Chapter 3

On Sunday morning after the service, Anne stood with Susan surrounded by a large group of woman from the congregation of the Glen St Mary Presbyterian church. Anne's smile was pleasant, and proud mothers presented their children to the new teacher. Several of the trustees of the school stood at the gate to the churchyard, nodding in contentment. They had inspected the improvements to the building, including a railing under the chalkboard to make writing easier without using her cane. Anne had been deeply touched by the community's willingness to accommodate her, promising herself that she would do her very best for the little school. After Anne had met everyone, Cornelia Elliot, who had been standing guard over the young woman gave her a knowing smile. She had visited the little stone house in due course and had unhesitatingly pronounced Anne to be of the house that knew Joseph. Anne would be joining the Elliot's for dinner that day.

Anne was charmed by the view from the Elliot's house, which overlooked the sapphire waters of the St Lawrence Gulf. To her delight, the ocean was visible from the sitting room, and after dinner, the two women sat down in the pleasant room to have a cosy chat.

"So I fancy you met a good deal of us this morning, Miss Shirley," she commented briskly. "Are you all set for tomorrow?"

Anne nodded, with a thankful smile. "Yes. I am quite looking forward to getting to work."

Cornelia's eyes fell on Anne's walking stick. "Now, the busybodies will want to know how you're planning on teaching with that; have you given some thought on how to answer them?"

Anne's look was chagrined, however, she nodded. "I have some plans that I have discussed with the board, and I am fairly confident that it won't be an issue."

The older woman was stern, then. "I'll be sure to squash it if I hear any; it's hard enough for a woman in the world right now, I don't see that we should be running each other down when there is work to be done."

Anne sipped her tea and spoke without thinking. "I suppose the curiosity as to how I will handle it isn't surprising. I find myself wondering that as well."

Cornelia's look was sympathetic, and she bent forward to talk seriously. "Miss Shirley-"

Anne smiled. "Mrs Elliot, I do wish you would call me Anne. I fancy I will be Miss Shirley to most of the village for the foreseeable future."

The older woman looked at her guest with humour. "And my friends know me as Miss Cornelia. I would be grateful if you would use that, Anne dearie." At Anne's puzzled look, she chuckled. "I only married Marshall last year." She looked at the young woman compassionately. "Your injury must only be fairly recent, I think."

Anne's face paled, and yet curiously, she found herself willing to talk to the enigmatic lady. "It is, I suppose. It happened in November last year." She was silent for a few minutes and looked over to meet kind, brown eyes. "I was teaching in Summerside, and while I was at school last year I had a bad fall." There was quiet in the room, and Miss Cornelia pressed Anne's hand in her own. Anne smiled, her eyes distant. "I was in the hospital for several months- and the bones didn't heal as well as they hoped. Summerside were willing to have me come back to my position- however, I couldn't keep up with the pace of the school any longer. I needed to find work somewhere quieter, somewhere I could maintain a smaller classroom. And I am very grateful to find myself in the Glen."

Miss Cornelia was thoughtful. "As glad as we are to have you here, were there no places close to your hometown then? Do your family not wish you closer?"

At the look of pain that came to Anne's face, Miss Cornelia saw that an invisible line had been crossed. "Forgive my curiosity, dearie. There are precious few secrets in a small town, as I am sure you are well aware- and you are easily the most interesting thing to come here in a year."

Anne gave a slight laugh. "I understand, Avonlea is much the same."

Cornelia looked up with some astonishment. "Avonlea?"

Anne smiled. "Yes, on the north shore."

"Well, then, you must know Doctor Blythe."

Anne's breath caught, and her cup clattered onto the ivory saucer. She placed it down on the table beside her, a shaking hand smoothing her black crepe skirts. "I- I know of the family, yes. Is it-" she drew in a deep breath and willed her voice to stop trembling. "Is it the senior Doctor Blythe?"

"No, dearie. He passed away a year ago, I'm afraid. His great-nephew took over the practice."

"So- his- his nephew- is here-"

"Great nephew, yes dearie. He's smart enough, I grant you- still thinks he can cure the common cold no doubt- but so far folks around here are fairly happy with him."

Anne gave a faint smile and exhaled. "Well. If anyone could cure it, it would be Gilbert." At Miss Cornelia's incredulous look, Anne hastened to explain. "He and I went to school together. He is quite- quite exceptional."

Miss Cornelia looked at her shrewdly. "What do you think of him then, dearie?"

Anne's face was a study as she tried to form an answer, however, in the end, no reply was necessary- the last word belonged to Miss Cornelia.

