January 1, 1896

"How was the bonfire last night?" asked Anne as Davy sat down for breakfast. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I wasn't so late - made it here a little after ten o'clock. You'd already turned in, by then."

"I had?"

Davy cocked his head, unsure of how to interpret her obvious surprise. "Apparently. I mean, the fireplace was cold when I got back, so I'd guessed you'd gone to bed early. Say, are you feeling alright?"

"Oh? Yes. I mean, no, I did feel tired last night - which is why I went to bed early, as you saw."

Anne was never more thankful that Davy's insatiable curiosity, which had been a trademark of his as a boy, had faded over the years into something bordering disinterest of anything that didn't regard him directly. The young lad, who once would have posed an endless chain of questions, merely shrugged and sat back in his chair.

Having closely avoided a grilling, Anne poured the tea and gazed out the window thoughtfully.

The previous night hadn't conformed to her fantasies: it had actually surpassed them. Kissing Gilbert by the fireside had been so incredibly wonderful, the sensation beyond anything she'd ever imagined possible. Basking in this new closeness to him, Anne had wanted the moment to last forever. Sitting with his arms protectively wrapped around her, breathing in unison as they watched the flames dance before them...

According to Davy's timeline, her arduous efforts to stay awake had been in vain: she didn't even remember falling asleep. She'd simply woken up at dawn with no recollection of getting into her bed, or changing into her nightgown. Had Gilbert carried her upstairs? At any rate, he must have put out the fire downstairs before Davy's return.

"What time are we heading out?"

It took Anne one second to snap out of her reverie, and another to process the question. "Soon, if that's alright. I want to get there before the snow starts melting."

"It won't melt," assured Davy. "Perfect day for sledding. Let me go check on the barn before we go."

Anne tried to work up some cheer as she collected the dishes. Today would be fun, she decided: the slope on the Wrights' property would be blanketed in crystalline white, and the children would take turns on the sled. Davy would start a snow war and lose on purpose, and then there would be hot cocoa and some quiet time with Diana.

She hoped the merriment would suffice to fill in the emptiness in her chest. As satisfying as her evening had been, it had also left her with an odd ache. It felt almost as though someone had hollowed her chest, leaving it a cold cavity: for she knew that it would be another year before Gilbert would reappear.

Prince Albert, SK
January 3, 1896

Dear Anne,

There is no need to apologize. I do understand your reluctance to travel in this terrible weather - having done it myself, I wouldn't particularly recommend it. My holidays were fine, I hope yours were as well.

How is the planning going? I'm glad you're getting help from Mrs Wright and Mrs Blythe. I'm assuming Davy has friends to help set up Green Gables for the big day? If not, surely Mr Wright would lend a hand. I'll admit, I don't know what planning goes into a home wedding. How many guests are you expecting to host? Or is this one of these events where the whole village is invited to attend?

Kate sends her best, and says that you are overdue for a visit. I must agree with her: would you come to see us in the summer?

Your friend,

Doug

January 10, 1896

"Anne, help! Save me!" cried Davy before receiving a face full of snow.

"You're on your own," she called back, and shut the kitchen window. She and Fred watched as Freddie threw his arms around Davy's shoulders with a ferocious war cry. The boy held the man still for Small Anne to have her turn at a vicious attack, using powdery snow as her weapon. The captive made a show of spitting and clearing his eyes, making the children giggle.

"He'll make a great father," commented Fred.

"I've no doubt," agreed Anne.

"Thank you so much for taking the kids this morning. Di really needed the rest - didn't sleep well last night."

"It's no problem. We love having them with us." It was true: every moment spent with them was precious. Anne regretted not having made enough time for them in the previous years. "What did Dr Porter say?"

Fred's lips twisted into a frown. "He still doesn't see anything wrong. Just says she shouldn't overexert herself, and drink fluids."

Anne furrowed her brow. "That's it?"

It seemed that in Diana's case, the third time was not a charm. The woman had positively glowed the first two times around, the wondrous smile she wore reflected in her twinkling eyes. She had gotten very big near the last months, but only in the front: her stomach was a perky bubble, one which she and Fred had taken so much pleasure in holding and caressing.

