Chapter 21

The next evening, Gilbert and Jeremy sat before the fire in silence. Gilbert's lap was full of case notes, and he had conjured a textbook from his bookcase to consult as he worked. Jeremy sat across from him, one ankle resting on his immaculate trousers- in complete contrast to the mess he had been when assisting in a birth that afternoon. He had been taken aback when Gilbert insisted that he deliver the baby himself- his first since medical school. The arrival of the squalling nine-pound infant had caused the father to faint dead away in a corner, and Gilbert checked him over while the shell-shocked Jeremy pronounced the boy to be in perfect health.

Now, a hot bath and a change of clothes later, Jeremy set down the notes he had been perusing thoughtfully. "Sural nerve injury. The symptoms are consistent with the time frame since the accident."

Gilbert looked up, his pen hovering over the page. "Mm?"

Jeremy picked up his now cold tea, downing it in one, and passed Anne's file to Gilbert. "In either her first or second operation, they cut or stitched through something they shouldn't have- the nerve is probably entrapped in scar tissue."

Gilbert laid down his paper and studied hasty sketches the surgeon had added. A small knot in his abdomen tightened. He'd thought he knew the extent of Anne's case- but the notes she had handed his colleague the previous day had proved otherwise.

Gilbert set them aside, walking out to the kitchen to boil the kettle again. As he waited, he pulled the curtains aside, shivering slightly at the sound of the rain on a cool night. It would be enchanting if he could guarantee that he didn't need to go anywhere. With a sigh, he pulled the last of Susan's muffins from the tin and took a tray back to the living room.

"So what do you think?"

"I'll know better when I've examined her." Gilbert nodded and was silent, and after a moment Jeremy spoke. "What is it?"

Gilbert looked over to see his friend studying him and shook his head. "It's foolish."

"Oh?"

Gilbert gave a wry chuckle. "So don't bother telling me it's idiotic. I know."

Jeremy shrugged. "Fair enough."

Gilbert folded his arms, listening to the crackle of the old fireplace for a time. His words were deliberate then. "I was wondering why Anne didn't show me the notes in the beginning."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Jeremy raised his eyebrows at Gilbert's frown. "No? Not obvious?"

"Let's just say I would like to hear your opinion."

Jeremy stretched out his legs comfortably. "You're too close."

Gilbert ruffled his hair tiredly. "Look, let's say I hadn't already declared myself an idiot for questioning it. Back when I first saw the injury, we weren't. We were barely speaking. We've come a long way since then. I'm her doctor- and I'm her friend."

"All the more reason not to, I say." Jeremy chuckled then at the cross look on Gilbert's face. "Gil, do you know what I always admired in you as a physician? It was your professionalism. People trusted you to operate because you were always calm, always rational. You remember how I handled that family after my first surgery."

Gilbert couldn't keep back a laugh at that. "Come on, the patient was fine."

Jeremy grunted. "They hospitalized his mother for heart palpitations after I spoke with her."

The men shared a laugh then, and Jeremy settled back on the chair, patting his pockets to feel for his pipe. "You didn't do that. You never fell apart."

"I still felt it," Gilbert commented. "But you're changing the subject."

"No, I'm making a point. This one is different. You seem- very bound up in her case," Jeremy said slowly.

Gilbert shrugged uncomfortably. "Isn't that only natural? We've known each other since we were children."

"Yes. Natural. But not ideal when you are dealing with her as a patient."

"Which is why I wanted someone else to see her," Gilbert added reluctantly.

Jeremy chuckled. "Well, I am. I admit I was curious to see what she would be like, after all of your stories back in college."

Gilbert spluttered at this. "Come on, I can't have said that much to you back then-"

"Winner of the Avery, seven freckles on her nose- and I'm taking your word for that, by the way- and she once wrote something about baking powder?"

Gilbert rubbed his unshaven jaw sheepishly. "Fine, you've made your point."

"And she's certainly one of the most intelligent women I have met."

"She is."

Jeremy studied him carefully. "Beautiful, too." When only silence met his comment, he held back a smile. "You don't think so?"

Gilbert looked up then, his eyes suspicious. "Well, of course I do- but it's hardly the only thing I see in her."

"Naturally." Jeremy stood then, eying Gilbert carefully. "Look, I'm seeing Anne on Wednesday afternoon, right?"

"Correct."

"Then any further discussion on her case can wait until then. You're not planning on hovering over my shoulder while I talk with her?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I've got patients to visit then, so- no."

"Good. I'll hand in my recommendations after that."

