Chapter 9

When Anne got off the train at Carmody, she was engulfed immediately by Diana's embrace. The older children capered around Anne ecstatically, while Fred handed young Jack to his mother with a grin, and went to collect Anne's bags. When Diana had the chance to look at Anne, she sighed in relief. She had filled out a little and appeared well. Within minutes the family had made their way to the buggy, Anne trying to answer questions from everyone at the same time.

When they arrived at the farm, Diana led her friend into the spare room seeing with pleasure Anne's surprise at the new wallpaper, the delicate cherry blossoms across a pale yellow background.

"Di, it's lovely! I couldn't picture it from your letters, and the colours are wonderful."

Diana beamed, watching Anne remove her hat and coat. "I thought you would like it." She shook her head at the five-year-old Anne Cordelia, who was peeking into Anne's luggage. "Run along now, Miss, Aunt Anne needs to freshen up after her trip."

Anne laughed then at the disgruntled look on the child's face as she went. "She looks as you used to when your mother would insist you put your books down!"

Diana chuckled. "I suppose so. You, darling, are looking very well- Four Winds must agree with you."

Anne sat down on the bed with a sigh. "It's lovely, Di. The townsfolk are friendly, and Susan is wonderful- she nags me about eating almost as much as you do, dearest."

"And a good thing too!" Diana retorted. "You look so much better than you did in the summer."

"Well, I have excellent care," Anne replied lightly. There was a long silence then, and she looked over to see the awkward look on her friend's face and chuckled. "Diana darling, whatever it is, just ask me."

Diana blushed at being read so easily. "I just wondered how it is with Gilbert Blythe being in the Glen as well."

Anne was calm. "I don't really see him much. Understandably, he's very busy."

Diana seemed to be swelling with impatience. "You told me that you hurt yourself. Did you have to call him? I assume there is no other doctor there?"

"No, there isn't," Anne said slowly. "He- well, I had to see him as the doctor," she finished in a rush, trying to ignore Diana's startled gasp.

"Anne, oh my goodness, was it terribly awkward?"

"Yes- and no- and then yes again."

Diana began to laugh at the droll look on Anne's face. "Dearest, I'm sorry, but that would have been so interesting to witness."

"Oh, yes, wonderfully fascinating," she said dryly and hesitated. "He is an exceptional doctor though."

"Well, I would expect no less. And?"

"And what, Di?"

Diana's look was bewildered. "And did he apologise? Did he explain what happened after he was ill?"

She stopped, seeing Anne suddenly pale. "No, Di. And he shouldn't. It's best that we forget what happened."

Her black eyes narrowed. "Anne, you were utterly crushed by what he said to you-"

At this Anne stood quickly and moved to the window, her shaking hands coming up in defense. "No, Diana. I've had to put that behind me- and by his behaviour, he seems to want to forget about it as well. He's still who he was, Di. He's gentlemanly, even kind to me. That has to be enough."

Diana exhaled. "But Anne, he never married- he never came back here. Surely that must tell you something."

"There's a girl in Four Winds," Anne said in a soft voice. "She is lovely and kind, and beautiful. He genuinely cares for her." Diana's face fell, and she watched Anne carefully. "I'm alright, Di. He deserves to be happy." Diana stood then, coming to wrap her arms around Anne. For just a moment she felt her respond, and then as she had expected, Anne stepped back to smile at her. Diana's heart clenched, knowing that Anne's hurts were greater than she would admit. She made herself smile in response, and took her beloved friend's arm.

"Well, darling, Fred is coming in for tea in a minute, so freshen up and come and join us. I made your favourite muffins, and the children were barely able to sleep last night, knowing that you were coming."

"And there's the blessing of being so loved, Di," Anne said brightly, and for just a moment Diana saw the friend she had run through the forests and fields with. She smiled and crossed to the door to the spare room that she could only consider Anne's now.