This go 'round, Diana had grown big early on, the bulk spread evenly across her body: the weight she'd gained showed in her face, breasts, rump, and even in her limbs. Her stomach had expanded - but so had the rest of her, making it unclear whether she was carrying a baby or a sack of wheat under her dress.

Her condition had made her prone to dizzying mood swings, and worse yet, extreme exhaustion. This worried both her husband and her bosom friend, and the fact that the old town doctor refused to diagnose her with anything other than a 'severe case of pregnancy' only served to fuel their concern.

"Mercy! I surrender!" they heard Davy beg outside, indicating that a ceasefire was about to take place. The children cheered, and by the time the frosted threesome reached the backdoor, Anne had set the table for tea.

"We won, Papa!" declared Small Anne, decorating the floor with small puddles of melted snow.

"Shoes off, duckling," reminded her father. "You won, did you?"

"We creamed him!" gloated Freddie as their victim appeared at the doorway, frosted from head to toe.

"I can see that," acknowledged Fred with an indulgent smile.

As Anne watched Davy bend over to shake the snow from his hair and brush down his damp trousers, she couldn't help but wonder if Gilbert would have been this patient. Somehow, it was hard to picture him caked in snow up to his eyebrows. Would he have knelt down in the cold as well, allowing toddlers to pelt him endlessly, and stuff ice down his collar? Would he have laughed at being chilled and wet all over, and made sure both kids were given warm blankets before accepting one for himself?

She set her incertitude to the side for the moment being and went about serving tea, but couldn't completely brush off the guilt that came with this new realization.

January 27, 1896
Charlottetown, PEI

Dear Anne,

Thank you for the letter, as well as the gift. The lace is very pretty, and I shall sew it onto my new purse, which I cannot wait to show you. The color is quite vivid: it is a peacock shade of blue, so the lace will soften its appearance a bit.

I am not sure as of yet how long I will be able to stay. Obviously, I will arrive in time for the ceremony - by the eve, at the very latest. To come sooner would cause some trouble, seeing as Sarah Preston's engagement party takes place earlier that week. I've already agreed to attend with Andy, and it wouldn't be fair on either of them if I were to back out. Davy won't mind either way - there isn't much to do for a lady on the groom's side.

I hope you are both well. Do let me know if you pass through Charlottetown, it would be lovely to meet up.

With love,

Dora

February 13, 1896

It was most definitely a Jonah day.

Anne had started the morning with a crick in her neck, the result of falling asleep in her office chair. The buggy had chosen today of all days to break down, and so she had gone to town on foot. An icy gust of wind assaulted her midway, thrusting her good leather portfolio down in the snow with the force of a bully.

Mr Sloane wasn't any kinder: he'd yelled at her, insisting that there were typing errors in his letter. After twenty minutes of trying to convince the stubborn man the past participle of 'bind' was not 'binded' but 'bound' (as in, 'bound to strangle someone'), she'd simply given up and let him have his letter at a discount (which she suspected might have been his goal all along).

The rest of the day followed accordingly: Anne stepped into a puddle of slush, and it seeped straight through to her stockings. The General Store was still out of the cream colored thread, and no, Miss Nilson didn't know when the shipment would come in, and no, Anne couldn't make do with white thread, it had to be cream.

To top it all, she'd run into Josie and Billy Andrew's wife, both of whom had done their best to crush the little optimism Anne had left by reminding her of how devastatingly lacking life was before having children, and how working was a woman's way to admit that she simply wasn't suitable for marriage. By the time she'd made it home, she'd worked up such a bad mood that it seemed nothing could make it better.

"Anne, is that you?" Davy called from upstairs.

"Who else would it be?" she grumbled, hanging her hat.

"I went to telephone Millie today," he said, coming down the stairs. "She and her father had a talk, and... well, there's been some change in plans, things we ought to go over."

"No bad news, please," she begged as he helped her out of her coat. "I don't think I could handle anymore."

"It's not bad news exactly." He hung the item and bit his lip. "It's just that, Mr. Hodgson wants to participate in the wedding planning..."

February 14, 1896

"He said WHAT?"

"Di, please, don't excite yourself."

"Excite myself? Anne, it is the middle of February, and the ceremony is set for mid-March! We've already set aside the date..."

"It's-"

"...not to mention all the invitations were sent out! Everyone has committed..."

