Chapter 22

One late-winter evening, Penelope Winston pounced on the bedraggled, brown dog hiding underneath her little rose bush. Lizzie's good white tights were dangling from his grinning mouth, and Penny seized them both firmly.

"I do not know what Andrew was thinking, getting you," she muttered furiously, as she walked up the stairs to the covered veranda. "That he wanted his shoes chewed? No. That my best gloves would be an excellent liner for your basket? No." She placed the puppy down on his bed, noting that the fluffy tail now drooped in submission. She bent down, her look stern as she scratched him behind the ear. "And don't think that this changes anything."

Her skirts swished out of the door, and Penny walked into the kitchen rubbing her temples. Their guests would be here soon, and she needed to focus. She could hear Mrs. Heyer talking with Lizzie, and hastened to check on the meal.

"Aunt Penny doesn't do it like that."

Penny's gasped in horror at her niece's rudeness, however, the housekeeper only smiled. "Well, suppose we try it this way, for now, poppet?"

Andrew called for his daughter, and Lizzie tore down the hall leaving her aunt to apologize. Mrs. Heyer was matter of fact as her sturdy figure bent over the stove.

"No need to worry, Miss Winston. She's adapting to a big change."

Penny sat down at the table with a vacant look. "I don't understand- Lizzie was doing so well a few days ago. I do hope she will come to terms with it- I would hate to leave the three of you struggling together."

Mrs. Heyer gave her shoulder a comforting pat. "She's a sweetheart- and she's still got some grieving to do. There's plenty of time to adjust. Now, what time would you like me to serve the meal tonight?"

Penny stood up, her manner uncertain. "I think half past six will be fine, Mrs. Heyer. I-" here she stopped, trying to reconcile herself to being a lady of leisure again. "Are you sure there nothing I can do to help you?"

The housekeeper gave her a kind smile. "You better go and freshen up, Miss Winston- that blessed dog has left prints on your dress. Just pop it in the basket and I'll have it soaking in a jiffy."

Now dressed for the evening and moderately calmer, Penny moved around the sitting room adjusting drapes and cushions, not quite knowing what to do with herself. Mrs Heyer had everything in her capable hands, and Penny drew in a deep breath, reminding herself to be grateful for the older woman. Andrew and Lizzie would be well cared for, she knew that. She had an evening planned with friends and loved ones, and Montreal was less than a month away now. She looked in satisfaction at the pretty blue gown her mother had given her for Christmas in the sitting room mirror, knowing that it would stand up to the scrutiny of the Montreal socialites.

The doorbell rang just then, and in a minute that Penny would never fully be able to describe, chaos erupted. Lizzie ran for the front door just as Andrew checked to see why the dog was whining in the enclosed porch; Mr Flibbet, not one to ignore an opportunity, shot through the long hall in a streak of brown fur just as Lizzie collided with her aunt before the wide open door where Penny's bewildered guests stood waiting. Out of sheer instinct Gilbert lunged to catch the crazed pup, and Anne was neatly pulled out of the way by the tall visitor who stood behind her. Andrew untangled a sobbing Lizzie while Gilbert deposited the dog back in his prison- and through a throbbing head and elbow, Penny felt gentle hands assisting her off the ground. Through a daze she saw that the stranger's eyes were carefully trained towards the opposite wall- and in a blaze of shame Penny realised that the blue skirt had been partially ripped from the waist, and that the gentleman before her was desperately trying not to laugh.

Penny pulled her hands away sharply and gathered her skirts together. She turned to her brother to see a similar look of amusement on his face, and her blue eyes flashed. "Andrew Winston, the next time you decide to introduce a pet into this household, it had better come in the form of a throw rug!"

With that Penny stormed away, leaving a stunned group behind her.

A short time later, all had calmed down in the household. While Lizzie was petted and soothed by her father and not one, but two doctors, the gentlemen settled in the sitting room to wait for their hostess to return. Anne excused herself after a small interval to check on Penny and cautiously walked through the house toward the family rooms. At Anne's tentative tap Penny opened her bedroom door, once again dressed and beginning to feel terribly about the way that she had run off.

"Anne, I'm so sorry-"

Anne only smiled. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Penny sighed. "Oh, I think only my pride was bruised. I made myself utterly ridiculous."

"To be fair, I have made much bigger scenes," Anne said gravely. Both women began to laugh, and by the time Lizzie came to find her aunt both women sat talking comfortably from the sofa in Penny's room.

Lizzie sidled up to her, resting her head against Penny's shoulder. "Mrs. Hay says that dinner is ready if you would like to come."

"Mrs. Heyer, dear. And Miss Shirley and I are coming now."

