Timeline - Anne of Windy Poplars, The Second Year - Just prior to summer holiday, approximately the end of Chapter 12.

Chapter 23: Revival

"Are you ever going to open it?" Gilbert asked his roommate.

Eugene held the rather official-looking envelope reverently. Its off-white color and larger than usual shape announced itself in a glance. The long-awaited answer to Eugene's application. Gil was going to miss Gene next year, but they couldn't start the celebrations until he read what surely was good news.

"Alright, alright, you win, Gilbert my friend." Eugene removed his letter opener from his desk drawer. "The last time I spoke with Dean Tomgallon he said he would mail the final decision. I was a little worried he didn't before he died, but it seems he did. It must have been one of the last things he ever did."

Gilbert smiled for his friend as Eugene employed the thin, dull blade on the envelope's crease and extracted the letter. He flapped it open with a flourish. The line between Gene's eyes deepen and his Adam's apple bobbed. Gene's face bore a slightly green hue. "This can't be right," Eugene re-read the document again. There was no mistaking his body language, he had been utterly disappointed. Silence filled the room and Gilbert heard himself echo Eugene's frustrated sigh.

"This is terrible," Eugene showed his irritation and slammed his fist on the table. The effect turned out to be more comical than imposing. Eugene was generally so gracious that his display of anger was a hard sell. "To think, I have a contract next fall to teach at Johns Hopkins! Educate the educators, my dream! I can save so many more lives just by making presentations to the right people."

"I'm sorry, Gene. What changed his mind?"

"Clinical experience," Eugene crumpled up the document for the circular file. "The board said I need more clinical experience. They might have been right on that. I'm very experienced with cadavers, as you know, but generally, a medical school is more concerned with graduating doctors to care for the living. I knew that was my weakness. Why did you think I did extra hours at the hospital and more patient casework this year than the other students?"

"I thought you did it to get away from me and my weirdness," Gilbert suggested halfheartedly. There was a thread of truth in the statement. Eugene was entitled to a few breaks from being Gilbert's side-kick. "Truthfully, I think you're great with patients. I'm really surprised. How short are you from what they require?"

"Not much, a few hours."

"And they're going to deny you graduation over a few hours."

"I guess so. They have to draw a line somewhere, don't they?"

"Gene, I hope this isn't due to me in any way. I wouldn't put it pass Tomgallon to pull his recommendation with the board as an act of retribution against me."

"Well, there will be a new dean soon, won't there. I'll appeal to him. Maybe there's a fleeting hope." Eugene reached for his coat. "I'm going to stop by the hospital, see if I can pick up more patient casework. They won't count it retroactively, but if they offer early graduation again, I want to be ready."

Gilbert hunkered in for an afternoon devoted to studying. He had a bit of catching up to do. With Tomgallon dead, it was easier to focus. An hour passed before Gilbert lifted his head up. Eugene had not returned yet. That was common for him though when it came to his casework. Babies came at any hour and if there were expecting mothers in labor, he'd want to be in on the grand moment. Eugene had a fine bedside manner, Fred and Diana had told him so when Eugene was their doctor last summer.

Wait a second! Had Eugene reported his hours with them in his application? There was only one way to find out.

Gilbert went to Eugene's tidy desk. His logs were easy enough to find. Gilbert quickly looked through his ledger, not really reading it, but skimming it for names. A mischievous grin overtook Gilbert's face. Eugene never reported working with the Wrights to his academic adviser. Gilbert put the ledger away where he had found it thinking maybe there was something he could do to help.

Eugene had done his examination of Diana and counseled both Wrights last summer. Surely those summer hours should count as well towards clinical experience? Gilbert wasn't sure and didn't want to revive this hopes only to have them dashed once more.

He'd talk to both Fred and Diana about releasing their experience. Instead of completing his notes, Gilbert made himself comfortable on his bed and bi-located to Fred's place before it got any later.

"Oh, not you too," Gilbert voiced as he knocked on Fred's den door.

Gilbert laughed at the result of his sudden appearance. His best friend, Fred Wright, was normally so calm and even keel; however, that did not make him immune to surprises, especially ones delivered by a bi-locating Gilbert. It was still quite a lot for Fred to take in, knowing that Gilbert was a witch. Fred jumped so high out of his chair he bore an uncanny resemblance to a jack-in-the-box. All that was lacking was the "Pop goes the weasel" music. Gilbert had caught him smoking a cigar which was an additional source of embarrassment for Fred. They had sworn to each other, "Never again". The habit dredged up bad memories of nicking a pipe from Mr. Lynde and smoking it in Lynde's two-seated outhouse.