"That-"

"...and guests are coming in from out of town! We can't possibly ask them to change their travel plans now!"

"We wont-"

"If that man thinks he can just dismiss all of our planning with the wave of a hand..."

"He can't, and he won't."

"Anne Shirley, you are not taking this seriously! We've worked so hard to make sure everything is perfect-"

"Everything will be fine. And if you don't calm down, Fred is going to kick me out." Anne waited for her hysterical friend to heave out a few angry breaths before asking: "Alright?"

Diana's face was still a violent shade of fuchsia, but the fury that had bewitched her eyes was dissipating. "Alright," she nodded when she'd gained some control over her emotions.

"Mr Hodgson booked the hotel in White Sands for the 19th. We'll still have the party at Green Gables on the 18th, as planned. This way, we won't have to change the invitations, and our hard work won't go to waste."

"But there can't be two weddings! What should we do about the reverend? He's already agreed to perform the ceremony!"

"So, he will be a guest at Green Gables, and celebrate with us."

"Everything alright in here?" Fred's red face poked in the kitchen. "I thought I heard shouting..."

"We're fine. Just chatting." Diana's tone was too sour to be convincing, and he hesitated in the doorway for a beat before nodding and disappearing.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you invested in this - I never could have done it without your help. We can still throw a lovely reception of our own, that will put the Hodgsons' banquet to shame!"

"The White Sands Hotel is actually quite elegant," admitted Diana through her scowl. "They have a chandelier in the ballroom, and all their seats are cushioned with velvet."

"See? It'll be fine, Di. Let the man flaunt his fortune, and throw them a fancy ball. Our own event will be the epitome of conviviality, and then we will go enjoy an evening at White Sands on Mr. Hodgson's dime."

At this Diana did smile, albeit evilly. "Oh, I intend to."

February 25, 1896

Davy sat patiently in what was still known as Matthew's armchair. The crackling fire lulled him into a state of comfort, and he'd been promised plum puffs - on condition that he dedicate the following half hour to going over wedding details with Anne.

"I've got a list from Diana," she'd announced, brandishing the offending item in one hand, the other gesturing at the plate of pastries just out of his reach. Davy swallowed a sigh, longing for the days of nonstop typing: the cacophony of her infernal machine was starting to seem preferable to going over the most trivial details that no one would notice. Who cared if he wore a handkerchief rather than a flower in his vest pocket, and who could tell the difference between burgundy and maroon? Anne's puffs never came out as good as Marilla's, he reflected sullenly - but they were still better than nothing.

"Alright," he said, trying for a helpful tone.

"Right, then: first item. When was the last time you tried on your dress shirt, and does it still fit?"

"Um... last Christmas, and yes, it still fits."

"Will Ralph be giving a speech on the 18th, and if so, how long will it last?"

"How am I s'posed to know?" The glare Anne sent him indicated he'd missed his mark. "I'll find out."

"Thank you. Let's see... ah: have you chosen a waltz for your first dance?"

"Millie has. I can ask her the name of it."

"Please do. Has she confirmed the color theme for the bridesmaids?"

"White."

"Alright, moving on: Dora is arriving on the 17th. Mr Kelly is driving her here, he'll be staying at the White Sands Hotel."

"You mean, Andy Wallace."

"No, I mean Mr Kelly. She wrote me to let me know he was now escorting her."

"She told me she was bringing Andy."

"When was the letter postmarked?"

Davy groaned as they each rushed to their respective rooms to search for their letters, every step he took distancing him painfully from the plum puffs.

"Found it!" called Anne, emerging from her room victorious. "Dated February 3: ...seeing as Andy would prefer not to have to drive such a long distance, I will be traveling with Liam Kelly."

"Well, mine is from February 6: ...since Andy cannot afford a hotel room, would there be any possibility for him to stay at Green Gables?"

"Most certainly not!"

"I know, I've already taken care of it: he's staying with the Andrews." Anne's eyebrows shot up. "They have a guestroom," explained Davy.

"That will be interesting," she smirked as they made their way back to the sitting room. "But they are still arriving on the 17th?"

Davy checked his own letter before reclaiming his seat. "Correct."

