Chapter 4

The train from Four Winds Harbour to Carmody rattled and clicked over the branch line, winding through logging camps and farming communities. Only hours after Gilbert had given up the attempt to sleep, he sat in the carriage on the train, his stare unseeing in the dull light of early morning. With no patients in need of urgent care, and instructions to his housekeeper to call Lowbridge in the event of an emergency, he did the only thing he could think of to do- to go home and find out what had happened from those who would know.

It was a hollow-eyed Gilbert who then knocked on his parents' door at eleven o' clock. Sonia Blythe's surprise was absolute, and with a cry she pulled him into a smothering hold in near-hysterics, her hat still on her head after coming in from church.

"Gilbert, darling, why didn't you tell us you were coming? We would have come to pick you up from the station! You must have been up so early this morning, dear. Were you quite warm enough? Did you bring another bag? Oh, and I haven't even got your room ready, I haven't dusted it in at least a week! John, do you think there is enough time to roast a chicken for tonight? And new potatoes, I know how you love those. Oh, it's been months since you were last here, in February, I believe- and I think we had chicken that night, as well. And a bread pudding with the raisins in it just the way you like it, dear."

"Ma-"

"Yes, dear- oh, and I should tell your Aunt Josephine that you're home-"

"Mother-"

John chuckled. "Let the boy get a word in, won't you?"

Gilbert's smile was forced. "Dad, Ma, I'm sorry, but I'm only here for the night, I have to get back in the morning."

Sonia Blythe's face fell for a moment, and then she sighed, giving her son a loving look. "Then we will just enjoy your company tonight." She pulled Gilbert into her arms once more and smiled as his arms came around her in a longer than usual hug. When he pulled away, at last, she studied him. "Dear, why are you here then?" she asked. At Gilbert's hunted look, John Blythe ushered his family into the warm sitting room, and he and his wife sat on the sofa to wait. With concern in their eyes, they watched Gilbert pace around the small room in silence, before throwing himself into the armchair by the window.

He drew in a deep breath, and with a sick feeling in his stomach finally forced the words he had been dwelling on from his throat.

"I- I need to ask you something," he said hoarsely. He ignored the worry in their eyes, focusing instead on the striped mat underneath his feet. "What- happened- to Anne?"

When he looked up, he saw his mother's face whiten. "Gilbert, you never wanted-"

"I know. But I need to know now." He folded his arms, a muscle in his cheek jumping. Her name had not knowingly crossed his lips in six years- and he saw with shame the look on his parent's faces.

"Why, son?"

Gilbert caught his father's sharp look and flinched. "Why?"

"Yes, why," John said deliberately. "You made it clear a long time ago that you didn't want it discussed, to our cost, I might add. We honoured that, however little we liked your avoidance of the subject."

"Dad-"

"So I'll ask you again, why?"

At no point did John raise his voice, but Gilbert still felt like the thirteen-year-old who was asked why someone had broken a slate over his head. He pushed aside the memory and answered in a resigned voice.

"Because she lives in the Glen now."

Sonia's look was panicked. "Oh, Gilbert! No wonder you are so upset. Why on earth did she go there?" she began, and was startled to see the look of self-disgust cross his face.

"Mama, her being there isn't about me. But I need to know what happened. Did something happen to Marilla? Why is she limping? Was she in some kind of accident?"

His mother looked at John pleadingly, not knowing what to say.

"Gil, Marilla died in May," John said tiredly. "It was sudden- her heart, I believe. Rachel moved away through the summer, and Green Gables was closed up."

Gilbert's hand was shaking as he ran his hand through his brown hair. "And what of the accident?"

He watched as his mother pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "No one really knows."

Gilbert looked back at her, aghast. "Mama, in this town? How can no one know?"

At this, a flash came into her eyes. "Because all anyone was told was that it had happened. When she came home for the funeral, she never spoke of it, and no one dared ask- leaving everyone to guess. Even Rachel was silent on the matter." She was quiet for a moment and sighed. "Diana is the only one who would know."

Gilbert stood up from his chair with a stubborn glint in his eye but was forestalled by his father. "Gil, I know you want answers, but charging over there at dinnertime isn't the way to do it. We've missed you, son. We know you have to work, and we know that you can't just up and leave your patients, but you're here with us now. Stay. Have dinner and then go over there when you're done."

