Chapter 6

Anne's calm acceptance of the matter so suddenly left Gilbert somewhat bewildered. He'd never had any success in convincing her to change her mind in the past- indeed, that was the reason for half of their arguments- and he found himself oddly unsettled by it.

"Well. I didn't think that would be so easy."

Anne gave a wry smile and a wince. "I've learned to do uncomfortable things," she commented, before giving him an injured look. "Just what did you mean by saying that we need to see how much damage there is 'this time'?"

Gilbert was removing his coat and gave her a stern look. "Because I'm a smart fellow," he said coolly. "And I'm betting this happens to you quite a lot. Oh, and also because Susan's been coming to ask me how to take care of your foot."

Anne sat up then, indignant. "Well, really-"

He bent over to begin unlacing her boot. "She felt it was getting beyond her, and I'm beginning to see why, when you've been so stubborn about coming-" Suddenly he broke off to glare at her, a low growl in his voice. "So help me, Anne; tell me that this isn't about money-"

Anne let out a sigh of exasperation. "It's not about that."

"Then why-"

Anne attempted to look as dignified under the circumstances as she could. "Gilbert, you have chronic patients, don't you?"

He stopped, looking puzzled. "Err- yes…"

"Then you know that they can't call you for everything. As little as I like it, this is a part of my life now." She drew in a sharp breath. "Although to be fair, it's not usually this bad."

He shook his head and gently eased off her shoe. She made no sound, although he could see it was hurting by the way her hands clenched. Her stockings, however, made him pause. Summoning the best bland expression he had, he placed the shoe on the ground.

"Are you alright to manage your ah- this?"

Anne closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Yes. Just give me a minute."

Gilbert stood then and turned to the kitchen. "Right. I'll be back."

When he left the room, Anne was swift to discard the stocking. She gritted her teeth, cursing herself for the impulsive wish that had landed her in this predicament- and with Gilbert Blythe, no less! Well, she'd done it this time. She shook her head, pulling herself further upright. The least she could do was to make it easier on them both- he shouldn't know how embarrassed she was. This was easier said than done when he carried in a basin of water and a few rolls of the bandage Susan kept nearby. To her horror, her sense of humour would intrude- the impish voice in the back of her mind reminding her that of all the doctors who had pulled up her skirts, she would have sworn that Gilbert Blythe wouldn't ever-

To her consternation, he seemed to be wrestling with something as well- she could see it in the frown he was working to maintain, the suspicious tightening of his lips. Without meaning to she caught his eye, and a peal of laughter escaped her- only to attempt to apologise with her next breath. He had turned from her to slump on the floor, and Anne's eyes were huge as she heard him begin to laugh as well. As the two of them gasped for breath, something seemed to dissolve in the room then, a tension that had been weeks- perhaps years- in the making. At last Anne wiped her eyes, clutching her side with a faint groan that brought Gilbert's wits back to him.

"Anne, I'm sorry-" he said, attempting to sober up. "But I swear this is something that could only happen to us."

The tremor in her voice was still there when she replied. "Undoubtedly. I'm sorry for laughing. I just never thought that something like this could happen," Anne said feebly.

A sudden warm feeling went through him. How many times in the past had they laughed like this? She'd tripped him by accident once, and he fell in a puddle- they'd laughed until they cried, collapsed at the foot of an old tree. He drew in a deep breath then. They weren't children anymore, and time and distance had changed them both. And for now, she was his patient. "Right- no more laughing. We've got work to do."

Anne sobered. With an effort, she remembered the past, the many years that had passed between them. He bent down to move her foot carefully, and suddenly laughter seemed impossible. She studied him, a longing look that he didn't see in her grey eyes. He wore his hair shorter now- the face that had always been handsome was even more so, and Anne could finally admit that he was the most attractive man she had ever known. She watched him roll up his sleeves, a lump coming into her throat that had nothing to with the sharp pain in her leg. Eight years had passed- and the hazel eyes that had once looked at her with affection now belonged to those of a stranger.

"Ready?"

Anne managed a faint smile. "Ready, doctor."

