An hour after his elfin encounter with Anne, Gilbert floated into the Blythe farmhouse and was quickly accosted by his mother.
"Gilbert! Where have you been?! I've been worried sick."
She watched in amazement as he gave a vague chuckle and floated on past her. He started to ascend the stairs, and Edie felt a flash of fear that the strain of Anne's homecoming might have caused him to - hopefully temporarily - lose his wits. Or had he gotten into the drink with Fred?
Gilbert vanished upstairs, and after Edie had unthawed herself, she hastened up after him.
Gilbert had gone into his room and crawled, suspenders and all, into his bed. His mother tapped insistently on the door, and when there was no response, went in. She gawked at him, and then narrowed her eyes.
"Are you sick, Gil? Did you go to the Wright's?"
Gilbert smiled at her indulgently, and his mother's eyebrows rose.
"I saw Anne, mother," he replied.
"Anne!" she ejaculated. No wonder her poor son had gone mad.
"She's not marrying that Kingsport fellow," he continued and grinned.
"What?!" Edie gawked again. "She's not… What?!"
"She refused him," Gilbert said with satisfaction.
"Refused him…?" Edie said in disbelief.
Gilbert nodded emphatically. "Refused him."
A slow, wide grin of delight spread across Mrs. Blythe's face.
"There may be some hope for you yet, my son!" She exclaimed overjoyed. "Get out of bed, you lump!" she continued gleefully and ran from the room.
Gilbert had his turn to gawk, then he rose from the bed and ran after her. Downstairs in the kitchen, his mother was rummaging around in the back of a cupboard.
"Aha!" she cried, and pulled out a dusty bottle of -
"Current wine?" asked Gilbert in astonishment.
"One of Marilla's prize-winning ones actually," said Edie, pleased. "She was rather eager to get rid of it, I recall, though I've no idea why. I've been saving it for something special." She frowned. "It's been awhile, so I hope it's not gone to vinegar."
She set the bottle down on the kitchen table and began to search for suitable glasses, but after a few moments of fruitless searching, set out two teacups with a shrug.
"Will you open the bottle, son?"
Gilbert realized his jaw was hanging open and closed it. He then joined his mother at the kitchen table and set about uncorking the old bottle. Pouring a healthy dollop in each teacup, they clinked their cups together and took a sip.
"Ah, that's nice," Edie sighed.
"Mmm," Gilbert agreed.
"Now, not a word of this to Mrs. Barry," Mrs. Blythe admonished. "She doesn't look too kindly on drinking."
She glanced over at her son and seemed to take in his appearance for the first time.
"Gilbert! You didn't run into Anne shirtless did you?!"
He looked down at his chest in some surprise. Sure enough, his bare, bronzed chest was covered only by the thin suspenders hooked into his work trousers. He reddened and scratched self-consciously at the dark smattering of curls on his chest.
"I guess I hadn't noticed, Ma," he said with some embarrassment.
Mrs. Blythe tsked in disbelief. "Gilbert John Blythe, you are your own worst enemy, sometimes. Anne Shirley's just come back from high-fashion Kingsport, and you're running around like a heathen in the woods!"
Privately, she thought her son may have impressed the redhead with his chiseled chest, but still.
"I'll do better, Ma," Gilbert promised, thinking of elfin Anne skipping about in the woods.
"I know what can help you do better," Edie said with a pleased smile, bringing Gilbert back to the present.
Surprised, Gilbert watched as his mother again bounded up and disappeared, this time upstairs. A few minutes later she returned, cradling something wrapped in tissue paper as though it were the baby Jesus. With a flourish, she laid it on the kitchen table in front of Gilbert. Tentatively, he reached out and pulled back the tissue paper, revealing a handsome light grey suit.
"Where'd this come from, Ma?" Gilbert asked in amazement.
His mother smiled ruefully. "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise for you, meant for you to take to college. But when that…. didn't happen, I decided to save it for another occasion."
Gilbert's eyebrows were at his hairline. "You mean my wedding?" he squeaked uncharacteristically. He hastily took another sip of wine.