Christmas day dawned without snow, much to the disappointment of the children. Anne looked out her bedroom window on the chill grey fields and then turned to get dressed with a sigh. In a way, it helped that she hadn't been at Green Gables last year for Christmas- although Green Gables did its very best to come to her. Marilla and Rachel had both come to the hospital, the latter sitting by Anne's bedside and telling her all of the gossip that Avonlea could afford. The two women had stayed with Aunt Kate and Aunt Chatty whilst they were in Summerside, and Anne had smiled weakly to see all of the women together in her hospital room. She was able to sit up for short periods of time now, although quickly became dizzy after lying down for so long. The staff had allowed her some time to see her loved ones, however, it only seemed a moment before the Nurse Agathe decreed that Anne needed to rest again. It was Marilla, stern, stoic Marilla who had cried, and hurt tore through Anne's pain-clouded mind at being unable to help her.

Anne paused, her hand steadying herself on the windowsill, carefully shutting down the thought of Marilla. For today that needed to stay in the background.

The service that day was a lovely one, and Anne had been surprised by how many people came to greet her. Many of her old students were there, and she couldn't repress a chuckle at the pot belly that a condescending Charles P. Sloane Esquire now sported, his harried little wife sweeping three boys who could have been Charlie at one, three and four. She met Diana's face over his shoulder with a mute plea, and Diana was swift to apologise to Charlie, ushering Anne out of the church doors before he could blink his mournful blue eyes. The peal of laughter that came back to him halted his progress for a puzzled moment, and then he gave a Sloanish shrug. Anne Shirley had always been far too flighty. He really should have a word with Wright about the influence she most likely had on his wife…

Orchard Slope was lavishly decorated for the holidays, and Anne was welcomed warmly by Diana's parents. Within a short time, she was ensconced on a sofa reading stories to the children while Diana, Minnie May and her mother laid the table for dinner. Minnie May had grown into a beautiful young lady, and young Fred told Anne with disgust that he had actually seen her take a young fellow's hand at church last week. Anne kept her laugh to herself, sympathising with the boy who just didn't like change- and remembering a girl who had once been so much the same. She snatched him close for a cuddle that made his six-year-old ears redden, and released him only when he protested that men didn't hug.

Privately, Diana had told Anne that Minnie May's young gentleman was a clerk in the lawyer's office in Carmody, and was someone her father and mother approved of- not that they would allow Minnie May to know that yet. She also had a suspicion that their determination to not allow a daughter of theirs to marry until they were twenty-one might not hold up against Minnie May's pleading, brown eyes- something Diana felt quite reasonably put out about.

After a day in which Anne had delighted in with Diana's family, she had nevertheless been relieved to spend Christmas evening as she wished, at home in solitude. Fred, who had grown quite used to Anne's presence in his house had even teased her a little, saying that Anne needed to be sure to pay his side of the family due attention the next time she was in Avonlea. When the family arrived home from the Wrights, it was to a blissfully warm house, a neat kitchen and a tray of Marilla's gingerbread biscuits, accompanied by a note of thanks from Anne who had gone to bed. When Diana checked on her she was sound asleep, and she was able to make her way to her own bedroom to a grinning Fred, who had safely tucked in the three children and was now waiting to claim his wife's full attention.

As the evening train whistled, Gilbert Blythe stepped off at Carmody late on Christmas Eve to greet his grinning father, who immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

"You couldn't give your mother more than a day's warning?" he father said jovially.

Gilbert chuckled. "Patients don't ask my permission to be sick, Dad. I told you I'd try, and I was lucky- everyone's stable right now. Bruce Parker's in Lowbridge, his family are there for the holidays. He'll cover any emergencies, so I can stay till Thursday morning."

John Blythe slapped his son on the back. "Two days! I'll have to find some work for you to do."

Gilbert snorted. "If you can guarantee me that I won't be woken up through the night by the phone, then you can make me do anything you like."

Sonia Blythe was a sight to be seen, flying around the house to prepare for the next day. In vain Gilbert tried to tell her that his bedroom was just fine, however, she was in and out several times stoking the fire, carrying a jug of water in and dusting off the mantelpiece unnecessarily, pausing to pull him into a warm hug each time. Gilbert submitted in the end to her fussing, seeing with some shame how thrilled she was to finally have him at home. He wouldn't stay away any longer, he promised himself- he would do better.