Lizzie sighed. "Aunt Penny, can't Mr. Flibbet come out now? He's very sorry."

"He will stay confined until our guests leave," Penny stated firmly. "I am not risking another dress on that dog today."

Anne smiled. "Well, your new gown is most fetching. You look perfectly lovely to meet Doctor Barnes."

Penny groaned. "Oh, I'd nearly forgotten him- what a terrible way to welcome a guest to our home! He must think us a madhouse."

Anne gave a little chuckle. "Penny, darling, I rather think he found it amusing."

This was evident when the two of them entered the dining room minutes later. Anne was settled courteously by Andrew, and as Jeremy went to pull out Penny's chair, he could not keep a little smirk from his face.

"Miss Winston! It's a pleasure to meet you, sans dog this time."

To his shock, a stately Penny now turned to him, and her eyebrows rose. Jeremy started, looking foolish. Women just didn't respond to him this way- not at all. After a moment, he collected himself awkwardly. "Forgive me. I see that it is nothing you wish to joke about."

"No." Penny surprised him by lifting her chin, her blue eyes glittering. "However, if you could avoid all references to the disaster of a day I have had, Doctor Barnes, we should get along well enough."

Andrew choked back a laugh. He'd liked Jeremy a lot, and had the impression that very little could ruffle his feathers. Penny, however, was no novice when it came to dealing with teasing- most likely the result of having three brothers. He resolved to watch their interaction with interest and turned to talk to Anne with a little smile.

Several hours later, Andrew settled his guests in the sitting room while Penny tucked a yawning Lizzie into bed. Gilbert was the last of the gentlemen to come into the room and walked to Anne with her walking stick in one hand.

"And in front of two physicians, no less," he teased her quietly.

Anne rolled her eyes as he sat beside her, and placed the stick on her right. "I was escorted in here on the arm of your colleague, Doctor Blythe. Jeremy made sure that I was perfectly safe."

Penny came into the room then and sat down across from her brother with a sigh. "Drew, Mrs. Heyer will serve tea in a few minutes, so she suggested that we make ourselves comfortable."

"Lovely." Andrew then turned to Jeremy. "And when do you go back to Montreal?"

Jeremy relaxed against the sofa. "I have an Orthopedic conference in Kingsport next week, I head there on Saturday. I have enjoyed my time here through. Apart from being rudely awoken in the early hours by the telephone."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "You wanted to know what rural practice was like- and this is it."

Jeremy scowled. "And to think you could be in Charlottetown now if you chose! At least there you would have better resources."

Two pairs of eyes turned to Gilbert in shock then, and inside, he flinched. He gave Jeremy an artificial smile. "It wasn't an official offer."

Jeremy raised one eyebrow. "They asked you to run the surgical department at the hospital. They practically begged you to move last week."

Gilbert tried not to look at Anne as he replied. "It's nothing. Things like this come up all the time."

"Not for everyone, they don't. You've been offered more positions than me- and we both know that's saying something," Jeremy stated.

"And yet I chose to be here," Gilbert said lightly.

Anne's face was calm as she tried to process an utterly terrifying train of thought. How had she not considered this? How had she not thought about the possibility of him leaving Four Winds? An indefinable panic seemed to rise in her chest, and it was with an effort that she controlled the shaking in her hands. Months ago she could have expected this- months ago she could have seen him leave, and simply borne the hurt. Now, now-

To her surprise, under the cover of Jeremy's conversation with Andrew Gilbert had leant in to her, his voice low. "Anne, just breathe." She turned to face him in shock, and he kept his eyes averted. "I know the talk of the hospital scared you. You don't have to worry- you don't need to go back."

Somehow terrified that he had read her mind, Anne's breath caught. "No, I'm- I'm fine-"

"Anne, you're pale, even for you. It's what I was talking to you about months ago- the after-effects of the trauma."

Anne was silent for a moment and summoned a bright look. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You're right. We were leaving the past in the past, weren't we?"

Gilbert halted at her words and gave Anne a strange look. "Is that what you want?

No longer sure what they were talking about, Anne faltered. "I- want the people that I care about to be happy."

He seemed to take a moment to process her words, and gave her a faint smile. "That's what I want too."

The odd tension between them had become almost painful, when Andrew broke into the conversation.

"Anne, there is something I am very curious about."

"You know what they say about curiosity, Andrew."

"I'm not worried. I have a question for you, Anne, about our good friend Gilbert here."

Anne felt the man in question stiffen beside her, and stilled herself. "Oh?"

"You and Gilbert became friends when you began teaching together."

"Yes."

"And you knew each other for some time before that."

