Back in Glen St Mary I throw myself into my work - treating patients at all hours no matter the seriousness, spending my spare time reading up on case studies and the newest advances that colleagues send from school. I try not to think about my trip home and the inevitable loss I felt at not being able to see Anne, the truth of that hitting me only once I stepped off the train at the station to see the stable hand ready with my horse.
I leaned so deeply into work that when Michael Turner eventually settled himself into my waiting room chairs it was with the intention of tearing me out of the surgery and back into the world of the living.
"Blythe, you're much too young and successful to continue on like this," Michael sighs, dragging me into a teahouse down the road and settling my exhausted frame into a chair. "I simply must have you over to dinner - the kids are pleading for you to come for another visit and Sarah is determined to cook you her famous roast."
"It's just been hectic lately, is all," I lie, sipping at the hot liquid and scalding my throat.
"That isn't true and you know it. I'm telling Sarah you'll be over tomorrow - please don't forget and make a fool - "
"Fine. I'll come. Let's not get carried away here," I grumble, my lips turning up at the edges as he lets out a heavy breath.
"Oh thank goodness - I wasn't looking forward to telling her you'd declined again. She really would not take that well after the last time!" He adds with a shake of his head, dissolving the conversation into niceties and stories from his work at the bank.
We're only just starting to wrap up our impromptu lunch when the Stewart boy barrels through the entryway, his eyes wide as he looks around and settles his gaze on me.
"Doctor Blythe - you must come quickly!" He gasps, lurching forward and grabbing at my hand to pull me to standing. My body flips into response mode instantly and I jerk to my feet, stuffing my hands in my pockets in search of coins to pay.
"It's on me Blythe - I'll see you tomorrow," Michael nods, waving me off. I stumble from the table and pull on the sleeves of my coat, following the boy through the shop door and hastily into the street. In my rush I barely see where I'm going and collide with a woman, our bodies bouncing off each other and sending us tumbling to the ground.
With the breath knocked out of me, I turn to catch sight of the woman's dark hair and pale skin, her hat tipped low over her brow. Scrambling to my feet despite the pain, I watch as she too rushes to stand and with one quick look at me takes off in the opposite direction.
"Doctor - we must go quickly! The baby is coming!" The boy pulls anxiously on my sleeve and breaks me from my confusion, my mind turning back to the task ahead.
"And then the boy ran out into the street and right into the new teacher!" Michael crows, his hands high above him as he retells the story of my less than impressive exit to birth the Stewart baby. Across from him his children laugh, their bright faces sparkling in the dim evening light as Sarah taps a napkin at the corner of her lips.
"I do admit, that is quite the story, Gilbert," Sarah says with a smile, her hands crossing as she looks over at me pensively. "I wonder if you've been over to see her after this collision? The children say she wore a bandage to class today. Perhaps maybe she hurt herself in the fall?"
I snap my eyes up at that, a frown creasing my brow as I look towards her. "She never - I mean, she ran off before I could ask if she was alright. I'd have thought - "
"Oh, I'm sure she was just startled! I didn't mean to imply anything malicious, of course," Sarah exclaims with a chuckle, waving her hand towards me as she gets to her feet. "Anyways - I thought I should mention it so our lonely bachelor doctor could maybe look in on our town's newest lovely lady."
"She's trying to play matchmaker again," Michael sighs, watching his wife clear the dishes with a broad smile. I shift in my seat at the suggestion, my words frozen in my throat.
It would be good to meet the new teacher, to ensure that she was alright after our… Encounter. Maybe to see that she hadn't broken anything. That's what we doctor's were supposed to do, right?
"Now we've gone and gotten him lost in his head again!" Michael rouses, clapping his hand against my shoulder. "Come, let's go sit near the fire as Sarah puts the children to bed."
We retreat to the sitting room and dive into the happenings of the mainland, the stories of crime that have trickled their way over the channel and into the sleepy village of Glen St Mary. When eventually Sarah joins us, her smile warm as she slips down beside her husband, I take my leave and get to my feet. The exhaustion of the week prickles at my temples and I say my thanks by the door, careful to not tip the plate of leftovers that Sarah has wrapped for me.
The next day I find myself at the steps of the little cottage near the school, the one relegated for teachers who require accommodations while working here from out of town. It looks well cared for, it's gardens tamed and the windows filled with curtains I observe as I step up and let my fist rap against the wood.
"Doctor Blythe! What a surprise!" Susan Baker greets me, her smile wide as she looks around as though I should be accompanied by others. "I dare ask - have you come here alone? And what for?"