"I quite agree with you. I'd never tell him that, though."

When Marshall Elliot dropped Anne home to the cottage, Anne slipped inside and leaned her head against the door with a long sigh of relief. She sat down at the table, removing her hat absently as she looked out of the window. Outside grey clouds were building, and Anne shivered at the thought of the long winter ahead. She gave an involuntary flinch, unable to prevent herself from imagining a silent green gabled house buried in snow. The white would cover the little graveyard too, over firs that whispered over those most loved.

Anne eventually pushed herself up from the table and began to prepare a bath in the washroom at the foot of the stairs. Within half an hour, she sank into a tub filled with the hottest water that she could manage. The lavender blooms that she had scattered over the water perfumed the air, and she lay her head back on the rim of the tub and closed her eyes, long strands of red hair swirling in the water that lapped around her shoulders.

So Di was right. He was here.

The thought didn't frighten her as much as she would have expected- and then she gave a wry chuckle. She hadn't lied to Diana- she couldn't afford for it to matter now. She supposed he would see her very little in the course of his work. Somehow picturing him as a doctor was difficult- she couldn't place the image of the boy she had known against the multitude of robed surgeons and white-coated physicians she had endured in the past year.

She raised her foot out of the water with some difficulty, inspecting it as she had been instructed. The ugly scar on the front of her shin made her pause, closing her eyes with thankfulness for the surgeons who had mended it as best as they could. She had been told it was a miracle to not be confined to a wheelchair- although Anne pessimistically felt that that could just have been a result of her stubbornness.

When the water began to cool, Anne climbed out of the bath and onto the mat that Marilla had woven, drying herself carefully. She slipped into her nightgown and robe, and moved out to the sitting room to sit before the fire to dry her long hair.

How would he react? Did he know that she was there yet? She shivered, remembering the words she had last heard him speak, the pain of the last time she had seen him. Had six years been long enough to forgive her, to forget? Could he allow her space in the town he had made his home? Unexpectedly she felt her pride begin to smart. Would he think that she had changed, that she had grown old? Her eyes fell on the wooden stick by the door and the heavy black garments hanging from a rail, and she covered her face for a brief moment with her hands.

Eventually, she rose to her feet, her chin rising. Pity wasn't relevant, she had realised that months ago. She couldn't stop others from doing it- she remembered well Phil's stumbling when she had visited her last year. She could not afford to succumb to it herself. It was simply a fact of life now. And Gilbert was a doctor- surely the injury would not unsettle him, surely he could look past it.

After a quiet supper alone, Anne checked that her school satchel was ready for the morning, and took herself to an early bedtime. Susan would be home later, she knew, and it was with relief that Anne blew out the lamp, the darkness in her room absolute on a night without starlight.

Remembering the wizened old doctor who had sat by her side through the long nights in the ward, she closed her eyes. Breathing in, and breathing out. Focusing on one moment, and then letting it surrender to another. When tomorrow came, she would be at work once more, and would find her place in a world that had felt alien for far too long.

Within a week of Miss Shirley's tenure with the school, the town was buzzing with reports of the new teacher. The girls adored the lady with the curly red hair and pretty smile, and the boys were pleasantly surprised- not that they would admit that to anyone. All one young man would say was that Miss Shirley was not as bad as he had expected.

On Friday night Miss Shirley hosted an informal meeting at the school to greet the parents of her class, and answer any questions they had. The outcome was mostly positive, and as Anne remarked caustically to Susan, it saved her the trouble of explaining herself twenty-three times. Anne answered questions about the meal breaks, her opinion on how young a child could reasonably be before they were sent to school, and her background in teaching. Most were quite impressed, and by the weekend Anne was being invited everywhere for dinner, leaving Susan to state that it made her an easy person to cook for.

On Saturday night it was Penny Winston flying around in a ruffled apron, preparing the meal that had her beloved niece wild with excitement. Her brother had been pushed from his own kitchen by the commotion and complained that Miss Shirley had better be worth all of the fuss- and was subsequently met with a round of scolding. Andrew had asked her vaguely if she could 'do a thing' for Lizzie's new teacher, causing Penny some anxiety, wanting to have the evening go just right.

Promptly on time, the doorbell rang, and Penny pulled the apron from her pretty lavender dress to go and greet her guest, with Andrew and Lizzie close behind.

