Chapter 8

As Christmas drew near, Anne began to prepare for her return to Avonlea in a week. She had purchased trinkets for the Wright family, smiling to think of the children's excitement on Christmas morning. Diana had written that they would all be spending the day at Orchard Slope, with a late supper at Fred's parents. Anne had found herself growing more tired as the end of the school term approached, and wondered with a wry smile if the two of them would agree to leave her at home on Christmas night. She knew Diana was anxious to make sure that she felt no melancholy that day- here Anne gave a little smile- however, she felt that an evening in front of the fire at Lone Willow Farm would be far more of a restorative than an entire day spent surrounded by people.

Diana's parents had been wonderful, over the last few months. Mrs Barry had startled Anne at first by holding her tightly when she first came back to Green Gables, and to Anne's greater shock, the Barrys had never made a fuss about her lack of mobility. They had assisted her in closing up Green Gables for the time being, and Diana's mother had given the distraught girl steadying directions to hold on to. Diana's father had taken cartloads of food from the cellar to families in need, while Mrs Barry worked with Anne and Diana up the stairs in the bedrooms. She had been properly horrified to find small Anne Cordelia jumping on the big old beds up the stairs after they had been stripped, however, she ceased her scolding at Diana's nudge as together they watched Anne laugh for the first time since Marilla had passed away. Now, in the forget-me-not room at Rosewood Cottage, Anne pulled out the gift she had for Diana's parents with a little smile. She had been humbled to see the genuine affection the older couple had for her, and was looking forward to seeing them.

Anne had begun to steel herself for the greater trial awaiting her in Avonlea- the gathering of the townsfolk at the church services. After considerable resentment towards Gilbert, she had reluctantly been forced to admit that he was right- her pride was on the line when it came to the folk of their town. Of course, she thought dryly, that didn't explain why he hadn't returned either- perhaps he had his own issues in coming back to the place he had grown up in.

A knock at the door startled her, and Anne opened it to find Susan waiting, with her heavy winter coat on a hanger.

"Anne, the Mortons sent word to say they will be collecting you in an hour. Do you need any help to dress?"

Anne looked at the black gown carefully laid on the bed and sighed. Up in the attic were dresses of every conceivable colour- and she rubbed her forehead wistfully. "Thank you, Susan. That would be lovely."

She placed the presents in the suitcase that was rapidly filling and turned back to her housekeeper with a steady smile.

That evening, the dry, bracing cold was felt everywhere on the crystal clear night. Gilbert Blythe drove up the narrow road to the hall and was one of the last to arrive at the dance. He could hear the music coming from the building where lights flickered in the windows, and in the distance, the mournful bell of the little church struck. The dance was well under way- Gilbert had only time for a quick wash when he had arrived home, late, as usual. Mrs Leary had left his suit out as he had requested, along with a few rolls in lieu of dinner that night. He gave his uncooperative tie a useless tug as he walked toward the hall with some reluctance, stopping in the shadows for a brief moment. It had already been a long day- really, if he was honest, he would rather be in bed right now. Still, he'd promised Andrew and Penny that he would come tonight.

The room was in full swing, everyone whirling around in their winter best. It would be the last event of the year, and everywhere he looked the townsfolk were talking happily, dancing to the rustic music or hovering over the platters of food the women had provided. The Glen Hall was old- much older than the one that they had once painted blue, in fact. Gilbert was standing in the doorway watching absently when he was pounced on by the Winstons. Penny was lovely in a peach coloured gown, her dark hair piled high on the top of her head, and she wore a warm smile on her face.

"Gilbert, I'm so glad you made it!" she said brightly. "Isn't it glorious? It's almost like being at home."

Andrew guffawed at that. "You've been away from Montreal for too long, Kitten."

She rolled her eyes. "Drew, even you have to admit that it's been a long time since we went to a party."

Gilbert summoned a smile and offered her his arm with a courtly bow. "Then would you care to dance with me?"

She beamed, and Gilbert swept her out onto the floor, keeping time with the music easily. It had been a long time since he'd done this- and who knew- maybe this would blow the fog away from the day he had. As they moved around, he nodded at various families he knew, carefully sidestepping other couples keeping time on the floor. All around him was laughter. Hardworking people laying aside responsibilities for an evening of enjoyment, the hall decorated for Christmas with evergreen wreaths and red calico bows. The snow had held off so far this week, however, the cold wind coming up from the harbour was bitter, and on more than one occasion he had found himself nailing windows shut in some of the poorer houses, stuffing rags into cracks to insulate the families from the cold. He'd done his best- he'd tried-

He suddenly realised that Penny had been talking to him, and tried to pay attention. "Gilbert? You seem distracted, this evening."

His cheeks flushed, and he gave an embarrassed smile. "I apologise. It's been a long day."