Fred extinguished his cigar and wiped his hand of residue before beckoning Gilbert out of the doorway and into his domain. Gilbert left the door ajar, "Smoking will kill you, you know. You must not remember how sick we got that time we tried it?"

"I insist the location made us sick, not the tobacco," Fred replied, remembering Gilbert's part of their hoodlum-hood. Their misadventure culminated into an inside joke about the Lynde family. Where the phrase, Nose-of-steel was added as a prefix to the surname. "What were we thinking smoking there of all places?"

"Well, we were thinking that we could leave the pipe inside the outhouse. I wonder if the Lynde's even noticed."

"No, I think not." And Fred easily smiled as he recalled the event, "Mrs. Nose-of-steel Lynde would have told us off quick enough and Mr. Nose-of-steel Lynde probably would have joined us if he knew. What better fun than corrupting two promising, handsome youths! I was always scared of the old geezer, he was ancient compared to Mrs. Lynde." Gilbert's chuckles started to die down, so Fred fell into his routine of welcoming company. "But, I um, enough of that, I guess. It's really nice to see you, Gil. Thank you for your letter. Diana and I took much comfort from it. Gertie too. I read bits of it at his service. It was a lovely little tribute to my big brother."

"I'm just sorry I haven't seen you or Diana since word arrived about the mix-up. I want to express my sympathies to you directly too. Robert was a good friend and I'm truly saddened to know he's gone."

"Thank you, Gil! He died saving a woman's life." A long, shaky pause followed and Fred found himself in his cherished friend's arms. "That's the kind of man he was and I'm going to miss him a lot." Fred always found Gilbert's embrace to be very solid and reassuring but he was glad when it was over.

Gilbert glanced to the ashtray where a few wisps of smoke still curled.

"Don't blame me for my new habit, Gilbert. Charlie Sloane sent me the box. You see here?" Fred retrieved his extinguished cigar from the ashtray and showed Gilbert the "It's a boy!" label.

"Charlie? Charlie sent you cigars?"

Fred nodded, "Yep, and you probably got a box too. He sent every man and boy he knew a box of cigars. It's odd, Gil. Charlie returned home withdrawn and depressed and he's still not quite his old self. But he's still a Sloane! He's well aware that Robert died, and that he was my brother, but he's so tickled about being a father now too. I can't decide if I'm happy for him, or disgusted that he's including me in this happiness, which was due to my brother's death."

"I supposed it's more the former than the latter if you're smoking them."

"Perhaps? You want one?"

Gilbert declined and sat on the end of the sofa, crossing his legs at the knee.

"Spats?"

Gilbert looked at his foot, "Yeah."

Fred then fell into a guffaw. "City life has really changed you. You're a dandy now. Congratulations."

Gilbert snorted, "You should see some of my classmates then. I'm telling you Fred, I just barely fit in. Eugene and I are the odd ones because we're so much older than the others."

"I would think it's because you're a witch."

"Well, that too, but, most don't really know. Eugene does of course."

"How is Dr. Felder?"

Gilbert's heavy voice indicated the turmoil in Kingsport. "He's upset right now. His plans for early graduation were derailed. It's one of the reasons why I came here tonight." Gilbert cut himself off as he watched Fred stand. Gilbert had heard movement behind him and also stood, knowing it was a woman entering the room before seeing her. Gilbert pivoted to see Diana nursing the baby.

Her head was down as she cradled small Anne Cordelia to her breast, the infant's mouth on her nipple. The circle of her white breast larger than the baby's head. Diana was telling Fred about tucking Freddie in for the night. She wasn't even aware that Gilbert was in the room until she looked up and saw Gilbert and Fred regarding her less than fully-dressed condition.

"Oh," Diana turned around quickly, showing them her back. "Fred, darling. You should let me know when we have company."

"I just popped in, literally. Please don't be mad, Diana, I'm sorry." Gilbert responded, well aware of his own blush. Next time he would bi-locate to their front door and knock for entry like a normal person. "I am in medical school, you know."

"I know, but you're still the boy that used to call me 'crow' too." Diana remained with her back to them but didn't move to leave the room. "Would one of you hand me that blanket on the sofa? I'll cover up the hungry princess and sit with you."

It was Fred that draped the soft pink blanket over Diana's front. Fred directed a few cooing noises to his daughter before mouthing, "I'm sorry" to his wife.