Anne hesitated. "Five years, to be precise."

Andrew's look was carefully serious. "I suppose the girls and boys of Avonlea did not form friendships at that stage."

Gilbert eyed his friend suspiciously, something that neither Jeremy nor Andrew missed.

Anne cleared her throat, hiding a smile. "They did. However, it is true that Gilbert and I did not."

He grinned. "I should let you know that I am a very good lawyer, Anne. I expect I will figure out the truth eventually."

Anne laughed at his smugness. "Andrew, as enjoyable as this is, it's no secret. You could ask anyone in Avonlea."

"But we're not in Avonlea."

Anne only smiled innocently, making Andrew chuckle. "Gilbert," Andrew said, his mischievous eyes not leaving Anne's, "Why were you not friends with this lovely lady when you were children?"

Gilbert's startled glance found Anne's, and she gave him a slight smile. "And the reason for the sudden curiosity?" Gilbert asked, in what he hoped was a detached manner.

"Because you've never answered me before. And now we have witnesses."

Penny shot her brother an alarmed glance. "Drew, perhaps Anne and Gilbert don't wish it to be discussed now-"

The unspoken tension between them made Anne rather reckless now, and she glanced at Gilbert in challenge. "I'm not afraid. We are amongst friends, after all."

Gilbert smiled blandly. "Certainly. Although it's hard to say who came off the best that day."

"I always felt that I did."

"I still had a slate at the end of it, though."

"Ahem." The heads of the brother and sister had been swiveling between the two of them with interest, and now turned to Jeremy. His smile was cherubic. "I could tell them what happened if you like."

Gilbert gave his friend an amused glance, missing the look of shock on Anne's face. "There's no need for that. We're all adults here, after all."

By now Anne had regained her poise and smiled wickedly. "After you, Doctor Blythe."

Gilbert sat back easily. "Very well, then. On Anne's first day of school, I pulled her hair in the middle of class."

Anne smiled sweetly. "And?"

"And then I called her Carrots."

"Oh, Gilbert!" Penny said in reproachfully over Andrew's choke of laughter.

To her surprise, Gilbert turned to Anne. "And?"

"And then I broke my slate over his head."

Andrew was laughing uproariously at this juncture, and Penny turned to Anne in shock.

"I've always been rather sensitive about my red hair," Anne said delicately. "Not something a thirteen-year-old boy would take into account."

Penny chuckled. "I- well, I just can't picture the two of you behaving that way. Five years, you said?"

Anne smiled. "Well, I was quite upset. I am proud to say that we've both grown up since then."

"And everyone saw it?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," Gilbert said matter of factly. "It was the talk of the town for weeks. My father was furious."

Anne's head came up swiftly. "With me?" she asked him. Gilbert shook his head, unaware that the rest of the room was watching the two of them with wide eyes.

"No, with me," he said carefully. "After all, his son tormented Marilla Cuthbert's girl."

Anne swallowed. "Oh."

To the rest of the room, this fact seemed insignificant. How then to account for the uneasiness of words unspoken? Andrew's startled glance found the other gentleman across from him, and Jeremy gave him a slight nod. Andrew cleared his throat then. "Well, I suppose that explains that."

Anne's look was oddly thoughtful. "It was a very long time ago. It's strange- I didn't realize then that holding resentment against someone kept them ever closer to you."

Across the table, a startled Gilbert glanced at her. "Oh?" he asked lightly.

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she realised that she had spoken without thought. "Holding onto that anger kept you right by me."

Six years swam before Gilbert's mind now, and he swallowed, hoping that she couldn't see through him at that moment. "I suppose it did."

Later that night, Jeremy waited in the wagon as Gilbert walked Anne to her door. On the step, Anne hesitated. "Gilbert, may I ask you something?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. "Of course."

Her eyes fell, as she held her purse close to herself. "There are things I never asked Marilla- perhaps I assumed that I had time." She swallowed, and in the moonlight, he saw her grey eyes fixed on his shoulder. "Gil, did your father ever tell you why he and Marilla argued?" Gilbert looked at her in shock, and she rushed on nervously. "When we became friends I felt that a bridge between them was mended as well- only I never asked what it was."

Gilbert scuffed his shoe on the stone steps of the cottage, and eventually nodded. "He said something stupid- and he regretted it immediately."

Anne unconsciously stepped closer to him. "What was it?"

"He poked fun at Matthew." Anne moved in shock, and Gilbert caught her arm automatically before she could stumble off the step. She straightened up as his hand released her gently, and she looked at him, bewildered.

"Why- why?"

