The telegram arrived at the estate two days after the storm. Sebastian LaCroix, whose whole expression had been weighed down by a grief no one spoke to him about, had been sitting at the dinner table with his wife at opposite heads of the table. Neither of them had touched their food, appetites washed away with the storm. Around them, the boys bustled and chatted, unaware that anything was wrong.
So when the servant came in to say that an urgent telegram had been delivered, addressed to Mr. Lacroix, Bash shot up from the table and hoped for the impossible.
INJURED STOP STAYING GREEN GABLES AVONLEA STOP NEED TRANSPORT HOME STOP
Perhaps there was value in being an optimist, after all.
* # * # *
Gilbert had grown to have a new appreciation for bedrest in the time he spent in Matthew Cuthbert's old room. There wasn't much to do when Anne wasn't around, which filled a large portion of his day with silence as she often had to complete housework for Marilla. When she was gone, he'd stare at the pictures on the wall and count the days until he could make it home. Anne also lent Gilbert some of her book collection to read, and he'd made it through her prized copy of Jane Eyre in a single day. His heart ached for the outcasted orphan, who'd known only loneliness from birth. For some reason, reading the novel here in Green Gables made him feel it even stronger, but he couldn't know why.
He was lost in his thoughts when a knock came from the door.
"Hello, Gil? I brought you some stew and some of Marilla's currant wine for the pain." Anne swept into the room like a breeze and placed the tray on his lap.
"Thank you, Anne. I'd wither away without you," he replied with a kind smile. There was something else there as he gazed upon her that made her flush and turn to pour him a small glass of wine.
"Has your leg been hurting very terribly?" she questioned, examining with satisfaction his other wounds.
"No, not with the doctor's daily prescriptions. And of course, your cooking does wonders to soothe the soul."
She sat at the edge of his bed, wondering for a split second what it would be like to lean against his chest - a traitorous thought indeed! She thought about the small envelope she had sneakily placed on the table as she entered the room, and the title of its return sender. No doubt, the letter's purpose was inform Gilbert that his family would be arriving for him presently and he could return back to his physician's life and leave this poor country village behind him.
Anne couldn't imagine what life would look like once he was gone. In the week he'd been condemned to bedrest, everyone at Green Gables had gotten used to his presence. Even Mrs. Rachel Lynde had entered his room and listened to some tales of his youth, laughing so hard that Anne could hear her from the barn.
"The Lord only chooses fine men as his physicians, I say! And Dr. Blythe is a fine physician, indeed!" Mrs. Lynde said, storming out of the room in a pleased tizzy. Anne looked up from her baking and offered a small smile.
It was the first time, she'd heard Gilbert's last name. He hadn't offered it to her before, but she couldn't think as to why he'd keep a secret from her all this time. It did sound awful familiar, though.
"Dr. Blythe," Anne said carefully, feeling that she might address him properly now that she had all the missing parts of the name equation. Gilbert's eyes snapped up to meet hers as he ate his stew. "You received a letter today from a Mr. Lacroix. That's the man we sent the telegram to, is it not?"
When Gilbert's jaw dropped, she handed him the letter. Setting down his spoon, he held the letter up to his face to examine the handwriting. He turned himself away from Anne's nervous eyes and hid his emotion behind a hand.
"My brother," he said, voice heavy. "He's my brother. He must've survived that storm, thank Providence."
Anne waited in silence as he read over the full three pages of letter at least twice, pretending not to notice when a tear had formed in the corner of his lashes. He brushed them away carefully, beginning to eat his stew on the second readthrough. Finally, when he was finished, he folded the letter back up along its crease lines and placed it in the envelope. He looked at the beautiful redhead beside him, eyes bittersweet.
"He'll be here to collect me tomorrow," he said gently. Anne processed this for a second.
"And then you'll go back home to the Glen?"
Gilbert nodded. Some strange, untouched part of Anne cracked just then, like a glass that can't handle boiling water. She rose to her feet with an abruptness that jolted the doctor, and ran her hands down the front of her skirt to flatten the fabric.
"I suppose there are preparations to be made if we're to have more company. I look forward to meeting this brother of yours," she said, unable to meet his eye. "Rest well, Dr. Blythe."
"Anne-"
"You'll need to get some sleep if you're to be traveling. I'll check on you in the morning." She headed as fast a steam engine toward the door, but paused before she could touch the handle. "Do you suppose Mr. Lacroix might like to stay for a meal before you head off?"