On the day of Anne's appointment, Susan dropped her at Glen St Mary's small bookshop. Anne stopped to breathe in the scent of the books and gave a wave to the man sitting behind the counter. He stood up stiffly to walk to Anne, his smile genuine.

"It's a rum old day today, Miss Shirley. Out of class early?"

Anne smiled. "I have an appointment, Mr George. I thought I could pass the time before it here."

"Just so, Miss Shirley. Let me know if you want something."

Anne moved around the aisles, delighting in the array of books on the crowded shelves. She had just picked up a volume of poetry when she started at a touch on her arm. She looked up to see Owen Ford looking down at her with a smile.

"We meet here again, Miss Shirley."

Anne smiled, by now quite comfortable with the enigmatic author. "What are you looking for today, Mr Ford?"

He smiled, brushing the brown hair back from his forehead. "Inspiration. I admit this has not been a productive day so far. My publisher will not be impressed."

Anne chuckled. "Even editors must feel uninspired at times."

Owen grimaced. "Did you know the harbour ice turns black just before spring, Miss Shirley? The view from my office is most unappealing."

"The warm weather must melt that soon, I believe."

Owen followed behind her, allowing himself to relax once out of sight of others. "And what are you looking for?"

Anne gave a shrug. "I would love to find some new poetry for my class. Something simple enough for the younger students to understand, and something for the older ones to begin to discuss together."

"Do you have many choices in the curriculum?" Owen asked idly.

"Oh, several. For my own sake, I would like to find something different."

Owen pulled a slim volume from a higher shelf, with a smile. "This is written by someone I met when I worked for the newspaper. Modern, elegant- although perhaps a little risque for the classroom."

Anne smiled. "Eustace Britten- I haven't read him before. What was he like?"

Owen added the book to his pile easily. "He takes his coffee with three sugars." At Anne's surprised look, he grinned. "The newspaper world is not always exciting, Miss Shirley. I held an out of sight position for a long time." She chuckled then, pulling down another volume to study. "You know, I could bring some of my own selections over some evening. Your class may enjoy a wider choice of poems to study."

Anne chuckled. "You are fast becoming a literary agent, Mr Ford. Other authors should pay you a fee." She looked down at the small watch pinned to her suit and started. "I must be going, I'm afraid. I have an appointment in ten minutes."

Owen followed her to the counter and stood by patiently while she spoke with the bookseller. He placed his own purchases down and turned to Anne courteously. "If you can give me a few minutes, I would be happy to escort you."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Mr Ford, that really isn't necessary." Owen gave her a curious look, and Anne stilled herself in chagrin. Oh, the pressures of gossip in a small town… As the pair of them stepped outside the shop, Anne was concentrating on navigating the uneven ground with her stick and wasn't looking at Owen as she answered. "I am heading to the doctor's surgery, Mr Ford. So you see, I need no escort."

"I would feel better if I could see you there- the ground is wet, as you see. I hope you have not been unwell, Miss Shirley."

"Quite the opposite. However, Doctor Blythe has consulted with a colleague of his- an orthopaedic surgeon who specializes in injuries like my own."

Owen's look was casual as they approached the building. "Well, I hope he is able to offer you some assistance. To me, you appear to handle things quite well."

Anne smiled. "Most of the time I do. However, in the interest of remaining well, I will meet him."

Owen's look was curious. "Well, I wish you well. I will go home and see what my bookshelves have to offer your class, Miss Shirley. Shall I come by this evening?"

"I have a prior engagement, Mr Ford." She smiled then, mischievously. "However, Susan and I are at home tomorrow evening, and if I may say so, you have quite won her heart with your praise of her cooking."

Owen gave her an amused look as he stopped outside Gilbert's office, and was careful to maintain a discreet distance as people walked by them on the street. He leaned in slightly, his brown eyes challenging. "I don't believe it is her I have been trying to impress, Miss Shirley."

Anne watched him walk down the street, her face pale. He didn't mean- no, surely he didn't.

When Gilbert arrived back from his rounds two hours later, he found a note from Jeremy stating that he had gone back to the house. Within minutes Gilbert was heading for home, impatient to find out what had happened.

Inside, his housekeeper was pulling a drab looking pie out of the oven, stiffly announcing that his guest was resting and that he had been most flippant when she asked him to air his room out. Gilbert decided to let him rest, moving into his own room to change. When his jacket and waistcoat were left on the floor most uncharacteristically, he threw himself back on his bed.

There were steps, he thought with a groan. In his own mind, they had to get beyond this- they had to see what could be done.

