, on the mattress. Mrs. Lynde on a chair by the fire as Dad and Davy stand listening.
"He's starting to have complications so I'll be needing you all to check him more regularly, hourly." He then pulls back the bed coverings, pulls up my night shirt and pushes the diaper I'm wearing down. I find myself clutching Anne's hand as I'm mortified to be on display to so many. Dr. Spenser places a stethoscope with his ear at the other end, listening, and then asking all of them to listen. I recount what he's doing from my human anatomy class I'd taken. Reciting in my mind what organs he's listening to. The connection between the small and big intestine specifically.
I then have to witness each of them listen to the noises that Dr. Spenser hears first with his stethoscope and then with a tube. Then he has each feel for swelling. I don't know what is more mortifying. Anne with her fingers placed just so and them all watching or Mrs. Lynde? But I ache too much to say anything. Anne doesn't let go of my hand through it though, except for her own examining.
I'm tempted to seek out the dream, Anne Blythe but glancing down at the real Anne, my warrior Anne listening and explaining to Dr. Spenser what she hears, her cheeks flush as she doesn't let go of my hand, then feels explaining the connection between the large and small intestines was swollen, her hand lingering. Perhaps it was best that very quickly it was Davy listening instead of Anne and she was back at her place, holding my hand still, wiping down my forehead.
I'm turned over afterwards and they examined again before bathing me. I don't know who does but I know Anne's hand slips from mine as Dr. Spenser orders her to rest and eat.
I come and go from the dreams, but one thing is certain. The dreams of my Anne Blythe feel jaded. Lost. Missing. Empty.
Instead I cling to this new Anne. This warrior Anne. But then, I don't think she's any more as real as the other Annes… For the real Anne is always beyond my reach.
