Chapter 10

As the afternoon light began to fill the kitchen at Green Gables, Gilbert tried to stretch without waking the exhausted girl on his lap. After crying for longer than he had ever believed anyone could, he had been dumbfounded to realise that she had fallen asleep. He was relieved that she had- as she had cried, unbeknown to her, so had he. He needed some time himself- while she had slept, he had sat on the cold wooden floor with her, thinking.

A part of his heart felt dangerously vulnerable like this- but then it had ever since he first learned that Anne lived in the Glen. He was forced to admit that he'd never really processed the past either- and he wondered bleakly if he'd been as locked up inside as she was. Oh, he hadn't actually lost anyone, and his path had been comparatively without pain- except that he had lost her. In a way, he'd been grateful that she had been so changed- or it might have catapulted him straight back to his younger self, rather than the thirty-one-year-old man he was now.

He'd gone back to Redmond determined not to think of her again, to make the most of the opportunity that he had been given by throwing himself headlong into the challenges of medical school. He'd managed to startle his professors by his vigour so soon after typhoid- working harder, longer than any other student. The trouble was, that the pace had never really stopped.

Gilbert stared into the coals of the fire now, his hand unconsciously stroking her hair as she slept. Three years of studying, almost night and day in his final years. He and Jeremy had boarded the train for Montreal within a week of their graduation, and the two years there had gone like a watch in the night. He'd been at the hospital almost eighteen hours a day for the first year- it was only after the first year that he bothered to find an apartment of his own, choosing to live in the hospital accommodation. And it was meant to end there- he was meant to take over his uncle's practice, settle down and live the life that he'd spent so long preparing for.

He'd been busy, building up his practice, reassuring those who had worshipped Uncle Dave that he was well able to care for them. He'd had successes, and triumphs and challenges; and yet on the evenings when he wasn't called out, he had sat at home wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now.

As he sat holding Anne while she slept, he found himself asking what had happened to him- and how it was that her arrival had seemed to jolt him back to himself. Perhaps it was that she had changed so much- perhaps it made him see how much he had changed too. He'd been accused of being so serious, too- Penny's words at the dance had niggled away at him for days. Had he lost the part of himself that was light hearted? How did she and Andrew not know that part of him?

No, he'd been off balance for a while now, and it was time to find himself again. He looked down at Anne with a sigh. She would find herself too- and he would be happy for her when she did.

It was strange, the dynamic between them now. She seemed to manage it better that he did, something that irritated him vaguely. She'd been exactly what he should have expected- completely honest, and without artifice. He'd only seen her to talk to a handful of times, and yet she was always the calm one; he was the idiot chasing ghosts, it seemed.

Well, he'd show her. He'd show her that he could let go of the past, to live and let live. She deserved his respect, and he deserved to move on at last.

At the sound of a branch falling on the porch roof, Anne shot up with a gasp, her eyes frightened. She didn't turn to him at first, and Gilbert swiftly pulled himself away, so that she wouldn't be embarrassed by where she had been resting. When she looked back at him, it was to see him sitting on the floor beside her, and her glance was uncertain.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

Her hand came up to brush a loose red curl behind one ear, and she drew in a deep breath. "Tired."

Gilbert stood up and bent to help her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you home to Diana."

To his surprise, Anne shook her head and moved slowly to the kitchen sofa. "Can I - can I just have a minute, first?"

He settled himself beside her, watching her carefully. "Anything you need."

Anne was silent for some minutes and then cleared her throat. "How did you know?" she asked.

Gilbert's look was gentle. "Call it an educated guess."

She sat forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and Gilbert studied her. The awful, dead look had gone from her eyes, and he shivered, remembering the way she had been when he arrived. In the stillness of the moment between them, he only just stopped himself from reaching to touch her again. He almost jumped in shock at his actions, shaking himself. No, he really needed to not do that...