Diana's cheeks were still pink as she took a seat. "What brings you by Gilbert?"

"I was just coming to it. Eugene applied for early graduation and was denied because he needs more clinical experience. I think you two can help though."

"What? Dr. Felder was wonderful with us," Diana said and Fred nodded his agreement. "I can't believe his bedside manner is in question."

"Well, it's not quite that. He is a good doctor. It's a matter of total hours with patients and Gene is short a few. I think his time here with you should count towards the requirement, and I'm asking if you might write to the school, on Eugene's behalf, just in case you were forgotten in his reporting. But, it's got to come from you directly, there are confidentiality and privacy issues at stake. I can't relay data."

"We'll be happy to do that Gilbert," Diana said with a broad smile. She peeked under that blanket and returned her grin to her guest. "This little lady is done eating. Would you like to burp her while I go get my stationery?"

Diana expertly slipped Anne Cordelia out from under the blanket and handed her to Uncle Gilbert while keeping herself covered. Gilbert took the squirming baby into his arms. He was better at holding infants now that he had some as patients, but he wasn't an expert like they were.

"Oh, don't look so terrified. Fred will help." She then fidgeted under the cover to close her blouse. Once buttoned, she gave the blanket to Gilbert. "I'll be right back."

Under Fred's instruction, Gilbert moved Anne Cordelia to his left shoulder and the blanket was used as a burp cloth.

"Just pat her back a tad with your right hand." Gilbert did so and rocked her gently. Fred looked at his friend and daughter with a critical eye. "She's not much of a burper, really. Little Fred was quite the prodigy in that regard."

"Fred, she's grown so much." Gilbert couldn't hide his amazement, even if he knew all the stages of life and their associated medical conditions.

"Like weeds, they grow like weeds!" Fred allowed himself the sin of pride. "You'll find out someday for yourself when you and Anne are married. In one instant, they're these small, strange creatures you're afraid to touch, and the next moment, they're crawling and toddling around. It's a lot of fun even if you think you'll never sleep again."

Gilbert watched Fred's excitement with the same sort of awe an art enthusiast gives a painting. He handed Miss Wright back to her Daddy. She was momentarily frightened to learn that someone she didn't know had been holding her, but then instantly calmed as she found herself in more familiar arms.

"So Gil, what else brings you by tonight? You said that Dr. Felder was just one of the reasons you wanted to see us."

"Do you still have those prayer meetings I've heard about?"

"Yes, in fact, next weekend Diana and I will host another one."

"Fred, this idea might be a bit strange, but Davy and my father wrote to me about healing Mr. Marin, Dad's farmhand. I can't' figure out how to heal him and provide an explanation for his recovery, unless, maybe I do it as part of a ceremony where something like that might be expected. The power of prayer, that sort of guise."

"Gilbert, do you even hear what you're saying?" Fred said as he rocked his baby gently to sleep, "Everyone will know it's you."

"Only if they see me."

"Couldn't you just pretend to doctor him?" Fred reasoned.

"As I understand it he's been to a few doctors. I don't see how I can provide a different outcome and not tip off Dr. Blair or Dr. Spencer. But I thought if my favorite theologian could plan a revival, and maybe with the right staging, it might work."

What a friend we have in Jesus*
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!

"Welcome back!" Preacher Wright said as the hymn petered to a close. "Let me ask you, do you pray every day? Do you ask the Lord for the things you need?"

Marilla happened to glance at Davy in front of her, his attention on a slight, brown girl sitting on the other side of the room. The girl turned to address his weighted stare. Her smile caused his ears to pink, but he must have smiled back as she suddenly went rigid. Marilla's stomach clenched. They were flirting. The reports she had been told were true. Davy liked a colored girl. Well, it would be up to her to tell Davy he should stick with his kind, although, it could wait for later. Her eyes returned to the make-shift pulpit. Fred egged his gatherers on with talks about daily prayer.

A voice shouted from two rows back. "I pray every day for peace and love and health."

Rachel Lynde leaned to whisper to Marilla, "That would be Margo White from New Halifax. I told you about her."

"Rachel, I hardly think whispering is necessary right now," Marilla responded with a gentle touch to Rachel's arm. That seemed to calm Mrs. Lynde, but the "Praise Jesus!" outbursts from the crowd were rattling her nerves. Grownups shouldn't be so moved. Controlling yourself was the evidence you were an adult. Marilla eyed the front door and wondered if she should leave, but then, Gilbert had specifically asked her and Anne to be there for the prayer service. She looked around wondering where he might be.

