Chapter 5

For the next few weeks, Gilbert threw himself into work with a feverish zeal. Catching up on unfinished paperwork, driving across the countryside at all hours to visit patients and researching late into the night. He had always been a conscientious worker, however he refused to admit yet that his frenetic pace had anything to do with the turmoil in his personal life. As the weather grew colder the phone seemed to ring constantly, and he found little time to call at the Winston's house- although the relief that this occasioned should perhaps have told him something.

The day after his thirty-first birthday, he sat in his office downtown writing up case notes and checking his inventory. The apothecary had told him he would be making one last order this month, and Gilbert was on a ladder out the back when he heard the bell ring.

"I'll be right with you," he called, and then nearly fell off the platform at the sight of Andrew Winston standing almost directly underneath him. He climbed down from the ladder, breathing hard. "Did you have to do that?"

"Yes. Why haven't we seen you?"

Gilbert took a look at his friend's scowl and sighed. "I'm sorry. I've been busy."

"I can see that. We haven't seen you in weeks."

"You know what the change of season is like, everyone's getting sick-"

"Do I need to get sick to get you to come over for dinner?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Don't bother. I'll make time. This weekend?"

Andrew grinned. "Saturday it is. But come on, it's lunchtime right now."

The two men walked down the street, and Gilbert drew in a breath at the scenery he'd barely noticed. The October colours were everywhere- he felt the chill in the air and found himself inexplicably wondering how warm the schoolhouse was. Quickly he shook himself and tried to pay attention to Andrew's conversation.

At the tearoom, Andrew sat watching the distraction on Gilbert's face.

"So, what's going on, Gil?"

Gilbert looked up, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Andrew smiled at Mrs Sampson as she refilled the coffee cups. When she walked away, he sat back. "You haven't been yourself, lately. And I couldn't help but notice that the last time we saw you was when we met Miss Shirley, who also happens to be from your hometown."

Gilbert placed his mug down on the table to control the shaking in his hands. "I don't see what that has to do with anything-"

Andrew sighed, folding his arms. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm adding two and two, and getting six. And I think I'm right."

Gilbert snorted. "That's how lawyers add up?"

When he only looked at him, Gilbert's smile fell. "Fine. I knew her. A long time ago."

Andrew looked at him, his eyebrows raised. "And?"

"And nothing. I knew her."

Andrew looked surprised. "I expected at least to hear a story of unrequited love, with the way you reacted."

Gilbert exhaled. "You've been reading too many novels. But you couldn't have told me her name when you invited me to come?"

"What would that have done?"

It could have stopped me from behaving like a complete idiot-

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "At least I wouldn't have looked so stunned. I might have been able to talk a bit more with some warning."

"You've never been a great talker, old fellow. That wasn't so strange."

This made Gilbert pause rather foolishly. Was that really how Andrew saw him?

"Then what makes you think anything is wrong?"

Andrew sighed. He'd hoped that this would be easier. "Talk to me, Gil. Did you and she have some kind of history?"

Gilbert pushed his plate away, his face pale. "Alright then, yes."

"And are you going to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Fine, we'll do it your way," Andrew said impatiently. "I'll ask, you can choose to answer or not. Were the two of you involved?"

"No."

"Were you in love with her?" When all that met him was stony silence, Andrew sighed and moved on. "So it ended badly."

"There was nothing to end," Gilbert said angrily, unable to help himself. "She was my best friend. I loved her, but she didn't feel that way about me. So when I proposed, she turned me down. We barely spoke for the last two years of college, and as far as I knew, she was with someone else and was going to marry him. I went back home after college for the summer and nearly died of typhoid, and I didn't see her even once. And then, without warning, after six years of assuming she married him and was living in some castle in Spain, she suddenly turns up in your sitting room, barely able to walk, in mourning and teaching at a little school in the middle of nowhere. So if it looks like I didn't handle things very well that night, guess what, I didn't," he said savagely.

Andrew's wide mouth hung open in surprise. Suddenly, he gave a dry chuckle. "Right. So having the two of you over together was bad then."

Gilbert grunted. "We were going to meet sometime. Maybe it was for the best."

His friend ruffled his hair and sighed. "Still, I'm sorry, Gil." He gave him a sharp look then. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

Gilbert's answer was quick and negative. "We're different people now. She's not the girl I remember- and we've spent eight years apart. If she can live safely here then I'm happy for her. But anything I felt- any friendship we had -just isn't, anymore."

"Do real friends ever stop being friends?" Andrew asked absently.

Gilbert shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone has people move out of their life, I suppose."