Anne was completely unaware of his reaction and rubbed her face tiredly. "I suppose- you learn to keep a good deal inside when pain is a constant," she said softly. "People can't support you forever. I'd put others through so much, and then when she- when Marilla died-" she swallowed and broke off. "She asked me to come home," she admitted, with tears in her eyes. "When I was discharged from the rehabilitation clinic, she asked me to return with her. And I- I said no." Gilbert's eyes showed his grief for her, and he sighed. "I couldn't, Gilbert. Financially she was struggling- I couldn't simply land myself on her doorstep, helpless, and unable to contribute in any way." Anne wiped her eyes, her voice broken. "She had done so much for me, she saved me- and I couldn't bring myself to add to her burdens again. I told her that I would return to Summerside, that I was sure I could work again- she begged me to change my mind, but I was so stubborn. And then after I went back, I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I had resigned. At the beginning of May I decided that I would return here until the start of the new school year- and then I received the telegram to say that she had- that she died."

Unconsciously she pulled her feet onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her knees tightly. Now that the silence had been broken, the words seemed to flood out of her. "When I got here, I kept finding myself standing still in a busy house- I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I had only just learned to walk again two months earlier and I kept getting in the way- and people didn't know what to talk to me about, my injury, or about Marilla." She gave a hysterical chuckle. "I kept remembering when Marilla would scold me for that as a child- I would be daydreaming in the middle of the kitchen, and sometimes she would take me by the elbows and simply move me out of the way."

Gilbert smiled. "I remember her doing that to you when we taught together."

Anne was silent for a time, and she shut her eyes, her forehead creased in an attempt to hold back more tears. "Do you think she was angry with me?"

Gilbert swallowed, his eyes suddenly burning. "No- no, Anne." He couldn't answer immediately, and floundered helplessly, before catching sight of an old prayer card on the mantelpiece. Slowly, he began to think out loud. "There was a Bible verse I remember from Sunday School- 'now we see through a glass, darkly'. Do you remember it?"

She rested her head against the back of the sofa. "Yes?"

He sighed, trying to understand the thoughts that had not ever fully taken shape. "'Now I know in part, but then I shall know, even as I am known,'" he quoted, slightly hesitant. He looked at her and caught his breath at the sight of her grey eyes- tipped back to watch him so trustingly. He shook his head to clear it and continued. "I think- I think that there are things that we don't know on this side of eternity- that we should understand, afterwards. I think- even if Marilla didn't understand before, that she understands now. She knows you loved her- and she would know why you chose not to go."

Anne stifled a sob, her hands tightly clenched. "Do you really believe that, Gilbert?"

At that moment, he knew that it didn't matter what he thought- he put his arm around her like he hadn't for so long, and bent in close. "I know it. You can't tell me that you can make it all the way to eternity without learning that- she knew you Anne, and she loved you more than anything else in the world."

After a time Anne sat back to find her handkerchief, rolling her eyes at how wet it was. Gilbert held his own out, sensing that he had said enough for now. "I think you'd better keep that."

She wiped her eyes and gave an exhausted chuckle. Eventually, she turned to him, some calm restored. "Gilbert, why didn't you mention that you were coming back for Christmas as well?"

Gilbert lay his head back on the sofa, watching the light play across the ceiling. "I couldn't make any plans until I knew I could safely leave my patients- and that only happened on Christmas Eve. I sent the telegram to dad that morning, and he picked me up that night."

Anne gave a slight smile. "Your mother must have been beside herself- she would miss you terribly."

Gilbert nodded, and a regretful look was on his face. "You weren't the only one who should have come home sooner." He sighed and stood up slowly. He retrieved her stick and helped her to stand. "Anne, it's getting cold, and Diana will kill me if I don't get you home soon. And she's promised us both tea."

Anne's grey eyes faltered at the kindness on his face, and the warmth of his hand in hers. "Gilbert, why did you come for me? You know that you didn't have to."

She watched him look away, and study his shoes with great interest. To her surprise, his reply was painfully honest. "Because I thought you might need me."

Anne swallowed hard, and her eyes filled. "Thank you. I- I did." She worked then to clear the lump in her throat. "I thought if I could just keep myself from dwelling on it that I could survive- and I was too afraid to let myself feel it, I think. Does that make sense?"

Gilbert's breath caught at the memory. She had asked him that once before.