His mother had twittered anxiously the next morning about Gilbert still being asleep when they left for church- John had intervened, claiming that here at least he could get a full nights sleep- he wasn't going to wake him. Sonia had reluctantly gone, after leaving multiple notes around the house giving him instructions that were completely unnecessary, as it was almost eleven when Gilbert finally arose. When she arrived home she hustled him into a hot bath, insisting that he be made respectable for the rest of the family.

The Blythes spent Christmas with the Fletchers next door, and a beaming Gilbert came around the table to hug his great Aunt Katherine, Uncle David's widow. She sat him beside her and proceeded to ask him all about his practice. A doctor's wife for many years, she talked with him about the people he had seen, chronic cases and local knowledge that would prove useful. Gilbert smiled at the obvious love she had for the Glen and felt a deep satisfaction that he was continuing the work his Uncle had started.

That day, Anne was never mentioned- although she was rarely far from his thoughts. Back in his home, he seemed to see her everywhere- the table she would work at with him while they were teaching, the woods and trees around the Blythe Farm that they had explored. Anne had often commented on the sign that sat above his parent's front door- claiming that Pinewood was no name for a farm known for its apples, potatoes and barley. Gilbert had taken her into the dark forest that backed onto the house, and even amongst the pine needles and cloister-like dimness of the trees, she had insisted that Applewood was far more appropriate. As he strode through trees with his hands deep in his pockets, Gilbert had to acknowledge that it was the real reason he found it difficult to return- Avonlea had always seemed to belong to the two of them.

Gilbert spent Christmas night sitting up late with his parents talking, catching up on all that had happened in his absence. People had come and gone, change had slowly crept into his town. He had been grateful when the phone had been put in at the farm- to hear his parents' voices in Montreal had made him unexpectedly emotional, even whilst attempting to convince his mother that it was not necessary to shout into the receiver.

Gilbert was awoken rudely on Boxing day by the sound of the same telephone, and without thinking threw himself out of bed. He ran downstairs still pulling on his shirt, his tie flying behind him and already mentally trying to place his bag- only to find that the call was not for the farm, and he wasn't in Four Winds. His bemused father sat at the breakfast table, his cup halfway to his mouth, and his mother looked up from her pancakes. "Oh, you're up, dear. Couldn't you have dressed in your room?"

Gilbert began to laugh sheepishly, as he realised how finely attuned to the telephone he had become. "Sorry, I hear a telephone, and I assume it's time to go- you know, someone dying or being born."

John grinned. "Well, it's a good way to get you out of bed at least. Go back and finish the job, won't you?"

Gilbert chuckled and returned to his room to finish dressing properly, and came back downstairs to relax over a leisurely breakfast with his parents.

Diana opened the door after lunch to see Gilbert Blythe standing on her doorstep once again. Almost as surprised as last time, she somehow managed to find her voice.

"Gilbert! Oh- Fred is in the shed, I'll call him- we were about to have tea- I mean, please, do come in."

Remembering his earlier visit, Gilbert was cautious as he stepped inside the room, and turned to meet Fred himself. Fred reached out to shake his hand, his glance open.

"Gil! We're making a habit of this. Are you staying for tea?" he asked, glancing at his wife. She had nodded, as Gilbert looked uncomfortable.

"Only if it isn't an imposition."

She wiped her hands capably on her lace trimmed apron and shook her head. "Nonsense. Come into the sitting room."

Fred showed him through, and out of sight Diana rested against her kitchen counter for a brief moment, her eyes unsure. She'd only spoken to Mrs Blythe a week ago, who had said nothing of any intended visit. Diana was not overly suspicious- and it could be that Gilbert wished to make up for not coming sooner. However, she looked towards Anne's bedroom door with a thoughtful look. He hadn't been here until she was.

Curious.

When she carried a full tray in, Diana's face was calm. She saw him looking at the three cups, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Isn't Anne- I thought- I understood Anne was staying here with you."

Diana's face was hidden as she poured the tea, however her eyes found Fred's in silent communication.

Fred cleared his throat slightly. "She wanted to go home for the afternoon."

Gilbert almost dropped the cake fork in his hand. "Where?"

Diana sat on the sofa beside her husband and spoke quietly. "Green Gables, Gilbert."

He put the plate down, his brow lowered. "But it's empty-"

"No, it's not. The furniture is still there."