"Are you sure you're fine with that?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

Anne scrutinized him for any sign of hurt or rancor, but found none. Of all the twins she'd ever encountered, this pair was by far the most confusing. They'd never shared that special tightness typical of siblings born on the same day - not even the bond forged of living through the same life changing events as children could bring the two closer on an emotional level.

"We'll put her in the office, then: no sense in her taking the guest room if she's only around for a couple of days. You really don't mind? She is your sister - she would come earlier, if you asked."

"It's fine. She has things to do."

"If you say so. Well, that frees up the guest room for Rachel."

"Are you sure she'll be able to take the stairs? She shouldn't even be traveling."

"You tell her that."

Davy blanched. "No way."

"She wouldn't miss this for the world. Let us just be glad she's still with us... and keep her as far as possible from Mr Hodgson."

"Amen."

"And put our blasphemous habits behind us, lest she uses her cane on us."

"Ten cents says you slip before I do."

"Oh, shut up and have a plum puff."

March 1, 1896

"It seems we're in for rain," said Mrs Blythe, looking up from the napkin she was embroidering.

"Would you like us to go inside?" suggested Anne. "I could make some tea."

The woman shook her head. "I've never minded a light spring shower. It hardly matters today, at any rate - next week is when we'll need the perfect weather."

"We're all set to move the reception to Orchard Slope, should it rain on that night."

"I do hope it doesn't - we've all been waiting forever for a wedding at Green Gables! We knew, ever since you came along, that we'd finally get one."

Anne's throat tightened a fraction. "Yes, we're all looking forward to it," she replied, focusing on making her stitches as even as possible.

"And not a moment too soon! I simply cannot believe Gilbert's had to wait so long."

She froze, overcome with pain. "Davy," she choked out. "You mean Davy."

Mrs Blythe blinked, confused. "Yes, Davy, of course."

"Shall I make us some tea? I'll put the kettle on." Anne hurried inside, holding in the deluge of tears until she was safely out of sight. It wasn't the first time - Mrs Blythe's grasp on reality was loosening, and her most recent slip had Anne worrying that it would only get worse from here on.

March 8, 1896
Prince Albert, SK

Dear Anne,

I wish I could, I really do. Normally, I would take the week off, but I have an complicated procedure scheduled for the 19th of this month. It's an important surgery - please believe that I wouldn't stay if my presence wasn't required. I wish you'd asked me earlier: I would have blocked the date. I'm sure everything will go according to plan - the bride and groom will enjoy being surrounded by friends and family, and that's all that really matters in the end.

Don't worry about Mrs. Wright. Bloating is normal, though unpleasant, I'll give you that. As long as she stays off her feet and keeps both food and drink down, she should be fine. Monitor her fluids intake. You can check her pulse and temperature every couple of hours or so, and bundle her up or cool her down accordingly.

I am truly, very sorry. Please let me know how it goes. Though there isn't much I can do from here, I'd like to extend my support.

Your friend,

Doug

March 13, 1896

"Oh, Diana, he is beautiful! I still can't believe you waited till morning to send word. I wanted to meet him straight away - yes, you, sweet boy!" she cooed at the wriggling bundle in her arms.

"He's not even a day old yet," Diana rolled her eyes sleepily with a good natured smile.

"He seems perfectly healthy," beamed Anne, placing the newborn back into his mother's arms. "And you, darling? Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine in time for the wedding."

"Don't you worry about that," she tucked a lock of ebony behind her friend's ear affectionately. "You need to rest."

"I've done nothing but rest," the protest was interrupted by a massive yawn. Going on her second week of bed rest, Diana's boredom was rivaled only by her extreme fatigue.

"And once Dr Porter gives you the all clear, you'll be back on your feet," promised Anne. "In the meanwhile, you need to recuperate."

Diana blew out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know why this one had to put on such a show. Neither Fred or Small Anne created such a fuss," she reprimanded her third child, nudging his tiny nose with her own.

"What matters is that you and Jack are both well," insisted Anne.

"I don't want you to go through the evening alone."

"Di - darling, please don't cry." A handkerchief was quickly located for Diana. "I will be far from alone. Rachel will be there to help out."

"Who will you dance with?" sniffed Diana, making Anne giggle. "I'm serious, Anne! If I didn't let you borrow Fred, you'd be perpetually stuck by the punch bowl, listening to the old biddies' gossip."

