LM Montgomery owns Anne of Green Gables. Margaret Mitchell owns some other characters. I own the characters you don't recognize from any stories you have read.

But then the day dawned that Marybeth realized that all her sorrow and numbness had passed and anger was there in its place. There was no use her telling herself that it was all for the best, that there was no other way out for them. There was no use in reminding herself that she knew from the first how it would end but she had chosen him anyway. John might call it predestination, but that was no part of Marybeth's philosophy. And truth to be told, all her own fine philosophy was gone, too. She was too angry for anything as rational as philosophy.

She was mad, and everything annoyed her. Precisely just who she was mad at she couldn't really say--herself a little, John a little, but mostly she was just mad at life. Realizing the depth of her anger, and not wishing to inflict her mood on anybody else, she avoided everybody as much as she decently could. What little contact she had with people--and only because she couldn't avoid it--she cut as short as possible, and she puttered around the house, not accomplishing much of anything.

In the evening she went outside with the intention of sitting in her back yard to brood. Then when she got there, she decided she didn't want to sit down, either, so she wandered aimlessly, not seeing the plants in front of her and not caring anyway. She stopped once when her musings became too intense and stood and stared through the bushes and trees and her thoughts were not pleasant ones.

Her eyes wandered without seeing until all of a sudden she realized what was in front of her. A Queen Anne's Lace.

"Just a weed," she muttered as she bent down and viciously ripped it out by the roots. Then she noticed there were more. She crouched down and ripped them up, too. She tossed them over the stone wall and sighed. Somehow, the very act of destruction was deeply satisfying. But there were still more that needed to be pulled.

She knelt down then, ripping up Queen Anne's Lace first in one spot then the other. When they were all up and she had sent them all sailing over the wall, she sat back on her heels, disgruntled that there was nothing more to rip up. Then she noticed a rock in the flowerbed that didn't belong. Actually, there were several rocks, and not one of them belonged in her garden. She plucked them up and gathered them into a little pile on the ground, then bounded up to her feet. She took one in her hand and with all her might she lobbed it over the wall and heard a thud as it hit a tree. Now, that felt good. She picked up another and threw it and another and another, and the little pile of rocks got smaller and smaller. Lifting a particularly large and heavy rock, she brushed back a loose tendril of hair that had fallen into her eyes and drew her arm back, ready for another throw when suddenly she heard her name called.

"Mary!"

Startled, she turned her head, lost her balance, overcompensated, and fell backward, sitting down hard in the most undignified fashion. She didn't even try to be nice as she felt a pair of arms around her helping her to her feet.

"Norman Douglas, must you be forever sneaking up on people?" She asked irritably as she shook the dust off her skirt.

"What were you doing throwing rocks like that?"

He looked amused, and she refused to dignify his question with a

response.

"Somebody ought to put a bell on you," she declared in her haughtiest manner.

"I came here to see you," he said, ignoring her rudeness.

"Congratulations. You found me," she said curtly.

But Norman, never a patient man, couldn't ignore that. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

"Not a thing. What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. Right now."

Marybeth drew herself up and sniffed. "Well, maybe I don't want to be ordered around like that."

He threw his hands up, frustrated. "Nobody's ordering you..."

"Well, it sounded to me like you were trying to make me talk to you."

He took a deep breath, trying not to loose his temper. "I only came up here because I've barely seen you at all recently..."

His tone put her on the defense. "I've been busy--and I don't like having to explain myself."

"You could at least be civil, woman. And your attitude--that isn't what I came here for!"

Marybeth knew he was angry and in a detached sort of way thought that he could probably be quite terrible in his anger. But she herself was beyond caring who was angry with her. Furthermore, something perverse inside her was enjoying baiting him.

"Why did you come here?" she taunted.

"Hanged if I know," he burst out.

"Then leave me alone and stop bossing me."

"Maybe I should just leave altogether and go home."

"Fine. Go."

With a roar, Norman shouted, "That's what I'm doing, by..."

"Hush," she said as she stepped forward with a swift movement and put her hand on his arm. She cocked her head to one side. "They're coming up from Rainbow Valley."

He was still furious, but at her touch he changed his mind about leaving.

"Mary--meet me there tonight."

"What?" She put her hands on her hips. "There you go, bossing me again."

"Confound it, you want to see bossing? Meet me there tonight or I'll come up here after you."

She stared at him. "I do believe you would." After that flash she was simmering down, and the absurdity of the whole fight was beginning to dawn on her. But she was not ready to give in to him that quickly.

At that moment Anna came through the gate, with one arm around Jomishie's shoulder. At the sight of her mother, the younger sister broke away and came running up to Marybeth.

"Mama, I bumped my head," she said, mouth quivering.

Marybeth scooped her up, big girl though she was, and tucked her onto her hip. She kissed the little girl's forehead. Norman was looking at her over the child's head and their eyes met.

"Well?" He asked. "What's your answer?"

Marybeth could hear the sounds of the other children as they came up from the Valley. She felt a moment's frustration to be caught by him like this. She couldn't say out loud what she really thought of his high-handed doings because she didn't doubt that he would argue with her regardless of who was listening.

"Fine. The answer's 'yes'." Then Marybeth turned and walked into her house, still carrying Jomishie.

xXxXxXx

He found her later that night standing on the bank of the pond looking out over the water. She had thrown a shawl loosely around her shoulders because the air was a bit nippy. Before he could say anything, she spoke first.

"Listen, Norman. I just discovered this--listen to how sound carries across the water here." She cleared her throat and took a breath:

"Farewell to old England forever

Farewell to my rum culls as well

Farewell to the well known old Bailey

Where I once used to cut such a swell..."