Half an hour later, Anne was settled in the elegant room talking to Lizzie's father, stopping every now and then to listen to the little girl. Andrew Winston found himself pleasantly surprised at Miss Shirley's company. She was witty and interesting, and there was something oddly familiar in the way she spoke. It was only when he learned of her hometown that he made a sudden connection in his mind- however, there was no time to comment any further, as the doorbell had rung again. He gave an amused smile, seeing Penny's hand move to her hair, and as she flew from the room, he turned to the lady he guessed to be a little younger than himself.

"We're expecting a friend of ours for dinner as well, Miss Shirley. That way you can meet us all at once."

Minutes before the door to the brightly lit house opened, Gilbert stood on the doorstep with a posy in one hand, breathing deeply. There was no reason to be nervous. Andrew had invited him to come that morning, adding with unconcern that the town's new teacher would be in attendance as well. Gilbert paid that little heed- he supposed he would meet her sometime, especially if she became unwell. He surmised that she was likely some lady who had fallen on hard times and needed a soft place to land. He instantly dismissed her from his mind. No, the thing to do was to speak to Penny at once, to ask her to dinner next Friday night. As he wrestled with a nagging feeling that somehow it was all about to go horribly wrong, Gilbert heard footsteps and he was dazzled by the light from the entryway. Penny welcomed him inside, accepting the flowers he offered with pleasure.

"Gilbert, this is so thoughtful! Come into the kitchen, I'll find a vase for them now." She led him down the narrow hall, knowing that her guest would be well occupied for a time. "I'm so glad you could come, Andrew wanted some male company, I believe. He was worried that a ladies tete-a-tete might prove uninteresting."

Gilbert immediately began to relax, seeing her so comfortable as she filled the vase with water for the flowers. "Well, the least I can do is save him from that."

Penny chuckled. "There, now. Come, Gilbert, we owe it to Miss Shirley to not keep her waiting."

Gilbert had taken two steps before the name registered, and a jolt that had nothing to do with Penny's hand on his arm shot through him. His face paled, however at Penny's inquiring look, he assembled his features into something approaching a smile. "I'm- I'm sorry, what was the name?"

"Shirley, I believe. She's lovely Gilbert. A little older, and so wonderful with Lizzie."

The word 'older' made him breathe again, and he found himself babbling. "Older, yes. And- and crippled, too, apparently-"

There was a dull pounding in his head, and he fought to keep his face steady. As they walked down a hall that seemed ridiculously long, he could only hear the sound of his own breathing in his ears. A few more steps and the insanity would pass. He would see that it wasn't her- this was haunting with a vengeance. There was no Miss Shirley anymore, only a ghostlike Mrs Gardiner. And she wasn't crippled, she wasn't-

He felt Penny's tug on his arm and stepped into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and as the sound inside his head reached a feverish pitch, he felt every ounce of colour draining from his face. His eyes were on the lady in black who had risen from the sofa, a walking stick in her hand. Gilbert Blythe felt everything he thought he knew come crashing down around him, as for the first time in six years he looked into the pale face of Anne Shirley.

Whether the moment lasted an eternity or mere seconds, Anne caught the bewildered expression on Penny and Andrew's faces. Seeing that Gilbert was unable to respond, she gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I believe Doctor Blythe is- rightfully- a little surprised. We were classmates, at school and at Redmond together." Her voice shook slightly, and she unconsciously moved the walking stick behind her.

Penny looked at Gilbert in surprise, wondering why he hadn't spoken. "Well, how lovely that the two of you could catch up again."

After a prolonged silence, Gilbert gave a slight nod. "Yes. It's good to see you."

Anne's smile faltered at the way he stood so stiffly, and she was relieved when Andrew suggested that they move into the dining room for dinner.

The success of the meal was largely due to Penny and Andrew, who kept the conversation going. Penny looked at Anne in askance, wondering why her presence should cause Gilbert to be so quiet. She talked to her pleasantly, wanting to smooth out any awkwardness. Anne was well read and intelligent, and Penny saw with surprise that her brother was extending himself to talk more than he usually would. Anne, she noticed, was eating very little, stopping now and then to answer Lizzie's bubbling questions. No, it was all quite puzzling.

When Penny spoke to Gilbert he found that he could look at least look at her calm face, that it stopped him from looking at her. And he wouldn't. He could feel the headache forming, wondering how early he could excuse himself. Behind the face that was outwardly stoic, rage was beginning to pulse through his veins, a myriad of questions that had no discernible answer. He listened to the voice that inexplicably sounded so different now, as if something had gone from it. No, this was madness- he was seeing only what he expected to see, it wasn't real-

Just before Penny took a protesting little girl to bed, Anne felt warm little arms come around her waist and bent to say goodnight to Lizzie with a smile. She thanked Penny for her kindness, saying that she really must be getting home.