They had been sitting out beside Dryad's Bubble after the doctor had called around to see Marilla. Gilbert had been at Green Gables studying and had stayed to keep Anne company when he arrived. He remembered that her dress had been grey- and that a faded white rose was tucked into her collar.

"What was it like, Gil?" she had asked him suddenly. "When you were in Alberta all those years with your father?" He dropped the book in his hand to look at her. "Were you ever afraid?"

He had been a boy of almost nineteen then, still with some faint feeling that it wasn't masculine to admit fear- and especially to a girl he admired. He had hedged, before answering her honestly- "Yes." She turned the eyes that were enormous on her small face to him, and he sighed. "I was afraid I could lose Dad- and I was afraid I'd be alone when it happened."

"Because your mother was here," she said slowly. "But you weren't alone, he lived."

Gilbert's startled eyes looked to where the doctor's buggy sat at the top of the lane, and he thought that he understood.

"Anne, it's a migraine. Marilla will be fine, you know that."

He watched the frown that puckered her brow, and her voice was quiet. "We only just lost Matthew. And if anything happens to Marilla-"

"It won't, it won't happen-" he'd said fiercely.

"-then I would be alone again- and it would be worse because this time I know what it is to be loved. Does that make sense?"

Gilbert had turned her to face him. "You won't be. Not ever. Do you think Di or I would let that happen?"

A small tear had fallen, one that she would ordinarily have never let him see, and she had given a slight chuckle. "And what if Diana is married and gone, and you are off at a big, fancy college somewhere?"

He remembered that he had made her laugh by inexpertly mopping her face with his sleeve, and he'd knelt in front of her with a determined gleam in his eyes. "Di's husband will just have to deal with it- you know nothing would stand between the two of you. And I promise, no matter where I am, I'll always come for you."

In the present, he looked into the same grey eyes and a strange peace settled over him. He'd made mistakes- they'd fought, they'd spent years as strangers. And yet somehow, against all odds, he'd eventually been able to keep his word. He said nothing about this though and turned to the fire, where only tiny embers glowed. "I think this will be out in a few minutes- it's going cold now. Are you ready to go?"

Anne nodded, and he carefully helped her on with her coat. Together they locked the door and walked down the stairs, and both halted, surprised. There before them, tiny snowflakes were falling, slowly covering the ground with a soothing blanket of white. Gilbert turned to look at her and smiled to see the dawning look of joy on her face.

"It came-" she said in wonder. "I hadn't thought I would see snow here this winter."

He offered her his arm with a grin. "Neither did I. It's nice to know that you and I can still be surprised by this place."

When Anne was ushered in through the Wright door, a hysterical Diana almost knocked her over as she pulled her into her arms, only stepping back to look at her face.

"Are you alright? I began to worry, I shouldn't have let you go like that-" she said, her voice shaky.

Anne smiled at her friend. "It's alright, I needed to go, Di."

Diana looked over Anne's shoulder to see Gilbert talking with a young, serious Fred and his father, and turned back to Anne, who shook her head. "It was fine, Di."

Diana turned toward the kitchen and began to lay the tray on the bench with four cups and saucers with quite unnecessary force. "Anne, so help me; if he made you cry, I will hunt him down and he will need a doctor by the time I'm through with him-"

To this Anne began to chuckle, and Diana paused her tirade to stare at her friend. Was it her imagination, or did Anne actually look a little better?

"Sometimes we all need a good cry. And I had a very good one. Rather too good, in fact. Would you mind if I went to freshen up a little before tea, dearest?"

Diana shook her head as she watched Anne head down the hall, and pulled out the chocolate cake she had saved for the afternoon. She drew in a deep breath and regarded the back of Gilbert's head with a shrewd look. Surely things couldn't be what they appeared to be.

Throughout afternoon tea, Diana watched the pair curiously. The two of them were quiet, and Diana was surprised to see them so oddly formal with each other. Gilbert eventually relaxed enough to talk, and at last, she simply shook her head resolving to accept the strangeness. Anne was alright, and for now, that had to be enough.

When it was time for him to go, Gilbert stood to thank the couple for their hospitality. "Thank you, I should get home before mother starts to worry. I have to catch the early train tomorrow, and I have a fair idea she wants to see how much she can feed me between now and then."

