Chapter 7

On Monday morning, Andrew walked into the surgery to see Gilbert at his desk writing furiously. He'd finished his own paperwork for the day, and was looking for some distraction. He studied his friend, puzzled. It really did seem furious- although what had the piece of paper had done to offend him?

"Where were you all weekend?" he asked casually.

Gilbert threw his pen down with a sigh. "Working. A breech presentation on Saturday, and yesterday Frank Simmons put a hoe through his foot."

"Good grief, what was the man doing hoeing in November?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Proving that he could, according to his wife. He's lucky he didn't cut it off."

Andrew nodded. He watched Gilbert slash a T on his page viciously and chuckled. "What's got you all riled up?"

Gilbert didn't raise his head, but his mouth was set in a grim line. "She paid me."

Andrew stared at him. "A patient paid? What's wrong with that?"

He let out an infuriated sigh. "Because I told her not to. But she did anyway. She is the single most stubborn woman alive- so I'm- writing- her- notes- up," he said through gritted teeth- "If she's insisting on being treated like a patient, she's going in the books, and I'm not writing the watered-down-everything-is-fine version that she gave me."

Andrew sat down opposite him with a grin. "You are in a strop. Look here, I'm checking that you're coming tonight- you said you would. Lizzie wants you to be there for her birthday dinner." He watched Gilbert reference a handwritten note and looked at him curiously. "Look, why does this have you so steamed up?" Andrew asked. "If my clients didn't delay paying, I'd be thrilled."

"Well, Anne doesn't, apparently," Gilbert grumbled.

Andrew choked slightly. "You mean it's her?"

"Yes," Gilbert said crossly. "And she didn't even have to call me- I found her by accident in the woods after she'd fallen."

As Andrew sat back, his look was bewildered. "Is she alright? What was she doing in the woods?"

Gilbert raised one eyebrow with an obvious look. "Because it's Anne."

"If you say so." Andrew watched him carefully, then. "I rather thought the two of you didn't have much in common anymore."

"We don't- or we do. I don't know which."

Andrew began to laugh uproariously. "Good grief! You are muddled."

Gilbert's shoulders relaxed, and he couldn't help a sheepish grin. "Alright, I haven't slept that much lately. I'm a bit off my stride."

Andrew grinned sardonically. "Clearly. Look, Gil, she's showing you professional courtesy. Do you know how many 'friends' suddenly needed legal advice as soon as I graduated law school? For free, of course."

Gilbert sat back on his chair with a sigh. "Look, it just seems wrong to take her money for something that cost me nothing."

"You trained for how long-"

"Not that!" Gilbert said impatiently. "For just- helping. She sprained her ankle- it wasn't difficult. For Pete's sake, she used to study with me back at Redmond- you should have seen her face when we had to memorise the bones of the skeleton in first year. She hated me beating her."

Andrew had a thoughtful frown on his face that luckily Gilbert didn't see, and sighed.

"Well, you said it yourself, she's your patient now. You need to respect her wishes. She's obviously independent, and not wanting to take advantage of an old acquaintance. To me that's commendable. And it isn't like you see her that often."

At this Gilbert nodded, his face closed. He supposed he didn't- and was not comfortable with the fact that it bothered him. How would he know if she was well?

When not on calls, Gilbert had been at home that weekend. Chopping wood, rearranging furniture and organising his home. By Sunday evening he had the living room fire lit, and bookcases at last filled with books. He'd spoken to Mrs Leary, asking her to make sure the fires were lit when she left at five thirty- coming home to a cold house last winter had been hard. He'd also stocked his pantry better- that morning he had brought home a crate of food that he could cook for himself. With some surprise, he had remembered that he'd become a reasonable cook in Alberta with his father. He had sat in the warm room looking around his house with a contentment he hadn't had in a while. It was small, and it was dingy- but it could still be home.

To Gilbert's relief, back in the present Andrew seemed happy to change the subject. He left with a promise from Gilbert that he would be there that night, and it was a much calmer Gilbert that sat down to work at his desk until it was time for rounds. Set to head out of town, he drove past the schoolhouse on the way. Faintly as he passed, he listened to the sound of the children's voices, and briefly wondered if he could hear hers as well.