Her smile was kind. "I suppose it has- but everyone needs some time out of their daily lives- even you."

Gilbert chuckled. "Maybe. You do look lovely, by the way."

Penny beamed. "Thank you. All Andrew would say was that I didn't look that terrible."

This made him laugh. "If I'd had a sister, I most likely would have teased her like that too."

Penny was thoughtful. "It's funny, but I can't quite imagine you doing that, Gilbert. Our brother Stephen isn't like that either- he's far too serious. And Jackson is only eighteen." She gave a short sigh. "I've almost missed seeing him grow up," she said softly. "I do miss home at the holidays, especially."

Gilbert nodded, unable to think of anything to say. He knew from Andrew that she greatly missed the city, missed their family. He was casting about for a topic of conversation when he saw her smile.

"Have you noticed how many gentlemen are sitting out of the dance talking?"

Gilbert's look was confused. "Are they?"

She gave a little laugh. "Even Andrew is- although he seems well enough occupied for now." Gilbert turned to find his friend, and brief shock went through him to see Andrew sitting against the furthermost wall, talking animatedly with Anne herself. He saw Penny's chuckle and turned back, his mind busy. "He does hate to be on display- and probably thinks it will keep him off the dance floor for a spell."

Gilbert grinned good-naturedly, keeping time with the music with apparent ease. When the selection finally ended, Penny steered them over to where her brother sat, and as she greeted Anne the three of them began to talk. Gilbert had been struggling to keep his mind on the evening, and when he met Anne's eyes, inexplicably he felt as if her grey eyes saw straight through him. He looked down and cleared his throat before greeting her. Anne's greeting was quiet as well, although she seemed content. It was one of the few town outings he had seen her at, and he was puzzled at first to find her at a dance.

This question was answered when the head of the school committee announced that all funds from the supper that evening would go towards a new furnace and cloakroom for Anne's classroom. Gilbert stood nearby as the committee praised her efforts, and turned to see the smile on her face as she nodded in acknowledgement. He looked around, thinking absently that she had certainly won the hearts of the town.

The dance picked up again, and Gilbert spent a good deal of the evening talking with the menfolk, taking a few turns with ladies he was acquainted with, and then dancing with Penny again. In between times, he found himself silent, trying not to think about the family who were not in attendance that evening. He had wandered to the back of the room at one point and found himself near Anne, who had been cheerfully talking with two young girls; Gilbert judged them to be about fifteen or sixteen. He saw the amused look on her face when two young lads came to awkwardly offer their hands to the girls- he saw the way Anne nudged them to stand when both appeared too stunned to respond. When they left, he sat down in the chair next to her. To his consternation he noticed her studying him.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a frown, checking his tie. "It's not straight, is it?"

Anne chuckled. "It's perfectly alright, Gilbert. Don't be so suspicious." She paused then and looked back out to the people dancing. "It's lovely, tonight, isn't it?" When she received no answer, she gave him a candid look that caught his attention. "You don't need to sit here, you know. You know every mother is hoping for you to dance with their daughters tonight."

For a moment he thought she was mocking him until he followed her eye-line. To be sure, there in the corner was a group of older ladies watching him, and pointing him out to their neighbours. He blanched as he watched some young lady being told stand upright, and was turned by her mother to face him, and then looked back in horror at an Anne who couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry, Gilbert; I shouldn't tease. However, it is rather like sitting next to Mr Darcy at the Meryton Ball."

She watched the look of scorn that crossed Gilbert's face, somehow knowing it wasn't meant for her. He did smile, though.

"Well, I'm happy to sit this one out." He was silent for a time, and his hands were in his pockets as he looked at her surreptitiously. She was wearing a black dress as usual, in amongst the brightly dressed girls spinning around the room. He didn't know what made him do it- he never did this- but found himself talking now.

"I- I lost a patient today," he said slowly.

She turned to him, her eyes sad. "Oh, Gil, I'm so sorry."

He cleared his throat, his eyes on the far wall. "A father with three young children. I really thought he was going to make it. He had a chest infection- and I thought we'd won." Anne watched him in a wordless sympathy, and for just a moment, her hand rested on his sleeve. He turned to give her a sober smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good company right now."

Anne looked away thoughtfully. "I understand. It's hard to feel that life can continue on as normal like this- and yet it does. It's a blessing and a curse, I suppose. Gilbert, you would have done everything that you could."

She saw him scowl then. "How? How do you know I didn't just miss something this time?"

Anne sighed, her voice gentle. "You know that mistakes happen to everyone, Gil. But I know that no one cares like you do. You wouldn't be so hard on yourself if you didn't. That's what matters."

He gave a wry chuckle, his eyes guarded. "Well, you know me; I would settle for a hundred percent success rate if I could."