Gilbert hesitated, and then nodded. "Of course. And I've missed you both too."

His mother stood then, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It is wonderful to see you, darling. I'd best go and get dinner on."

Gilbert sat with his father for some moments in silence.

"So you've seen her then?" John asked. He watched the pained look in Gilbert's eyes as he nodded, and gave a deep sigh. "It was a whole lot of hurt to come in one year. No one expected Marilla to go." He stood up slowly, then. "Well, I guess we'd better go help your mother."

Gilbert stood up too, pausing to rub his face with his hands.

"How was she?" John asked quietly.

A spasm seemed to hit his son's cheek as he turned from the room. "It's like she's not even the same person."

John sighed, placing a weathered hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. But she won't be."

When Diana opened her door to see Gilbert Blythe that afternoon, she was silent for long moments, prompting Fred to come and see who had arrived. He was as taken aback as his wife, however, he invited Gilbert to come inside. Gilbert was speechless the moment he came inside, seeing his friend's sturdy six-year-old son, and watching Fred instruct him to take Anne Cordelia outside to play while Jack slept. Gilbert watched them go with an almost physical ache in his chest.

"They're beautiful," he said to Diana quietly.

Fred looked at his wife's tense face and turned to Gilbert. "So, what brings you to town, Gil? What's it been, a few years?"

Gilbert cleared his throat uncomfortably. "A few months. I usually can't stay long when I come." He looked across at Diana, whose arms were crossed tightly.

"Di, I know you are surprised to see me after all this time," he said slowly. "But I came because I needed to ask you something."

Her voice was cool. "You live in Glen St Mary, now, don't you."

Gilbert swallowed. "I assumed that everyone knew that."

Diana shrugged. "As you can see, we didn't. You've been gone for a long time."

A frustrated Gilbert drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I know that I have."

"You want to know about Anne," Diana said bluntly.

Her forthrightness brought a sigh of relief from him. "Yes, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind." At the fury in her voice, Gilbert's head flew up. "There is only one person you should be asking that." Fred laid a calming hand on her arm and turned to Gilbert.

"So you know she's there too. Have you spoken to her yet?" he asked.

Diana watched the look of misery that crossed Gilbert's face, and tensed, her panic evident. "Gilbert, what happened?"

At this, his frustration broke. "Well, what do you think happened, Diana? I was completely blindsided! I haven't seen or heard from her in six years. She should have been far away from here, been married, looked after, whole- and now she's making a pittance teaching school in Glen St Mary of all places! Why is she there? What happened to her leg, and why doesn't anyone seem to know about it?"

A tear fell down Diana's cheek, and she folded her arms tightly. "Please, Gilbert, please tell me you didn't hurt her-"

Gilbert's shame was complete, and he dropped his head into his hands. After a moment, he spoke dully. "Di, I had no warning last night. She was there in front of me before I could even think. I know that I said something stupid, I don't even remember what- but I can't make it right it until I know what I'm walking into. And I can't just ask her- she would probably refuse to even see me now."

Diana's heart softened a little at the sight of his distress. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You aren't the only one who has come asking for information- and it's not mine to give." Her voice shook slightly, and she wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't do much to help her from here- but I will respect her privacy. If she won't talk to you, then that's her answer and you need to accept that."

Gilbert eventually nodded, and Diana sighed. "Gil, she's not who she was all those years ago. I've had to accept that. The accident changed her- and Marilla's death was so wholly unexpected. She won't even discuss it with me." She was quiet then, before her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Maybe one day she will talk to someone- maybe even you."

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Di, there's too much water under the bridge now. She's not the only one who changed. Whatever friendship we had is gone- I think the best we can do is just let each other be."

Diana's mouth trembled. "Gilbert, please don't make it worse for her. If that means letting this go without sorting it out, then do that. Don't make things any harder for her."

Gilbert stood up, then, unable to meet her eyes. "I won't." He looked at his childhood friends and swallowed. "It's been good to see you."

Fred placed his arm around Diana, and nodded. "You too, Gil. Maybe next time you can stay longer."

Gilbert gave him a half smile. "Perhaps. One day."