By Friday, a tired but content Anne was back to normal, hearing lessons and working problems. Although it had been hard to struggle into her boots that morning, she was rewarded with a warm welcome by her students, and couldn't help but smile at the apple that had been placed on her desk by some shy person. Teaching had its rewards- those that went far beyond salaries and commendations from the school inspector.

That afternoon, she walked home, her eyes avoiding the temptation of the nearby woods. With a wry chuckle, she swung her crutches over the path, kept clear of debris by one of the school families. Again, she was thankful for the way she had been embraced by the community- for the way they had worked to make it possible for her to teach. A young man had shown up at the door on Tuesday morning, telling Susan that he had been asked to put in a rail that led to the front door from the gate. Susan had waylaid him with a box of cookies in lieu of the thank-you that she couldn't say. Anything that made Anne's life and work easier touched her deeply- in the short months she had worked for her, she had come to adore her young mistress. The word young would persist, Susan thought at times confusedly- despite the fact that she knew that Anne was almost twenty-nine.

Slowly she had been putting together what she knew about her life before Four Winds- although many questions still remained unanswered. Oh, she knew where she had been, Anne had told her of the school she had come from and of the hometown that lay on the North shore- but there was no talk of the family she had left behind, although she knew that she was in mourning following the death of the woman who had adopted her. Instinctively knowing that Anne did not want to be questioned on these matters, Susan had kept quiet, instead devoting herself to what she could influence- Anne's health and well-being.

That Susan had no answers to the questions about her relationship with Doctor Gilbert Blythe was another matter that she kept entirely to herself.

Anne had begun to put out tentative roots in Glen St Mary. At times her heart still ached for Avonlea, for the places she had loved and the girl she had been there, however she saw the many ways in which she had been blessed, for the people that surrounded her. Oh, there were still those who held her at arm's length, however, Mrs Marshall Elliot had spoken of her in so forceful and warm a manner that few were willing to contradict her. Miss Cornelia visited Anne whenever she came down to the Glen, and Anne had begun to look forward to hearing her news, and seeing the ever enjoyable arguments between her and Susan.

So well had Anne learned to discipline her mind, that she found she could continue as she was, building a life again, layer upon layer. The life she had once led was compartmentalised for now- left to be examined when she was at leisure to do so. That Christmas was coming had not escaped her, and she found that she was torn- wanting to go, and yet wishing to stay away. Her word had been given though, and she knew that Diana was impatient to see her.

Di had asked a few careful questions in her letters about Gilbert, and Anne had hedged. She had not wished to say much in letters. Gilbert's presence had been a more of a shock than she had expected it to be- and yet to a heart that had taken so many severe blows lately, this one outwardly seemed to touch her little. It was only in the night that she allowed her mind to find him- to wonder what he was doing, if he was well.

To wonder if she could somehow survive seeing him marry another.

Needless to say, for the last week, there had been little sleep.

Her words to him about Penny had not been accidental- she had thought about it constantly. She had enough trouble with hidden things taking up space, this was one she hoped to remove. And yet the ghost of it had remained, his presence in her house had only confirmed that. This was now his chair, that was his teacup. It had been that way even at Green Gables, she remembered.

December came in with a bluster. On a particularly cold day, the wind whipped past people hurrying along the streets. Gilbert watched them from his office windows with a shiver- as everyone else was heading for home, he needed to be going out.

However, before he found the resolve to put his heavy coat on, the door thudded open, and a boy who should have been in school stood in the doorway, gasping for breath. Gilbert was on his feet in seconds and pulling on his coat.

"Jerry, what is it?"

The boy was fighting to find his breath, and Gilbert had pulled his bag from the shelf and donned his scarf, waiting impatiently.

"We- need you at the schoolhouse."

Gilbert turned pale. "Miss Shirley? Is she alright?"

"No- it's Emma Watts."

Gilbert lost no time in getting them out the door. All Jerry could say was that Emma had fallen, and Miss Shirley had said to go for Doctor Blythe. Within minutes they had pulled up at the school, and he gave Jerry instructions to tie the horse up to the fence, as he leapt from the buggy with his bag in hand.