"I, um, heard that there may have been an accident?" My tongue feels thick in my mouth and when Susan's face pales I stutter and shake my head. "I'm sorry - no, I don't mean you to worry! I mean to say that it was recommended I come check on the new teacher as apparently she may have been injured in our little run in the other day."
Susan shifts on her feet, a quizzical look in her eyes. "It was you that she ran into?" She questions carefully, her gaze dropping to my black medical bag and the way my knuckles whiten around it. I hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected a line of inquiry or suspicion from this housecall and yet here I was, waiting to be given entry to meet someone I'd never met before.
"Yes - Is something the matter Mrs Baker?" I counter, concern lacing my tone as the woman shifts on her feet.
"No, I supposed not. Miss Wright is out for a walk at the moment but I'll be sure to let her know that you've called on her. Now if you'll excuse me I've got muffins in the oven that should be taken care of!" The door closes with a light snap, the mood having changed so quickly that I almost missed it.
When she doesn't return after a moment I take the hint and make my way back to my horse and ease myself onto it with a grunt. This whole excursion had been bizarre from the start - the image of the woman taking off without so much as an apology striking me as unusual, even for this town.
By the time I'm halfway home I figure if Miss Wright does indeed need medical attention, she'll need to come seek me out. It's only once I've made this resolution that a striking figure breaks through the treeline, their slim frame vibrant in the dark dress they wear with their hair tied back in a braid. The image is so familiar that an eeriness ghosts over me and my skin alights with gooseflesh, my horse turning towards her without a second thought.
"Miss Wright?" I call from afar, watching as her face turns towards me. She freezes mid step, watching me for a second before abandoning the field and tearing off back into the trees. "What in God's name…" I whisper to myself, clucking the horse forward into a trot.
I know I've lost her behind the pines, my heart beating erratically as this enigma has eluded me once again. I wait for a few minutes at the edge of the forest, hopeful that she'll re-emerge and this strange experience can be over, but she never does and with night falling I know I can't put off returning home much longer lest I be committed to a cold house all night. So home I go with bubbling questions in the back of my mind.
I don't stop by Miss Wright's cottage for the remainder of the week, choosing instead to focus my attention on patients who actually wish for my care. The work offers me little reprieve and when I settle into my office on a Friday afternoon to complete my outstanding paperwork I find myself drifting to old memories of sitting by a lake with the sun dappling bold patterns across my chest.
"I've found out more about your mystery woman," Michael greets, poking his head through the door and disrupting my thoughts.
"What mystery woman?" I counter, barely looking up from my notes as he settles into the seat across from me.
"Miss Wright - the teacher who continues to run from you every time you get close. I don't believe it's just you, if Sarah's sources are at all correct. Apparently she doesn't hold company with men at all. She's hired Susan Baker as her housekeeper and the woman is like a steel trap with secrets." He pauses and I sneak a glance, hesitant to show my curiosity.
"And is she quite alright since the fall? No injuries requiring my attention?" I prod lightly, hoping that we can close the book on this odd situation once and for all. If she doesn't need my help then obviously we could continue on not knowing one another - the social requirements in the Glen were not that meddling. At least I hoped not.
"The boys say that she no longer wears any bandages, so if that is a testament to her health then yes, I do believe you're off the hook for that. But Sarah has it on good sources that Miss Wright came from the mainland over the summer and utterly refuses to attend social functions unless they're part of her teaching duties. It's quite peculiar, she thinks, since apparently the woman is rather handsome…" Michael pauses as I roll my eyes, sitting up to continue spreading his gossip. "We've also heard that the board placed her here on high recommendations from another school board, but the Ladies Auxiliary is not too pleased with a teacher who doesn't socialize with her community."
"Maybe she just needs to settle in some," I interject lowly, remembering other women I'd met who spread their wings once they felt like they belonged.
"Perhaps. Maybe she needs a young suitor - "
"No - I ask you kindly to stop this now, Michael. You've already attempted to ruin my life with arrangements. We will not go down this path again." My words are final, biting as Michael's gaze locks onto mine.
"I'm just trying to help you along to a life of happiness, young Blythe. Your uncle was always better when your aunt was around," he chides before slapping his knees and getting to his feet. I watch him go, a small smile on my lips as he tips his hat to me. "Do think about it, boy. She could be the one."
I'm called out in the middle of the night to another birth, the baby not willing to wait for me to get another solid few hours of sleep before insisting to come into the world. Thankfully it's an easy case and a few hours after taking off in the middle of the night I'm able to re-saddle my horse and head for home just as the sun is starting to rise over the cliffs.
Halfway home I pause along the ridge, taking in the sweet morning breeze and the way the sky seems to lighten more with every minute. The beauty of this place never ceases to amaze me, it's quiet spirit similar to my own in a way I hadn't expected when I decided to take up the practice here.