A few minutes later, Fred watched Gilbert walk down the lane alone and sighed, pulling his sobbing wife into his arms. He'd seen the pain she was going through on behalf of her beloved friend, he'd hoped it would ease a little when Anne was settled comfortably. For the sake of his wife's tender heart, he sent up a prayer that the situation would not get any worse.

The rain had been falling for an hour in the Glen on Monday night, when Anne found herself warmly tucked up on the lounge in the sitting room. Susan had laid her schoolwork beside her, clucking anxiously- an indulgent Anne had rolled her eyes when Susan scolded her for working in the chilly office, and given in to the blanket being placed around her with good grace. For the scare she had given her only two nights ago, Anne felt it best to submit- especially when Susan had been so good about her refusal to discuss what had happened.

Susan had tenderly tucked a still crying Anne into bed on Saturday evening, and sat knitting beside her bed for some time until she had fallen asleep. When Anne had awoken on Sunday morning, it was to a housekeeper in her Sunday best with a tray of food and stern instructions not leave her bed that morning.

For Anne, the morning had brought a unexpected sense of calm along with it- then she gave a weak chuckle. Either that or bone-shattering exhaustion had set in. Of necessity she had pushed all thoughts of Gilbert aside, moving around the house slowly until she had loosened up a little. Before Susan returned from church Anne was sitting on the back step in her robe with a cup of tea, the sunshine bringing much-needed warmth to her body. Wistfully she looked toward the tangle of roses, red, pink and white. Their branches were hopelessly tangled with thorns, long enough to dissuade even the keenest gardener from straightening out the mess. She would tackle it in the spring, perhaps.

Now, Anne stared out of the window at the rain falling, her work disregarded. In spite of the heart that still felt fragile, she had gone to school as normal, re-learning that it was possible to keep going. It was possible to smile again, to simply accept. Lizzie Winston had run up to throw her arms around Anne, chattering about the evening Anne had spent with her family. She had lamented not being allowed to show Anne her room, and Anne could smile, and tell her that she would see it next time.

Susan came into the room to check on her then, a clean dishcloth in her hand. "Now, Anne dearie, don't you think it time for you to be going to bed?"

Anne chuckled. "Susan, I'm fine." She caught the stern look her housekeeper gave her, and surrendered. "I will head there by nine at the latest, I could use some extra sleep."

"That is an understatement. I'll bring you tea shortly."

Anne stretched out on the sofa in the quiet of the room. The sound of the steady rain was soothing, and slowly, Anne began to relax. She thought of him then as she closed her eyes, remembering the look on his face, how silent and angry he had been. From his reaction Anne knew that he hadn't had any warning- she at least had a week to prepare herself to see him. Anne listlessly watched the gentle firelight. She had spoken truly when it came to her expectations of him. So long had it been, that very little was recoverable of who they once were.

The fresh grief for the friendship that had gone, for the boy she had known almost as well as she had known herself, had surprised her. Six years ago she had found herself in a new town, with new faces, new challenges- the grief back then had subsided over time, buried under routine and hard work. Or had she just learned to hide that from herself too?

Some time later, an exhausted Anne awoke from a short nap to the sound of distant voices in the kitchen. She blinked confusedly, and pushed herself up from the cushion, thinking that Susan would indeed scold her for not going right to bed- until she heard the timbre of the other voice alongside Susan's. A cold feeling went through her, and she sat up. She cautiously pulled herself to her feet, holding onto the sofa as she limped to the doorway, smoothing her hair back into the loose bun she wore. Through the open door, she heard Susan's voice.

"Miss Shirley was resting a short time ago, Doctor. May I help you with anything?"

There was hesitation in his voice, and Anne's eyes closed, praying for strength. "Miss Baker, I don't wish to disturb her. Would you ask Miss Shirley if she would be willing to contact me at some time?"

Susan appeared to be somewhat perplexed by his question. "Certainly, Doctor."

Anne cleared her throat, and two faces turned to where she stood in the doorway. Susan looked at her with concern, however Anne's glance at Gilbert was steady.

"Doctor Blythe, won't you come in."

Gilbert held his hat in his hands and walked ahead of her into the small room, as Anne asked Susan to bring in some tea. Gilbert remained standing until she sat down, unconsciously studying her gait and balance. That she was wary was certain, and she was paler than she had been two nights ago- but the calm on her face made him pause somewhat foolishly. How was he meant to begin? His eyes flicked to a photograph of Marilla and Matthew on the mantelpiece, and he took a deep breath.