She snuck a glance over her shoulder at Gilbert, who stared at her with what could only be seen as unadulterated admiration.
"If there's anything I know about Bash, it's that he loves to eat."
"Alright then, that sounds just fine."
Anne slipped through the door, letting it give a little slam as it clicked shut behind her. She found herself frozen for a brief second, the entire wooden door keeping her standing. A hand came to rest over the ache in her chest, and she closed her eyes before her own trail of tears could escape. After taking a silent, fortifying breath, she opened her eyes and found Marilla sitting at the dining room table watching her.
"Don't look at me like that," Anne said quietly, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and picked up the scrubbing brush. Marilla stood her ground as evenly as ever Anne knew she could.
"Anne, he doesn't belong here in Avonlea."
"I don't suppose that's for any of us to decide."
"That's because it already has been decided. Don't you know who he is?" Anne paused, fully cognizant of Marilla's eyes on her back as tangible as humid air. She forced herself to release some of the pent up tension in her shoulders.
"Of course I know who he is," Anne replied adamantly, but she'd hadn't been able to convince herself. Did she really know him? It felt like she did, like his soul and hers had been acquainted since their specks in the universe were first formed. He certainly wasn't a stranger anymore, not with how much they spoke.
"The Glen needs their doctor. I am only glad that I could play a part in helping him," Anne stated in admission. "Mr. Sebastian LaCroix will be here tomorrow to collect him. I'll be inviting him for an early supper. After that, things will return to their normalcy."
Marilla said nothing more. Anne dried her hands on her apron and left the older woman sitting under the shadows of the candlelight, remembering her own days of first love and regret.
* # * # *
She wanted it to feel like home when he left, so she left daisies around the house in thin vases and opened the windows to let in the fresh, warm air. Jerry had come by the day earlier to drop off the crutch he had fashioned saying, "It'll be good enough until he gets home and finds a real one." Anne accomplished much in the time that they waited for Mr. Lacroix, busying her hands by any means necessary to distract her mind. But when she looked out over the Green Gables dining room, with its dustless surfaces, freshly baked bread, and perfectly set table, she wondered if maybe she should have spent that time with Gilbert.
"Anne?" a voice called from the inside Matthews room. Clutching her hands at her sides, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Yes, Gil?"
Her heart caught in her throat as she looked at him, a cleaner version of the man she had fished up from the hurricane. To her astonishment, he was even standing without her help. He was dressed back in his sailor's clothes, freshly cleaned and pressed. Mrs. Lynde had mended the gash on the leg of his trousers with such expertise that they looked practically new. He'd managed to comb his hair and wash his face, even with the bindings of his injured leg making it inconvenient, and Anne couldn't help but feel as if he was the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on.
"You...you're looking rather well," she said formally.
"I could say the same of you. You're radiant," he replied, matching her tone. He latched onto the rosy pink that ascended her cheeks, wishing he could make her blush all day long.
"You called?" she said after a moment of rather intimate silence.
"Oh! Well, I wondered if I might wait for Bash out in the dining room for a change of scenery. It'd be wise for me to stretch my legs a little bit before traveling home."
"Far be it from me to tell you where you can and cannot roam when you're my guest. Did you need some assistance?"
"No, thank you, but I would care for some company."
He moved in slow jilted steps, hobbling on the mahogany colored crutch with as much precision as he might were he performing surgery. An ocean breeze swept through the home, carrying with it the faint scent of daisies and freshly baked bread. Gilbert swayed as it grazed across his face, grinning in the victory of standing upright.
"May I be forthright with you for a moment," he said quietly to Anne, who stood only a few breaths behind him.
"Of course," her voice came quietly. He turned to her and interlocked their hands at the fingertips.
"If I could have all of my wishes fulfilled, I'd stay here in this beautiful country house forever with you."
Anne felt a shock of electricity run through her that made her practically melt into the floor. Gilbert's hand slid up so that their palms laid flat against each other's - soft skin against a doctor's touch, reverence meeting bravery. Taking a step out of his own world and entering hers, he closed their fingers together so that he was holding her hand. Each small risk he took, he wanted to take more. He gave a small tug forward and pulled her closer so that her oxygen was his. The natural gravitation between them took its place and Anne wondered if he might kiss her.