"No, you silly! You've got to woo her first, and you've got to look well! Anne's a cultured lady, and you'll have to look the part of a suitor!"
"Oh," grinned Gilbert. He fingered the collar of the suit. "This is wonderful, Ma."
Her eyes softened. "It's made of fine broadcloth from Baxter's in Carmody," she said. "And the suit's cut is in the new style, well, new four years ago anyway."
Touched, Gilbert's eyes welled with tears. "Thank you, Ma."
Tears trickled down her cheeks, too. "It's not much, but it came from here." She patted her heart.
"It's everything," he choked, before pulling his mother into his arms for a hug.
The next morning, Gilbert woke with a headache. He and his mother had tippled long into the night, reminiscing about Mr. John Blythe and dreaming about a future with Anne, only going to bed when the bottle of current wine was empty. Rubbing his forehead, he blearily sat up and looked out the window, surprised to see the sun well risen. Shaking his head slowly at his oversleeping, he rose and quickly dressed. He went down the stairs and blinked at the vision of his mother, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, flipping pancakes.
"Hurry up, lazy bones!" she called cheerfully. "You've had a bit of a lie-in. No worries, I've milked the cows. Come and sit down while the flapjacks are hot."
He sat down, and Edie heaped a stack of pancakes onto his plate and drizzled it thickly with maple syrup. She capped off this service with a smacking kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks, Ma," said Gilbert, blushing a bit. "You seem… "
"Joyful? Excited?" she prompted, as she returned to the stove.
"Unaffected was what I was thinking," Gilbert said with a wry smile.
"Oh, that," said his mother, waving her hand dismissively. "I've always been able to hold my liquor."
Gilbert gaped. When had his mother learned that? Perhaps I've gone mad, he wondered. Everything seemed skewed since running into Anne last night. Had he even run into Anne last night? Or had a wood sprite worked her charms upon him? It may not yet be quite midsummer, but it seemed like Avonlea had become the stage of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
He grinned at the last thought, but his eagerness to confirm last night's revelation in the Haunted Wood had him rising from the table.
"I've got to get to Green Gables," he said.
"Hang on just a mo'," shrilled Mrs. Blythe. "You can't go looking like that!" She gestured to his work clothes. Now eat your flapjacks."
She managed to get him to eat a few bites before he was hastening up the stairs to change. He returned several minutes later in one of his usual schoolteacher suits, a three-piece serviceable brown suit, along with his straw boater.
"I'll save the new suit for - for later," he told his mother.
She nodded her understanding. "Of course. You're just getting reacquainted." She beamed as she straightened his tie, then quickly tried to fork more bites of flapjack into his mouth.
"Mother!" he protested indignantly through a mouthful.
"You've got to keep up your strength, Gil. You work far too hard. Just one more bite."
With a sigh, he obliged.
"Now you may go," said Mrs. Blythe, smiling brightly. "Oh, wait - " She quickly ran to the window sill where a bouquet of lilies of the valley were in a vase. She dried off the stems and handed them brightly to Gilbert.
"Her favorite," breathed Gilbert. "Ma, you're the best."
"Picked them myself this morning while you were sleeping in. Thought you might need them." She smiled.
"Thank you," he murmured, and kissed her cheek.
It was hot and bright outside, a refreshing breeze blowing every few minutes. Walking over to Green Gables, he felt a sense of trepidation, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other, and the Cuthbert's farm eventually came into view. It seemed he had not been the only one with the idea to visit Anne on her first day back, and he nearly turned around at the sight of two buggies in front of the house. When he recognized one of the buggies as belonging to Harmon Andrews, he heaved a sigh at what he was about to face, and like a martyr, marched up to the front door.
Anne herself opened the door within a moment of his knocking. Unbeknownst to him, she had been watching his progress from a window, becoming worried when he paused in the front yard.
"Gilbert! I'm so glad you came!" she said all in a rush. "Do come in." Her face was flushed, and her eyes darted shyly to the lilies, to his eyes, and then away.
"Yes, Gilbert, do come in!" called a chorus of eager voices from the parlor, Mrs. Rachel Lynde's chief among them. Gilbert and Anne exchanged a nervous glance.