"I want to apologise for my abominable behaviour the other night," he said, at last. When she had been silent for a time, he glanced at her eyes. There was an unknown expression in them, and she had her hands folded in her lap.

"It's alright, Gilbert."

Every other thought flew out of his head in his astonishment, and he found himself searching her face for signs of the girl he used to know. The red hair, the freckles were the same- and yet it defied description how changed she was. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and continued.

"It was ungentlemanly, and appalling of me to speak to you like that, especially when you were a guest in someone else's home."

Again, Anne's voice was quiet. "Gilbert, you don't have to do this."

At each word from her, Gilbert's frustration increased. "Anne, would you just let me admit that I was wrong?"

He was surprised to see a wry smile tug at her face. "As much as I would enjoy that under normal circumstances, I don't need you to do it," she replied, and looked at him honestly. "You- had no warning."

Gilbert's breath was taken away, and it was at this juncture that Susan brought the tray of tea things in, proceeding to pour a cup for each of them.

"Milk with one sugar, Doctor Blythe?" Anne asked, and at the return of his title he only looked at her in consternation- and then realised it was because Susan was in the room. He only nodded, and when Susan left the room she closed the door behind her. He tensed at this, however Anne only sat back on the chair, her cup untouched. It was then that he noticed her hands shaking slightly, and he saw that she was as uncomfortable as he was. She met his eyes then.

"You didn't know I was here."

Gilbert shook his head. "I- everyone talked about the new school teacher- I never heard a name."

Anne nodded. "My appointment happened fairly late in the summer. It's likely only the board knew."

Now realising how tired he was, Gilbert sat back in his chair. "It doesn't matter if you don't need it, I needed to say it. I should never have responded that way to you, no matter what state you and I were in."

Anne swallowed back the pain at his comment and answered him. "I understand more than you think." He only looked at her in consternation, and she gave a sigh. "You aren't a cruel person, Gilbert. You were just caught off guard."

To Gilbert, this was a fresh source of pain. "Did you know?"

There was a moment of silence, and then- "Yes. Diana knew there was a possibility that you could be here, although she wasn't sure. I found out you were from Mrs Elliot. As soon as she knew I was from Avonlea, she brought you up immediately."

Gilbert shook his head at the calm way she spoke. "And you were fine with that?"

Anne hesitated. "I thought after six years that it wouldn't matter to you that I was here."

"And it didn't matter to you that I was?"

He watched her smooth the fabric of her dress over her knees, her eyes on the black skirt. "Gilbert, I needed work. I applied to all the schools that were available, and the Glen was the only one who replied."

Gilbert cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Anne, I- I don't know how else to do this. You might say that it's none of my business, but I wondered about your accident."

Anne's cheeks seemed to grow paler, and he was about to retract his question, when she spoke, her eyes distant. "I was at school. I was carrying a box down from the archives to my office and slipped. Apparently, I fell down an entire flight of stairs."

Gilbert choked, his look horrified. "Apparently?"

Anne's face was shuttered. "I was knocked out by the fall, and didn't wake for several hours. The break was a compound fracture that didn't heal properly."

Gilbert had paled himself now, remembering how fine her bone structure had been. "You must have been in hospital for-"

"For several months, yes."

He tried to gather his thoughts somehow. "When did the accident happen?"

"November the eighteenth, last year. I was discharged to a rehabilitation clinic in Charlottetown in February, and spent another two and a half months there before I went home to Summerside. I only lasted two weeks before I knew I couldn't keep up with the multiple classrooms I was managing, and resigned."

Gilbert shivered at how matter of fact she sounded. "And you saw a doctor regularly?"

To his surprise, this made her smile faintly. "I saw every doctor, I believe."

"And they can do nothing more for you?"

Anne shrugged. "I can walk, albeit with a cane. I choose to see that as a success."

Gilbert hesitated. "And was- was anyone with you in that time?"

With dismay, he watched the signs of her drawing back, pulling her arms closer to herself. He'd often seen it in the older days if he got too close- but this was another thing entirely.

"She- Marilla came to me as soon as it happened, however, she couldn't stay. She visited every few weeks while she could."