To his surprise, a boy of about fourteen stood at the front of the classroom reading aloud, and Gilbert looked around for Anne, bewildered. It was then that he heard her voice. "Well done, Angus. Cassie, would you please take over with the next chapter now?"

He hastened to her side as another chapter of Treasure Island began. Gilbert moved to the back of the class to see the young girl lying on her side, her eyes shut and slight tremors in her limbs, as Anne sat beside her on the ground. He knelt beside her, his voice low.

"What happened?"

Anne gave a smile to the anxious girls watching, her voice even. "She had a seizure a short time ago. She's conscious now, but I didn't want to move her until she'd been checked. Her sister has gone to get her parents."

Gilbert bent down to check her, his voice light. "She wasn't responsive?"

Anne shook her head, the pucker on her forehead telling him that she was more nervous than she appeared. "No, I heard a noise, and she had fallen from her chair. I couldn't rouse her at first."

"Was she convulsing?"

"Yes. Her sister said it happened once last year- the children were terribly frightened."

Gilbert was checking her heart rate and her breathing all the while and gave a faint smile. "Well, Treasure Island seems to be working right now."

Anne let out a sigh, her voice soft. "It's a trick I learned some time ago."

Gilbert saw the girl's eyes flutter slightly, and placed his hand on her cheek. "And you're sure she didn't just faint? She hasn't been unwell?"

Anne shook her head. "I don't believe so. There was no warning. I've seen it before- I had a student in Summerside who suffered from them." Anne's voice was quiet as she smoothed the hair over the child's forehead. "I must get back to the class- I'll leave her with you now." She made to move, and Gilbert was quick to help her to her feet. He turned back to his patient, and with one ear listened as Anne drew the class back to herself.

"Thank you, Cassie and Angus, and well done to everyone for listening so well. If you would like to read more of Treasure Island, then we need to get our work done this afternoon." Gilbert could hear the smile in her voice. "Now, Doctor Blythe is here in the classroom for a little while, and something that you may not be aware of is that he is a qualified teacher as well as a doctor- so I expect you to do your very best learning in front of him today." He chuckled, and for just a moment he met her twinkling eyes, watching her become businesslike again. "Children, please take out your history books."

By the time Emma was able to stand, her father had arrived, and Gilbert asked him to bring her in to his office the following day. He stood at the back of the classroom then, lifting his hand to let Anne know he was going. He watched her nod, and turned to leave on his rounds.

It was well after four when Anne turned at the sound of a buggy. Gilbert was striding up from the road, and she met him at the door to the classroom with a concerned look.

"Is Emma alright?" she asked.

"She's home resting now," Gilbert said, leaning against the door frame. "The family are coming in to see me tomorrow." There was a pause then, and Anne studied his lean face wistfully.

"Do you think that they know?"

He shrugged and sighed. "I don't know." He looked around at him, his hazel eyes not seeing the landscape. "This is the part I hate," he said, with a faint smile. He looked up to see that her big grey eyes were on his, and for a moment it gave him an odd feeling- that she understood. A moment later and he pulled himself together.

"Are you nearly finished?"

Anne turned back to the classroom, and he followed her in through the door. "I believe so. I have yet to wipe off the board-" she stopped in consternation, seeing him turn to do it now. "Gilbert, you really don't have to."

"Well, I'd like to see you make me do it if I didn't want to."

She chuckled. "I wouldn't. But thank you."

He kept working, wondering why he had come back exactly- to let her know about Emma, he supposed. She was worried. He saw her turn to her desk, gathering the papers together, and moving to shut the windows. "How's the foot?"

Anne bent to pick up a book that had fallen from the bookcase. "Better, thank you. I still have it wrapped, and Susan is enforcing the crutches each day."

He turned to her, dusting the chalk over his trousers in a way that made her smile- remembering the times he would come to her house on a Friday, after getting home from White Sands. A faint memory of his mother getting cross at him for leaving chalk in his pockets hit her, and she turned from him abruptly. No, thoughts of the Blythe house mustn't happen- quietly she shoved it down, sitting at her desk again. To her surprise, Gilbert was in no hurry, and he strolled around the classroom with his hands in his pockets, looking at the posters on the walls. Methodically sorting the papers into piles, she glanced up from time to time, briefly wondering why he was there.

"I suppose the life of a principal was very different to this," he commented.

