Chapter 17

Sonia Blythe stepped onto the platform and into her son's arms with a glad cry. The day was cool and dry, and she pulled away then to study Gilbert carefully. Her brown eyes measured colour and weight, and the expression in the eyes that were so like her husband's. What she saw must have satisfied her, since she smiled.

"It's wonderful to see you, darling. I declare, your father becomes more restless each trip. I thought I would need to tie him to the seat this time."

Gilbert chuckled. "You didn't bring a book, Dad?"

John grinned. "You know I don't like sitting down- not when there are fences that need mending or cows to tend."

Sonia led the way to pick up the bags, rolling her eyes. "John, the cows will be fine without you. They might miss the bedtime stories you read to them each night, but George promised that he would care for them properly."

John Blythe grunted. "George overfeeds them. Still, a few days won't matter."

Gilbert picked up the bags with a grin. "Do you really read to them, dad?"

"Once- I did that one time-" John protested.

As they drove through town, Sonia exclaimed over the changes since she had lived there- houses had sprung up, the main street that had changed locations. Gilbert smiled. He'd heard it all before, however, he took great pleasure in the knowledge that his family's roots extended deep into the Four Winds shore. They talked in contentment until Gilbert turned down a different route, his face carefully passive.

"You may not have been this way for a while. There's the schoolhouse over there- and the stone house next to it is Anne's cottage." The silence in the buggy was so complete that Gilbert flinched. He shot a look at his parents in time to see them exchange awkward glances, and sighed. "Mother, Dad, it's fine, it really is. We're all adults here."

Sonia cleared her throat. "Of course, Gilbert. How- how is Anne?"

He kept his glance on the road carefully. "She's very well. The townsfolk all adore her. She's dealing with everything better since Christmas, and she hasn't had a fall in some time, so hopefully, we've gotten to the root of that problem too. Anne's managing very well, actually- and her housekeeper guards her like a mother. She was a bit sick recently- hardly surprising in the wintertime." Gilbert somehow stopped himself from talking and almost groaned at his own stupidity. Why on earth did he need to bring that up? "I mean, everyone was- I got sick too."

John somehow found his voice over his wife's silent communication and gave his son a grin. "Sounds like she's doing fine then. How's the practice?"

This seemed to bring Gilbert back to normal again, and he talked easily. "More than I can handle, at times. There's another doctor in Lowbridge, he and I can cover each other when necessary- and both of us are run off our feet. Not bad for the old pocketbook, though."

"That's good, son. It can take years to build trust in a community like this."

Gilbert chuckled. "I think it's all in the name- they trusted Uncle Dave."

Sonia smiled at this. "They certainly did. He would be so proud of you, darling."

As expected, Gilbert's mother took over the care of the household for the entire time that she was there. After several hours of finding herself superfluous, Mrs Leary stiffly announced that she may as well stay home for the week, and Sonia farewelled her sweetly, turning to growl at the way the house had been kept. She exclaimed, however, at the homey touches that Gilbert had added, and was pleased to see that he had unpacked the house at last.

Gilbert shook his head at his parents' impression of a holiday. His father had already mended the gate, patched a small leak in the washroom ceiling and fixed the rickety stairs leading to the house- all on the first two days he was there. In the afternoons John went out with Gilbert on his calls, both winning the hearts of the housewives with his old fashioned courtesy, and those of the menfolk with his knowledgeable conversation and ready, booming laugh.

On Sunday morning Gilbert pulled off his tie for the fourth time, frowning at the reflection in the mirror. What on earth was wrong with his hands this morning? He gave them a shake, trying to control the completely unreasonable swirling in his abdomen. They would have dinner that day with the Winstons, Andrew had made sure of that yesterday- and his parents had met the Winstons the year before- had loved them, in fact. No, he wasn't worried about that at all.

He threw first the tie and then himself on the bed, staring at the canopy. Andrew and Penny loved company, and often had guests over- Gilbert had met a good number of townsfolk through this. It was ridiculous to be twisted up worrying about who else would be there. He rubbed his face with a sigh. No, he knew what was bothering him.

Would Anne be there or not?