"There's nothing wrong with that," said Anne soothingly. "I'm sure I can find someone else to lend me their husband."

"Anne!"

A loud wail from the smallest being in the room elicited a chorus of shushs from the two women.

"I'll let you two rest now - no, dear, you do need tosleep, both of you. I'll check on you tomorrow."

After a kiss to her friend and honorary nephew, Anne stopped by the kitchen to bid Fred and Mrs Barry a good day before heading home. Diana was a dear for worrying, but Anne felt relieved that she wouldn't have to shuffle around Fred: as sweet and attentive as the man could be, he was a truly terrible dancer.

Be nice! You've done your share of toe trampling, you know.

She smiled through the sadness brought on by the reminder. She would be alright - she simply wouldn't dance.

March 17, 1896

Sounds of another buggy arriving made Anne groan. She stood up from her perch on the haystack and shook out her skirts, giving herself a thorough inspection so as to drag out her moment of solitude. She was supposed to be collecting enough eggs for six pies, but had chosen to linger in the barn, for the sake of her sanity.

People were coming in and out of Green Gables, taking up the empty rooms and moving furniture, readying the place for the following day. The kitchen was occupied by an army made up of Sarah Blythe, Dora Keith and Mrs Harrison and Hannah Lynde, led fearlessly by none other than Rachel Lynde herself. Fred Wright commandeered the brigade of young men outside, assisting the groom to set up barricades of tables, lining up the chairs with military precision.

Anne had found herself a lone agent in the battle, useless on both sides. Surrounded by friends and family, she struggled to understand the loneliness that lingered within. Rachel ordering her out of the kitchen had been a sorely needed act of kindness, and judging by the voices outside growing louder, she'd probably stretched it a bit thin.

Exiting the barn, she came nose to nose with a large grey horse. "Ralph Andrews!" she squeaked, addressing the boy - well, man, really - holding its reins. "Shame on you, sneaking up on people like that!"

"Begging your pardon, Miss Shirley! I wasn't expecting to come up on any people. Davy said I could leave Blossom in the stables," explained Ralph contritely, eyeing Anne worriedly as she put a hand to her racing heart.

"Of course," her eyes softened at her former student. She held the door open while he coaxed his Blossom into an empty stall. "We appreciate all your help. Were you running another errand?"

"In a matter of speaking - had to stop by the train station."

"The train station? Goodness, I had no idea we were expecting more people. Where on Earth will they stay?"

"Anne?" Dora's voice carried from the back porch. "Do you have the eggs yet?"

Ralph blanched. "I've got to go - Davy'll be needing a hand. If you'll excuse me," he tipped his hat and left abruptly. Anne smiled knowingly and headed back towards the house to be greeted by a worried Dora.

"It's about time!" the girl sighed. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, nothing - I ran into Ralph Andrews, he just got in from the station."

A vivid blush covered Dora from her hairline to her collar. "I should bring these in, Rachel is growing impatient." She plucked the basket from her hands and hurried back inside.

Anne knew she ought to join the women inside, but the thought of being bossed around bowls of custard and tins of dough held no appeal. Instead, she made her way to the front of the house.

As she approached turned around the corner, her heart swelled with gratitude towards all the friends working hard towards Davy's special day. Fred and Mr Harrison kept the younger bunch in check, though they really were more jolly than rowdy. Ralph had gained some of his color back, and was now easily bantering with the rest as they wrestled with a large table. Davy steered at the head of the furniture, and at his side...

Her jaw dropped, and she stopped dead in her tracks. It was either her imagination that had run wild, or her eyes playing a trick on her. Struck dumb and unable to move, she stared on as the figure set the heavy table down with the others and straightened up. He smiled and dabbed at his glistening brow with a handkerchief as he said something to make Davy laugh loudly.

When he finally looked up and saw her, his grin deepened, one that loosened her clenched joints. She broke into a run towards him, skidding into a halt far too late. Even at the speed she'd accumulated, her thin frame did nothing to topple the beacon of hope and warmth: instead, she collided into a wall of flesh and nearly bounced off. He steadied her, and she threw her arms around him - to keep her balance at first, but then to hide what might become tears.

"I thought you might be glad to see me," he chuckled as she held on fast.

To be continued! Many thanks for all who read and review. :)