"Amen," was joyfully said from right behind her and Marilla lurched forward as a colored woman behind stood to add her hallelujahs.

"Could you imagine what Reverend would say if we worshiped like this?" Rachel continued to whisper, but not so quietly this time.

Wryly, "He'd think we drunk the sacramental wine."

"I like it. There's something to be said about these Pentecostal movements." Mrs. Lynde's enraptured expression only added to her witness, "For the first time ever, I feel involved with the ceremony."

A colored man sat at the piano hammering out old spirituals Marilla hadn't heard since her youth. The out-of-tune instrument was played within an inch of its life and the small, home congregation shouted more thanksgivings. Mrs. Sloane had just finished giving her updates to her new spiritual community. She stood before the audience.

"Thank you, Jesus, for saving my son, Charlie!" Mrs. Sloane almost sang. She had gotten the hang of effusive prayer. The piano player was a bit of a ham during her speech and provided an appropriate score for additional effect. "And, I learned, that I'm a Grandmother too! I can't believe how the Lord has blessed me!"

Right on cue, the crowd started with their "Amens!" and Mrs. Sloane tried to find a free chair among the New Halifax folk.

"Amen! Oh, mighty Lord, Amen! Amen!" Margo shouted jubilantly for her white friend. Margo reached over a few people to touch Mrs. Sloane's shawl. "I prayed for you and your son Charlie every day, and see what a kind God He is." Her thick lips closed and buzzed richly the hymn, "Blessed Assurance**"

The musician heard her and fell into playing the new hymn. Margo jumped to the third verse,

Perfect submission, all is at rest!
I in my Savior am happy and blessed,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love

Marilla was relieved when Fred Wright took charge of the small band of prayer warriors. He asked everyone to move their chairs so a circle was formed. Marilla's knees touched her neighbors. She was forced to hold the hand of some stranger as she watched everyone bow their heads.

"Now tonight we're going to pray for healings," Preacher Fred informed. "We had success praying for Charlie Sloane's return, perhaps a few of you need to be healed? Now let me tell you the rules in this circle, close your eyes to the world and unite your thoughts with heaven above. We are brothers and sisters. We are equals. Jesus atoned for all sin and race does not matter. Trust in the Lord God, and keep your eyes closed, but your hearts open. I'll come by and pray with you one by one. And maybe, just maybe, Providence will provide."

The crowd was now subdued and set on its mission. Fred Wright's voice periodically interrupted the hush. His style of vocal prayer was more Marilla's speed. He repeated a verse, asked the Lord for intercession, and moved on. Marilla broke the rules of the circle when she opened her eyes. She had heard footsteps. Someone was closing in on her, but Fred's voice was on the other side of the room. Fred saw Marilla's curiosity and smiled back her direction as he laid his hand on Margo White. Then Marilla saw Gilbert in her peripheral and understood it was all a ruse.

Gilbert didn't say anything as he placed his hands over her eyes. Marilla acquiesced to Gilbert's healing powers. Mrs. White and Fred loudly prayed almost directly across from her. It didn't take Gilbert long and Marilla really wanted to test his handiwork out, but instead, folded her head down with a small "Amen."

She continued to hear Brother Fred move around the circle. He spent a long time praying with Mr. Marin, the Blythe's farmhand. Finally, Fred called the group from its prayer, the congregation lifted their heads and unlinked their hands. Marilla sniffed audibly, unable to control her own emotions as her eyes beheld for the first time in decades a picture that wasn't foggy.

She tested her vision, looking up without moving her head. And she looked down as well, to the left and to the right. The view started to blur but corrected itself once the tear dislodged.

"Marilla?" Rachel wasn't using her hushed voice anymore. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing Rachel." She swallowed and pressed her hankie to her tear ducts. "I'll tell you when we get home." She was too overwhelmed to jump up and shout, "Amen."

Mr. Marin entered the spare bedroom at Fred Wright's. The room was as he remembered it from last month. The bed was plush and the furniture grand. A man and a redheaded woman were in the room, waiting for him. "Preacher Fred said you had something to tell me. I'm Hank Marin."

Gilbert offered his hand to Mr. Marin and introduced himself, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Marin. I am Gilbert Blythe. Do you know my fiancée? Miss Anne Shirley?

"You look very much like your father," Mr. Marin said to Gilbert in return. He then politely spoke to Anne, "Mrs. Blythe said you're a teacher in the big city of Summerside, is that right, Miss Shirley?"