A knock came at the door, causing them both to look up. Anne tore her hand away from Gilbert's, shuffling toward the door. She took a deep breath, acutely aware of Gilbert's eyes on her back, then pulled open the door.
You would not have thought at first sight that Sebastian LaCroix was Gilbert's brother. He was everything Gilbert was not - strong frame, facial hair, dark dusky skin. But then as Anne looked closer, she could see parts of Bash's soul that were made of the same stuff as Gilbert's, the things that made them the same.
"Hello sir, I presume you are Mr. LaCroix?"
The man did not know what to think about the thin red headed woman before him, with the eyes that were wild and mourning, gray and human. He removed his hat and pulled it to his chest, smiling in a practiced way that reminded Anne of Diana's wealthy family. All practiced propriety fell aside when he caught eyes with the injured man behind her, and his cheeks widened into a grin.
"Gilbert Blythe, I ought to strangle you," he said with an accent that Anne had never heard before. He breezed right past her and caught Gilbert in a fond embrace.
"If it's just the same to you, I think I've had enough near death experiences for a lifetime," Gilbert replied with a laugh.
"You're telling me. I don't think I ever want to go on a boat anywhere again."
Gilbert started, remembering something.
"How's the boat? The crew?" he asked, grabbing Bash's shoulder with a frantic grasp.
"Relax, Blythe, everyone is fine. They were worried sick about you until we got your message." Bash looked like he might say more, but turned his face down to the floor and swallowed hard. "We thought we lost you, Gilbert."
"I know," the good doctor replied. A tender expression came over his face. "But Anne saved me. She's been taking care of me all this time."
Bash swung around and caught eyes with the wild-wallflower standing across the room. Her hands were clenched at her sides, face forcefully neutral.
"I apologize, Miss Anne, it seems manners flew right out of my head. I am Sebastian LaCroix and I am indebted to you for saving my brother."
"Not at all," Anne said in a quiet, polite tone. "His presence in this house has been very welcomed. It makes me wish that the Avonlea doctor was such good company."
Bash laughed at this, but took a few steps forward so that he might hold Anne's hands in his.
"Truly ma'am, on behalf of our family and forty-three boys, thank you. I hope you will think of a way that we can compensate-"
"Wait, forty-three boys?" Anne asked, forgetting her manners to send a confused look to Gilbert. How could there possibly be forty-three boys in a single house, plus all of Gilbert's family?
"Uh oh," Bash murmured. "You didn't tell her."
"Tell me what?" Anne hissed sharply. Gilbert gaped for a second, searching for words. "Tell me what, Dr. Blythe?"
"It's not bad, Anne!" Gilbert defended. "It's just that everyone knows it at the Glen and for once it was nice to be just Gilbert for a while. Not…" He sighed.
Anne watched the turmoil raging inside him, so she softened her accusatory glare and bit the inside of her cheek.
"Why don't we sit down for supper and you can tell me? Mr. LaCroix, are you hungry?"
"Always, Miss Anne," Bash replied with a chuckle.
Neither Anne nor Gilbert seemed hungry enough to eat the chicken and vegetables that sat on their plates. Bash, however, was completely unaffected by the awkward atmosphere. The nervous glances cast across the table were no more than dinner entertainment to him, of which he was very much amused.
Finally, Anne said, "A man is allowed his secrets, especially from a stranger. If you lied to me, I can hardly fault you."
"You're not a stranger," Gilbert insisted, choking back some of his growing affection to keep from overwhelming her. "And I didn't lie to you. I merely omitted what you'll likely consider important truths."
"Is that all?" she murmured to herself, taking a bite of salted potatoes. Gilbert sighed and set down his fork.
"What do you know of the North Blythe Harbor?" he asked steadily.
"It's the main port of the island," Anne answered easily. "Even Avonlea uses the North Harbor for exports."
"I own that harbor," Gilbert stated.
Anne's face went ashen. The connection hadn't even occurred to her, but even if it had, how was she to suspect that this sailor of a doctor owned an entire harbor. Suddenly, she scrambled through her brain for any information about the Blythes she could think of, but she'd never cared before now.
"It was my father's, passed down to him by a gentleman he once saved while they were on a voyage to England," he continued. "He passed away a few years ago, leaving me with his business even after I became the Glen's doctor. I didn't want to quit my position, but suddenly found myself with more money and responsibility than I knew what to do with."