Gilbert sat up and looked out of the frosted window unseeingly. Oh, he wasn't worried for his own sake. He didn't mind. He'd found himself oddly flat when she wasn't there, in fact. For the last few weeks Penny had been inviting Anne over more often; Andrew had approved, saying how nice it was for Penny to have someone to talk to- and privately Gilbert thought that it was a good thing for Anne, as well. He'd grown used to her presence- and slowly he had started to forget that it had ever been strange. She appeared to be relaxing with him as well now. He found himself smiling faintly. It was odd, the knowledge that they had once had of each other, that was no longer complete now. He would have thought that would unsettle him.

She could still be proud, her eyes could still flash in anger, and every now and then the flicker of insecurity that he remembered would appear on her face. When she laughed he could see the girl he had known- yet with a steadiness and peace that utterly confounded him. Time and again, Gilbert had been floored by the way she allowed herself to be completely vulnerable with him now- and yet he'd almost laughed, seeing that she could still keep those distant who wished to become too close. At times he found himself watching her and was inexplicably proud- proud of the way she would hold her own against anything that came her way.

Gilbert got up from the bed with determination then. If Anne could tackle a new life, he could manage a tie. He abandoned the one that he had chosen and grabbed an old one he had worn in Redmond days. With the stubbornness that had made him the Cooper Prize winner, he wrangled his collar and got it done up at last. As he pulled on his jacket he paused. If he was honest, it was his parent's reactions that had him concerned- for which he knew that he was responsible for as well.

Gilbert heard his mother call him to breakfast, and with a last look at his reflection, he squared his shoulders. There was no sense in worrying now.

After all, by now he and Anne were becoming brilliant at handling the unexpected.

Gilbert drove to the Glen Presbyterian church that morning talking easily with his parents in the cold of the morning. As February had moved on, snow and frost seemed to cover everything. Homes were havens now warm with fire and colour, providing respite from the harsh whiteness of the outside world. As he turned into the church yard, Gilbert pointed out various people, including the Winstons who had just arrived. Lizzie ran to Gilbert quickly, followed by her aunt and father- who both greeted the Blythes affectionately.

As Gilbert ushered his parents through the door, he heard Anne's voice and saw her sitting in her accustomed seat beside Susan, and talking with a tall lady in front of them. At first, she caught his eye and smiled- and then the colour drained from her face. In shock, Gilbert looked behind him to see what had frightened her so- only to see his parents talking placidly with Andrew. His head whipped backwards, oblivious to the fact that he was blocking up the aisle, to see that she had lowered her head and that others were blocking her from sight now.

Gilbert's brow was furrowed as he stepped into his pew beside his mother, his mind working furiously. What was going on now? Surely she couldn't be worried about his parents- Anne was made of sterner stuff than that. They had always been gracious to her. He looked back to see that she was looking anywhere but the pew he was in, and that Susan was looking at her rather oddly too. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the front. He would find out after the service.

That day went down in Glen history as the one in which Reverend Toomey tumbled backwards onto the altar in the fourth point of his sermon, after a rather exciting thump of his fist against the wooden lectern. Through the commotion and a sea of well-meaning people trying to see, Gilbert had to wade to the front when his hysterical wife asked if Doctor Blythe could please be given some room to get through. Gilbert soon ascertained that the rotund fellow had merely lost his balance, although the whispers that instantly moved around the buzzing building included stroke, seizure and paralysis. After a few minutes, the minister was brought to his feet again to great applause. The choir was given instructions to begin the closing hymn, and Reverend Toomey's fifth point was never delivered, much to his disappointment. No one ever knew what they had missed.

When Gilbert looked around at the end of the service, he could not see Anne any longer. He checked with Andrew and Penny, who said that she had just left.

"I did ask her to come for dinner with us all today," Penny said with a puzzled look. "I thought she would enjoy that. However, she said that she had to leave. Perhaps you could still catch her outside?"

As casually as he could, he nodded and walked out into the cold, to see Anne being assisted into a small buggy by Susan. He strolled over towards them.

"I thought we might see you at the Winstons, Anne," he said lightly.

Anne seemed to flush at this. "Oh- Penny did ask me, but I thought you might wish to have some time alone with your parents. And we're going to a birthday party tonight as well."

Susan took the reins easily. "My niece is turning five, Doctor Blythe."