Gilbert shrugged. "They were seventeen and eighteen. Dad was a tease- and he hit on something that really hurt her, I guess. She wouldn't forgive him. And he thought that if she couldn't see how sorry he was, then he wouldn't try again." He gave a bitter laugh. "Like father, like son. You can see why he was mad at me for making fun of you."

Anne nodded after a moment. "Marilla was very protective of her family. Even I found that." In the silence of the cool night, she let out a long breath. "Gil, she forgave your father long ago. She was always sorry that she didn't when he asked her to." Gilbert nodded without looking at her, and seemed ready to turn away. To her own surprise, Anne reached out, her finger tips catching his gloved hand. When he turned back, her grey eyes were wistful. "So was I."

The moonlight caught his lean face, and he smiled faintly. "Anne, I know that. We're neither of our parents."

When a gust of wind blew around them, some spell appeared to break, and Gilbert became aware of Jeremy waiting in the cold. He touched her arm lightly. "We'd better head for bed. Night, Anne."

After he had left, Anne walked inside only to rest her head against the closed door for a moment. Susan came to meet her, taking Anne's coat and gloves.

"Is anything the matter, dearie? Did Doctor Blythe and Doctor Barnes see you home safely?"

"They did." Anne sighed, and began to rub her tired face. "Susan dear, history is a very funny thing. We can't help but fear repeating it."

Susan steered an exhausted Anne towards her room to change for the night. "Well, I can't argue high sounding speeches with you- but I do think that a good cup of tea can cure anything. Let's get you to bed."

Back in the buggy, both men were silent. Jeremy helped unsaddle Hippocrates when they reached Gilbert's house, talking quietly to the horse as he rubbed him down. When the gentlemen went inside, Jeremy went to walk up the stairs, and suddenly stopped. He turned to see Gilbert staring out the living room window, and spoke quietly.

"Gil, you need to talk to her."

The man across from him drew in a deep breath, and the light of the lantern caught his face.

"I know."

Friday night found Anne and Susan in the sitting room, Susan at work on a tablecloth, and Anne stretched out listlessly on the sofa. The day had been a particularly trying one, and she was forced to admit that one of her most troubled students was not responding to her well. She was just contemplating putting herself to bed with a book when the doorbell rang.

"That should be Mr. Ford, I believe," Susan said comfortably.

Anne looked up in consternation. "Why, Susan?"

Susan got to her feet. "I ran into him at the store, dearie. He was concerned about you after your doctor's appointment, and I told him that you would be at home tonight." As she walked out to answer the door, Anne let her face fall onto the cushion beside her with a groan. She really should speak to Susan about giving her advanced warnings of plans- however, Owen rarely gave any warning that he was coming, usually quite late in the evening.

Anne rose from the pillow and began to tidy the sofa around her. She could hear Owen talking with Susan and sighed. He had a pleasant voice- but not the one made Anne light up the previous evening, when Gilbert had brought Jeremy around for a farewell call. It had been a lovely night- Jeremy and Gilbert had told tales of their medical school days, about crusty professors and broken specimen jars, of staining their hands with chemicals and Jeremy accidentally stitching himself to a patient. Susan had looked things not lawful to be uttered, however, Anne laughed as she hadn't for so long. She had watched the pair of them in wonder. Gilbert had always had chums- but never had she seen him like this, so free and easy with anyone else but her.

Now, she stood up just as a smiling Owen was shown into the room, carrying a large bunch of flowers with him. Anne accepted them from him with an uncertain look. Extravagant gestures often made her uncomfortable, reminiscent of another man she had once fancied herself in love with. She much preferred it when Owen would produce a book of poetry, and the two of them would sit discussing the merits of Coleridge or Tennyson- there at least, she felt her foot on her native hearth.

Owen had a small book with him as usual, one written by an old school friend this time.

"Jackson Wynn was a year ahead of me in college. He's been over in India for a year now, and this book was written over there." Owen smiled. "The merit of having a job with no fixed location, I suppose. A writer may go anywhere, become anything."

Anne's needle moved through her doily without haste, and she glanced up with an interested look. "They can. Where would you go, Mr. Ford?"

His smile curved on his handsome face. "Japan, I believe. The mysteries of the Orient- cherry blossoms in the springtime- the virgin moon rising over Mount Fuji. I can think of nothing more inspiring."

Anne smiled, thinking wistfully of a moon rise over a garden now far away. "There are so many lovely places. Many of them right around us, if only we have the eyes to see them."

Owen crossed his legs, and Anne had an odd look as he settled into Gilbert's chair. "And where would you like to go, Miss Shirley?"

"I have always loved my own island the best," she said lightly. "Although I should like to one day see the beauty of the Old World. I had a friend who spent time in Rome last winter- and she is heading for Venice later this year."