"I'm sorry, sir, I had no idea," said Anne, feeling like a fool. "You've likely thought me rather asinine."
"Not at all! I'm not…" His jaw tightened. "I'm not your average wealthy man. I have fully appreciated being simple, country Dr. Blythe these past weeks. Your companionship has been invaluable to me. And no more of this sir and Dr. Blythe nonsense, please."
At this, Bash cocked an eyebrow, noticing the matching blushes on their faces.
"And the forty boys?" Anne asked.
"Forty-three," Gilbert corrected cautiously. "After my father passed away, I really did find myself with more wealth than I thought was possible and I didn't need most of it. At first, I began making regular donations to the Boy's Orphan Asylum in Charlottetown, but it didn't seem like enough. I made some renovations to my...estate and took in forty of the boys who have been there the longest. They live on my property and are well taken care of. My family is rather close with them now."
Anne hadn't noticed her eyes beginning to water, but when one of her tears fell onto her plate, Bash leaned over.
"Anne, you're crying on the potatoes."
With a sniveling gasp, she quickly wiped her eyes and gave a shy chuckle.
"I think you're quite forgiven, Gilbert. I wish you would've just told me, though. Perhaps I would've been nicer to you."
"Nicer than saving my life and nursing me back to health?" Gilbert grinned. "I didn't take on the boys for the praise, though. People I do business with tend to hold strong judgments, so I don't often play the orphan card."
Anne gave him a small, watery smile.
"Neither do I."
It was then that Gilbert understood the meaning behind Anne's tears. He reached across the table, grabbed her hand, and gave it a small squeeze. Anne herself began to wonder if maybe that was why she'd been made to save his life on that stormy day - so that he might save more orphan lives, love them and care for them the way that the Cuthberts had done for her.
"Funny how Providence works, huh?" he murmured. Anne shook their hands a little bit, then pulled back to grab her fork.
"Well, with that out of the way, I want to hear all about how this lily of a woman managed to pull your sorry behind out of a storm like that," Bash laughed.
Anne looked at Gilbert expectantly, but he shook his head.
"You're a far better storyteller than I, Anne. I'd hate to butcher a heroic tale."
They sat there together, three kindred souls opening up and retelling miraculous tales until the mid afternoon sun had seeped in through the window to warm Bash's neck. He placed his napkin on the table and gave Gilbert a look that spoke volumes. Anne caught it and felt her heart twinge with a queer, little ache.
"If you're to make it back to the Glen at a reasonable hour, you should probably head off," she sighed. "It's been a rare pleasure to have you in my company. I know Marilla will be sad that she missed you."
"Please extend my sincere and deepest gratitude that she opened her home to this injured doctor," Gilbert said, rising from his seat. Anne handed him his crutch before he could ask for it, their fingers grazing in the exchange.
"I'll go bring around the wagon," Bash said, eyes shifting from Gilbert to Anne with a sly smile. Then he turned to the blushing Anne and offered her a warm smile. "Truly, thank you for everything, Queen Anne. Come to the estate sometime, we'd love to have you as our guest. Wouldn't we, Blythe?"
"Absolutely!" Gilbert replied with no hesitation. "In fact, I'd be honored if you did come sometime. Bring Miss Cuthbert and Mrs. Lynde."
"I'll extend the invitation," Anne said with a nod. "Safe travels, Bash."
Once the man had left the kitchen, Anne was suddenly aware that she was breathing in all of Gilbert - his air, his aura, his soul. It had somehow drawn her nearer to him and she found herself close enough to see the two midnight freckles on his cheek and the small healing scratches on his forehead from the storm.
Neither knew what to say, so they just stood there in the afternoon light wishing that they didn't come from such different worlds. Maybe in another life, Gilbert was an island boy here in Avonlea, tormenting her life out until eventually he could woo her into noticing how truly, adamantly he-
"Hurry along Blythe!" Bash called from outside. "Haven't got all day."
Anne started, hurriedly handing Gilbert one of Matthew's old hats and jackets. She had just opened her mouth to say goodbye when he took a daring step forward, fixed his eyes on hers, and said, "You are amazing, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. I hope you know."
Her reply was caught in her throat and instead she just offered him a tight, teary smile.
He leaned down, pressed a kiss on her cheek, and was gone, leaving Anne standing in the kitchen wondering just why she couldn't stop crying.