The two of them sat in silence for some time, screened by a group of gentlemen who were crowded around the food tables. Anne looked at him curiously.

"What do you love best about being a doctor?"

Gilbert's gaze swung to hers, and Anne saw the way his brown head lifted slightly. "I love a lot of it. Babies, definitely," he began, with a slight smile. "Did you know there are now three Gilberts crawling around Four Winds?"

"And you always said no one would name a child after you!"

He chuckled. "I didn't expect than anyone would." He looked out on the dance, his gaze softening. "I love knowing I'm where I'm supposed to be. I like going into a home and having an answer to something that causes pain and sickness. You know, Jeremy used to torment me about doing operations under a gas light on a kitchen table- and I've actually had to do it."

Anne's eyes warmed at the look on his face. He ruffled his normally tidy hair up in a way that made her smile, and he began to talk more. "It was terrifying to not have any assistance- but in some cases, the patient would have died by the time I got help. It's why I came here- why should only those who live in the cities have good medical care?"

She nodded. "That's wonderful, Gilbert." She seemed to be thinking then, and he waited. "I suppose those good things make up for days like this."

His head tipped back to study the high ceilings, and he sighed. "No- and yes. It's just a part of it all, I guess. For every few people I can help there seems to be someone I can't- it's why I read every medical journal and textbook I can get my hands on. New advances, techniques- did you know there was something called trephining?" he asked, his eyes becoming animated. "Removing a section of bone from the skull- taking away the pressure that has been placed on the brain after an injury."

Anne watched him curiously. "What effect would that have?"

Gilbert turned to her then, his hands moving to demonstrate. "There was a fellow I met soon after I got here- someone who was mentally impaired after a brain injury, had forgotten who he was, in fact. I suspected it would work, and recommended the operation- and Anne, it worked. He'd been living a half life here- he was able to go home to his family almost fully restored, with his full faculties."

Anne smiled to see him so enthusiastic. "That's wonderful."

After a few minutes, Gilbert turned to look at her. He studied her thoughtful expression and sighed. Sometimes he could almost forget- sometimes he saw her as the friend he had once known. At other times he would see the change in her, and the things that had driven them apart formed a chasm between them. Where he sat at that point was a mystery- and it seemed that he'd never really understood her. He cast around to find something to talk about.

"Are you going home for Christmas?"

Anne nodded, her eyes following the moving dancers absently. "Yes. I'm leaving on Christmas Eve, and I'll be back after New Year."

"Are you looking forward to it?" he pressed and flinched at the shadow that crossed her face.

"It will be- lovely to see Diana and Fred and the children again."

Gilbert could see her walls going up again, and almost groaned at his lack of tact. How could she be looking forward to it? This was her first Christmas alone. A shard of pain seemed to hit him all at once, staring at the red-headed girl he had once known- dressed in black, her grey eyes filled with hurt. She didn't have a makeshift family here, all she had was a housekeeper. Without thinking, he found himself blurting- "Would you like to dance?"

He looked up to see delicate auburn eyebrows raised at him, and a spark deep within her grey eyes that meant danger ahead. He fought back the nervous laugh that threatened and drew in a breath. "I swear I'm not teasing. It's the Christmas ball- it's a slow song- and who is safer than a doctor to dance with?"

To his relief, she appeared to calm, although Anne's eyes remained worried. "Gil, I don't know-"

Strangely, it was the anxious look that decided him. "Come on, yes you do. You always loved to dance- and we can go slowly. I won't let you get hurt." He stood up then, taking her hands in his own. With more confidence than he felt, he pulled her to her feet and slipped his arm around her waist, and looked down to see enormous grey eyes close to his own. In order to control the conflicting emotions inside, he directed her quietly.

"Put your arm on my shoulder- that's right- and I'm afraid you'll have to lean on me a bit more to keep yourself steady."

He could feel her shaking in his arms and waited until she was steady to move. Her hand was on his shoulder with an almost painful grip, and he tried to smile. "See? Just like falling off a log."

To this, she chuckled, distracted from the fact that they had just taken their first step. Slowly he moved them, his mind suddenly filling with old memories.

"But Gil, I can't see where I'm going!" she had hissed crossly, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Anne, you're not meant to when we're dancing! A woman is supposed to let a man lead!"

He watched sigh in exasperation, and then look down at their feet. "I- don't know how."

"Just keep your eyes on me, Carrots," he teased, and grinned at her indignant huff. "And come on, trust me."

And the sixteen-year-old girl suddenly looked up at the nineteen-year-old boy, both of them realising that they were closer than they had ever been.

She was beginning to relax when he took a larger step than before, and he felt the way she caught her breath, her eyes frightened.

"Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, suddenly flushing. "I- I just haven't done this in awhile."