Susan had made herself conspicuously absent that evening, and when she finally she came in, it was with a tray of supper that made Owen light up.

"Miss Baker, you are the queen of pies," Owen said, giving the housekeeper a devastating smile. "This strawberry shortcake would melt in one's mouth."

Anne hid a smile at the way Susan preened. When he had eaten and praised, and the two of them were once more alone, Owen placed his plate down with an appraising look at Anne.

"Miss Shirley- do you think at some point you may relent and give me the name my parents bestowed on me?"

Anne chuckled. "Perhaps one day, Mr. Ford."

"Your own means grace or favour, I believe," he commented, studying her face.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she answered lightly. "You are correct. Do you often have the inclination to study names?"

Here he gave a short laugh. "As an author, I find it necessary, Miss Shirley."

To his pleasure, Anne leant forward, her eyes alight. "I have been meaning to tell you that I recently re-read The Life Book, Mr Ford. I enjoyed it, even more, the second time, I think."

Owen nodded, his smile genuine. "It's a shame you never had the chance to meet Captain Jim- he was the very soul of the book."

Anne hesitated then. "Mr. Ford, may I ask you a question?"

Owen sat forward, his gaze steadily on Anne. "I would love it if you did."

"I'm sure it's not that interesting. I was curious about the story of Lost Margaret."

Owen's eyes were on the fire, and he sighed. "Yes. The love of his life."

"You wrote as if you understood his heartbreak."

There was a silence then, and he turned to her, an odd hunger in his eyes. "I do. There is a fellowship, I believe. Of those of us who have known the bitterest pain."

Anne's eyes fell under his intense gaze. "I- I suppose so."

His cool hand reached across to grasp hers, and she looked up at Owen in shock. "You know that pain, don't you? I can see it."

In the pregnant silence, Anne withdrew her hand from his and tried to smile. "Heartbreak is universal- we cannot claim to be the only ones."

Owen sat back, his voice cool. "So I have been told. And time is supposed to heal it, apparently."

Anne ignored the brittle comment and spoke softly. "Who was she?"

Through the lock of brown hair falling on Owen's forehead, Anne easily read the pain in his eyes. "A ghost, Miss Shirley. 'Only this and nothing more,' " he quoted with a sigh. "I came here to find her- but she will not return. And I begin to feel that this enchanted shore is a land I should not have come back to."

Anne's look was gentle. "Sometimes we need to face what we are most afraid of. It may be that you needed to come for closure."

"Or for a new beginning." Owen looked at Anne intently. "What would a new beginning look like for you?"

Anne's cheeks paled when he leaned in close. "A life well lived," she said at last, with an attempt to smile. "Something I work toward daily. Mr. Ford, perhaps the only difference between us is that I am where I need to be right now. You must find where you belong, enchanted shore or not."

To her surprise, his look was tender. "Perhaps so, Miss Shirley."

An hour later, Owen stood by the front door, his coat over his arm. His look held a frankness that Anne had not yet seen in him, and for a moment she studied his face. "Miss Shirley, please allow me to tell you what your company has meant to me over the last few months."

Anne shook her head with flushed cheeks, carefully stepping away. "I- it was nothing."

To her shock, Owen took her hand in his again. "Miss Shirley- or I may say, Anne- it has been a long time since I have met someone I can talk to with any degree of openness- and somehow I feel that you understand. That is a gift. When I am with you the world does not look so hopeless- and I begin to see what you mean about a life well lived. Thank you."

With a gentle kiss on her hand and a parting look Owen left, and Anne stood in the dim hallway, her grey eyes troubled. In the silence that followed, Susan came to meet her.

"Mr. Ford has left?"

"Just now. Susan, why didn't you tell me that he was coming tonight?"

Susan looked surprised. "I didn't think to, lamb. He often arrives unannounced. He is very attentive, and you often seem to enjoy his company."

Anne's chin rose. "I do- and he is a pleasant friend. However, I would like to have some warning before he visits in the future. I really know him very little." She took her stick in one hand and began to walk towards her bedroom.

Susan followed to fold down the counterpane. "Perhaps he wishes to know you that well, Anne dearie. He's rich, and kind and handsome- do you think that if you gave Mr Ford a chance, that he might be good for you?"

Anne turned from her window. "Susan, you are darling to be concerned," she said, her voice quiet. "But I am quite content as I am. He is not what I would look for in a husband."

Susan sighed, seeing in Owen someone who could take care of Anne properly. "Then what do you want, dearie?"

A sad smile curved on Anne's lips. "Someone who belongs in my life."