"Here," he said, holding out the bouquet for her. "A little something to welcome you home."
Anne beamed, taking the flowers into her hands. "Lilies of the valley! Thank you. Will you - will you join us in the parlor?"
He smiled and nodded, and when he turned to follow her, braced himself for what he would undoubtedly find. In the parlor were Mrs. Harmon Andrews, Jane Inglis (nee Andrews), Mrs. Rachel Lynde, Mrs. Harrison, and Marilla Cuthbert. Gilbert nearly missed noticing young Dora Keith sitting primly on the window ledge, quiet and out of sight. Nary a seat was to be found, except a low stool. Anne elegantly folded herself into a portrait of reclining beauty upon the parlor rug, and Gilbert, after looking askance at the stool, joined her. He certainly did not want to be sitting if Anne was not, and he knew that stool would cause his knees to poke up like a grasshopper's. Reclusive Mr. Cuthbert was nowhere to be found, and neither was Dora's harum-scarum twin Davy, and Gilbert didn't blame them. If it weren't for Anne, he would have avoided this gathering for all he was worth.
As it was, Gilbert did not have to wait long for the confirmation he sought.
"Anne has just informed us that she is not engaged, as so many of us thought," said Mrs. Harmon Andrews with an air of great significance. "You might be especially interested in such a revelation, Gilbert."
"Why, Mrs. Harmon," said Anne with a certain queenishness that Gilbert was delighted to see resurface. "You make it sound as though I went to college to find a husband, not earn a B.A."
"Well, of course you go to become a B.A.," scoffed Mrs. Harmon Andrews. "It's only natural to find a spouse as well."
"Perhaps," said Anne with a flash of her grey eyes.
Mrs. Rachel Lynde spoke. "Well, at least you're now back on Prince Edward Island, Anne dearie. You can never tell about those mainlanders." Mrs. Lynde looked upon all people who had the misfortune to be born or brought up elsewhere than in P.E.I. with a decidedly suspicious air. They MIGHT be good people, of course; but you were on the safe side in doubting it.
Mrs. Harrison nodded emphatically, despite having moved to P.E.I. from the mainland only a few years earlier. However, she was the only obstacle preventing her husband from living like a heathen, so perhaps she agreed from experience.
"Home is always best," said Jane philosophically. Whether she meant P.E.I. or her her new home on the mainland remained unclear. Nothing much perturbed Jane, but Gilbert was pleased to see that wealth had not ruined her common sense disposition.
Mrs. Harmon Andrews then turned the conversation to carriages. Apparently, despite being mother and daughter, Mrs. Harmon and Jane had arrived in separate buggies, Mrs. Harmon undoubtedly wishing to show off her visiting daughter's trim and fleet, top-of-the-line buggy, in addition to her own, of course.
Gilbert listened vaguely, his eyes lingering on Anne. She wore a dress of filmy green that brought out the ruddy tint of her hair, and she had tucked the lilies of the valley into the green sash around her waist. Gilbert felt almost lightheaded with admiration as he looked at her. He absently accepted a cup of tea and a scone from Marilla, who looked wryly at the besotted young man.
It was then that Jane reminded her mother of their subsequent engagement, and the two rose and were ushered out by Anne. Mrs. Lynde and Mrs. Harrison, however, seemed more established than ever in the parlor, and Gilbert despaired of having time alone with Anne. However, a quarter of an hour later, he and Anne extricated themselves from the gossips. Anne had announced she needed to deliver something to Diana, and Gilbert offered to walk her there. They set out jubilantly for Orchard Slope, a small package in Anne's hands.
"I thought you might have invented the 'delivery,'" said Gilbert.
"Oh, Gil," replied Anne. "You should know I wouldn't resort to artifice!"
"My apologies, madam," he said with a laugh, executing a courtly bow.
"But I know what you mean," Anne continued. "Mrs. Lynde's conversation is like pepper. Best in small amounts."
Gilbert laughed again. "Well I'm glad I got you to myself anyways."
