Anne filled Gilbert's thoughts as the summer slipped away and the richer colors of September sailed in. Autumn tended to be a stressful time for a farmer anxiously monitoring the fields for harvest readiness. God forbid that an early freeze or some other disaster befall a crop on the eve of its harvest. Despite the stress, Gilbert managed to find plenty of time to daydream about a spirited redhead, often becoming the brunt of jokes from family and friends at his uncharacteristic absentmindedness. Said family and friends largely consisted of George Fletcher and Fred Wright, who frequented the Blythe farm to help Gilbert and Edie with the workload for a share of the crop.
Gilbert marveled at his friend's willingness - nay, exuberance - to help with the farm in addition to working his own family's. Fred was a born farmer with a natural affinity for the labor and livestock. Gilbert found himself wistfully wishing he found the same joy in farming that Fred did. It seemed as though Fred felt lucky to have additional farmwork. He grinned from ear to ear when he joined Gilbert in the fields, and he never seemed to tire as he helped Gilbert prepare for the Blythe harvest. Gilbert's Uncle George eyed Fred just as wistfully and remarked numerous times how proud his father, Abe Wright, must be to have such a strapping young farmer for a son. Fred was the epitome of George's dreams for his own children, and although George meant no slight to his nephew, Gilbert felt the pain of not being able to truly fulfill that role for his uncle.
Gilbert was grateful for the assistance of his uncle and friend, as his time was halved by school teaching. Much of his day was spent in the little Avonlea classroom, educating the next generation. A new crop of youngsters had joined the throng, and Gilbert found their apprehension to learning both endearing and frustrating. He strived to teach them the main curriculum as well as an impressive program of the latest math and science - in elementary form, of course. This method was partly so he could keep abreast of such discoveries, although he enjoyed seeing the awe (and skepticism) on the faces of his young charges while he taught them.
Since Gilbert's mad dash into the pond a month prior, he had been seeing more of Anne. Her intense mourning period appeared to have come to an end, although one could be forgiven for thinking it still continued as she was obliged to wear only black. (She now admitted to some recklessness in dying her whole wardrobe). However, her hair found its way back into elegant pompadours and chignons, and she no longer only kept to Green Gables. Gilbert renewed his entreaty for long walks, and the two of them ventured far and wide into Avonlea and its environs whenever either of them could be spared.
Having given up the principalship of Summerside High School, Anne filled her hours with writing and farming. Green Gables had a hired man, Jean-Michel, who had worked the farm for nearly a half decade as Matthew Cuthbert's health declined. Because of Matthew's poor health over the years, the farming at Green Gables had diminished, with land rented or sold, and crops reduced to smaller fields. But as anyone knew, farming was not truly a one-person job, and without paying work to occupy herself, Anne entered the fray.
Gilbert was both amused and concerned when Anne was too sore to walk after the first day of haying at Green Gables. She could hardly get out of bed, and Marilla had to rub liniment oil into her arms and legs and blistered hands. For all Anne had lived on a farm for the past decade, she had never truly worked it. Her farm labor had consisted of various chores in caring for their few animals, which cannot compare to the strenuous labor of the fields. Even then, the last four years had largely been spent in college, where the most strenuous task was walking to class. She had not developed the strength that those who worked the fields gained over time. Gilbert and Fred had work-hardened bodies, taut and muscular. While Gilbert was quite lean (a source of endless worry for his mother), Fred had impressive heft. He was renowned amongst his farming friends for being able to lift the end of a wagon with one arm. Indeed, one of the reasons he successfully wooed Diana Barry was so that she could caress his biceps for the rest of her life.
Despite initial setbacks, Anne was determined to prove her worth and contribute to the Green Gables farm, so she painfully kept on as best she could. Jean-Michel was heard to remark about her ténacité amusant, but he appreciated the assistance. Anne was more wont to complain about her vanity than her sore body. No matter how broad brimmed a hat she wore as she worked, the relentless sun was making itself known in the new and vivid freckles on her visage. There was one freckle in particular at the edge of her lips that caused her no end of frustration, but same said freckle was utterly mesmerizing to Gilbert. (The way it clung deliciously to her bottom lip as if it were a dot of chocolate seeking to be licked nearly undid him). Anne's hair also changed by its time in the sun. Even though her friends' descriptions of 'auburn' were more comforting than true, Anne's hair had indeed darkened over the years, but no longer. Her work in the fields lightened her hair into a fiery mane. She despaired that her hair resembled carrots more than ever, but truthfully it was a gorgeous display of strawberry and crimson to those who beheld it (even if they were unlikely to mention it).