Gilbert stood up then, agitated. "Di, you let her go back there by herself?"

Fred sighed. "Hold on now, Gil, she's a grown woman. She said she wanted to go, so I took her. I saw her inside, lit a fire for her. She's safe."

Gilbert drew in a breath that seemed painful, sitting down again. "Diana, has she talked to you at all about Marilla's death?"

Diana tensed, and there was an edge to her voice. "No. If she doesn't wish to talk, then I don't force her- and I really don't see why this is your concern, Gilbert."

"I am concerned- I'm very concerned," he said heatedly. "This kind of silence isn't good for her-"

Fred could see the discussion heading in the same direction the last one had, and intervened. "Come on, Gilbert, a lot has changed-"

"Not that much, it hasn't," he shot back.

Diana saw the look of misery on his face and was beginning to understand how difficult this was for him. She drew in a calming breath. "Gilbert, I don't pretend to understand what this is like for you. She's not who you remember. I told you last time that she's not the same. She closed off people to protect herself- and I think you can see how easily she would do that to me if she felt pressured."

Gilbert saw the vulnerable look on her face and swallowed. "She'd never shut you out, Di."

Fred gave a faintly exasperated sigh. "Look, can I interrupt the two of you here?" Diana turned to her husband in some surprise, who took her hand in his. "Di's right. Things aren't the same- even I can see that." He studied his old friend. "Gil, do you remember that young deer that got caught in the fence when we were kids?" he asked, to be met with the same blank look from both Gilbert and Diana. "Just humour me."

Gilbert shrugged. "Of course- it got chased there by your father's dogs."

"It was so scared that it tried to run from us," he said flatly. "And it got stuck even worse when we approached it. Anne looks like she's doing well most of the time- and I admit, I could almost believe it at times. But I've seen that same look in her eyes- she's trapped and running scared."

Diana folded her arms, a tear falling down her cheek. "So you can see, Gilbert, why I won't push her."

A grief-stricken Gilbert was silent for long minutes. "I don't want to see her like this."

"It is going to get better," Diana said, her voice quiet. "She's trying so hard-"

Gilbert stood up suddenly. "I'm going over there now."

"No- you can't simply force her to start talking-"

"I know that," he said, agitated. "But just because you're right about it, that doesn't mean that I'm wrong. It can't keep building in her like this. And maybe when we were friends I should have let her do things at her own pace more often- I don't know. But I know that there were things back then that she told me that she didn't tell you- I think she needed you to be a safe place. You can still be that." He rubbed his face with a shaking hand. "Look, if she doesn't want me there, I'll go."

Diana looked to Fred, who lifted his shoulders. "I think he might be right."

She got to her feet then, and stared at him. "Why are you doing this, Gilbert?" she asked slowly. "The two of you aren't what you used to be- and you know that. So why are you pursuing this?"

He took up the winter coat that lay over his chair, his face set. "Because I can't see her hurting this much without doing something about it. I think you're right that you can't do it. But I might still be able to."

Fred stood then, and walked him out to the front door, and Gilbert sighed. "Fred, I seem to keep doing this to you both-"

Fred only shook his head. "Just go. If she wants to stay, I'll come when she calls me."

Gilbert hesitated. "Alright. And I'm sorry-"

Fred folded his arms and looked at him frankly. "Gil, Di just wants to protect her. And you know this was never about us picking sides-"

"I know." He looked at his childhood friend regretfully. "It was my decision to stay away for so long- I did it to myself."

Fred clapped him on the back. "Look, if she's ready, come back here and have tea properly with us."

Gilbert nodded, and turned to walk down the lane.

Two miles away, tucked away from the road and out of sight of everyone, Anne sat in the Green Gables kitchen, immobilised and silent. She'd wanted to come- and yet as Fred had pulled the buggy up the lane, she had almost asked him to turn around.

She had made herself pull the key from her purse, made herself walk through the door. Fred had been so kind, and she had thanked him and waved goodbye, almost afraid to turn around to the empty room. Everything looked as it had three months ago- except for a fine layer of dust that covered everything. A dust that would never have been allowed to rest, if Marilla was alive.