"Yes, that's right," Anne said as she let Mr. Marin kiss her hand. He had been raised very formerly and Anne did not mind his sweet, old-fashioned ways.

"It's my pleasure to meet you. I was hoping we would. I pray that you might help my daughter learn to read."

"I'd be happy to," Anne assured him, "But, I'm doing my best to work through young Mr. Keith."

Mr. Marin gave a soft laugh and said with a smidgen of pride, "He's probably the first of many boys to notice my baby girl. Davy is a good fellow though, he treats her real nice."

Gilbert's face lit up to hear Davy praised by the girl's father. He then put that thought away and focused on the task at hand. "Mr. Marin, I can see you're no fool, are you?"

"Yes, I know about you. I know you're a witch."

Anne slipped her hand in Gilbert's when Mr. Marin shared what he knew. Gilbert squeezed it back, thankful it was there.

"I'm trusting you to keep this a secret. I want to try to heal you again. Anne is here to help me."

Mr. Marin gave Gilbert and Anne a puzzled expression.

"She helps me focus," Gilbert explained, "You're a very sick man and I want to give it my all. And I couldn't do that out there. I felt a lot of resistance. The disease you have is very strong."

"Yes, I know. I don't have long, do I?" Mr. Marin said. "The headaches are getting to be unbearable."

Gilbert didn't answer that question. "Will you please take a seat?"

"Right."

"Now, I'm going to put my hands on your head once more. They'll get really warm, but I'm not going to stop."

"And you want my hands over yours?" Anne asked.

Gilbert nodded.

Mr. Marin's blond locks of fine hair parted for Gilbert's fingers as his hands cradled Mr. Marin's skull. Anne watched Gilbert's hands twitch as he brought all his magic to them. Anne tentatively put her hands over Gilbert's and she felt his struggle. She could feel him try to reach past a place he wasn't allowed to go. His hands were so hot that she couldn't endure it much longer. Gilbert grunted as he tried to push past the block. His eyes were red, globes of fire, his face unnatural.

In an instant, she pulled his hands off Mr. Marin and Gilbert fell to his knees exhausted. Anne watched his eyes quickly turn back to hazel. His face was ashen and haggard, but he was strong enough to stand.

"I want to try again," Gilbert said. "I could see what was wrong."

"No," Mr. Marin answered. "No son. The Lord has decided, you can't change it. It's not within you. But I will always be grateful for you trying. It's a tumor, isn't it?"

"Now, look who's playing doctor."

"But I'm right?" Mr. Marin said.

"It is." Gilbert felt Anne's hand on his back as he told him. "You've got yourself one wallop of a brain tumor. It's growing. I don't know how long you've got, but it won't be much longer."

"I can feel it. Would you be so kind to tell my girl? I don't know if I have the strength for that, and I think she might need to hear it from someone else. She wouldn't want to ask me questions too much."

Davy watched from a safe distance as Gilbert Blythe escorted Miss Marin away from the crowd and outside into the fresh air. Gilbert squatted low so that Miss Marin was the tall one. He held her hand as he spoke and Davy could see him mouth the words, "I'm so sorry," to the petite girl with tea-colored skin. She shook her head as if she didn't hear him correctly and again, they share a couple of more sentences. Gilbert used his hands to illustrate what he was saying. Miss Marin finally nodded and decided to walk away.

Gilbert stood to his full height and took his white handkerchief out of his trouser's pocket and dabbed what seem to be mournful eyes.

I'm so sorry. He had told Miss Marin. Davy could even hear him say it in his head. I'm so sorry. Those terrible words announcing his failure.

Fury built up in his smaller, yet capable body and Davy approached him. "You didn't do it, did you?"

Gilbert looked around wondering if anyone had heard Davy. He shook his head, "No, I can't it seems."

Angry, Davy tackled Gilbert. He put all his weight into knocking Gilbert's center of gravity off and Gilbert hit the ground hard. The next thing Gilbert knew Davy was throwing punches in his direction.

"You go back and heal him! You don't understand! You've got to!"

"Davy!" Gilbert pushed him off and somehow managed to pin him down without hurting him too much. "What is this about?"

"Let me go!" Davy cried in response. "Let me go you...freak!"

"Fine, just promise me you'll stop trying to hit me," Gilbert tightened his grasp. Davy could tell that Gilbert's strength and size were no match for his. Gilbert was twelve years older and fully grown.

"I promise."