Gilbert caught sight of her titian head as he came in from the potato fields one evening with his Uncle George, Fred, and his uncle's hired man, Pacifique Buote. Even Gilbert was sore from heaving the bushels of potatoes onto the wagon, and he painfully plodded along with his uncle's farm horse back to the Blythe house and barn. Fred, of course, seemed unfazed by the hard work and whistled cheerfully as they walked. They came upon Anne and Edie in the barnyard, and Gilbert immediately found that he was not quite so sore as he hastened to greet them. Behind his back, Uncle George and Fred exchanged knowing glances, and Pacifique said, "Dat boy, he just crazy abou' dat orange woman."
Unfortunately, his voice carried enough for Anne to catch the last of it, and she directed a steely-eyed glare at him, while George and Fred choked back laughs. Ignoring them, Gilbert bounded up to the ladies and removed his straw hat politely.
"I invited Anne to bring the twins over to play with the kittens," said Edie with a significant look at Gilbert. At her words, Gilbert finally noticed Davy and Dora scampering about the edges of the barnyard looking for and chasing after the wayward kittens.
"That's good," he said smiling. "Fancy an evening walk, Anne? Or perhaps you and the twins would like to stay for supper?" He curiously watched as Anne dodged his eyes, looking away from him as she struggled to formulate a response. It was then he realized the significance of his mother's look. He was covered in dirt from digging up potatoes, but more pressingly, he was without a shirt. Actually, Pacifique was the only one of the men with a shirt, and Anne's glance darted to Fred's red torso and Uncle George's potbelly before averting her eyes with a blush.
"Forgive me, Anne," Gilbert said sheepishly. "I'll wash up and meet you inside."
"And do please stay for supper, Anne," Edie encouraged as she ushered her towards the house. "We'd love to have you and the twins."
Gilbert washed up at high speed at the pump, dodging good-natured elbow jabs from Fred. His uncle and Pacifique departed for the Fletcher farm with thanks from Gilbert. Fred lingered after washing up, wanting to catch Gilbert alone.
"So, when are you going to ask her, Gil?" Fred asked as he pulled on the clean shirt he had left behind.
Gilbert froze for a moment, unable to speak. He smoothed down his own shirt, tucking it in. "I don't know, Fred," he said slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, damp from slicking back his curls. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Fred looked at him with some concern. "What do you mean? You do want to marry her, don't you?"
"More than anything," Gilbert said softly. "It's just…"
"Just what? You shouldn't wait forever."
"It's just… she refused that Kingsport man, and he could have offered her the world. I can't compete with that."
"Gil," Fred said firmly. "You don't really believe that Anne refused Roy Gardener because he wasn't rich enough, right? The same girl that is out in the fields at Green Gables working her hands raw?"
Gilbert's heart sputtered a bit. "Well, I don't know…"
Fred rolled his eyes. "Well, I know that she would be lucky to be your wife. Ask her, Gil." He clapped a hand on Gilbert's shoulder before heading toward the road to walk home.
Gilbert watched him go, then shouted after him, "What do you know?"
Fred turned around, but just gave a bright smile. "Good luck!" he called back.
Any ideas of romance were quashed at the supper table with the exuberant Davy in attendance. Having fully rebounded from his punishment after his last tribute to Matthew Cuthbert, Davy was in high spirits. (For those who wondered, Davy's punishment largely consisted of cuffs to the ear by the various men who jumped into the pond to put out the fire, one night without supper, no jam or dessert for a month, and one walloping spank from Mrs. Lynde when Marilla was away). While Dora was prim and quiet enough to be nearly forgotten, Davy most certainly was not. Anne struggled to rein the ten-year-old boy in, and she descended into a shocked and red-faced silence as he began to tell them about what happened when Milty Boulter's prize marble fell into the privy. Gilbert intervened with a schoolmaster's authority (smothering a laugh), but Anne was less amused. She hustled the twins out the door before dessert, and, loathe to miss an opportunity to walk anywhere with Anne, Gilbert hastened after them.
Anne seemed to relax on the moonlit walk back to Green Gables. When they arrived, she sent the twins on to the house while she lingered at the gate with Gilbert.
"Come for a stroll with me," Gilbert coaxed.
"What if Mrs. Lynde saw?" asked Anne in mock dismay.
"Then don't let her see," Gilbert teased back.