He moved the skirts aside, grimacing at the bruising over her ankle. Something caught his eye then, and he pushed the petticoats higher up, horrified eyes seeing the extent of the scarring over her lower leg. "Dear God," he whispered. He turned to look at her, his face pale. "Anne, how are you even walking?" She gave a little shiver, and he put his hand on her. "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect- I didn't realise-" he let out a breath and shook his head. "Alright. I'm just going to see if it's broken. This may hurt a little."

Anne's teeth were clenched as he probed the bones, and then she relaxed. His touch was more gentle than she had expected, and his quick look of apology made her smile faintly.

"Well, you've certainly sprained it," Gilbert muttered, running his hand along her shin, "But it's not broken. You were lucky." He traced the line of scars with a frown. "I do wish Jeremy could see this." Anne grimaced, as he began to knead her calf muscles with probing fingers. "Are the muscles always this tight?" Her shoulders lifted, and he saw that she had caught her breath with pain, and gently released her. "Look, I'll talk with Susan about how to manage that every day, however, we need to stop this from happening." He gave her a sharp look. "Anne, Whatever possessed you to go to the woods by yourself? What if I'd not come?"

"I wanted to see them before the winter," Anne admitted softly, and he sighed. "I suppose at times I want more freedom than my body will give me."

Gilbert had turned from her to the basin of water, something in his heart tearing at the way she spoke so calmly. He cleared his throat, his brow lowered and knelt by her side.

Anne jumped a little, as he began to wash her foot, her grey eyes enormous. "What are you doing?"

"I would have thought it obvious."

Anne was still, the mixture of guilt and gratitude making her strangely tearful. When he was done, he began to wrap her ankle firmly. A small sound left her at the sharp pain, and she closed her mouth, trying to control the rolling of her stomach, a feeling of panic growing. Oh, not now, not now of all places…

"Who- who is Jeremy?" she asked faintly.

Gilbert looked up in surprise. "We went to medical school together, and then to the hospital." He gave the bandage a final look and sat back. "He specialised in Osteology; we used to work together on accident cases."

Anne tried to gather her thoughts. "What did you specialise in?"

Gilbert took the bowl up, with a slight smile. "Surgery. It turns out I have a gift for cutting people up." He looked down at her, slightly puzzled, at the face that had suddenly lost all colour. "Anne, what's the matter?"

She shook her head, and to her horror the after-effects of the shock made themselves felt, and in a flash, he had the bowl under her as Anne proceeded to throw up. He supported her and simply waited. "It's alright, nearly over-" he murmured, his hand rubbing her back. When at last she lay back on the lounge breathing heavily, he gave her a grin. "Well. That was dramatic. Will you be alright while I go and deal with this?"

Anne nodded with her hands covering her face, her embarrassment extreme. When he returned he had a glass of water, and helped her to sit up.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert, I'm so sorry-"

Gilbert chuckled. "Come on, this is my job. It happens."

She gave him an apologetic smile. "It seems to happen anytime- well, this happens."

He sighed. "That's pretty normal. But Anne, you can't keep doing this."

To his consternation, tears began to puddle in her eyes. "I know. I keep trying to do things like I used to- and I realise that I can't."

His look was frank. "No. You can't. If you broke it again-"

He saw her shiver, and rubbed a hand along her arm, watching her curiously. "Did you ever speak to a psychologist about this?"

Anne looked at him, bemused. "Why?"

"Sometimes a big trauma will leave certain after-effects."

She gave him a wry smile. "I think my leg is the after-effect, Gilbert."

The two of them turned then as they heard a key in the door, and Gilbert grinned at her slyly. "Now you're in for it-" he said in an undertone, chuckling at Anne's face.

Ten minutes later, Susan's voice, a good two octaves higher than usual was almost done with her scolding. Gilbert felt a measure of relief in seeing how she mothered Anne, recognising how desperately she needed that right now. Susan's brusque reactions even reminded him of Marilla a little, and he found himself smiling.

"I don't know what you were thinking," she said crossly. "What if no one had been coming that way? What if you'd still been sitting there now?"

Anne shrugged pragmatically. "Susan, dear, the pain is only extreme for a short time. When it passed I would have been able to get myself home, that's why I have the stick."