He turned to Anne then and hesitated. What exactly did one say after an afternoon like they had experienced?

She gave him a slight smile of understanding. "Gilbert, thank you." There was something in her tone that made his eyes come up as well, and he saw in them a depth of feeling he had not expected. He swallowed.

"No problem. When do you go back?" he asked lightly.

Anne could feel the exhaustion in every bone of her body by now, and half-smiled. "I told Susan I would be home on the second."

It was happening again- the two of them forgot that anyone was nearby. One brown eyebrow went up. "I'll make sure she has plenty of bandages in stock by then." He saw the scowl on her face and grinned as he stepped away from her. He picked up his coat to follow Fred and Diana, turning to meet Anne's eyes once more from the doorway.

"So I'll see you back home?" he asked lightly.

Anne tried to ignore the way Diana's jaw dropped, and she nodded, her cheeks flushing. "I'll see you back home. Travel safely, Gil."

Later that night, after Diana had seen her children to bed and Fred was snoozing in the armchair, she knocked on the door of Anne's room.

"Come in."

Diana came in to see Anne sitting up in bed, her long hair in a braid, and in her nightgown. Diana had chased her through a hot bath earlier, and a very thankful Anne had gone to bed soon afterwards. She sat down on the side of the bed, her look watchful. Anne smiled at her, her face full of regret. "I'm sorry to make you worry so, Di."

Diana kicked off her shoes and settled herself on the bed beside Anne, making her chuckle. "I won't worry, if you tell me what's going on."

Anne sighed. "It's exactly what it appears to be-"

"You mean that I can't tell what's up and what's down with you two?"

"Yes, that's it," Anne said pragmatically, and both girls laughed. Anne lay back against her pillows, studying the lamplight. "I don't know, Di. We're not friends- he's made that quite clear." Diana snorted at that, and Anne chuckled. "I don't know- it's like we are something underneath all of this rubble- and you saw what he was like- no one could be kinder. I don't know if it's pity, or that he feels he owes me something now-"

Diana sighed and looked over at Anne. "Because of what he said to you when he saw you for the first time?" She saw Anne's cheeks turn pale, and reached out to take her hand in her own plump one. "Anne, Gilbert Blythe hasn't stepped foot in Avonlea properly in six years. He comes and goes from Pinewood if he comes, and that's all. But only hours after he saw you and said whatever tactless, brainless thing that he did- and no, he didn't tell me what- he hopped a train the next morning to come back here to find out what happened."

Anne sat up quickly. "Di, he never told me that-"

"I should think not," Diana said cheerfully. "I sent him off with a flea in his ear, and I can only assume his parents must have as well, since he came to me next."

Anne covered her face with a groan. "Di, tell me that's not why he came to see me-"

Diana grinned. "No, darling. I'm fairly sure he was going to anyway. He was pretty miserable after whatever he did."

Anne sighed. "Well, he wasn't happy to see me in Four Winds, to put it mildly. Now, I think it just doesn't matter that I'm there. He talks to me pleasantly, courteously, and sometimes it's how it used to be. And then something happens and it's uncomfortable again."

Diana stayed silent, not wanting to say more than she should. "Well, if he treats you with respect from now on, that's more than enough for me, dearest. Are you alright?"

Anne nodded, and she rested her head for a moment against Diana's shoulder. "Oh, Diana. Can you wake me up when we're sixteen again?"

Diana chuckled, kissing the top of Anne's red head. "No, but I'll let you get some sleep. It's been a big day." She paused, and continued slowly. "Maybe one day the two of you can be friends again."

Anne's smile was sad, and she shook her head. "Perhaps this way is better, Di. I don't think that I could lose him again."

Gilbert's father and mother stood at the Carmody station the next morning, his mother shivering slightly in the early morning fog. The two of him would be coming to see him in just a few months, and Gilbert promised that he would try to return soon as well. Eventually John insisted on bundling his wife up to take her home, and Gilbert watched them go with a thankful heart. He was glad he'd come- glad to ease their minds, to begin to rebuild the connection to his home again. As he looked at the wagon roll away, he sighed. No, this time away had been right- he'd been exactly where he needed to be.

