Chapter 2

The bright moonlight shone down on the rider of the horse, and he swayed slightly in the saddle, his eyes sliding closed yet again. The tug of the reins in his hands brought him awake again as they passed a little house with ivy creeping up the stone, and he shook his head trying to focus on the road ahead of him. Thankfully the horse was as eager as he to get home, and within a short time the man was pulling off the saddle, almost falling asleep against the horse's flank as he brushed him down. Inside the house, he paused to rummage through the cupboard for the sandwich his elderly housekeeper had left out for him. The bread was stale and the jam inside gritty, but he ate it hungrily before dragging his feet to the bedroom on the lower floor. Taking only a minute to pull the boots off his feet, the man fell onto the sloppily made bed and within moments was asleep once more.

The morning sun was high in the sky when the shrill bell of the telephone cut through the air. Gilbert Blythe pushed himself up from the bed, squinting at the bright sunlight coming in through his window. He'd forgotten to close the curtains again. He sat up slowly, grimacing at the way his clothes had twisted around his body, and rubbed his lean face tiredly. By the time he had untangled himself from the blanket, Mrs Leary was knocking on the door.

"Doctor, the Perkins boy is better this morning, the parents said to not rush back."

Gilbert opened the door to his bedroom, to see Mrs Leary standing, her hands clasped disapprovingly.

"In your clothes again, Doctor Blythe?"

He shrugged, yawning. "Three babies last night. Two at the Flanagan's. I didn't get back till two."

The elderly lady tut-tutted, shaking her head. "These people, having more children than they can properly feed-" She walked off muttering, and Gilbert turned with a sigh to wash and dress for the day.

As he peered at his face in the mirror over the basin, he ran a hand over his stubbly jaw, his mind on the two houses he had visited. The Flanagan's were indeed poor, and yet Gilbert had felt unexpected envy as he watched the scene unfold before him. The proud father stood with his two older children, both tousled from sleep, but running to the bed to meet their new brother and sister. Their worn out mother was almost asleep already, and Gilbert left the nurse clucking over the newcomers in the crib, while their father bent to kiss the top of his wife's head and to usher the children from the room. Gilbert had closed the door to their house behind him with a pang. They were happy- they had each other. What more could anyone want?

A few streets over had been the other family- as the night had deepened, Gilbert had arrived in time to assist the birth of the Cooper's fifth child, and the atmosphere could not have been more different. A grunt was all Gilbert was given when the father was told another girl had been born, and Gilbert heard the outer door slam as soon as he turned to check on the baby's mother. He'd given her a grin, told her how well she had done. The cold look she had given him had made his smile falter, and he turned to the baby, busying himself with checking the tiny thing over. A door opened behind him, and a girl of about twelve came into the room, her apron worn and dirty. At the woman's gesture, the baby was handed to the girl, and Gilbert froze as she looked up at him. The dull look in her grey eyes pierced him, and it was with a jolt that he saw the freckles on her nose and the flinch she gave when the woman ordered her out with the baby.

He splashed the water on his face after shaving, closing his eyes and allowing himself to acknowledge the toll the night had taken. He donned the clean shirt his housekeeper had left on the dresser, tucking himself in and turning to adjust his tie. He gave a slight shiver as he exited his door, and resolutely shook himself.

It was going to be one of those days. A haunted one.

Twenty minutes later he had his horse saddled, and closed the barn door behind him. Setting off with an easy pace, his tired eyes studied the town that had become his home. As the street rose before him, he lifted his hat for a group of elderly ladies standing on the corner, all talking eagerly. His office was conveniently across from the smithy, and he spent a few minutes talking with Eric Jones, who stabled the horse whenever he was in town. The man's brown beard was neatly tucked into his leather apron, and he threw back his head and laughed at a comment the doctor had made.