Gilbert was doing up his cuffs and frowned crossly. "The stick is meant to assist your injured foot, not replace it completely. And if you have to go out into the woods, someone should accompany you."

A faint smile found its way to Anne's face, seeing that Susan's ire had re-awoken his. "I told you, it was just an impulse, Gilbert."

"Oh, I know all about your impulses," he muttered, bending to check the bandage again. "I do not want to see a repeat of this again."

Susan's eyes were wide as she watched the young doctor and her mistress together. She didn't know what it was, exactly- it was like watching a married couple squabble. And how on earth were they on a first name basis?

As Gilbert pulled his coat on, Susan stood up, her arms folded. "Thank you, doctor. Now, could the two of you do with some tea?"

Gilbert felt himself hesitate, strangely wanting to say yes. "Are you up for tea, Anne?"

Her face was surprised, but she smiled. "That would be lovely, unless you have somewhere you need to be."

He shrugged easily. "Nowhere- I was just at home tonight."

There was a silence that threatened to be awkward when Susan left the room, and Anne pulled herself upright again with a sigh and placed her foot on the stool.

"Well, I thank you for all of your help- and for showing me what Gilbert Blythe, MD is like."

Gilbert turned to her with a slight grin. "Oh? And how do you think I did?"

Anne chuckled. "Well, as someone who has seen their share of doctors, I think very nicely. They weren't as gentle as you were."

"If you had met me at the hospital you may not have found me like that either," he commented and grinned. "It's why I left- to have more time to see patients. Excellent training, though."

"And your friend- is it Jeremy? Is he still there?"

He smiled. "And will be forever. He's still not happy about me leaving. Although he says he'll come out here sometime to see what general practice looks like in 'the woods'. He's a swell doctor, though- he wrote papers about treating breaks similar to yours."

Anne's face was pale. "I'd rather read something else, I think. I do owe a good deal to the Summerside doctors, actually," she said slowly. "They did everything they could to fix it, when it would have been easier to simply label me as an invalid. I didn't want that."

Gilbert looked at her thoughtfully. "I can see why. Anne, why didn't you go home?" He saw immediately that her look was distant, and sighed. "I know you explained about needing to work- I just don't understand why the people back home don't know more about this. Why didn't you tell them what happened?"

She licked suddenly dry lips. "They all knew-"

"Anne, no one talks about it-"

Her eyes were blazing, then. "It was all they talked about- 'poor Anne, can't even walk now'-"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up emphatically. "I knew it- this is about your pride-"

"It's not!"

"Is so!. Is this why you wouldn't come to me when you needed help?" he said, aggravated.

"Gilbert, I can't call the doctor for every little scrape-"

"You thought today was a minor scrape!" he snapped.

The raised voices carried through to Susan laying the tray in the kitchen, and she froze, wondering what on earth was going on.

Gilbert sat back on his chair, arms folded, and his voice rational. "Anne, you need to be able to call someone. Susan isn't qualified to diagnose an injury-"

"Gilbert, I already said that I was wrong about today!" Anne said shortly. "I made a mistake."

"Right. So we have nothing to be yelling about then."

Anne looked toward the fireplace and scowled. After a moment, she spoke. "Anytime I go back to Avonlea, I feel as if everyone is watching me to see how I am handling it- you know our village. I don't want the questions, I don't need everyone asking me what happened."

"Anne, I asked you that."

She sighed, pushing a loose red curl behind one ear. "I know. But when it's only to fuel gossip- when people stop and stare, I hate it. I don't want to be pitied-"

"Look, I can understand that. But there are also good people who love you, and would support you if you only opened up to them."

"They all already know what happened."

Gilbert's look was candid. "No, Anne, they don't. My parents lived a twenty-minute walk from Marilla and Rachel, they attended the same church as them and they didn't know anything. How did Rachel Lynde never tell anyone?"

Anne swallowed. "Because I asked her not to."

He sighed. "Look, just think about it. You know Marilla wouldn't want you to cut off from everyone." He saw the look on her face at the mention of her adoptive mother and stopped.

Susan arrived then with the tray and was startled to see them calmly talking, now. Unusually speechless, she poured the tea, leaving the room as soon as she was done.