"And did you never think of returning to Avonlea for good?" At the hurt look on her face, he backed off immediately. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."

Anne shook her head, her chin rising. "I had savings behind me after five years at Summerside, and the medical bills were able to be settled though that. There are ongoing matters though, and I wasn't going to put that on Marilla. I need to work."

At this Gilbert's face fell. She'd told him that the other night, and he'd behaved so cruelly-

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice dull. "I'm so very sorry. I didn't know. I thought you were married, I thought you were in Kingsport."

Anne had been calm and collected until this point, at this, she looked up in shock. "Why- why would you think that?"

Gilbert was stiff, his eyes guarded. "Because Josie Pye told me that you were the year after we graduated."

Anne's breathing was uneven, and she steadied herself against the chair. "I was never even engaged."

"But, Gardner-"

Anne herself at this point was fighting back tears that she desperately tried to hide. "I didn't accept him."

Gilbert swallowed hard. "So- Josie was- mistaken."

At this Anne closed her eyes, with the bitter memory of what Josie had informed her at Jane's wedding. She gave him a measured glance then.

"Yes. She was 'mistaken'." Anne drew in a deep breath. "No one ever seemed to know where you went after Medical school."

At this, Gilbert bristled slightly. "And no one thought to ask my parents?"

Anne's voice was gentle. "I didn't come home that often in the holidays. The school needed me to be there more, in the early years."

Gilbert gave a short nod. "I see. Neither did I."

Anne sighed, and chose to speak to him honestly. "I meant what I said, Gilbert. I don't have any expectations of you. It's been a long time since we talked. This is where your practice and your home is, and I am just here to teach school. You don't owe me anything."

Gilbert stood then, unable to handle the calm way she spoke. "How can you be so indifferent to all of this?" he asked, his voice agitated.

"I'm not indifferent-"

"And how could you just let me speak to you that way? That isn't the Anne Shirley I knew-"

Anne's voice grew heated, now. "With all due respect, Gilbert, after all this time, how would you know?"

"Then fight back!"

Anne rose to her feet, her eyes green. "No," she stated furiously. "I won't. It is a fight to walk. It is a fight to make a new life, and it's a fight to get up in the morning. It's a fight to convince people that I still have the ability to be useful. I don't have the energy to fight battles that don't matter anymore. Whoever I am now is completely irrelevant to you. Gilbert, I am happy for you. I am glad that you have everything you dreamed of. But if you are expecting me to pick up where we left off at Convocation and continue this cold war between us, then I won't."

As the two of them faced each other across the little room, Gilbert let out a long breath. "Well, that sounded like you again," he said after a minute.

"You see? I'm not dead yet." Her voice was ironic, and he looked up in shock to meet her grey eyes, a slight smile on her face.

The memory of the fanciful girl she had been seemed to hover in the room like a ghost, and Gilbert eventually swallowed and nodded. "I should be going, I haven't had much sleep lately- I'll leave you be."

And Anne, who was not nearly as stoic as she had pretended to be faltered at his final words. "Yes. I'd better go to sleep too. Susan is a mite over-protective right now."

Gilbert followed Anne from the room, watching the way she relied on her cane. "That stick is too short for you," he said gently. Anne turned to him, startled. "You might want to find one with an extra inch or two."

Anne looked down at it in shock. "Oh. It was Marilla's."

"You were taller than Marilla." He took up his coat from the chair Susan had placed it on and turned to Anne, who flinched at the look on his face. He spoke then, his voice tight. "I deeply regret my behaviour to you the other night. I will never speak to you so disrespectfully again." He paused and rubbed his brow tiredly. "I'm glad you found somewhere safe to land. I'm so sorry that you got hurt. And I'm so very, very sorry about Marilla."

Gilbert saw Susan appear in the doorway of the kitchen, and nodded to her. He turned towards Anne, unable to meet her eyes this time. "Miss Shirley."

"Good night, Doctor Blythe."

He turned, and was gone, leaving Anne with tears streaming down her face. Susan came to stand beside her, watching her protectively. "Anne? Are you alright?"

She drew in a shaking breath. "Yes. I'll be heading to bed now, Susan. Thank you for all of your help."

Susan turned to the doorway to where Doctor Blythe had been, her look bewildered. Just who had he been to her?