An hour later he stood at the little stove in his tidy office, waiting for the kettle to boil. He'd been writing up his case histories, and words and names had started to blend into each other. He'd looked down at old man Adams' file, seeing with some astonishment that he was apparently almost eight months pregnant. Surely some coffee would help…

Just then, the bell on the door sounded, jolting Gilbert out of his abstraction.

"I do hope that's for me."

Gilbert turned to greet to the well-dressed man who ran the solicitor's office next door. "Alright, but we'll have to wait a bit."

Andrew Winston grimaced and grabbed Gilbert's coat from the peg near the door. "Nope. Come on, Mrs Sampson's got food too, and I'll bet you haven't eaten yet."

Gilbert laughed, and he pulled on his coat while Andrew turned the sign around, and the two men set off down the street. The trees that lined the streets were brilliant in their autumn dress of red and orange, and he breathed in the fragrance of the pines coming from the crossroads.

"Blythe, aren't you paying attention today?"

Gilbert turned in some dismay to see that Andrew had stopped outside the small tea room. "Sorry; long night. I've only had a few hours sleep."

Andrew rolled his eyes and pulled his friend in the door, striding up to the ladies behind the counter. Gilbert chuckled, watching the younger of the ladies bat her eyelids at the two of them.

"Patricia, the good doctor and I are in need of sustenance. Could you find it in your heart to provide us with nourishment?"

The woman shook her head with an amused expression, shooing the two men to the table. Andrew gave her an angelic grin, before sliding into his chair.

"See? No one goes unfed at Patty's place."

There was a small tightening of Gilbert's jaw, however, he couldn't help an ironic smile. So it was to be this kind of day- and he knew now why it was happening.

"So, Penny was asking after you this morning," Andrew commented lightly. "She's hoping you'll come for dinner tonight."

Two steaming mugs of coffee arrived at that point, and Gilbert was able to keep his uncertain expression hidden. "Are you sure the other lady in your life is keen for a visit from the doctor?"

Andrew laughed then. "Come on, Blythe, Lizzie adores you. She just doesn't like your cough medicine."

This made the Gilbert chuckle. Andrew's young daughter had complained bitterly about the medicine her father's normally nice friend had brought her last time he came around. In vain Gilbert had tried to make her take it, however, in the end, her father had to step in and insist.

Her aunt, however, was an entirely different matter.

The talk over the hearty meal was light, and Gilbert enjoyed the brief respite from his work. When Andrew left for an appointment Gilbert walked back down the street to his office, after being stopped by a blushing young lady, who asked if she could make an appointment with the doctor sometime. Noting the shiny new wedding band on her finger, Gilbert hid an amused smile and told her kindly to come to the clinic when she was ready. He shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk, idly watching the people moving up and down the busy street.

Penny Winston was Andrew's younger sister. She had come to live with him after the death of his wife, when little Elizabeth was only two years old. She had cared for her young niece wonderfully, and Gilbert knew that Andrew owed her an enormous debt of gratitude. He pushed back from his desk with a sigh. If he did go there for dinner, he knew just what he would find. Penny's pleasant smile would work on him as it usually did, and the some of the stresses of his day would begin to subside. She never complained if he was late, or if Andrew dragged him through the door unexpectedly; never grumbled if Lizzie refused to go to sleep in the evening. She was quiet and capable, and the look in her blue eyes was always restful.

In short, he'd nearly made up his mind to do it.

At midday, Gilbert set his black hat on his head and locked the office door. To those who lived within walking distance he dropped in, checking toes and ears and a young child's arm. He walked back to collect his horse from the smithy, who was deep in discussion with one of the school trustees. Gilbert waved to him as he left. He was mounting his horse when he spied two women walking into a bookshop, pausing infinitesimally as he thought he caught a flash of red hair.

Gilbert heeled his mount and left the street, his brow lowered. Every time, he thought with a grimace. Every single time he'd considered this his mind would begin to play tricks on him. As he got out on the open road, he nudged the horse into a run, needing the motion on the clear autumn day.