Gilbert glared at Davy and Davy repeated, "I promise Gilbert. I won't try anything."

Satisfied Gilbert released Davy Keith. Davy got up and attempted to walk away.

"Oh no!" Gilbert said as he grabbed his shoulder. He maneuvered Davy to take a few side steps with him. "What was that about? What did I do?"

"More like what you didn't do."

Gilbert lowered his voice and said, "I can't heal Mr. Marin. I don't know why exactly, but it wasn't in my power." Davy's eyes blazed but Gilbert wasn't deterred. "Mr. Marin is dying. He has a brain tumor and that's what's giving him seizures. There's no hope for a cure, Davy. I'm really very sorry about it."

Davy shook his head. "He can't be dying."

"If I let you go, I will tell you what I told Miss Marin. Can I trust you to stay put?"

Davy shrugged his shoulders and Gilbert let go.

"Imagine my closed hand here is a brain. He's got a growth right here." Gilbert pointed with his other hand. "It's malignant and eventually, it will take Mr. Marin's life. I told Miss Marin to expect her Papa to complain about headaches. He might get weak or dizzy. He may not even remember her at times. That is very common when you have a tumor. . ."

"No," Davy interrupted as if denying Gilbert's diagnosis would somehow lessen the severity of Mr. Marin's illness. Davy's face was one terrific grimace. "That can't be right. It's not right."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"If he dies, who's going to take care of her? Who's going to be her family? Who will love her?"

Gilbert gave Davy a funny expression. "Well, I haven't talked to Dad about it, but I would assume she'll be welcomed to stay with my parents. We can be her family. As far as who will love her, I think there's someone in her life that already loves her in spades." Gilbert looked so intently at Davy that it caused Davy's jaw to unhinge. "Davy, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve."

"I do not. . ." Davy choked and bypassed saying love her.

"You do."

"No, I don't." Through his clenched jaw, Davy said, "Take it back."

Gilbert was reluctant to do so, but finally, "Davy, if you say you don't love her, I'll believe you, but you do care, don't you?"

"I do care," Davy admitted. "She has had a tough life already."

"Well, she's waiting for you in Fred's garden." Gilbert had rolled up to his toes to see her among the roses. "Better hurry before some other boy finds her. Didn't I see another young man here?"

Davy's lips parted at that thought. Determinedly, "I'll go make sure she's all right."

Davy strode off with a final shove from Gilbert towards Miss Marin who was sitting on a bench near Fred Wright's rose bushes. Davy noticed several songbirds were keeping her company, flocking at her feet. He wondered why so many birds would be next to her. Then he eyed the nearby bird feeder. He supposed the flock was tame, waiting for a chance for food, a crust of bread or another scrap. She only gave them her soft smile. Davy saw a glistening sheen of water on her cheek and compassion for her flooded him. The girl that never complained about anything if she could help it was sitting alone crying.

One of the birds dropped something before her and she picked it up just as Davy came into her peripheral. She turned to see who it was and then looked away. Davy noticed in her hand a small budding rose.

"Can I sit with you?" Davy heard himself ask. The birds scattered back to the sky at his arrival which gave his simple question great cadence.

Miss Marin gave a small nod. She drew up her legs and canopied her skirt over her knees and rested her head on the bend. A small collection of flora in her lap fell away. She was small and tight next to the bench's armrest which gave Davy ample room. Davy covered as much area as possible as he seated himself to dissuade a possible third person from joining them.

The birds returned and in their beaks, they offered Miss Marin more blossoms.

Davy commented, "I can't figure out why those birds seem to flock to you," Davy was displeased with the shake of emotion in his voice. There was something tender about Miss Marin picking up their offerings. The silky petals stuck to her tear-stained fingertips. He fought for composure. "It must be because you sit so still."

Miss Marin tried not to smile but Davy caught the smallest twitch of one. She sat up and let her feet rest on the ground, kicking a leg forward like she always did.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Marin." Davy heard himself say, "I thought for sure Gilbert would be able to help your father. I'm really very surprised he couldn't."

"Davy, no doctor can fix Papa." Miss Marin explained softly, "I've known that a long time now. I'm not much disappointed Gilbert couldn't do anything, except, that it disappoints you."

"Well. . . " Davy had to speak slowly and carefully in order to keep Gilbert's secret a secret. "I think of Gilbert as my brother and I guess I put him on too high a pedestal. When I told you that Gil could fix your father, I truly believed he could. I can't explain more."