"Miss Shirley, Andrew can take you home," Penny protested, looking to him for assistance.

Anne gave him a smile intended to reassure, telling him that her home was only a short walk away. "And you know every good teacher needs her exercise," she added lightly. "Thank you very much, Mr Winston."

Andrew was no fool, and had watched his friend curiously all night. He allowed her to go, hoping that Gilbert would be able to shed some light on this interesting development. He was about to walk her to the door, when he was called by Penny to say goodnight to his daughter.

Anne wouldn't meet Gilbert's eyes, and took her coat from the chair it had been placed on. He was standing in the doorway, and she was silent, willing him to move to allow her past. She had barely heard his voice all evening, and it was a shock to hear him speak now.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

Anne drew in a deep breath, her head beginning to hurt. "I needed to find work," she said softly. "And the Glen school was hiring."

"And why here tonight?"

Anne recoiled from the barely-veiled anger in his tone, and carefully placed her free hand on the chair beside her, hoping to still her trembling hands. "You know it's customary for the community to invite the teacher for a meal. I didn't realise that you would be here either."

"And if you had?"

Anne looked at him, her voice gentle. "Then I would have come anyway. There is no reason for me to avoid an old friend." His expression told her how far from the mark she was, and her heart shrank.

Gilbert gave a bitter laugh. "Friends? Is that what we are?" Anne was silent, and he grew angrier at the way she lowered her head. He watched her turn towards the door, and in his humiliation fired one more shot, heedless of the damage it could do. "Just what is it you expect from me?" he asked mercilessly.

The look of agony that crossed her pale face made him start when she turned back to him, holding her coat against her chest. Her chin lifted, but her grey eyes were dull, and in a moment that hurt beyond anything he had ever experienced, Gilbert saw with stark realisation that the sparkling, fiery girl he had once loved was gone.

"I don't expect anything from you, Doctor Blythe."

And before an ashen-faced Gilbert could move, she walked past him and out of the front door.

Anne numbly stumbled up the pathway to her house, her fists desperately clenched against the rising tide of grief. She unlocked the door with hands that felt frozen, and as the warmth of the little house hit her like a wave she sank onto the wooden floor, her cane clattering to the ground. Unable to rise, and unable to fight the tears any longer, her hands came up to cover her face in anguish. The tight control she had over her emotions broke, and a cry that seemed to come from her very heart sounded through the cottage.

A very frightened Susan came running down the stairs to see her mistress sitting on the floor, weeping as if her heart had been broken. She looked so fragile, so childlike, and it was the maternal heart in Susan that took over now. She asked no questions, gingerly sitting beside her on the worn mat. She pulled a broken Anne tenderly into her arms, rocking her to and fro, hushing her gently.

"There, now, love. It will pass, dearie, it will pass."

Back at the Winston house, Penny came into the entryway carrying a hat. Gilbert was still staring at the door where she had been, and turned to look at Penny, his features blank.

"Gilbert? What's the matter? Does Miss Shirley know that she left her hat here?"

Her voice held such concern, and he could only look at her dumbly.

"She- she left."

"It's getting so cold out there- was she safe to walk alone?"

Gilbert's skin turned to gooseflesh, realising just what he had done. She had tried, she had at least been civil to him-

As the memory of her white face and pain filled eyes came back to him, the wave of nausea hit him suddenly, almost making him dizzy. She was crippled- what hell had she experienced? Whom had she lost? This wasn't the girl who had snubbed him so mercilessly at convocation, the one who had faced him in scorn during their school days. She was broken- and he had tortured her cruelly. What kind of man was he? What kind of doctor looked past an obvious injury to inflict more pain?

Sickly, he pulled his coat from the peg and walked outside, chased by a concerned Penny. "Gilbert, you forgot your scarf." She placed it in his hands as he reached his horse and buggy, and placed a hand on his arm. "Gilbert, are you sure you are quite well?"

The worry in her voice scorched him with shame, and he turned to give her a tortured smile. "I- I need an early night, that's all."

Penny stepped toward the horse, stroking its nose in a familiar manner. She smiled then, wanting to comfort him. "What was it that you called him?"

Gilbert cleared his throat, bleakly wishing for the night to swallow him whole. "Hippocrates."

"Ah, the father of modern medicine. And the one you gave your oath to, I believe," she said thoughtfully. "How does it go?"

She turned innocent blue eyes to face him, and his heart broke. The words seemed to make a mockery of all he had worked for, and his voice was dull as he spoke.

"First, do no harm."

(Please just trust me, okay?)

love, Cate.