Andrew put his hands in his pockets, studying the place mat before him with apparent interest. "You know, Gil, I had thought you were trying to get up the nerve to court my sister," he said, slowly. "But it's taken so long for you to come to the point, that I don't really think you've decided."

Gilbert paled. "Andrew, Penny is a wonderful friend- and I do care about her-"

Andrew shook his head. "And you know that we care for you too. But you know that it's got to be more than that if you wanted a life with her."

"I do."

Andrew nodded, his face thoughtful. "Look, I've probably got no business asking this, but you're content to do nothing until you're sure? I don't want her getting hurt."

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief. "No, Neither do I. I'm sorry, it must look like I'm uncaring or indecisive-"

"No, it just looks like you're not there yet." Andrew leant forward to talk to his friend quietly. "Gil, I met Madeline at college- and I knew that I loved her right away. When you've known that kind of love, you know that no other will satisfy. You don't settle for less." He gave Gilbert a faint grin. "Look, I'd love it if you joined my obnoxious family. They're really quite fun. But you need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's right. And Penny's too special to have it be less than that."

"I know." Gilbert eyed Andrew nervously, and the man smiled, shaking his head. "I've been keeping an eye on things. She's fine. You haven't broken any hearts yet."

Gilbert gave a sardonic chuckle. "I never have, I suppose."

Andrew stood up, and when Gilbert did the same he clapped him on the back.

"Look, old man, come for dinner tonight. Penny and Lizzie and I have been bored for the last month, you can come and entertain us by not talking much."

As they walked from the building, Gilbert gave him a curious look. "I do talk, you know."

"Good. Then practice doing it tonight."

Later that day, Gilbert went home to an empty house and fell onto his bed with relief. He'd had two young brothers with a bad attack of croup the night before, and right now he desperately needed sleep. As he lay back, his long legs crossed and staring at the roof of the canopied bed, he sighed. Andrew's words about Penny were a bigger relief than he was willing to admit- he'd not been ready. Otherwise, he would have done it months ago. And there was one consolation in telling Andrew the story- maybe it would avoid some awkward dinners in the future. Gilbert pulled the curtains around the bed, and yet again found his eyes unable to close. He held his hand up before him idly, letting it fall across his forehead, unable to still his mind.

He'd done a good job of not thinking about Anne. He'd worked, hadn't so much as seen her- except for the glimpse of red hair at church. He'd barely noticed her amongst the throng afterwards- although he had smiled to see the children crowd around her as soon as the service ended, shadowed by the faithful Susan and talking to the other members of the congregation. Surely she was doing well- he didn't have to concern himself. Still, it was times like this in the darkness when he wondered if she was well, if anything had made her smile that day. It was with an effort that he turned over on his pillow, determined to get some rest for the evening. He was tired- thinking things he didn't need to. Wondering, no- merely speculating- barely thinking about it, really- what was she doing right now?

Not a mile away, Anne was tumbled in a heap on the ground and was just beginning to pull herself up again. Susan had flown down from the clothesline as soon as she saw Anne's hat disappear from above the bushes, and when she arrived a flushed, cross looking Anne was slowly getting to her feet.

"Good grief, that's the third time this week," she grumbled.

Susan stood still, her heart hammering. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Anne grimaced. "I think this time I might have. I stepped on a loose pebble and turned my ankle slightly."

The housekeeper had her in the sitting room within minutes and was examining the damage along with Anne.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Anne commented, with a relieved look. "I've had worse."

Susan sighed. "Are you just going to strap it up again?"

Anne nodded, leaning back on the sofa with a sigh. "That will teach me to not daydream when I walk-" she chuckled and then gave a mock frown, imitating a deep voice. "'Mindfulness, young lady, you must have mindfulness when you walk!' Oh, poor Doctor Barnett, I did give him a hard time of it."

Susan shook her head and left the room, to return with a salve she had concocted and another roll of bandages. "I think you give yourself a hard time of it. Anne, this time, don't you think-"

"No, I don't," Anne said as she gave her a firm smile. "Susan dear, I've had to learn to handle this myself. I have seen every doctor on the island, it seems- and this isn't anything to worry about. Tomorrow is Wednesday, I'll just sit down for the day. Bless the children, even the boys are less rowdy if they know I'm moving slowly."

Susan was not happy with this conclusion, however by now, she had learned to not waste her breath. She saw that Anne was resting comfortably before returning outside, and as she pulled the last sheet from the line, she folded it over her arm with a calculating look. She turned to look up the hill, towards the main street that ran through Glen St Mary. She had said that she wouldn't go- she didn't say that she couldn't.

Two weeks later, Gilbert was turning into Andrew's house again, only to have Lizzie throw herself at him with a glad cry.