"Davy, I know Gilbert's a witch," Miss Marin finally said, "And I know you know as well. So the secret you keep for Gilbert is safe. Thank you for asking Gilbert to come and try to heal Papa."

Davy wasn't sure how to respond as he worried if he might have slipped the information to Miss Marin. "You're welcomed, I guess. Some magical healer he is," Davy sarcastically delivered.

"Gilbert said that Papa is dying," Miss Marin reported back to Davy. "He could see exactly what was wrong and..." Miss Marin was rubbing her cuff against her eyes and sniffled. "He's got a tumor in his head. It's growing, and..."

"Gilbert told me the same thing just now," Davy interrupted so she wouldn't have to repeat the heartbreaking details of her Papa's illness. "If it helps you feel better, I did try and beat him up for not healing your Dad."

Miss Marin chuckled and paid Davy another smile. Her dark, tear stain face and bright white teeth in glaring contrast. "You crazy? Gilbert's a full-grown man. A tall one too."

"Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall." Davy showed Miss Marin his right hand, "He let me get one good punch in before pinning me down. I might have bruised his arm." He shook it out, "I hurt myself a bit."

She laughed outright at Davy's comedic effort. His flapping hand somehow displacing the hurt she felt inside. "That was very silly of you."

"Gilbert's super smart but he doesn't understand what it means to be an orphan," Davy stared into Miss Marin's golden, brown eyes and spoke from the heart, "I know what it means and I don't wish that on anyone, much less you."

Miss Marin's face contorted with grief and her eyes darted away. When she looked back she found Davy's attention still on her, perhaps harder and more focused than ever before.

"We never knew our father and we were only six when Mama died, but I remember well enough. Those final weeks in East Grafton were miserable," Davy told Miss Marin. He looked at a distant point. "We slept next to Mama like we were cats, never sure when the angels would come, but knowing they were on their way. In the morning, we'd run out of the house in the same clothes we slept in and nick food from the neighbors. They were very kind about that, actually. Mama sometimes would get up and try to feed us or dress us or comb our hair. But she was in no shape and her pain grew worse and worse."

Davy rubbed a tear from his cheek. His speech was halting, forcefully given. He struggled to finish it.

"The hardest part was watching her be sick, Miss Marin. We knew her life was ending and it was so sad. We were next to her when she died. And it hurt a lot but it was a good pain. Mama could do so much more for us from heaven than from her sickbed. I was happy she died, actually. She was free." Davy had to breathe a moment but eventually, his saddened eyes found hers again. He felt warmth to his toes with her looking at him like she was. "It's funny that I didn't cry at all then, and now I can't seem to stop as I tell you this. Of all times not to have a hankie." He turned to his shirt collar instead and blew.

"Davy," Miss Marin whispered back to him. She bowed her head and indicated she understood, "My Mama passed away after being sick too, but her illness lasted only a week or so. I'd do almost anything to see her again. I have nothing from her, not even a picture—just the memories I share with Papa."

"Those memories are precious things, aren't they," Davy was a bit soberer now. He regretted not maintaining a steadier composure for Miss Marin to lean on. "Mama gave Marilla her diamond ring before she passed. She wanted to be sure the ring stayed with us. When I was a bit younger, Marilla used to let me look at the ring when I missed Mama. I thought the way the diamond sparkled was Mama talking to me. You know, those happy glimmers of light were words I couldn't hear. And sometimes, I would put it on my thumb and pretend she was hugging me."

"Davy, that's really sweet." Miss Marin said as she continued to wipe her own face, now overcome for Davy's loss.

"It doesn't change the fact that I would trade that ring in for one more memory of her." Davy stopped trying to hide the wet rolling out of his eyes from Miss Marin. "Being an orphan is awful, but it's made easier with memories you can share. So, make some nice ones with your Papa while you can, Miss Marin." Davy boldly laid a hand on her shoulder. "All the glitter in the world won't replace them."

"No," Miss Marin tried to compose herself too but failed. The sobs overtook her and she leaned a little on him. Davy's presence allowed her to cry freely once she accepted she wouldn't have to cry alone.

Anne and Gilbert walked back home as they needed to isolate themselves a bit. Anne had felt from the first that Gilbert's idea to heal people at a prayer service risky, but, it had worked with the cooperation of Fred.

"I'm still surprised you got Marilla to come here tonight," Anne said. "What did you tell her?"

"I just asked that she trust me," Gilbert jested at Anne, "I may have flirted a bit." His eyes danced in step with his laugh.