Anne chuckled, beginning to put the pages in her basket. "Would you believe me if I said that I enjoyed this more?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Anne smiled. "I didn't realise how much I had missed the younger children, to be honest. So eager to learn- and it gives me a chance to inspire them with a love of learning early- you and I are proof of what you can accomplish if learning is made attractive."

He shrugged again. "I think you and I were just wired that way."

Anne folded her arms on the desk thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But a good teacher helps a lot. By the time the students arrive at high school, learning patterns are set, and poor attitudes are harder to correct."

Gilbert sat down on a nearby desk, seeming in no hurry to be gone. "I sometimes forget how much you loved to teach," he commented. "I enjoyed it- but it was never the end goal for me like it was for you."

Anne slumped a little, resting her chin on her hands. "Back then I thought that it wouldn't be for me, either. I was to be a famous novelist, remember."

He looked at her curiously. "Do you still write?"

She gave a laugh that held a small note of regret in it. "I haven't written in years- not since Redmond, I think. Once or twice I tried while I was in Summerside- but I never seemed to feel the same spark again."

Gilbert nodded, seemingly absently. "Maybe now you can."

Anne thought it unlikely, but nodded. She was silent for a moment. "What will you need to tell the family tomorrow?"

His brown hand come up to ruffle his hair tiredly. "That I think their daughter might have epilepsy." Anne studied him with compassion, seeing the weight that sat on his shoulders, and her voice was gentle. "It's still better that they know."

Hr folded his arms and gave her a brief smile. "Are you alright after today? You seemed to handle it very calmly."

Anne leant back on her chair. "Cissy had several seizures during her time at Summerside- Katherine and I spoke to her parents about it all, and they agreed to let her continue her education if we spoke to the doctors about what to do. She graduated two years ago now."

Gilbert found himself watching her carefully. He was holding her up, he knew that- but she wasn't rushing to get away, and he himself was reluctant to move as well.

"You and Katherine are close, by the sound of it."

Anne's smile was fond, and for a moment he found himself smiling back in response. "We are. I've missed her terribly- but I'm so glad she took the chance to go to Redmond."

Gilbert was surprised. "Redmond? When?"

"While you were there, actually. She went to take a secretarial course when you would have been in your final year, I believe. Katherine never liked teaching."

"And you recognised her as a kindred spirit right away?"

Anne's brow furrowed. "Not exactly. We had a- complicated beginning."

Gilbert was surprised, but only nodded. "Well, I assume you worked it out quickly enough. And were you welcomed well at the school?" he asked lightly and was unprepared for the way she stilled. She gave him an odd smile.

"No, not exactly. Summerside and I have a 'complicated' history as well."

Gilbert watched her in curiosity. "Well, we seem to have time now."

Anne sighed and spoke frankly. "Very well. Summerside is quite a big town- and most of it is run by one family- the Pringles. They are not welcoming of outsiders."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "You were seen as that."

"To put it mildly. Three people went for my position- Katherine, myself and a Josiah Pringle. When I accepted the position a few weeks before our Convocation, I had no idea that I had already made enemies before stepping foot in the town."

He gave a slight chuckle. "Isn't 'enemy' a little over-dramatic?" Anne simply looked back at him, and his smile faltered.

"No, not really, Gilbert," she said, her voice even. "When I started work there I found that the Pringles were quite determined to see me leave. The students were encouraged by their families to misbehave, and rather nasty incidents kept happening in the school. Malicious notes, students consistently late or absent, parents coming in to lecture me about the way I taught and disciplined the classes. My personal life was investigated and gossipped about- and the students were told to not show me any respect."

Gilbert's look was uncertain. "The parents allowed it?"

"The parents arranged it," Anne said quietly. "It was after Christmas when it all came to a head. I was discouraged and didn't know what to do- and I was due for a review with the board the following week. I was fairly sure that I was going to be asked to resign. However a- a prank misfired." There was a sadness that crossed her face then, a disillusionment that had shattered her when she realised how much they had wanted her gone. "A student had placed a lit firework in a drawer- mine. However, I was late to the room because I was dealing with another issue involving a Pringle- and I arrived to find a commotion in the room. The firework had gone off early, and as a result, another student lost the sight in one eye."