Years in school had taken me away from the simple life that I'd longed for since I was a boy, keeping my head down as I focused on getting the best grades and fighting my way to the top. When Anne had turned away my hand I'd only crawled further into my studies, doing my best to change the world that I wanted for myself if only so that I could close off that part of my life. It hadn't worked, no matter how hard I'd tried, and I'd quite surely given up on finding happiness until I moved to this small town.
Now as I urged my horse onward I couldn't help the smile spreading across my lips. There was a contentedness now that I hadn't had for years and it was pleasant, like maybe a puzzle piece had found its way home.
Trotting along the edge of the water I try to think of what had changed in these last few weeks, what had come about and made me happy once again but the only thing that had made a difference in this small sleepy town was the new arrival that I hadn't even had the chance to meet yet.
No, that couldn't be it, I convince myself and look ahead towards home. I nearly fall out of my saddle when I spot the woman of my wonderings in her black skirts, standing on the edge of the cliffs and looking out towards the sea and the sunrise beyond. She'd come almost from thin air, her long black tangle catching behind her in the breeze.
I debate turning down back towards the road, leaving her to her thoughts, but something pulls at me and urges me forward until it's almost rude to turn away.
"Miss Wright?" I call ahead, hoping not to startle her as her head swivels towards me. She clutches at her arms and turns away abruptly, running back down the field and towards where her cottage lay in the distance.
My stomach flops as I watch her go, my throat struggling to come up with anything worth saying. Why did she run from me again? This was not the first time I'd been rebuffed but it still felt like a slap to the face, one that I wasn't prepared to receive. Had I done something to wrong her? Had she taken our collision in the street as something malicious?
With half a mind wanting to chase after her I force my thoughts to rein themselves in, settling to watch her disappear into the distance once more. I won't force her to interact with me. If she wants to keep distance between us then that was just fine with me. It had to be.
The rest of the day is riddled with questions that pop into my mind with no warning. All of them about this strange woman who won't give me the time of day, who's caught me in this web of wonder.
Did I do something to offend her? Why did she always run in the opposite direction when I drew near? Was she afraid of doctors after a fresh loss? Were her black skirts signs of mourning?
It plagues me through the remainder of the week until I find myself once more at the Turner residence, taking advantage of good food and company as I try to rid myself of the thoughts that churn in my mind late into the night.
"And then Miss Wright said that when she was young she nearly drowned because she was acting silly and the whole class laughed!" Thomas exclaims, a light in his eyes as he recounts his day at school for the table. His brother Clarence smiles and shakes his head, looking towards his father with an wisened smile.
"The little ones appreciated it more than us upper years. Although I will admit Miss Wright has a funny way of telling stories," Clarence confirms, proudly spearing his fork through a potato.
I listen to the banter with a wavering interest that begins to peak when small pieces start fitting together in a peculiar way. Nearly choking on my food as the possibility dawns on me, I shove myself back from the table as a fit of coughing works to clear the food from my throat.
"Young man, are you alright?" Michael gasps, getting to his feet and slapping his hand against my back in hopes to assist me. I cough and shake my head, my eyes watering as I look towards Sarah with the question on my lips.
"What did you say was Miss Wright's first name?" I rasp, the thoughts spinning in my mind. It couldn't be her. She would have had to have changed her name. Dyed her hair. Disappeared from her life in Kingsport.
"I believe I've heard the name Cordelia but that is only in rumours," Sarah replies carefully, her eyes wide as she looks at me. Michael squeezes my shoulder and sighs, looking between us.
"A strange man has taken over you lately," he grumbles, returning to his chair. I push myself to my feet and drop my napkin on the table, certain that I could not keep the madness of my thoughts in check long enough to finish supper.
"I think I'm feeling unwell this evening. Please accept my apologies for leaving like this," I mumble and step away from the table leaving a stunned room full of Turner's to watch me as I go.
I make it out the front door and into the yard before Michael comes flying after me. "Here, boy, what is the matter with you?"
Shaking my head, I shove my arms through my jacket and stalk towards the barn without slowing. He chases after me and I groan internally at having to admit my paranoias to this man who'd done nothing but welcome me into his family.
"I don't know what's wrong," I lie, lifting the saddle harshly to begin working through the straps with swift movements. Michael sputters behind me, his mouth opening and closing but no words escaping as he watches me rush through my efforts.
"You can tell me what's got you all twisted up about this Wright woman, Blythe. It won't change what I think of you - or her, for that matter." His words do little to comfort me and I lean my head against the smooth leather, inhaling the scent of the barn and trying to center myself once more.