Haunting or not, it wouldn't work this time. Penny was pleasant and sweet, and she liked him- let the ghosts do what they may.

After he had collected the buggy for the longer drive, Gilbert looked appreciatively at the view from the top of the hill outside the town. Below him lay the road to the old lighthouse, and beyond that lay the gulf, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. Heartened, he drove the buggy up to the front of a vivid green farmhouse, calling a greeting to Marshall Elliot.

"Afternoon, Doctor. Cornelia's waiting inside, go on through. I'll take the horse."

Gilbert grinned, and walked in through the front door into the spacious sitting room, to greet a woman who was supposed to be resting. Instead, fully dressed with a cold compress on her forehead, Mrs Elliot was indubitably sewing.

"Mrs Elliot, I did suggest that you might be better off staying in bed today," Gilbert said tactfully.

The kind brown eyes fixed on the young doctor, and she sniffed. "And I suggested that there was precious little work that could be done from there, and at harvest time, no less!"

Gilbert sat down, stethoscope in hand to listen to her chest. "It was a rather nasty influenza, Mrs Elliot. I don't take chances with that." He placed his fingers on her wrist, looking at his pocket watch. "Is your head still hurting?"

"Oh, I suppose it still does from time to time," she admitted. "And I'm just as happy for the quiet right now. Although I would like to know what mischief is happening down in the Glen."

Gilbert gave her a puzzled look. "Mischief?"

Cornelia reached for a handkerchief with a groan. "The hiring of the new Glen teacher."

The young man looked unconcerned. "Oh? Who is he?"

Cornelia looked triumphant. "It's not a he, but a she, Doctor Blythe. An unknown she."

He had opened his appointment book while she talked, seeing nothing about the case to concern him. "I was unknown a year ago, Mrs Elliot," he said with a smile.

Cornelia sniffed. "And don't think that the jury is out on you either, young man." This made him laugh, and the woman sat up with a sigh. "Your great-uncle practised here for over forty years- at least we knew of your family. Heaven knows I've nothing against a single woman, and it may be she is of the house that knows Joseph- but crippled! How on earth is she supposed to teach?" she said, incensed. "When Matthew Crawford came to see Marshall about the horses I let him know what I thought of that."

Gilbert frowned. "Crippled?"

Cornelia pushed of the settee then, her brown eyes impatient. "Yes, walks with a cane, Mrs McPherson said." Cornelia shook her head. "As soon as I'm on my feet, I'll pay her a visit and see what's what- word has it that Susan Baker is installed as the hired help."

Gilbert stood up, packing his things away. "Well, if she is impaired, she'll need someone," he said diplomatically.

Cornelia rounded on him then, her eyes beady. "And what's this I hear about you and young Penny Winston?"

Gilbert gave what he hoped was a charming smile. "You know how quickly gossip spreads in a small town, Mrs Elliot. Miss Winston is the sister of a good friend."

"Hmmph," was all she would reply, and waited courteously for him to pick up his bag. "Well, I suppose, just like a man you'll think that you've cured me now, doctor."

Gilbert placed his hat on his head with a smile. "Mrs Elliot, I would never be so presumptuous."

She gave him a triumphant smile. "Well, it's clear your mother showed you some manners at any rate. We may keep you yet."

With a good-natured farewell, Gilbert walked to the front gate, where Cornelia's husband stood waiting with his horse. As he drove from the building that made the greenery around seem dull, he chuckled. Jeremy had warned him about this.

Almost fourteen months ago, Gilbert had been walking through the surgical ward of the Montreal hospital. His white coat was immaculate, and two harried young interns followed him, taking down notes and carrying patient files. He'd been about to step into the corridors when Jeremy accosted him.

"What do you think you're doing?" his enraged friend said, blocking his pathway, and making Gilbert look up, bemused.

"Rounds. What are you doing?"