"Papa brought home a puppy, Doctor Blythe! He's so little and fluffy and I love him-"

Gilbert grinned, giving her a hug. Over her head, he saw a dishevelled Penny narrow her eyes, as a brown fluffy ball ran towards the dining room again.

"And how do Papa and Aunt Penny like the puppy?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Papa only laughs at him, and Aunt Penny says that at least he didn't get two of them."

Gilbert was duly introduced to the puppy, who was then sent to the covered veranda in disgrace after misbehaving on Andrew's shoes. Gilbert could only laugh, asking what name Lizzy had chosen for her pet.

Penny rolled her eyes towards Gilbert. "I suggested Max, however apparently that name isn't 'imaginative' enough."

Lizzy kicked her black boots over the edge of the chair and giggled. "Aunt Penny, that's papa's hair-cutting man."

"He's a barber, dear."

"And I wanted to call him Florence," she announced, causing Gilbert to choke into his water glass. "But Papa thinks not many boys are called that, only cities or girls. Miss Shirley says you have to keep looking until you find the right name."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew watching him, however, he gave an unaffected smile to Lizzy. "Well, she's right. You'll find one." Gilbert sat down then, with a sigh of bliss at the smell of dinner coming from the kitchen.

Andrew lowered his paper for a moment, his look thoughtful. "How was school today, pumpkin? I forgot to ask you earlier."

"You forgot to ask me yesterday, too, papa."

Gilbert laughed at his friend's look of confusion. "You need reminding, old fellow?"

Andrew gave him a cross look. "Excuse me, you needed reminding to shave, yesterday."

"It was good, papa-"

"You mean it was fine, Lizzie," her father corrected.

"It was good and fine. Miss Shirley said that it was a sitting down day, so we came to her desk to do our spelling and numbers."

Gilbert looked at Andrew in confusion, who leant across the arm of the chair to talk quietly. "The children are usually more active, Penny says. Some days she structures the class differently. I expect it's about her movement."

Gilbert's countenance remained impassive, however, his mind had begun to tick over. "Are sitting down days fun?" he asked Lizzie.

Lizzie beamed. "Oh, yes, sometimes Miss Shirley has us sit on the floor for our reading. The school inspector visited last week, and he had to sit on the floor too."

The superintendent in question had quite a good sense of humour, in fact; and had come away saying that although Miss Shirley's teaching methods were unorthodox, her rapport with the children and the standard of learning had earned her an excellent report.

Gilbert went home late that night, well-fed and feeling brighter than he had been in quite a while. Andrew was right, good company was what he needed, and after the pressure was taken away to make any decisions regarding his sister, Gilbert had been able to properly enjoy the evening. As he lay in his bed that night though, his wayward thoughts kept turning to the small schoolroom on the edge of the town- and the teacher who so far had done an admirable job of keeping away from the only doctor on the island whom she had not seen. He gave a groan and resolutely pushed all thoughts of her aside, and tried to settle himself for what would hopefully be an unbroken night's sleep. Sleep eventually came, and with it, the tight hold he had on his mind loosened, and in his dreams he drifted.

The rain was falling outside his window, the sound soothing, muffled by the drapes. A slumbering, sweetly scented house, a warm person in bed beside him. Little children sleeping safely down the hall. He rolled over at a murmur beside him, tucking her in close to his body, pushing a loose strand of red hair from her face as he nuzzled into her shoulder-

Gilbert woke with a start then, breathing heavily in the darkness. The cold house was silent, and for long minutes he sat trying to regain his bearings, hearing nothing but the sound of his own breathing. Eventually, he lay down again, pulling a pillow over his face.

Just a trick of the memory.

That was all it was.

At the end of October, Anne looked out of the window after school one Friday, her forehead resting against the glass. Her pupils had gone home, another week ended. She walked up and down the aisles slowly, picking up the papers to mark that night. She paused to chuckle at the picture on a slate- and underneath bore this legend- 'my syster et a bug'. The picture was of the unfortunate bug- or the sister, perhaps. She smiled, thinking of how much Susan enjoyed sitting on the sofa when she was doing her marking- declaring that the stories they printed in the papers were never half so entertaining as the pages Anne brought home.

When she locked the schoolhouse door that afternoon and walked home, Anne stood before the back door and hesitated. She turned wistfully towards the grove beyond the schoolhouse. Tall, evergreen trees stood waving over what the children called 'The Hollow', and underneath brilliant autumn trees were gradually emptying. There was a tightening of her lips then. Winter was only around the corner now- soon the long, grey days of November would come, and she would be trapped inside until spring. She dropped the basket through the door, and with only her walking stick for company, she set off down the path to store up memories for the long winter ahead.