He impulsively grabbed her hand as they wandered away from the gate, and his heart leapt at the way she blushed and smiled at his touch. They meandered through Lover's Lane and paused when they reached Barry's Pond. Finding a spot cushioned with soft grasses, they sat and looked out at the moon reflected on the water.
It was peaceful in the moonlight. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and a breeze blew the grasses and cattails and sent ripples across the pond. Anne's hand was still clasped in his, and he took the liberty to caress her fingers, noting the blisters that now graced them. He stole a glance at Anne and was surprised to see that she was looking at his face with an intensity that surprised him. He cautiously locked eyes with hers, and then he could not look away as she leaned toward him. His heartbeat ratcheted its way into his throat, and he could hear his blood pounding in his ears as she placed her hands on his cheeks. Nearly nose to nose, her grey eyes gazed into his.
The thrill of the unknown swept through him. One never knew with Anne.
Just as he was thinking of closing the distance between their lips, Anne slowly drew away. As his heart sank, she swiftly swept in and kissed his cheek, before looking away, blushing. His heartbeat returned en force. In his mind's eye, he saw himself caress her jaw with his finger and guide her face back towards his. He would kiss her tenderly.
But his courage failed him, and silence fell between them, her eyes not meeting his. With a sudden jerky movement that startled him, Anne yanked at the hairpins that bound her chignon. Her hair flowed loose, messily blowing about in the wind. She tucked her legs and feet beneath her black skirts and stared moodily out at the Lake of Shining Waters.
"You look tired," said Anne, somewhat unkindly.
Confused at this rapid change in temperament, Gilbert decided to be blunt in turn. "I am."
An unpleasant silence descended, one that lingered on the edge of an argument. Watching the strands of her red hair billowing in the wind, Gilbert felt a pain in his heart as a sadness stole over him. Their ramble did not return to the lighthearted and tantalizing nature it had been, and soon Gilbert returned her to Green Gables, both of them silent and tense. As Gilbert walked home, he dwelt on the peculiar evening. He could guess the source of Anne's frustration, yet he could not fully bring himself to address it. The futility of his circumstances seemed too constraining for him to dive in as he longed to do. Entering the house through the kitchen door, he came upon his mother peeling potatoes at the table.
"Gilbert John Blythe, when are you going to finally ask that young woman to marry you?"
Just like he had earlier with Fred, Gilbert froze with surprise.
"Ma… " he began a bit helplessly.
She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him and set down the potato and peeler.
"It's just…." Gilbert sighed. "I know." He heaved another sigh and sat at the kitchen table.
"It's been months since she returned home, Gil," Edie began. "You've been finally given a chance at happiness. Don't be afraid to take it."
Gilbert ran his hands through his hair, then rubbed his temples. "Will she really be better off with me, though, Ma? We've been eating potatoes for days. I don't have money for new shoes, let alone a ring. I am only able to manage this farm through the generosity of our friends and family. We even borrow a horse for God's sake!"
"Language!" chided Edie.
"How can I support a wife or - or a family," Gilbert said passionately, his ears reddening, "if I can't even support you and me?"
Edie's expression hardened. "Gilbert, listen to me, you've been dealt a tough hand, and you deserve so much more. Now, a dream of yours is knocking at the door. You finally have the opportunity to decide. But would you really turn away such a possibility?"
"I just want what's best for her, Ma," Gilbert pleaded.
Edie smiled. "Spoken like a good husband. But, Gilbert, can you at least let Anne decide what's best for her?"
Later that night, Gilbert lay awake thinking. Summoning his courage, he began to formulate a plan. He would ask Anne to marry him… after harvest. There would be some money then, and he could procure a ring. He could not afford a new or even used ring, but perhaps he could have one made from something he already had. He tried to think of anything precious the Blythe house held. His mother's baubles had long since been pawned for doctor's bills. Perhaps one of the pewter goblets on the parlor mantle? Then Gilbert remembered the silver spoon that had been gifted to the Blythes on the occasion of his first birthday from his Aunt Katherine and Dr. Dave. It was Sterling silver… and somewhere in his room. Getting up, he began to rifle through the papers and minutiae cluttered into his desk drawers. Next, he dug around the boxes shoved under his bed. With a cry of delight, he held aloft the silver spoon. It was certainly tarnished, but that could be polished away. By the light of the moon, he squinted to read the engraving, Gilbert John Blythe 'Joy cometh in the morning.' With a half-smile, he carefully set the spoon on his desk. Crawling back into bed, he felt a blossoming happiness within him.