"Trying to stop a friend from throwing his career away, that's what!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "Oh, stop being so dramatic."

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going to resign?"

A bored Gilbert thrust the file into the waiting intern's arms and strode down the brick halls. "My uncle died a month ago. He always wanted me to take over his practice."

Jeremy groaned. "Come on, let some other sap take the position, not you. Your career is here."

"Look, we can talk about this later-"

"No, we can talk about it now."

Gilbert stepped past him to turn to the elderly gentleman on the bed.

"Mr Samuels, how are we today?"

The gentleman dubiously looked past Gilbert to the impatient young man behind him.

"Did you want a second opinion, Doctor Blythe?"

Gilbert smiled charmingly. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's come for a refresher course. Now, Doctor Barnes, would you like to come over here and learn how to use a stethoscope?"

In front of the patient Jeremy would not retaliate, however, his face was scowling. "Thank you, doctor, but I'll take that lesson another time. Perhaps when you finish today we could chat about your methods."

The door closed behind him, and Gilbert smiled innocently as he went to take the patient's pulse.

"I say, he's a rather intense chap, isn't he?" the little man said in some surprise.

Gilbert grinned. "He is? I hadn't noticed."

Later that evening, when the day's work was done the two of them sat back in the leather chairs of the club to talk.

"Blythe, I don't know what you're thinking," Jeremy commented, and Gilbert shrugged.

"You know I always planned on general practice, the hospital was only ever a means to an end."

Jeremy glowered. "I thought that was just inexperience talking. You liked it here-"

Gilbert folded his arms. "Well, I did. But I was never going to stay here for good. I'd hoped to be in my own practice within the next twelve months. I'm tired of the politics of the place, and of people being treated like a number. Uncle Dave's death just- hastened it a bit."

Jeremy ruffled his thick blond hair crossly. "But out there, you'll never be clean again-"

Gilbert almost dropped his drink at that, beginning to laugh. "What?"

"You'll be tromping around farms to find your patients- always smelling like a horse- you'll have every mother throwing their daughter at your head, and the older families will keep you at arms length- and there won't be any pretty little nurses to hand you your coat and gloves when you walk into a room," he said pessimistically, making Gilbert chuckle.

"I'll also have the great outdoors, and I won't be cooped up in rooms that smell of carbolic acid."

"And what's worse: you won't have any backup, the nearest hospital will be hours away- you'll be woken up all night long with the phone ringing, you'll have to do operations on kitchen tables with no one to assist you-"

Gilbert gave a sigh of exasperation as he faced Jeremy. "Look, that's why I did this first. So that the community gets the experience of a hospital surgeon, making me better equipped to function independently. I admit that it wasn't the plan in the beginning, but it was still the right decision. I'm ready to do some real good in a community that needs me. I'm going, Jeremy." He sat back with a slight smile. "You could always come visit me on the island."

Jeremy grunted. "I'd like to see that. Look, you find me an interesting case, and I'll consider coming."

"Saw-bones."

"Glorified butcher."

The two men laughed, and Jeremy slapped him on the back. "Alright, I'll wish you well under protest. But don't come crying to me when your best suit smells like horse sweat."

Gilbert rode along the winding harbour road, his hazel eyes studying the horizon where the white sails of fishing boats could be seen coming into port. The crispness of the air, the wildness and roar of the ocean seemed to fire the blood in his veins, and he kicked the horse up to a canter. Past a little white house nestled beside a fir wood, past a grey house almost hidden by willows. Gilbert looked down at his watch, suddenly energised. Three more patients to check on, and then he would head for home. Some congenial company and a good meal was just what he needed.

That evening, when a tired Lizzie was put to bed after asking her father ever so many questions about the new teacher and the school she would attend, Gilbert sat in an easy chair across from Andrew, while Penny moved about making tea for the gentlemen. The fire crackled in the hearth, and Gilbert felt himself beginning to relax. Penny was lovely in a dress of pink, and on more than one occasion he had caught himself watching her, wondering what she would do if he asked her to go for a drive with him. Andrew had met his eyes with an amused look more than once, before taking pity on his guest and reading him an article of interest from the paper.