Anne looked at the tray, with a smile. Susan had outdone herself with supper- on Gilbert's behalf, she knew; Susan by now was well used to Anne's habits. She almost chuckled seeing the ravenous look that Gilbert gave the tray.

"You see? Susan leaves no one hungry. Your housekeeper won't worry that you aren't home for dinner?"

Gilbert took up his tea with a twisted grin. "Mrs Leary won't worry, she won't stay past five, and only cooks a few times a week. It was beef stew tonight. It was beef stew last night and the one before that. You're the one who did well as to housekeepers."

Anne gave him an amused look. "I should say so, since Susan has to do a great deal more that just cook for me. She doesn't have the easiest job- and I certainly couldn't do this without her."

Around the food that Gilbert piled high on his plate, the two of them found themselves relaxing as Anne asked about the practice in Four Winds.

He answered her easily. "Uncle Dave always intended to pass it to me, but as I went through medical school, I figured that I had time- so I went to Montreal first. It was good, but I'm sorry I wasn't a couple of months earlier, to save Uncle Dave from worrying. He loved these people."

Anne's eyes were on her teacup. "I never pictured you in a hospital- especially after I spending so much time in one." Suddenly she laughed. "Did the staff follow you around with your files and such? All of the most important doctors I saw seemed to have satellites." She looked at the sheepish look on his face and chuckled. "I thought so."

"I do miss the adulation, I won't lie about that," he said, grinning. He reached for another piece of pie then. "This is brilliant- I admit, I only eat this well if I'm at the Winstons- although it's more about time than anything else."

Anne set her cup down with suddenly shaking hands, which she tried to hide. "Mr Winston and his family were lovely- and Lizzie is a darling."

"She is. Andrew's lived here for five years- his wife was from Four Winds. He and Penny are from Montreal. When they heard I was from there, they somewhat adopted me."

Anne gathered herself together and spoke calmly. "Penny is lovely, Gil."

At this he looked at her sharply, his cheeks flushed, and he was shocked to see the hesitant smile on her face.

"You know what these towns are like for spreading word. For instance, I'm prepared to bet that you heard I was an invalid long before you knew it was me."

He gave a short laugh. "I did. All the talk in town was you, even weeks before you got here."

Anne's look was thoughtful. "Well, everyone has been wonderfully supportive- I couldn't wish for a better reception, really."

Gilbert nodded, taking another biscuit. Even he was surprised at an appetite he hadn't had in years. Had he even managed to eat lunch that day?

"They're good people. I've enjoyed the Glen- and there are several people here I would call friends."

She nodded calmly, no sign of the ache in her heart visible. "You can find family wherever you go- I've found that to be true in my life."

He nodded, staring at the fireplace. "Did you have that in Summerside?"

To his relief her smile was genuine. "I did. For the first year, I boarded with three older ladies, who adopted me, so to speak. They were lovely- however, I soon realised that I was tired of living out of a suitcase, and I moved into an apartment the following summer. They still had me for dinner twice a week- they were such darlings when- when I got hurt." Her grey eyes shone with tears. "I had a dear friend who moved away several years ago- she was my vice principal. It was Katherine who suggested that I try a smaller school to start again. She's coming here to see me when her employer returns to Kingsport in January- he's a member of Parliament. And I think that Diana may visit when the harvest work is done."

Gilbert smiled. "That'll be nice for you."

There was a moment of uneasy silence then, as Gilbert wondered if Diana had written of his visit. He flushed again, thinking of the mad way he had flown back to Avonlea- and to no purpose. He looked over at her calm face and was struck again by the change in her. Remembering the girl who had refused to forgive him so long ago, he was still surprised that she had done so now. Was it the injury that had changed her, or was it some faint recognition of their past? Suddenly, he found his throat burning. He hadn't done that. He'd pushed all memory of her from his life- throwing himself into the studies that energised him, working every holiday he might conceivably return home for- having no wish to see Mrs Gardiner and her new husband in Avonlea.

Now, he looked at her settled alone in her house, so sure she'd have been in a palace by now- and he found himself wondering if she regretted refusing Gardner. He swallowed, seeing again the horrific scarring along her leg- that wouldn't have been there. Her eyes were closed now, and with a jolt he recollected himself. She needed sleep, and he was suddenly exhausted.