And then he could ask her what went wrong all those years ago.

He wasn't stupid. Something lay beyond that. Something that he'd never consciously allowed himself to consider- he couldn't- not yet. Something, however, that was filling his dreams. He laid his arm over his eyes, willing himself to ignore the visions that almost nightly would come for him now. Ghosts of a life he couldn't allow himself to dwell on until it was safe to do so.

He lay in silence for a time, until he heard a scratching at the door that made him laugh. "For Pete's sake, are you still pulling that trick?" he protested.

There was no response to this but more scratching, and a few minutes later a fully dressed Gilbert opened his bedroom door, pulling on an old woollen jumper. Jeremy stood by the door with a grin. "Always works, doesn't it? And what on earth is that thing you are wearing?"

"Warm," Gilbert retorted. "That's all that matters. Now, what's going on with Anne?"

Ten minutes later, the two men sat at the kitchen table, Gilbert's arms folded, and his brow lowered.

"So it needs another operation."

Jeremy pulled the notes over to him. "Yes. However, this one would be to correct some of the damage done by the first two, and maybe help her regain some stability."

Gilbert's eyes were sharp. "Some?"

Jeremy sighed. "Yes. Nothing is going to fix it completely, that much is obvious. And I can't even blame the hospitals here- by the look of it, she's lucky to even have her foot. It must have been a hell of a mess."

"A more experienced one could have prevented some of the damage," Gilbert grunted.

"Naturally. But I doubt anyone on the island at the time could have done any better."

Gilbert pushed back from the table with a sigh. "Alright, so what do we do next?"

Jeremy's fingers drummed on the table, and he hedged, anticipating Gilbert's reaction. "Nothing."

"I beg your pardon?"

Jeremy ignored the tone of Gilbert's voice, his voice calm. "I gave my recommendation. And in the end, as is quite common, she decided that it wasn't practical at this time to do it."

"Practical?" Gilbert got to his feet and stormed to his bedroom. Jeremy followed, watching as the jumper was torn off and Gilbert began to pull his waistcoat and jacket on quickly. Jeremy stood in the doorway, refusing to move.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said, his voice rising.

"I'm going around there to talk some sense into her," Gilbert replied with a clenched jaw. "She's not thinking logically-"

"I beg your pardon, her thinking was clear enough to me," Jeremy said flatly.

Gilbert's hazel eyes snapped. "Really? You saw the charts. You've examined her. She can't feel where her foot is, half the time. I don't even know how often she's fallen when I didn't know about it. Every day I'm waiting to hear that she's hurt it seriously, and I won't be able to help her."

"Gil, you're being an idiot-"

"I'm being a friend," Gilbert shot back.

At this Jeremy let out a cry of frustration. "Even friendship isn't this blind! Anne Shirley is not an extension of you!" His words echoed through the room as all of the colour drained from Gilbert's face. Jeremy drew in a deep breath and leant against the door frame. "Look, I would have preferred to discuss this rationally with you, but obviously that moment has passed us by. I am telling you, you can't go in there demanding a different answer. It's unprofessional, and it's not respecting her right to decide."

Gilbert turned to him, his eyes glassy. "Even if she could one day lose the ability to walk altogether?"

Jeremy frowned. "You know the answer to that. It's the patient's right. Gilbert, you have lost your objectivity- and with any one else on earth, you wouldn't be this way. And I think you need to ask yourself why." Gilbert sat down on the edge of his bed breathing heavily, and Jeremy came in the room to flop down beside him. "You know I'm right. You'd never let me go off the deep end like this." He was silent for a time and ruffled his hair awkwardly. "Gil, have you ever stopped to think-"

"Don't." Jeremy turned to him in shock, to see Gilbert's face set. "Please, don't. I can't go there."

Jeremy looked at him sharply. "Why ever not?"

Gilbert got up and went to pull on his jacket. "Look, I have to go and see her. I swear that I won't pressure. I won't try and change her mind. But I need to understand."

Jeremy rose to his feet, resigned. "Have you forgotten that we're dining with the Winston's in a few hours?"

"No. I haven't. Anne is supposed to be there as well. I'll meet you there at six this evening unless I'm done earlier."

"And if she doesn't want to talk about the operation?" Jeremy asked, watching Gilbert shrewdly.

"Then I will respect that."

Jeremy sighed. "Gil, don't let your concern for her overtake your common sense. That's all I'm saying."