Something in his heart clenched as he felt her stumble ever so slightly, and he pulled her closer and slowed his step down. "Well, you're doing fine." He watched her eyes dart nervously around the room. "What is it?"

"I don't know what everyone will think of me doing this-"

He gave her an amused look, wanting to calm her. "It's the town doctor dancing with the town schoolteacher, Anne. It's no more interesting than the butcher waltzing off with the blacksmith." He grinned as she began to laugh, and steadied her with his arm around her waist as they turned slowly.

"Gil, slow down," she had exclaimed breathlessly, her cheeks bright red.

"You wanted to do this," he retorted. "I told you it was fast, and I'm trying to stop us from getting trampled."

To his surprise, her eyes narrowed, and before he could say anything, she had yanked him from the line out of the nearby front doors of the hall, and out into the starlit night.

"Does this mean you forfeit?" he asked when he had caught his breath, watching the girl breathing deeply of the night air, her chest rising and falling in a way that made his heart almost stop. Her hands were on her waist then, and he felt a frisson of heat go through his body as one of her blue puffed sleeves slipped on her shoulder, revealing the ivory strap of her chemise.

"Never, Mr Blythe," she said, her nose in the air. "Any dance, anytime."

Taking care to not move suddenly, he kept his eyes on her face. The rest of the room was forgotten as the pair moved gently on the floor, and neither of them noticed the puzzled looks from bystanders or the curious look on Penny Winston's face. Gilbert carefully supported Anne as they came to a stop with the music, and he was still holding her in his arms when one last memory flooded his mind. He remembered the coldness in her grey eyes, the shock that had gone through his system at her words.

"I'm terribly sorry, Gilbert, my dance card appears to be full."

He stiffened, and his heart was pounding as he walked her the short distance to her chair. Pushing down the old feelings of hurt and anger that he had felt, he stood awkwardly near her as she sat down. She could not quite raise her eyes to his, and her cheeks were pink.

"Thank you, Gilbert. I didn't think I would ever do that again, to be honest."

He tried to shake off the memory and cleared his throat. "It was my pleasure." He paused then, as his guarded hazel eyes suddenly met hers- and the words seemed to well up without effort. "All I wanted was one last dance with you."

Anne didn't flinch from his gaze, although she paled, and a grief that startled him was in her expression. She didn't need him to tell her what he had meant and blinked away the tears that formed. Hoping he could read the truth in her eyes now, she answered him in a low voice. "I always regretted that you didn't have it."

When the silence grew long, and she saw the discomfort on his face, Anne looked behind him to see the couple she had arrived with approaching.

"Thank you, Gilbert. My ride is preparing to leave, and I must go. And I believe Andrew and Penny are waiting for you." Gilbert turned in shock to see a hesitant Penny standing a short distance away. Anne's smile to her was kind, and she took her stick in one hand as the brother and sister approached, and she nodded gratefully to her next door neighbours.

"Mr Winston, Miss Winston. I must be heading off now- Susan tends to worry if I am out too late."

Penny responded in kind, and Andrew leant across to shake the elderly Mr Morton's hand, who stood ready to assist Anne. His kind faced wife handed Anne her wraps and she turned to nod at the group with a smile. She looked to Gilbert then, her eyes meeting his now. "Thank you, Doctor Blythe. I wish you all a Merry Christmas."

Twenty minutes later, a thankful Anne closed and locked the door behind her. She leant against it with a big sigh that brought Susan to the entryway, her tea towel still in hand.

"Anne? Is everything alright?" she asked briskly.

Anne pulled the grey fur trimmed hat from her head, with a quirked smile. "Perfectly so, Susan dear. However, there are nights when it is a pleasure to leave behind the crowds. Is there any chance that you would have a cup of tea available?"

Within a short time, Anne was tucked up safely in her bed, and Susan had come into her room with a tray for them, staying to hear the gossip of the evening- who had been there, what they had worn, and who had danced with whom. After a cozy chat and some quiet laughter together, Anne blew out her lamp, relaxing back on her pillows with a sigh.

In the stillness of the night then, she remembered with a bittersweet pang how it had felt to be held by him- and she remembered the girl who had taken it for granted too. She closed her eyes in the darkness, for a brief moment allowing herself to forget about Penny, to forget about the eight years that had separated them. To remember the curve of his jaw, the way his generous mouth twisted into a smile at times- the clean, masculine scent of him, and the strength in his arms as he supported her. A most precious tear fell then, one that was all the gratitude that she had felt since he had come to her house so many weeks ago. He was acting out of pity, she knew- and yet it didn't sting as it should. For the girl who had once not known how to receive anything at his hand, she curled up on her pillow now and could only feel gratitude for one last dance with Gilbert Blythe.