"I can't - not yet. I don't want to cause any trouble for her," I mumble and nearly regret it. My words imply more than my silence and I turn to Michael with pleading eyes, my hand lifting to rest on his shoulder. "Please say nothing of this evening to anyone. It will do no one any good to hear about the strange doctor behaving like a madman."
"I would never - but Gilbert, you can tell us. We are like your family, we won't judge you - "
"It's not me I'm worried about," I interrupt and lift myself onto the horse, turning it past the man and steering it towards the gate without another word.
I take off with a quick farewell, my thoughts speeding faster than my horse can carry me. It's impossible, what I'm thinking, but the strange happening of it all is so fitting to the imagination that a small part of me is convinced of its truth.
Anne Shirley was still married in Kingsport, she wasn't here in Glen St Mary. It was wishful thinking, it was insanity.
But still I race on towards the cottage by the schoolhouse, breathless and anxious as the possibilities grow and multiply like weeds in an untended field. When finally the building comes into sight I pull my horse to a stop and still my heavy breaths, sweat lining my brow as I look at the lit windows of the building in the distance.
"It can't be her," I mumble to myself, staring at the windows and begging for a sign. I knew I couldn't go over there, not tonight after dark at least. A crazy man on your front step was never welcome and despite our history I knew showing up unannounced would sour the situation quicker than my heart was beating in my chest.
No. I needed to make a plan to determine if it was actually her. Until then I would let the poor woman live her life, separate from me and my newly discovered mental instability.
I steer clear of the Turner's and the new teacher for a full week, writing letters home and trying to collect the information that I need to assure myself that it isn't possible. Bash and Mary offer no help, oblivious in their response and certain that Anne was still on the mainland and far away from the Island. Diana's letter on the other hand was more guarded, the tone of her writing implying confusion but there was something about it - about the way she scoffed at someone choosing Cordelia Wright as a name that rang untrue.
No, the letters home held little clarity and though I remained busy at the practice, my thoughts were tangled up at all hours with the puzzle before me. Distraction was a paramount observation from my patients and while the kind ones pat my shoulder and crooned about the lady on my mind, the more cantankerous ones refused to pay the bill when it came and complained that my service was sub-par.
By Sunday I was donning my best shirt and tie and arriving at church early to scan the crowd for the woman, desperate to finally prove that it wasn't her. It wasn't Anne.
"I didn't expect to see you here, Doctor Blythe," Susan Baker greets as I stand near the entryway to the church, watching as people gather in the yard before heading inside. Turning towards her, I smile broadly as she lifts an eyebrow in my direction.
"Yes - well, typically I'm called away during the evenings and attending regular services is quite challenging. I've an arrangement that allows me to come throughout the week when time allows - "
"I wasn't judging your religiosity boy," Susan sighs and takes hold of my arm, her grip firm. "I merely wanted to say hello."
My brow furrows as I watch her gaze drift beyond my shoulder, her smile growing as she eventually releases me. The encounter is odd and when I turn around I see that most of the crowd has entered the church, much to my chagrin. I'd missed her and it had been Susan who had distracted me.
If it wasn't Anne trying to avoid me then why would Susan work so hard to protect her employer? What would any woman have against the town doctor that would make someone cover for her like this woman did?
I had to see her face. I had to know if it was her.
Settling myself in the last pew I try to focus on the sermon but instead find myself scanning the back of heads and trying to determine which one was her from afar. When the service ends I make sure that I'm the first one out the door, watching the faces pass me as I hover near the entrance.
The black dress and hat with a small veil make me stumble through the crowd, tripping over someone's foot and nearly falling into the Marshall family as I try to catch up to her. With apologies all around I spin on my heel and catch sight of the woman and Susan riding off in a small buggy, the distance between us almost insurmountable.
"Why don't you come for supper tonight, Gilbert?" Sarah breaks through my hazy thoughts, her hand coming to rest on my elbow as her and Michael come around to look at me. I must be pale, my face likely showing my disappointment because Sarah sighs and holds her hand to my brow. "Doctor, what has gotten into you lately?"
Michael watches his wife and smiles, glancing between the buggy that's disappearing down the road and the distraught look on my face. "The boy is seeing ghosts, dear."
I realize then that Michael is right. I wasn't seeing Anne, I was seeing someone I wanted to be her so desperately that I'd convinced myself that this stranger was her. They were not the same thing and I was trying to solve a puzzle with no solution.
"Yes - supper would be lovely," I reply lamely, shoving the question into the back of my mind and focusing on the here and now instead of the impossibilities that I'd obsessed myself with.