Her grey eyes flicked up to his. "Me too."
"Would you like to go for an old time ramble later today?" Gilbert asked, his heart thumping. "We could go to Hester Gray's garden."
"Oh, it's been so long since I've seen her garden!" exclaimed Anne. "Has it changed very much?"
"I don't know exactly," Gilbert said uncomfortably. "I haven't walked there in a long while." It had reminded him too much of Anne to brave that ramble alone.
"Well, then we could find out together," she said with a smile, and Gilbert's heart rose.
"Shall I come by at four then?" he asked.
She nodded and smiled, and Gilbert grinned broadly. They arrived at Orchard Slope and Gilbert reluctantly left her at the front gate, with a tip of his hat.
He was a clumsy farmer for the rest of the day, pulling up potato vines instead of weeds, giving the slops to the chickens, and repairing the garden gate backwards. His mother laughed until she cried at the inoperable garden gate, and Gilbert blushed hotly as he pulled out the nails and started again, muttering under his breath. Mrs. Blythe took pity on him after that, insisting he relax and bathe before meeting Anne.
Rather than fill the tub with heated buckets of water, Gilbert grabbed some soap and a towel and headed to Barry's pond, where men and boys alike swam in the summer. The secluded corner of the pond devoted to swimming was already ariot with the splashing of several boys when Gilbert arrived. Grinning, he shucked off his work clothes and dove in. The youngest of the boys were leaping off the little dock there, cannonballing into the water.
Gilbert treaded water, hoping to catch sight of Fred. Unable to locate him, he sighed. It would have been nice to tell him about Anne, if he didn't already know from Diana. Fred was likely to be out in the fields this time of day anyway.
But no, there he was - Fred - executing a cannonball off the dock along with the younger boys. Gilbert burst out laughing and swam over with long, broad strokes.
"Didn't expect to see you here this time of day," said Gilbert with a grin, catching up to his friend.
"Thought I'd skip off for a bit," Fred grinned back. "It's hotter than a furnace out in the wheat fields." Fred did seem redder than usual, which was saying something.
"Yeah, I was useless today on the farm," Gilbert replied.
"I wonder if that had anything to do with the return of an unattached Anne the other day?" Fred said knowingly, unable to keep a teasing smile from spreading across his red face.
"Ah, so you do know."
"Diana told me this morning. She was so frazzled, I was worried she was calling off our engagement."
"She'd never do that, Fred," Gilbert insisted. "Diana can't wait to marry you."
"Thanks," Fred said bashfully. "Only one more year."
"I'm happy for you," Gilbert said wistfully.
"Maybe there's a wedding someday soon for you, too, Gil."
Gilbert blinked, before managing a brief nod, the thought too precious and precarious to put into words.
Promptly at four, Gilbert strode up to Green Gables, heart hammering, palms sweating. He was pleased and rather relieved to find Anne waiting for him on the front porch - anything to avoid another rendition of this morning's parlor of women. She rose gracefully to her feet and came to meet him on the step. They smiled shyly at one another and set off towards Hester Gray's garden. Conversation was stilted at first, but began to flow as they settled into their old camaraderie.
"My favorite class at Redmond was English Composition and Declamation," Anne was saying. "I kept thinking another class would replace it each semester, but none ever did."
"I'm not surprised," Gilbert replied. "You always loved writing. As for me, I've spent all my free time in medical tomes, but perhaps I shouldn't have. You begin to fear you have all kinds of afflictions when reading about medical conditions."
Anne laughed. "What did you think you had?"
"Oh, anything. Cranial hematoma when I had a headache. Blood clots when I had a leg cramp. Tuberculosis when I had a bloody nose…"
"Gil," said Anne, coming to a halt and grabbing his arm. "I'm so sorry about your father. And I'm so sorry for not being here when he passed."
"Oh," said Gilbert. "I know. Thank you for the card you sent. We're doing fine. It's been a year - now…" His voice cracked suddenly with emotion, and, to his horror, he felt himself choke up, tears filling his eyes. He hastily turned away from her, mortified that she should see him cry. "Sorry," he choked. "Don't know what's come over me."