Gilbert graciously bowed. "I hope you both have a wonderful time." He turned to Anne and gave the chestnut horse a pat. "A new acquisition in time for winter?" he asked.

Anne seemed to relax a little then and chuckled. "A gift, in fact. Mrs Baker was horrified at us continuing to walk and insisted that we use this now that she is unable. Our little barn is just big enough for her- and I will admit that Guinevere is a gem."

Gilbert couldn't help a chuckle. "You named the horse Guinevere?"

Susan sighed. "I suggested Bess, a nice, civilised name."

Gilbert's eyes met Anne's, twinkling. "Guinevere has more scope for the imagination though."

Susan gave him a curious look. "That's what Anne said."

"Of course." He straightened up with a slight smile. "It looks like you might miss my parents on this visit then, Anne," he said, watching her carefully.

Anne flushed and looked down at him, an unexplainable look of regret in her grey eyes. "Please give them my best, Gilbert."

"I will." He stepped away then, tipping his hat at both ladies. "Have a nice time tonight."

Gilbert stood watching them go, his brow lowered thoughtfully. He was sure that there was more going on than he knew.

After a sumptuous dinner with the Winstons, the Blythes made their way back to Gilbert's house that afternoon, and Sonia began preparations for supper. Gilbert helped her silently in the kitchen while she mixed the pastry for her pie, and she watched her son curiously.

"We had a lovely time with your friends, Gilbert. Do you see them often?"

Gilbert seemed to perk up at this. "Several times a week, actually. They've been wonderful."

Sonia smiled. "I see. Lizzie has grown since we last saw her too- I thought she was going to talk your father's ear off."

Gilbert chuckled. "She does, sometimes. She's like a six-year-old Anne."

Sonia attempted to keep her face neutral at this, trying to work out the best way of approaching the subject. "I see. Well, her aunt has done a wonderful job with her."

"She has."

Sonia drew in a deep breath. "Penny is lovely, Gilbert."

At this, Gilbert froze infinitesimally. "Why do people keep saying it like that?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

His mother shook her head, trying to disarm the situation. "It was a comment, dear. She is."

"Yes, she is," he said deliberately. "And no, we are not together. Nor are we ever going to be."

Sonia looked apologetic. "Forgive me, dear, I should have been more direct in my question. As you say, you are an adult." She turned the pastry out on the floured board and began to knead. "A little more water I think dear, right in the centre." Gilbert did as she asked, while Sonia prayed for the right words to come. "She is a close friend of yours, and I only wondered-"

To her relief, she heard him chuckle. "I've had female friends before, mother, and I've never married any of them."

Sonia nodded, with a little sigh. "I know that." Gilbert busied himself peeling potatoes, and the two of them worked silently for a time. "Penny mentioned that she had invited Anne today."

She felt rather than saw him tense, her eyes carefully on the pastry she was working.

"Yes. She had a birthday party to attend tonight, and I thought she seemed a bit tired this morning."

"Of course, dear. Does she rest well? She was always as industrious as you were."

Gilbert shrugged. "I think so. I know that Susan worries if she becomes too tired."

"Her housekeeper?"

"Yes. She's very protective of her."

"So you said, dear." Here Sonia scowled, thumping the dough. "I only wish yours looked after you so well."

Her son laughed. "Anne needs that more than I do, mother- I'm doing alright, I promise."

Sonia began to roll the pastry out now, carefully placing it into the pan. "Do you see a lot of Anne then?"

Gilbert straightened up. "You're certainly curious today, mother."

As she blew a piece of straight hair from her eyes, she turned to him, in some exasperation. "Dear, this has been a conversation we have avoided for six years now- and you said that it was alright to have it."

"It is alright-"

Sonia sighed and turned to him, her face gentle. "Gilbert, when you came to us six months ago for information about Anne, I was deeply concerned. Concerned that you would be hurt, that you would find it impossible to be in the same town as she was. You refused to discuss her all those years- and so we didn't. Not until she was so badly hurt did I write."

Gilbert looked at her in dawning horror. "You wrote to me about it?"

Sonia's jaw clenched, and she placed down the knife she had been trimming the pastry with. She turned to him, and he flinched at the hurt in her brown eyes. "I did, Gilbert. You didn't read it though, did you?"

He swallowed. "I did read your letters, mother- I just- I skipped anything that talked about people from home."