Gilbert's face was stunned. "What happened?"

Anne gave a slightly bitter smile. "I'm sure you can imagine the furore. Because an accident had occurred, and the student was taken to hospital, the authorities were summoned. The board was there within an hour, and they called for my resignation immediately. However, when the students were interviewed, the young lady who had placed it there broke down and confessed everything- and her testimony was then backed up by the others. The boy who was injured was from an influential family as well, but not a Pringle- his father was on the board- and the student who placed it there was the daughter of another board member- and suddenly the school was at war within itself. I was required to testify, and the Board of Education became involved. There was even talk of closing the school for a time."

Gilbert sat there, unmoving, watching her face. "What did you do?"

Anne drew in a deep breath. "Well, I stayed. I came to realise that the students who had been involved were not only very sorry, but were a product of their families' prejudices. If I left I would always have felt that I had failed- both the school and myself. I was required to be there fairly constantly for the first year, trying to bring some stability back to the school again- several of the bigger Pringle families left the town in the wake of the scandal, and some funding went along with them. It took time, but eventually, the town came around- the students and eventually their families."

Gilbert struggled to find words. "And where was Katherine in all of this?"

Anne gave him a regretful smile. "What you need to understand is that Katherine had a background almost as damaging as mine." He looked at her then, his eyes wary. "She was hurting and alone for a long time, and she wouldn't let me get close at all. She once told me that she was glad that the Pringles had made trouble for me, at first. When everything blew up, there were many nights when I was working late- and on one of them, she came into my office and sat down with me. She asked me if I was going to leave- if I would leave the school now that I had been vindicated. And then she asked why I hadn't told the board about the way that she had treated me."

Gilbert stared hard at Anne, and began to nod. "But you wouldn't do that."

"No." Anne said simply. "It took time, but she began to open up, and eventually we became close- we started functioning as a team, and the school slowly turned around. I missed her terribly when she left."

Gilbert let out a long breath, trying to regain his equilibrium. "And you're happy? You're happy that you chose to go- that you stayed there? Even with what happened to you later on?"

Anne drew in a deep breath and stood to her feet to pack her belongings. Her voice was quiet, and Gilbert waited nervously to see if he had upset her.

"Yes." Her glance was clear, and she met his eyes evenly. "I learnt a lot about myself in that time. I learnt that I was too dependent on people liking me- that I had to separate that from myself to lead properly. I think I did good work- and I'm proud of my time there." She gave a short sigh, as Gilbert stood and handed her the walking stick. He was watching her closely, seeing more than she was aware of in her expression. "I suppose that I had lived in a dream world for so long- and I needed to come down to earth too," she added absently, and he swallowed hard.

Gilbert found himself unable to speak. He picked the basket up, and without looking at her, said to her gently "Come on. I'll walk you home."

When at last he stood at her door to say goodbye, he was surprised to see her smile at him. He found it hard to talk easily, at that moment.

"You had a big six years," he said, his voice quiet.

He placed her basket down on the step, and she turned to him, her grey eyes gentle. "So did you." There was a moment of silence then, and Anne's face had flushed. "Katherine graduated her studies in the same year you did. I- I told her that a- classmate of mine was finishing medical school that year. She wrote that you graduated at the top of your class."

He seemed unable to meet her eyes then, and nodded, his own face hot. "I did."

"I was very proud of you," she said, hesitantly. "I knew that you would make a wonderful doctor." She picked up her basket when the door was unlocked, and turned to go.

He cleared his throat, summoning a smile. "Well, this doctor says that you should stay off that foot as much as you can on the weekends," he said lightly. "It might keep you from enduring another visit from me."

Anne chuckled, and then watched him turn to go, her eyes serious. Even surprising herself, she stopped him. "Gilbert, I don't expect that you need to hear this, but the fact that tomorrow will be difficult for you- that's what makes you such a good doctor. It's your empathy."

He shook his head. "We're taught to do that, Anne."

Her smile was sad. "No, you're not- and you know that. That's all you."

As the door closed behind her, Gilbert stood still, his heart clenching with some indefinable emotion. When the wind picked up behind him, he slowly turned and walked out of the gate, back to where his horse grazed, patiently waiting.