Anne's eye's crawled up Gilbert's chest and to his face. His eyes had grown more weathered since Christmas. The small laugh lines had grown into wrinkles. Anne looked away. He's almost twenty-seven. Hardly a surprise. Still, Anne meant to get to the bottom of Gilbert's worries. She squeezed his hand and they slowed their walk.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Anne suggested. "I know not being able to heal Mr. Marin came as quite the shock to you."

"Oh, Anne," Gilbert's sigh was breathy. "I have so many thoughts right now and I'm uncertain which one needs to be concentrated on. I feel lousy about Mr. Marin and his daughter. I can't believe that the one time I really needed and wanted to use my magic to heal someone, I couldn't!"

"Gilbert, it's all right to be upset. It's not like your powers came with an instruction manual," Anne pointed out, "As much as I love your family, they didn't prepare you well for being a witch. And that's not your fault. What do you think happened?"

"Katherine warned me I had a weakness and I'm going to guess, brain tumors is it."

"Or maybe all brain injuries?" Anne lifted her brows in thought. "You couldn't heal my concussion two Christmases ago."

Gilbert paused for a second and Anne bumped into him. "You might be onto something there. Davy said he saw my eyes go wild when I tried to heal you. Did you see it too?"

"Yes, I saw it too," Anne hitched her breath high into her chest. "Gil, I understand why Davy was afraid of you for a while. Your eyes were glowing red orbs of fire."

"It was a block. I've felt it before, with Dad too."

Anne asked plainly, "What might have happened if you pushed past."

"Honestly Anne, I don't want to find out." Gilbert fought for the right word. Pushing past his limit felt contrary to life, almost suicidal. He wouldn't use that word though, "Perhaps it would be the last magical thing I ever do. My powers would rupture. That must have happened when I healed Dad."

Gilbert stopped walking and motioned for Anne to come closer to him. He took her other hand into his and led Anne to a small wood along the road. From inside the canopy of budding leaves, he asked Anne a question that had been pestering him.

"Anne, I don't seem to know where my boundaries are with my magic. I set up this rigmarole to heal a man I cannot heal, why couldn't I sense that limit before? And if limits are so hard for me to perceive, I wonder if I might have done magic on accident, and not know."

"What do you mean?"

"In self-defense. I was provoked and I think I might have magicked the problem away."

"Gilbert! Provoked?" Anne's voice went tight. "Someone came after you because you're a witch?"

"It was a bit more complicated than that," Gilbert informed Anne. "The Dean of the Medical School suspected I was a witch and I basically confirmed everything for him when he watched me heal his son.

"Anne, stop looking at me that way. I had to do it. That boy was dying from consumption. I didn't want to chance it for another time. I had to act."

Anne pursed her lips and used her wide, green eyes to convey her dismay. Her admonishments withered when she recalled the time he took her to the hospital. He berated himself for not trying to heal the child, Suzette, when he had the chance. What's the point of being a Blythe if I don't use my powers?

"Anyway, the Dean wanted me to go to his family home in Summerside and break a curse," Gilbert reported. "His idea was lunacy. He wanted to sacrifice someone lucky and then have me revived them. And I kept telling him 'no' but he wasn't listening. I wished it to go away. Eugene heard me say it even. And it was something I just said, there wasn't really any particular solemnity in my thought, but a few days later, the Dean had died and my problem was gone."

"Gilbert! You can't be serious." Anne heard about the Medical School's Dean passing away suddenly. He was Dr. Hart's uncle and Dr. Hart's son Jimmy was excused for two days of school so they could travel to Kingsport and back for the service. "You can't just wish something away. It can't be that easy."

"I'm inclined to think that but the question hovers over me,"

Anne gave a muffled snort. "Gilbert, your powers do not extend that far. Think about the ramifications if it did, anything you wish for would be likely to happen. And with the way you like to tease, I believe you would have figured that ability out a long time ago. I can see you now beckoning hats off of ladies heads and toupees off of bald men, all because it was a good joke. Think about the trickster you can be and ask yourself if you really had that much power, wouldn't you know?"

"You have a point there," Gilbert's face lighted up with relief. He then checked the sun's position in the sky. Dusk was fast approaching. He held out his hand and Anne took it. They returned to the road and rambled on.

to be continued

* What a Friend we have in Jesus – 1855 by Joseph M Scivern
**Blessed Assurance – 1873 Lyrics by blind hymn writer Fanny Crosby and music by Phoebe Knapp. (Personally, one of my favorite hymns)