"Andrew, do we really need to discuss that murder case over tea?" his patient sister asked, after handing Gilbert a blue teacup. "I'm sure we can find something more interesting."

Andrew snorted. "You mean like the discussion about the new schoolteacher? That's all Lizzie could talk about."

Penny sat down on the chair closest to Gilbert, giving him a gentle smile. "She's only excited, Drew. It's her first day of school on Monday, and all the children are wondering what she will be like." She stirred her own tea, settling in the comfortable chair. "It's all the town can talk about too, it seems."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "The compact nature of rural life, I suppose. As long as she does her job, I don't see that it matters."

Penny looked thoughtful. "Do you suppose she really is crippled?"

Gilbert shrugged. "If she's teaching it can't be too bad. You need to be fairly limber to keep up with a classroom."

His friend chuckled. "That's right, you did a few years in the trenches, didn't you? I'm guessing it was so bad that it drove you to medicine."

Suddenly finding it hard to swallow, Gilbert cleared his throat, his eyes distant. "Best two years of my life, actually."

Penny's puzzled eyes swung to her brother's. Andrew soon changed the subject, and the moment passed.

When the big, old clock in the corner chimed ten, Gilbert gave a little sigh, and he stood to his feet. Of habit, he wandered to the fireplace, over which lay an ornate mantle in dark wood. Various family photographs were there, including a portrait of Lizzie's mother, and the little figurines she had loved. A tall, pale angel with auburn hair that had been her mother's, and a dainty girl in green standing beside a cherry tree all white with bloom. Carefully Gilbert picked up the figurine of a white china bird in a gilt cage, the green tips of its wings and face glowing in the firelight.

Penny walked to his side, a smile on her face. "You do seem to love that one, Gilbert. Why do you suppose that is?"

He set the figurine down with a sheepish look. "It reminds me of something, I suppose- although I don't remember what. My mother has hers over the fireplace too."

Penny handed him his jacket and hat, and Gilbert noticed with some chagrin that Andrew had made himself scarce again. He stepped away to shrug on the black overcoat, and the petite woman walked him to the door.

"Will we see you on Sunday, Gilbert? You know you're invited for dinner." Her smile was genuine, and he found himself smiling back.

"Of course- providing no one calls me."

The starlight shone overhead on a crystal clear night, the crisp air holding a hint of the winter to come. Penny was looking at him with contented eyes, and now that the moment was here Gilbert found himself recoiling from the question he had determined to ask. He stepped away with a small wave, his stomach churning. There was no rush, he had plenty of time. He would do it next time.

When Gilbert entered his empty house once more, he looked with a sigh at the fireplace that had gone cold. Mrs Leary did not work past five, and would not have thought to add more wood so late in the day. He went into his bedroom, pulling off his overcoat to throw over the rickety chair by his bed. As he stared out of the window that overlooked the empty street, the words of the minister's Sunday sermon came back to him.

It is not good that man should be alone.

Gilbert threw his boots into the corner and loosened the tie at his neck.

He'd been thinking about it for some time, why hadn't he just done it tonight?

Next time, it had to be next time.

Maybe he would take the buggy on Sunday, ask her to come for a drive through the town- since she had said that she was frightened of the sea.

As Gilbert fell onto his pillows once more, he closed the curtains around the old fashioned bed he had picked up at an estate auction. The heavy fabric blocked out the usual night time sounds, and Gilbert lay in the darkness, with only the sound of his own breathing for company. When he closed his eyes, another starry sky over distant tree tops floated across his mind, the ghostly remnant of a haunted day.

Before any voice could echo through his mind, he turned his face into the pillow, resolutely determined to sleep.

Ghosts, indeed.