For once, Gilbert faced the prospect of harvesting with excitement. The oat field and apple orchard were all that lay between him and the securing of Anne's hand in marriage. That is, if she said yes. Gilbert was painfully aware of the shortcomings of his proposal, but his mother was right. It was a decision that Anne needed to make for herself, not one Gilbert needed to protect her from. If he was fortunate enough for her to say yes, then, well, he would spend the rest of his life doing everything possible to prevent her from regretting it.
Gilbert eagerly surveyed the oat crop the next afternoon. He ran his hands through the golden stalks and picked a few. Cracking the kernels, he studied the oats within for ripeness. School had been pleasant earlier that day, and when Dora placed a basket of cookies on his desk "with regards from Miss Shirley," Gilbert felt that the misunderstanding from the night before had been resolved.
He smiled at the texture of the oats and popped a few in his mouth to taste. Fred, standing beside him, did the same.
"Ready, I reckon," said Fred with a grin. "How, I have no idea. I swear I sowed our oats a week afore you did, and ours are still rather green."
Gilbert grinned back. "Perhaps I still have some luckiness," he said, thinking of the silver spoon. It took him a moment to see that Fred's mouth was hanging slack.
"You proposed, didn't you!" Fred exclaimed suddenly. "I knew you would!"
"What?" Gilbert said, startled. "No, no, I haven't."
Fred's face morphed from delight to disapproval.
"But I will," Gilbert reassured him. "As soon as the oats and apples go to market, and I can have a ring made."
Fred eyed him skeptically, but a growing smile removed his doubt. "That's wonderful, Gil. About time!"
Both immersed themselves into the oat field, cutting the long, golden grass with cradles. Edie and Aunt Kitty followed along to bind and stack the sheared stalks. Working together, they managed to cut and stack a good portion of the field. Uncle George and Pacifique came by in the evening as Fred left, and the Fletcher wagon was loaded with the stacks to be stored and dried in the grain shed. As the wagon trundled to the shed in the darkness, the sisters chatted and laughed from where they sat on the wagon.
"Chipper as songbirds, those two," Uncle George said with a gruff laugh to Gilbert, walking beside him.
"Gilbert, dear, Kitty has the most marvelous idea!" exclaimed Edie.
"Have you?" he asked with a smile, rubbing his sore shoulder.
"An apple picking party!" Aunt Kitty squealed.
"I don't know why we didn't think of it before," Edie chimed in. "This farm used to host an annual apple picking, back when your father was a lad. It would be a wonderful time and easy labor! What do you say?"
Gilbert perked up with a grin. It would be another opportunity to dance with Anne, and it would bring harvest to a swift and festive end. "Aunt Kitty, you're a genius."
"How does next Friday sound?" his mother and Edie chorused in unison.
"Can't come soon enough," Gilbert enthused.
"I can let the Ladies Aid know at our meeting," said Edie, "and we can spread the word at church this weekend. It'll be a family event!"
"Dis party better have the Buotes!" said Pacifique.
"It wouldn't be a family event without you," George affirmed with a hearty clap on his hired man's shoulder.
The Blythes, the Fletchers, and Pacifique laid out a plan for the festivities that night over a late supper, and Gilbert left for the schoolhouse the next morning with a spring in his step. His cheerful eagerness had not abated after school had ended, and he hurried to ready himself for the oat field. He was just leaving the house with his mother in tow, when he nearly collided with Anne, who was walking up the porch steps.
"Anne!" Gilbert exclaimed in surprise as Anne gave a cry of alarm, teetering on the step. He grasped her arms to steady her.
"I'm sorry," she gasped. "It looks as though you're in a hurry to be somewhere. I'll come by another time."
"No, no," Edie insisted, coming up behind them with a grin. "It's no matter. Run along, you two."
"Perhaps I should change," Gilbert said hesitantly, taking in the definite attention to detail in Anne's appearance. Her dress was as black as ever, but it was a lovely light material and cut that spoke of elegant affairs. Her hair was drawn into an intricate coronet about her head and bound with starflowers. A nosegay of white violets was tucked into her sash.
"No, that's alright," Anne said, a bit hesitant herself, observing Gilbert's work trousers, faded linen shirt and dusty boots. "You don't have to. I was thinking we could walk to Hester Gray's garden. I have a chocolate cake in here." She lifted her arm, which was laden with a picnic basket.