Sonia's eyes flashed. "I promised that I would not mention her to you- and yet you didn't read six years worth of my letters out of concern that I wouldn't keep my word?"

Gilbert's hands came up to rub his face, exhausted. "Mother, I swear I read everything that had to do with you and Dad and the farm-"

"But you had no idea what was going on in your home town?" she said heatedly. "No idea that Moody's mother died last year? That Miss Stacey visited and was asking after you? What could you possibly have feared that I would write?"

At this Gilbert snapped. "You know what I was afraid of! That Mrs Anne Gardner was visiting Avonlea! That she was at home seeing family and friends, looking nothing like the girl we remembered, wealthy, and happy and in love with him!" Sonia's eyes were enormous, as she watched the words begin to pour out of her furious son. "I thought that she would take him to all the places we once shared, that she would show him our island! You could write to me and say she had given birth to a daughter who looked just like her- or given Gardner an heir to the family fortune. I can think of a hundred things that I never wanted to hear. And it wasn't just you and Dad- I avoided everyone who had anything to do with her. The longer I stayed at home, the more chance there was that someone would bring her up. I wanted her to be happy- but I didn't want to have it thrust into my face. It was hard enough moving on once, and I never wanted to go back to that again."

Sonia had tears in her eyes, and she watched him visibly try and contain his own. "I'm not saying that it was right, but to me it made sense. I just- I had to close the chapter on her. I thought nothing could hurt her if she was happy with him. And no matter how I felt- I- I would never have wanted to see her like this." He walked away from her, rubbing his face tiredly. Sonia was shaken when he turned back to her then, his voice dull. "Did you write about Marilla too?"

Sonia shook her head. "No," she said at last. "You didn't respond, so I assumed that you didn't want to know that either."

He was silent for a time, and then looked outside. "I- I need to go and get some more firewood, ma. I'll be back inside in a little while."

Sonia Blythe watched him go, her hand over her mouth as the tears came. And when her husband came into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her without question, soothing her the only way he knew how.

That night, Gilbert found himself unable to sleep. After tossing and turning for some time, he took up his dressing gown and walked out into the kitchen. As quietly as he could he put the kettle on to boil, wondering at his luck at not being called on this night. Absently he ran through his patient list- Mrs Brodie was about a week off having her first baby, Mrs Drew's fourth was due in a month- of course, all of hers had gone early. He rubbed his hands on his tired face, dryly thinking that it was ironic- on the one night he could sleep, suddenly he couldn't. He heard a step behind him and jumped as his mother's hand touched his shoulder.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked gently. At the shake of his head, she answered. "I couldn't, either. Suppose I get us both a snack."

Gilbert couldn't repress a chuckle. "You wouldn't let me do it as a child."

Sonia smiled. "You were well fed through the day, dear. And a working man does need his strength."

Soon she sat beside him in front of the fire, with soup and rolls that she had conjured from the kitchen. After a few minutes of quiet Sonia spoke, her eyes carefully on the family photos on the mantelpiece. "I'm sorry for upsetting you today, dear."

He exhaled. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, I think that it does." Sonia let out a long breath then. "I should have tried harder to talk to you about this long ago," she said bluntly. "I never realised that you believed her married. I thought it impossible that you wouldn't have heard it from someone else." She gave him a curious look. "Do the two of you ever talk about it?"

Gilbert gave a faint smile. "Barely."

"What do you talk about then?"

He shrugged, his tiredness and the firelight somehow breaking down walls that had been up for so long. "Anything. Nothing. Same as always."

Sonia smiled. "That does sound like the two of you."

Gilbert's words were deliberate. "There's no point in talking about the past anymore. Either we upset each other, or we end up fighting again. This way is better."

She looked at him in surprise, feeling her way carefully. "Are you sure about that?"

He chuckled dryly. "Mother, when was I ever sure about anything to do with Anne?"

Sonia smiled. "And yet I imagine the past is present, all the same, dear."

He only nodded. "We- we have- oh, I don't know, we have some kind of equilibrium right now. She's not the same, and neither am I- but sometimes nothing has changed. And it's been- nice- for us to talk again."

Sonia watched him, her attention arrested. "So you've never talked about what happened after you graduated."