"I should let you get some rest," he said quietly, and she gave him a faint smile.

"You look tired too, Gilbert. You should have had a relaxing night instead of this."

He shrugged and stood up. "I can never guarantee that I won't be called on- and at least you're safe now." He studied her then. "You shouldn't be on that foot for at least two days, and you need to use crutches to move around for a few days."

Anne's voice was subdued. "I have some in the attic. I'll use those."

"Well, in the meantime-" As Susan came to the door, he bent down to lift her carefully, ignoring the squeak of horror from Anne. "Susan, which room upstairs is it?"

"Downstairs-" Anne said, her face red with shame. "I don't go upstairs."

At this Gilbert's own step faltered, and he covered his embarrassment with a scowl. "Well, I said not to walk, so you can practice not walking now."

Susan had gone ahead of them to open the door, and Gilbert saw that the small fire was already lit. He set her on the edge of the bed, and stood up awkwardly, not knowing how to leave. Somehow in the room with them was the memory of what they had once been, eight years of separation that seemed impossible to breach, and perfectly sensible barriers that the night seemed determined to betray.

Anne could read the discomfort on his face and sought to release him. "Thank you, Gilbert. Susan will come to pay my bill this week."

At this, he seemed to stumble. "I- no. This wasn't- this is hardly a standard visit. And I don't often get fed- well, sometimes it happens. I don't know. Just- don't."

Anne's chin came up, and a steady smile was on her face. "I was raised by Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, Doctor Blythe. The doctor is always paid first." She sighed at the stubborn look on his face. "We'll see you this week. And Gilbert- once again, I am very grateful." She met his eyes then, and as his shoulders dropped in what appeared to be relief, he nodded and left the bedroom with Susan.

He gathered his scarf from the sitting room, taking a last look around. How swiftly they had become comfortable again- and yet it couldn't be real. Still- it had been- pleasant. As he made it to the kitchen he was met with a grim Susan and a basket of baked food. He gave her a startled look.

"Meg Leary never bothered much with making a home comfortable, I dare say she doesn't do it now." She thrust it into Gilbert's hands, and the spoke in a quieter voice, her eye on the bedroom door. "Thank you, doctor. She doesn't often let anyone help her. I don't know how you did it- but you made her laugh at least."

He swallowed. "It was- nothing."

When Susan closed the door behind him, he stood at the gate looking at the light in what must be Anne's bedroom with a feeling of unreality. He pulled his coat around him with a shiver. Winter was truly on its way now- soon he would have to forego the walks that had been his sanity when patients and busyness intruded.

The house was dark when he got home, and he looked at the untidy pile of wood on the verandah. He should cut that tomorrow. When he lit the lantern, he placed the basket in the pantry and looked wistfully at the cold living room. The throws his mother had made on the couch, the few photographs on the mantelpiece. Anne had made her stone house a home- surely he could do better for himself here. Maybe it was time to make some changes- to make it a place worth coming home to.

It was late at night when Susan came to check on Anne before she went to bed. To her surprise, Anne was still awake, watching the firelight flicker across the walls.

"Anne, are you in pain?"

She shifted on her pillows, and gave Susan a smile. "It's alright. Doctor Blythe was very thorough in his bandaging, I think that helps. I must remember that for next time," she said thoughtfully. At Susan's scowl, she sighed. "And I will try to make sure there is no next time."

Susan straightened the counterpane on the bed and looked to Anne curiously. "You and he seem to get on quite well."

Anne's face was shadowed. "Yes. We do seem to." She took pity on her housekeeper and spoke carefully. "Doctor Blythe is from Avonlea, Susan. We knew each other long ago."

Susan's eyebrows went up in shock. "And now you live in the same town again. Did you know he was here?"

She hesitated then. "No. That was a- surprise."

Susan nodded and moved to the side of the bed to refill her water glass. "I suppose you know him fairly well then?"

A queer look was on her face then, one that Susan could not read. "Not as well as I have learned to know myself." Anne's head turned away on her pillow, and her voice was quiet in the dim room. "That's the thing about a book of revelation, Susan. Once you've read it, you can't pretend that you haven't."