Gilbert nodded, and closed the door behind him, leaving Jeremy in the house alone. "Heaven help all fools in love," he muttered, before falling onto Gilbert's sofa for a sorely needed rest.

When a slightly calmer Gilbert pulled up at Rosewood cottage, his knock went unanswered. He heard a faint sound coming from the rear of the house and cautiously walked through the gate to investigate. He stood still for a moment taking in the scene. In an old dress, Anne was sitting on the damp ground beside her flower beds, and aiming at the foot of a large tangle with a small hatchet. Gilbert saw the vigour with which she applied the tool and had an unpleasant feeling that her mood was as unsettled as his own. Strangely, the thought brought him a measure of calm.

"Is it safe to approach?" he asked lightly, and he watched as she turned to face him, her face unmistakably furious. Thud, went the hatchet into the ground, and he watched as she pulled herself to her feet with the assistance of the garden chair.

"Do not start with me, Gilbert," Anne spat, shocking him completely.

He halted his progress across the lawn warily. "I just wanted to talk to you."

The sarcasm in her tone made him flinch. "Really? About what? About the fact that I am foolish enough to refuse help again? That I don't know what is in my best interests? Which tactic were you going to attack me with this time?"

An alarmed Gilbert watched the way she moved behind the chair unsteadily and put his hands up. "None of them, I swear, Anne. Please come and sit down."

"No."

He pulled back in dismay, watching her become unglued before his eyes. Cautiously he walked toward her, seeing the tear that fell down her cheek. "I just want to know how you are." When she moved away from him once again, he spoke slowly. "I thought you and I were done running away from each other."

Anne paused, and after a moment she moved around the chair to sit near him, holding herself stiffly. Gilbert, feeling more than commonly like an idiot tried his best to not rush in.

"Jeremy told you what your options were." He turned to see her icy grey eyes staring into the distance. "And you said no."

Another tear fell down her cheek, and he had to stop himself from wrapping her up in his arms. It was at this point that the true distance between them made his heart shatter- he couldn't breach her walls, nor could he assume he understood. He had to tread lightly here, or he would risk losing her trust altogether. "Talk to me, Anne. Help me to understand. I was the one who pushed you to do this- and I would just like to know what happened."

She pulled her falling shawl around herself again. "I can't. I can't do it."

Gilbert turned to face her, for the first time seeing how difficult this was for her. "Alright. Can you tell me why?"

Anne's hands clenched in the thick wool, her breath uneven. "I- would need to travel. I'd be away for several months on my own in hospital. It would cost more than I can afford right now- and I would need to leave my livelihood behind to do it. And Jeremy said that there is no guarantee that it would work."

"Alright."

"And I knew just what you would say- about the falls- about when I'm older and less able to walk- but I finally have some stability in my life- I can't give up everything now for the chance that it might fix me," she said passionately. "It's not worth it. I can't go back there."

Gilbert's eyes showed his pain. "What is it that frightens you so? You've had operations- you've seen enough hospitals to not be afraid-"

At this Anne pulled away sharply. "I've seen enough to never want to put myself there again!" she said furiously. "Gilbert, they aren't all you there! I've been discussed by surgeons like I wasn't there- like losing my foot would merely be a clinical exercise. I've woken from anaesthetic violently ill, and not been able to control a single muscle in my body. I've been poked and prodded and not even given the dignity that I was taught was my right- I have had choices taken from me, I've been babied, and pitied and talked about- I can't do it."

At the sound of her sob now, Gilbert didn't hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, his thumb stroking her shoulder while she cried. When she pulled away a few minutes later to find her handkerchief, he drew in a shaking breath. This wasn't the time, it wasn't, he reminded himself.

"Anne, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you into this."

She shook her head then, pulling her limbs in tighter to herself. "I understand why you did."

He let out a long breath. "Anne, can I ask which of those is the biggest reason? The financial one, the memories or the limited chance of success?"

"Or the time away from school?" Anne replied. "All of them." Gilbert watched her unconsciously rubbing her injured leg. "If I were to sell the house, of course, the finances would be there. If I timed it correctly I could have the operation through the summer and not miss school." She swallowed. "However the fact that even someone of Jeremy's skill can't guarantee the outcome- that carries a good deal of weight."

Gilbert nodded, and was silent for a time, watching a bird hopping to and fro on a nearby branch. Over and over she'd been open with him- perhaps it was time to do the same. His voice was flat when he spoke. "Anne, if I'm to be brutally honest, I did intend to try to make you change your mind."

Anne shot him a glare that made him smile. "You think I couldn't tell that? I know you, Gilbert Blythe."