He had just placed his bag down and was feeling in his pockets for his ticket, when a sharp voice made him flinch.

"Well, if it isn't Gilbert Blythe!" Josie Pye said sweetly as she stepped up to him. "I thought from what your parents said, that you had no intention of returning home anytime soon."

Gilbert gritted his teeth and gave an artificial smile. "Josie."

"You needn't bother charming me again, Gilbert, after all, I am a married woman now. Didn't you know?"

He caught the smug expression on her face and nodded without interest. "Congratulations."

Josie tossed her head, giving her yellow flounces a shake. "Indeed. I'm collecting him from the station now, in fact- he was just up in Charlottetown seeing his mother. He's very devoted."

Gilbert checked his watch surreptitiously, hoping that for once the train was on time. "That's- lovely."

"I think you must be one of the few unmarried people from our class, Gilbert. I suppose being a doctor means that you're too busy to find anyone. I would so hate to be one of the only ones left behind- well, apart from Anne- but then she's perennially single, isn't she?"

Gilbert's fist was closed around his pocketbook, and he willed himself to not react. He'd been through this before, she was just trying to get a rise out of him. Sooner or later, she always started on Anne.

"She's quite infirm now, isn't she?" she said, and he felt sick at the malicious glee in her voice. "She did always walk with her head held higher than everyone else- it's quite ironic that she can hardly walk at all, now. How fortunate that you never got landed with her."

As the bile rose in Gilbert's throat he suddenly turned on her, making her freeze at his odd demeanor. In the silence that followed, she looked at him uncertainly.

"Josie-" he said started, in a deceptively quiet voice.

"That's Mrs Bourke, to you, Gilbert."

Gilbert's jaw clenched, and the simpering smile faded from her face. "I want to know why you lied to me five years ago. Why did you tell me that Anne was married and living in Kingsport?"

She fiddled with the buttons on her coat, her brown eyes darting to the station clock. "It was only supposition, Gilbert. No one had seen her around for ages."

He took a step toward her, his look menacing. "You always had your finger on the pulse of every bit of gossip that came through this town. You would have known exactly where she was- that she was teaching in Summerside. You would have hated it more than anyone if she was married," he growled.

Josie's chin came out aggressively. "I saved you from making a fool out of yourself again, that's all. You think everyone didn't notice that you were still infatuated with her?"

At the sound of the train whistle, a shaking Gilbert turned to see the train coming down the hill to the little station. He turned back to a Josie who couldn't meet his eyes, and was fiddling with her gloves.

"You're better off alone, Gilbert. She was never going to care about anyone except for herself. She'll be a spinster forever."

Gilbert's look was furious. "Better a spinster with good character and a good heart than someone who lies and cheats to get what they wanted. Even back in school you manipulated everyone to get your way. You think your deceit won't come back to haunt you?"

All pretense of friendliness had gone from her now, and she shot him a vicious look. "Well, wherever Anne has fled to now, at least she's not with you. I made sure she knew years ago that you were long gone."

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he walked away from her, afraid he would not be able to control his rage. He picked up his bag blindly and didn't wait to see Josie greet the sharp-faced young man with the expensive ring on his finger. Gilbert climbed into the furthermost carriage and threw himself into a seat, his hands coming to rub his face. If this was what Anne had to face anytime she came back here, then he'd never say another word about it again- she was better off in Four Winds.

A few minutes later the train began to move, and he looked out the window to see Josie staring at him through the fog on the platform, her pinched face now wearing a look of triumph. It was at this moment that his breath suddenly caught. Josie's last words sounded in his ears, and as the train pulled away he fell back on the chair. In all the years of hurt and anger, he'd never thought to question his own assumptions about what had gone wrong between them. The words of the bitter, vicious girl he had long known echoed in his mind, and those of the red headed woman who had only ever given him her honesty- and Gilbert Blythe was left questioning everything he had ever believed about the past. One hideous thought rose above all others.

If Josie had spoken that way to him- then what on earth could she have she said to Anne?