"That sounds like an old sea chanty," Norman remarked as they walked towards the grassy glade at the bank of the brook. Marybeth replied, "It's not--it's Australian--it's called 'Botany Bay'. Oh, don't look at me like that. What did you expect me to be singing, 'Dixieland'?"

"Or 'Molly Malone', with you being Irish and all."

"Don't be ridiculous--'Molly Malone' is about a woman from Dublin. My father's family came from Galway. Not that much of my family is left in Ireland anymore. The Brodies mostly emigrated to the US, although I do remember hearing some of our Cleary cousins emigrated to the Antipodes..."

She knew she was rambling in an attempt to avoid saying something she didn't want to say. But she couldn't put it off forever. She stopped abruptly and shook her head as if to clear it.

"I'm afraid you caught me in a bad mood earlier." She held out her hand in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

He took her hand and placed it over his heart.

Embarrassed by this oddly intimate gesture she pulled back her hand and turned away.

"Durn it all--I knew you'd do that."

"Do what?"

"Yank your hand back like you'd burned it on the stove."

"How you do run on."

"No, confound it, I'm not running on," he insisted heatedly, so that she turned back to look at him. "You've been doing this all summer. First you act as if you welcome my attentions, then the instant I touch you act like a flustered schoolgirl."

"I do not. I just--I just..." She wavered under the piercing look he gave her.

"Why did you come here tonight?" He demanded.

She was taken aback by the question. "You said if I didn't come willingly you would come get me anyway."

He struck out sideways, impatiently. "How long have we known each other?"

"The whole summer, I suppose. Almost as long as I've been here."

"You've held me at arms length for that whole time."

She blushed as she thought back to some of their earlier meetings, but she tried to speak lightly, "I'd hardly call it arm's length..."

"What do you want, Mary? What do you want from me?"

She put her hands over her face. She really didn't know and his intensity was a little frightening.

"Have you been toying with me?" He persisted.

The question hurt her. She never meant to toy with him. It probably looked like that to him, but it wasn't on purpose. She looked at him and shook her head no.

"Then am I to believe you don't know your own mind?"

She laughed abruptly, a laughter tinged with hysteria. "Yes, it's true. Although I don't expect you to believe me."

He looked at her sharply. "You're wrong. I do believe you." He crossed his arms. "But tonight there's going to be an end to it. You have to decide."

"Decide...?" She asked a little fearfully.

"You have to decide what you want from me."

"Oh, Norman," she whispered.

"Never mind those tragedy airs. My intentions have been clear from the very beginning. And now I want an answer."

Stung and a little angry, Marybeth crossed her arms, unconsciously imitating his gesture. "What if I disagree with you, Norman? Maybe I don't want to do things this way. What if I decide not to choose? Then what?"

"Then I'll leave you alone and not bother you again." As if to emphasize his point, he ducked under a branch of the Tree Lovers, putting some distance between them.

"Are you saying you wouldn't be my friend anymore?" The idea made her more than a little sad.

"Mary, you're not a child, but sometimes you talk like one. You should have figured out by now that mere friendship would be impossible between us."

She was shocked at this rather blunt speech.

"That sounds rather presumptuous," she said indignantly. "Besides--besides--well--it's not that simple."

"Why? What's not simple about you and me?" He demanded.

"All right, you want to know? Fine. Norman, I'm leaving in two weeks."

"I know."

"I might not be coming back again."

He shrugged.

"Are you willing to accept that?"

"I've always known you were just here on vacation."

"It's easy for you to say that now, but," she clasped her hands together. "Maybe it won't be that easy to say goodbye--later."

"Don't worry about how I'll feel--that's my problem to worry about."

"No," she looked down and her voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't understand. Maybe I won't find it that easy."

She heard a rustle and looked up. He had moved closer to her, but the mapleside branch of the Tree Lovers was still between them and he rested his hand on it. He was peering at her intently and she knew she had his full attention on her every word and motion. But he didn't speak as she stood there trying to sort out her feelings.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She cried out in frustration.

"Oh no, Mary. You won't get out of it that easily. Or by pretending that you've felt nothing this whole time. That first night I saw you--I told you I come down here sometimes in the night. Have you asked yourself why you've come back down here, time after time, when you know I might be here...Or do you come back because you know I might be here?" His voice was beguiling, insinuating. She felt that lightminded dizziness--the same thing she had felt that afternoon at the fence--creep over her as he spoke. "If you like to wander late at night, why do you come back here? Why not to the shore? Or up the main road out of town?"

It was true. He was right. She did hope to see him all those times. Whether he exasperated her or beguiled her, she wanted to see him. She ducked under the branch where Norman rested his hand, brushing him lightly as she did. He couldn't help looking at her appreciatively, and he also couldn't resist taunting her a bit. "Aren't you afraid to be here alone--with me?"

A tremor went through her at his words. She had never been afraid of Norman, but of the feelings he evoked in her. His volatile and unpredictable nature kept her on alert, made her feel alive. And now she couldn't put off the inevitable anymore, didn't want to put it off.

Despite his resolution to himself not to touch her until he heard the answer from her mouth, he leaned forward and murmured into her hair, "Have you decided then? What do you want? Tell me."

Rising up on tiptoe, she linked her hands behind his neck. Her face was only inches from his and she was gratified by the look of surprise in his eyes.

She paused. "Carpe Diem?" She said, barely above a whisper as she swayed towards him.

There was only one answer she expected him to give to such an invitation and he didn't disappoint her.