"Please don't worry," she pleaded softly from behind him. "Not on my behalf." She began to rub his back soothingly, and he quivered at her touch, trying to hold back his grief. After a few minutes, he was able to compose himself, and he quickly dried his eyes with his handkerchief.
"Thanks, Anne," he said, embarrassed. His voice trembled, and he almost wanted to bolt into the woods and away from this humiliating episode.
As if she could sense his desire to escape, Anne looped her arm through his and started walking decisively onward.
"I feel like I've gone mad lately," Gilbert stammered.
"Why would you think that?" Anne asked curiously.
They arrived at Hester's Garden as Gilbert contemplated his answer. The garden spread out before them, a bounty of overgrown flowering bowers and June roses with a thick carpet of narcissus. Anne sighed happily and squeezed Gilbert's arm.
"I feel like I've gone mad because the world has tilted on its axis since you've returned, Anne," said Gilbert slowly.
Anne turned to look at him with her clear, grey eyes. His eyes held hers for a moment, before she looked down blushing.
"Then… then you know how I feel," she murmured.
A surge of hope and joy raced through Gilbert. Could it truly be? Neither of them able to speak further on the matter, they strolled slowly through the garden, arm in arm.
They found a grassy knoll to stretch out on and look up at the breezy clouds floating by above them. Gilbert glanced over at Anne, lying beside him, his heart hitching at her proximity. The breeze lifted strands of her red hair and blew them gently about her face. Before he realized it, Gilbert had reached over to tuck the loose strands behind her ear. A small smile tugged at her lips, and Gilbert's heart soared.
As they lay in the grass, hope fairly bursting within him, Gilbert recalled the first time he felt hope - the day Anne finally forgave him. Much like Anne's homecoming, he had lost all hope before gaining it all back in a rush. Her years-long grudge against his calling her 'carrots' at their first meeting even ended on a day such as this one, a summer afternoon filled with warm and blissful breezes.
He had been out in Harmon Andrews' dory, supposedly fishing, but mostly floating and enjoying the sunshine when he had spied a drenched and pitiful Anne clinging to the pilings under the bridge. Despite feeling a bit hurt over her begrudging acceptance of his rescue, he had marveled over her tenacity. He had rowed them to shore, Anne's nose in the air, haughty as could be, and his eyes averted from the way the wet dress clung to her lithe body, the white lace gown nearly transparent. His heart had beat rapidly, his face flushed with the thought of perhaps helping her dry off when they would reach the shore.
He should have realized his thoughts (and hormones) were running away from him, for Anne had leapt from the boat without assistance as the dory bumped against the water's edge. Nevertheless, such an opportunity was rare, and Gilbert had extended a handshake and repeated his plea for forgiveness.
Moments later, he had stormed away, enraged… and desperately hurt. Tears had streamed from his eyes to his frustration, and he had bitterly wished that he felt nothing when it came to her…
Glancing over at Anne now as they lolled, cloud-gazing, in Hester Gray's garden, Gilbert grinned wryly at the thought of feeling nothing when it came to Anne. An impossible sentiment if there ever was one. Anne had always been a whirlwind in his life, then and now. He would never have dreamed that the day Anne rejected his apology at Barry's Pond would be the last day of their enmity.
They lingered in the garden as evening beckoned, their reignited comradeship naturally leading to debate. As darkness descended, Gilbert escorted Anne home in high spirits and fine fettle as they argued the merits of men in the kitchen, Gilbert for and Anne against. Anne was hard-pressed to defend her numerous kitchen mistakes and Gilbert sensed victory as they reached Avonlea. Their laughter preceded them as they approached the Green Gables porch, and they quickly sobered as Mrs. Lynde met them with an air of disapproval.
They bid adieu and made blushing retreats, neither of them noticing the pleased smirk that spread across the Avonlea matriarch's face.
A/N: My mom and I cracked up so much over Gilbert and Edie's interactions in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did! I'm rather proud of myself that I published this chapter so soon. ;)
Thank you for all the reviews and follows! I greatly appreciate it. You're the best!