The change that this wrought on his expression startled her. "No. And we're not going to." Gilbert saw his mother's face fall, and he tried to explain himself. "Sometimes things just need to be left in the past. You can't- just- unscramble eggs."

This made her chuckle. "So the two of you are an omelette, dear."

A twisted smile came to his lean face then. "If that means a mess underneath, then yes, we are."

Sonia turned to him then, her face tender. "Then is it better for you to stay away from her?"

To her shock, he paled. "No- no. I- we- we have something of us back again. I don't want to lose that."

His mother's eyes were sad, seeing something she felt quite sure her son was avoiding.

"And what of Anne? Does she feel the same?"

Gilbert's voice was tortured. "Yes. She does. I don't know how I know that, but she does. She- Anne never got mad at me for what I said to her when she came here. She should have thrown me from her house, or made me grovel for years. I was a beast. And yet she forgave me. She never once asked anything of me- never demanded any explanation, and I don't know why, mother, but she's not hidden from me now. She always held something back from me- and now she doesn't. And I don't know if that was the accident, or the grief, or something else-" he stopped, his throat closing over, and Sonia tried to gather her wits again after his impassioned outburst.

"Gilbert, I'm glad that you have found some peace in this, but don't you need to know why? If you are ever going to move forward, don't you need to understand what happened between the two of you?" she said softly, only to be met by his blazing eyes.

"No, Mother. Don't you see? None of it would make the past any better. I don't need to know why she rejected me, why she cut off even the barest part of our friendship back then. I chose to let that go- I know her now. That's enough. If we go back it will only hurt us more. The only choice is to start over."

Sonia' tears were flooding unchecked at his obvious pain. "But if you could lay it to rest, maybe-"

Gilbert stood up then, agitated. "No. It is at rest now. I don't want to know any of it. I don't want to know why she didn't come when I was ill- knowing would only make it worse."

To his surprise his mother rose as well, and when he looked at the shock on her face, he stopped cold. "What is it?"

"What do you mean, 'why she didn't come'?"

Gilbert looked at her in shock. "When I had typhoid."

Sonia appeared to be frozen where she stood. "Forgive me, darling- I just wanted to clarify- that you don't need to know why she didn't visit you," she said slowly, her brown eyes studying him intently.

Gilbert slumped back down in his chair, and after a moment his mother sat beside him, taking his hand in her own. He spoke dully. "You know she didn't. She left Avonlea while I was sick. At Convocation I was trying to move on from everything, I was trying to be her friend. But it didn't happen. And when she heard I was dying- and Marilla told me that she knew- she just didn't come. She could have written- I would have been grateful for a message. But she didn't. That's why it broke apart- and that's why I never came back. And whatever friendship we have managed to salvage now, I still don't know why. If I let it, it sits like a barrier anytime I'm with her- but most of the time I can forget. And so I don't want to know."

Sonia wiped away a tear from her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't pretend to know how much this has hurt you. But please, you need to talk to her about this- for both of your sakes."

He drew in a deep breath, determined. "No. I really don't. That was six years ago. I have spent the last six months apologizing to everyone for my behaviour since then. So has she, mother. I'm done hurting over this, and I hope she is too. We need to move on now. And if we can talk civilly, if we can have some of the understanding back that we had, then it's enough for me."

To his surprise, his mother pulled her tall boy into her arms and held him tightly. Gilbert relaxed, and when she pulled back she gave him a shaky smile. "Well, I'm very glad, dear," she said, in an attempt to speak brightly. "The two of you really have grown up. Now, I shouldn't be keeping you up like this. Do you think you can sleep now? You never know when that phone will ring again."

Gilbert chuckled. "Alright. I'll just clear up here."

Sonia shook her head. "I'll do that, dear. You go and get some rest."

Gilbert did as he was told, unaccountably feeling lighter. He'd come to terms with what his silence had cost his family over the years- and was now relieved to see that they were all able to move on. And whether it was the confession or the warming soup, he fell into bed and was asleep within minutes.

Sonia moved around tidying the kitchen for some time that night. She checked on the bread she had set that evening, and took herself to the spare room upstairs where John was snoring peacefully. She crawled into bed beside her husband, thankful when he pulled her close without waking.

For Sonia though, sleep was far from her eyes for quite some time.