The ground was moist underfoot as she moved through the landscape, and Anne breathed in the smell of damp earth, the mushrooms growing under trees growing bare, and pine trees dotted through the forest. The atmosphere was richly scented and gleaming with colour- and for a moment Anne forgot herself. For a moment she was a girl underneath scarlet skies, still thankful that she lived in a world with Octobers.

It was then that a twig snapped underfoot, and she turned suddenly- there was no time to make a cry before her ankle had given way under her, and she fell to the forest floor.

At this very moment, Gilbert Blythe was striding through the woods near his house, his mind occupied. Two patients with measles, over five miles apart, with no seeming link between them. Was there a common factor involved? A person who had visited both- heaven forbid, a third patient that he hadn't heard from yet? An epidemic was the last thing the town- or even he- needed. He walked along the pathway and then heard a rustling nearby, and saw someone sitting nearby on the damp ground. Thinking it would be poor manners to walk by, he raised his hat to them, and in an instant saw that it was Anne. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes with a grimace that hopefully didn't show on his face. Of all places to finally run across each other at last, it had to be the woods….

Determined to be courteous, he walked toward her, freezing for a brief moment at the look on her face.

"Anne? What are you doing here?" he said cautiously. As he came closer, his eye caught the contracted brow, the whiteness of her lips and the mud on her skirt. Her chin came up, but at this point, he was more concerned with the position of her foot. Not even waiting for an answer, he gave her a stern look. "You fell, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She gritted her teeth- whether, through pain or his patently obvious questions, he didn't know. "My foot goes numb at times," she said quietly. "I wasn't watching where I was going and I went over on it."

Gilbert sighed, rubbing his forehead. With any other patient he wouldn't waste time in discussion- but then with no other person did he have such a long and complicated history. "Come on, it's getting cold, we need to get you home. Then I can see how much damage you've done."

With some manoeuvring, he had her upright, and with only a slight hesitation he put his arm around her to help her walk. "How far are we from your house?"

Anne's teeth were chattering, and she tried to breathe slowly. "Only a few minutes, I hadn't gone far from the schoolhouse."

"How long were you there? You must be freezing," he said, shifting his arm with a frown.

"No, it's just the shock," she said, before giving a wry chuckle. "I have done this before, Gilbert."

"That's what worries me."

The two of them walked out of the forest and the schoolhouse appeared before them, beyond that lay the little stone cottage. To Gilbert's consternation, she was even paler now, and after a slight prayer for sanity, he picked her up in his arms to walk the rest of the way, ignoring her feeble protests. At the front door, he placed her down, waiting while she fumbled with her keys, taking them off her when she became wobbly.

"Steady on now, we'll have you inside soon," he muttered, and to his relief found the right key immediately. A few minutes later, and he had her on her sofa, and stood up breathing heavily.

"Is Susan home?"

Anne shook her head. "She's at her- her mother's this afternoon."

She tried to struggle upright then and had a hand placed on her shoulder. "Easy, there. We need to check it first."

To his surprise, she waved her hand dismissively. "Gil, it happens all the time, I'll just wrap it again-"

Gilbert nearly fell over at the shock of hearing the nickname she used to call him all those years ago, and then swallowed, trying to focus. "Alright. Anne, how long is it since you actually saw your doctor?"

He nearly smiled at the longsuffering look she gave him. "My doctor, as you call him, is in Summerside. I haven't seen him since March."

"Right. Then unless you can get yourself on a train to go there, Miss Shirley, you're looking at the doctor," he said, amused.

Anne fell back on the sofa with a groan. "Gil, you don't need to do this-"

"You need someone to check it, Anne. And what do you think I trained for, all those years ago?" he said crossly.

Anne had had enough by now, and she pulled herself up, beginning to shiver. "G-Gilbert, I'm- I'm f-f-fine-"

At this Gilbert sighed in exasperation and threw a nearby blanket over her, moving to add wood to the low fire. "Would you settle down, please? It's the shock, remember?"

He rubbed his forehead tiredly, choosing to take a different approach. "Anne, I am aware that this is not particularly comfortable for either one of us, but we need to know how much damage you've done this time," he said, his voice gentle. "You are the most independent woman alive, but even you have to admit that sometimes you are going to need help. And no offence to you or Susan, but I'm the best person to do that."

The war in Anne's mind was gradually settled by the building pain in her foot, and the indisputable logic of Gilbert's words. With fatigue in her eyes, she gave a wry smile and nodded. "Very well, then, doctor. What do you suggest?"