Edie vanished, although her disappearance was hardly noticed by Anne and Gilbert, who had eyes only for each other. Gilbert took the picnic basket from Anne, and the two set off on the long walk to Hester Gray's garden. Anne seemed nervous as they walked, and Gilbert tried to put her at ease with conversation.
"Anne, we're hosting an apple picking party next week."
"Truly? How delightful!" exclaimed Anne, relaxing somewhat.
"Yes, I hope all of Green Gables will come," said Gilbert with a smile. "Mother and Aunt Kitty are inviting nearly all of Avonlea, even the Pyes."
"I suppose it takes all types of people to have a party," said Anne wryly.
Conversation grew stilted as Anne tensed up again when they arrived at the garden. A blanket of pale gold leaves led the way to the old stone bench in the garden's center, where more lavender asters greeted them. They brushed past tangly vines adorned with autumn roses, and Gilbert paused to pluck one.
"A rose for a rose?" he said, handing it to her.
Gilbert thrilled to see the blush that suffused her cheeks. The pink of her cheeks was very becoming, Gilbert thought to himself, and he marveled how anyone could think that pink clashed with red hair.
"'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,'" Anne quoted softly, and Gilbert's heart began to pound. His eyes drifted to the delicious freckle at the edge of her lip, and he was struck with an overwhelming urge to taste it.
"Gilbert, I… well, that is… " Anne began to say.
"Yes?" Gilbert asked distractedly.
"There's something… something I'd like to confess to you - or rather, I mean… confide - to you."
"Oh?" Gilbert encouraged, his attention captured.
"Yes," said Anne. She stopped and pulled him to the stone bench where they both sat down. "These past few months have been a trial for me, Gil. With Matthew's… passing, and Ruby… " She struggled for composure, as her eyes welled with tears. Gilbert hastily provided a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Thank you," she murmured, drying the tears on her cheeks, while more quickly replaced them. "It has been so dreadful, and a terrible reminder of our temporal nature. I have been reflecting on my own life, and I just see so many faults. I have wasted so much time."
"Surely you don't mean that, Anne," Gilbert insisted, rather troubled. "How so?"
"Truly?" asked Anne. "You wouldn't think I wasted five years begrudging your friendship? Or wasted four years away from a family who needed me? I will never get another chance to spend time with Matthew again."
Gilbert hesitated, thinking. It was true, he did wish there had not been five years lost between them. But the latter was certainly false. "Anne," he said softly and squeezed her hand. "We can't change the past, and I guarantee you that your family does not regret you going to college. Matthew, especially, was proud as punch of his girl getting a B.A. You know that."
Anne sighed, looking down at their clasped hands. "Yes, I suppose so," she said quietly. "It doesn't change the regret I feel." She squared her shoulders as though steeling herself. "The past cannot be altered… but the future can."
Curious, Gilbert watched her posture and the tilt of her chin as it rose. She spoke up with a fairly strong voice. "Do you recall when you found me in the woods when I first returned to Avonlea? When I was, well I was… "
"Dancing?" prompted Gilbert with a teasing smile.
Anne blushed. "And you were surprised to learn that I was not engaged to Roy?"
Gilbert's smile faded. "Yes," he replied, more soberly.
"You had wondered why I refused him," said Anne.
"Yes…" Gilbert said cautiously. His hand stilled in hers.
Anne took a deep breath, then said, "I refused him, because I realized that he didn't belong in my life. I realized that I didn't love him."
Gilbert froze, unsure what to say or do. The thudding of his heart filled him to the brim.
"Gilbert." Anne turned toward him, grasping his hand more tightly. "He didn't belong in my life, but… " Her voice grew shaky. "But I think you do." She drew in another deep breath. Her cheeks reddened. "I didn't love Roy, because I realized that I have always been in love… with you."
Before Gilbert could even process this monumental revelation, she gazed up at him imploringly.
"Would you, that is, would you promise… to marry me?"
A/N: How many of you Anne-girls recognized the significance of the chapter title? ;)
I know this is a wild departure from canon and from historical and contemporary culture… but I just had to do it. I hope you love it, and if not, bear with me? Shocking (or cringe-worthy) marriage proposals are rather modus operandi for the books, right?
Thank you for your patience in how long it took me to post this chapter! You may have noticed the rating has been changed. I received some great advice and decided to heed it. Thank you guest:wow and MrsVonTrapp! The new rating won't change the path of the story.
Next chapter should hopefully be posted sooner, and it is all about the ramifications of such a bold proposal…