* # * # *
If Anne knew Gilbert to be the very best of men, then William Andrews - or Billy, as he was known in his school days - was positively the worst. Ever since she had arrived in Avonlea at the tender age of eleven, Billy Andrews had done everything in his power to make her miserable. He'd treated her like a dog under his shoe, torn down her childhood playhouse board by board, and spread rumors that she had been a filthy strumpet on a verge of being married out of wedlock. Every bone in her body despised him, and when they would eventually lay in the ground after she was gone, that hatred would still be there, grown up in poison ivy.
But Billy had sealed his fate that humid day in Avonlea as she walked behind Billy and Charlie Sloane on their way to the store.
"How do you even know the Blythes?" Charlie had asked. Anne's ears perked up and she quicked her pace so that she might listen a little better.
"Gil's father and mine were friends when the Blythes lived in Avonlea. Wasn't long, but long enough that John put me next in line for the harbor."
"It's a shame that Dr. Blythe decided to work the harbor and keep up his practice, otherwise that could've been you in that big house."
"You don't have to tell me," Billy spat bitterly. "Look, I'm not worried about it. Blythe can try all he wants to keep up the harbor with those ugly orphan kids and that colored family, but by the end of the year, it'll be mine. My plan is all set."
Plan? A sickening feeling settled in her gut, but she kept her face neutral in case one of the boys turned back.
"What're you going to do?"
"Let's just say rifles and new doctors are easy to come by," Billy sneered.
Anne's feet came to a halt. She stared at them as they walked away, consumed with their laughter and malicious plans. Was Billy really planning to..? She couldn't be sure that he wasn't just all bark and no bite this time, but he'd been so unpredictable in the past. It was hard to know which of his many threats he'd make good on.
She couldn't take the chance. She had to find Gilbert and tell him. Even if he didn't believe her, she had to warn him and try her best.
.
That night at Green Gables, Anne found herself in another face off with Mrs. Lynde, this time with Marilla on the opposing side.
"Now listen, Anne, you've been reading a lot of books on heroic people and I admire your tendency toward saving people but this is something you ought not meddle in," Marilla warned.
"Billy is planning on killing Gilbert! Someone has to tell him!" Anne retaliated.
"You likely just misinterpreted what you heard! Billy Andrews was a troubled child but that doesn't mean he's grown to be a murderer," Rachel chimed in.
"I'm not sitting by and letting him get away with this. If something happens to Gilbert, it'll be on my hands. I'm packing my things and leaving for the Glen tonight."
"You will not," Marilla warned, but the days of Miss Cuthbert rearing Anne Shirley were long over.
"I am a grown woman!" Anne exploded. "I will not be treated like a child in my own home."
"You're living under my roof, you will abide by my rules, and no mistake!" Marilla said, raising her voice to meet Anne's.
"Then I won't live here anymore! Not until I know Gilbert will be okay."
Marilla's face turned as gray as the wall behind her, the betrayal evident in the hardening lines of her jaw. Rachel Lynde had gone silent, staring at the Green Gables women as if they were pipes bombs seconds away from detonating.
"You'd leave Green Gables for a man you knew two weeks? Anne, I've never known you to be imprudent. If you think you love him, then you're only-"
"Stop," Anne cried out on a sob. "I'm leaving because it's the right thing to do. I'm packing my carpet bag, and I'm leaving."
Marilla straightened her back and looked at Anne with tired, aged eyes.
"I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you. But when you've gotten your heart broken, your room will be waiting for you collecting dust."
Anne covered her mouth to shield against a sob, then spun off to her gable room. She swore when she began living at this house that she'd never hurt Marilla knowingly, but she didn't expect for this to happen. How could she?
Angrily shoving clothes and toiletries into her old carpet bag, she remembered Matthew. He would've let her go. He would've known she had to do this.
Sparing a glance at her pocket watch, Anne heaved a sigh of relief. If she left now, she'd make the last train of the night to Glen St. Mary. It'd be a long trip to make with no feasible plan. She didn't even know where the Blythe Estate was. Surely there would be people who could help her.
It was settled. Anne marched down the stairs, determined resolve and carpet bag steady in her grasp. She looked at the two Avonlea women, matron and spinster as dark as if they were in mourning, and placed one of the marigolds from her room on the dining room table.
"I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you both dearly and I'm sorry."
Neither said anything, so Anne turned and crossed into the starry, humid night.