Anne shivered, despite the fire that was rapidly gaining warmth. She pulled off her gloves and heavy coat, methodically moving to light the lamp that Diana had sent with her. There was a package of tea as well, however Anne could swallow nothing.

She sat down on the rocking chair that had been Marilla's, her chest tight. All through the previous day, she had pictured Green Gables empty and cold- and the awareness was like a blot on the landscape. Even now, pain-filled eyes darted around, seeing ghosts of herself, of the life that had once kept the old house busy. She could see Matthew sitting in the corner with his pipe, Marilla beating rugs on the veranda. Mrs Lynde following her around the house as she packed to go to Redmond, and the twins running through the house for the brief year that they had lived there. How quiet the house had been when their uncle came for them.

After almost an hour, she rose from the chair, her face set. There were no ghosts, only an old house that was deserted. She moved through the rooms downstairs mechanically, the white sheets that lay over the horsehair furniture in the parlour making the room seem oddly featureless. It had been a relief to leave here in September- she could admit that now. The happy childhood she had passed here was shadowed by other memories now- the memory of the homecoming when only a silent Mrs Lynde was there to welcome her. Marilla's body lying in state in the parlour, and Anne almost making herself ill from keeping her emotions so tightly reined in. Diana's gentleness, Mrs Barry downstairs issuing instructions to the undertaker. And the desperate scream that wanted to rise up in her throat, kept at bay only by the mechanical way she had held herself- the same cry that had come from her when she awoke in hospital to a pain that she had never before known.

She moved slowly back to the kitchen and dropped into the chair again, her heart beating hard against her ribs. The light in the kitchen now seemed so bright, and Anne breathed deeply, willing herself to be steady.

Please, let me stay like this- let me only stay frozen-

When Gilbert pulled up at Green Gables, he climbed from the buggy now feeling slightly ill. He'd told his parents he was calling on the Wrights- they had known that Anne would be there as well. And now he was on some fool's errand, most likely unwanted. He stopped at the gate and looked at the house, with its fading shutters, and the shingle that had fallen from the roof, berating himself. When had she ever wanted his help? What arrogance was it in him that assumed that she somehow needed him, that he could help her now? Diana was right- there wasn't anything he could do to make it better, he would only make it worse. As he pushed through the gate, he decided. He'd ask if she wanted to go back to Diana's house, they could sit and have tea. Sit and ignore the distance between them, the pain that he only assumed was still inside of her.

Gilbert forced himself to walk up the porch steps, trying to ignore the memories of summers spent out in the sunshine, she with a book in her lap and flowers in her hair, him with a leg draped over the arm of the chair, arguing about the correct way to punctuate a sentence. When there was no answer to his knock, he turned the handle.

As he stepped inside he halted, finally seeing her sitting in the old rocking chair. Her face was an icy white that made him shudder, and the grey eyes that slowly turned to him frightened him. She barely flinched at his presence, and he had to shake off the horror of seeing her like this.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

Gilbert walked to her chair and squatted down by her side. His voice was gentle. "I'm here for Christmas. I go back tomorrow. Are you alright?"

He watched her blink confusedly. "Oh. I'll- I'll make you some tea."

He shook his head. "I don't need tea," he said carefully. "Anne, why did you come here? Did you want to see something?"

She fumbled around for her walking stick, which he quickly grabbed for her, and she pushed off the chair blindly. "No- no, I just- I need to go-" Gilbert caught her as she stumbled, and she turned terrified eyes to his. His heart sank at the look Fred had described, and suddenly he knew what she was running from. He bent down to make sure that she heard him.

"Anne?" he said softly. "You need to let yourself grieve for Marilla."

The panicked look on her face pierced him- a look he hadn't seen since that miserable day in the orchard. "No, please, no, Gil-" she pleaded, and his heart broke.

"She's gone- but you're still here. You can't follow her, Anne."

For one second she turned tear-filled eyes to his, and with a cry that seemed to come from her very heart, Gilbert caught her as she fell to the floor, breaking into sobs that she had been holding back since the day that Marilla had died. It would be some time before she would realise that he was holding her in his arms while she cried, sitting on the floor beside her with one hand stroking her soft, red hair.