"Is that why you armed yourself with a hatchet?"

"That was just a coincidence."

Gilbert kicked back his feet and folded his arms with a scowl. "I- may or may not have gone off at Jeremy when he told me. And he may or may not have told me off for overreacting." He looked up at Anne's faint chuckle, seeing her tuck loose red wisps of hair behind her ear.

"Did you listen?"

"Have I yelled about you for putting yourself at risk yet?"

Anne shot him a cross look. "If you are about to start, sir, then you know where the gate is." She caught his wry look and sighed. "Why did you overreact? Why won't you treat me like any other patient?"

It took Gilbert some time to answer. "Because you're not just any patient." The colour in her cheeks burned brightly at his words, and she turned to brush a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt. "Jeremy- he pointed out that when it comes to you I have no objectivity," Gilbert added with obvious reluctance.

Anne looked at him, startled. "Oh."

After an awkward silence, Gilbert gave a reluctant grin. "And he's right. Our history- the relationship that we have means that I can't be impartial. I'm not your doctor." He saw the way she pulled back from him in hurt and sighed. "I mean, that I can function as your doctor. But I can't be an unbiased one. I don't want to see you hurt- and while it goes against everything I was trained to do, I wish I could override you to see you better looked after." To her surprise then, Gilbert chuckled. "And yet you're stuck with me unless you want to travel to see someone."

Anne turned her face towards the gradually warming breeze, shielding him from the consciousness that she felt. Did he want her to do that? "What do you think I should I do?"

Gilbert's elbows were resting on his knees, and his hands clasped. "Just what we've done, I suppose. I'm still qualified to care for you-"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"But we get a second opinion when we need one."

Anne's face was still pink, and she couldn't hold back a small smile. "It's hard to think of you not being impartial, Gilbert. In AVIS meetings, in leadership at college- you were always logical and fair. It's one of the things people admire in you."

He smiled wryly. "Clearly, not in everything. I suppose the only thing I could equate it to, was if you found yourself teaching the children that I don't have. Could you be unbiased?"

Anne closed her eyes, praying that he hadn't seen the little flinch she gave. "I suppose I couldn't be impartial there either," she said slowly. "Not really."

"I guess you'd keep any son of mine in at recess for mischief." There was silence for some moments, but when he looked over at her, she was smiling.

"I think I would find it hard to not favour him, actually," Anne said honestly. The silence was longer this time, and she looked over to meet his frank look.

He stood up then, turning to look down at her. "Are you alright?"

Anne sighed and got to her feet as well. "I am. I'm sorry, Gilbert."

He frowned at her. "Whatever for?"

"You went to such trouble to get Jeremy here-"

Gilbert shook his head. "He was coming anyway. And at least we know now."

"Know what?"

"That, for now, the operation isn't practical," he said reluctantly. He gave a sardonic laugh. "And that I can't be trusted to be indifferent when it comes to you."

Anne's face was fierce, however in her eyes was a tenderness that made him catch his breath. "I trust you. You know that." She stepped away, however not before he saw her eyelashes fall. "It was asking too much of us to expect otherwise, I think," she said in a low voice. "The one thing you and I were never able to be with each other was indifferent."

"No." In the silence, Gilbert drew in a deep breath. "So are you coming to the Winston's tonight? Can Jeremy and I offer you a lift there?"

Anne smiled. "Yes, and thank you, that will ease Susan's mind greatly."

Gilbert looked around him and frowned. "Anne, where is your walking stick?"

Before he could begin to lecture, Anne's chin lifted, her gaze steady. "I may or may not have been so mad that I forgot it when I came out here."

Gilbert grinned. "Eleven-year-old you would not be shocked at that." He held out his arm to her then. "Look, I know I've been a bit of an idiot. I hope you understand-"

Anne shook her head as her hand slipped into the crook of his arm. "I know why you were concerned. And maybe one day I will think about it differently. For now- I am content as I am. Can you accept that?"

His hazel eyes were accepting, but there was a warmth in his glance that he couldn't help. "I will." At the back door to the cottage, Gilbert stopped to check his watch. "Well, we're not due at Andrew's until six, so I'll hie me home to collect Jeremy, who is either sleeping or short-sheeting my bed right now."

Anne began to laugh. "Good heavens! I've heard the stories of what both Andrew and Jeremy were like- and I know you. Is Penny ready for the three of you to be together in one house?"

The grin he gave her may as well have come from the boy who once pulled her hair. "I don't know. But admit it- you wouldn't miss finding out."