Gwen didn't get her special time with Mother and Dad until that evening. By unspoken mutual agreement, she faded into the background so they could spend the day with the other three, and she waited until dinner was over before joining them for a walk in Rainbow Valley.

Phil and Grandfather were playing checkers; Lee was upstairs wrapping presents; Jo was in the kitchen helping Lynde frost more Christmas cookies; and Grandmother was in the parlour dreaming before the open fire, hands clasped about her knees in the old way. Mother, Dad, and Gwen were free to throw on some wraps and slip outside.

"Good old Rainbow Valley," Dad said. "Nothing in India compared to this."

Mother didn't say anything, but her eyes shone luminously in the moonlight. Gwen watched out of the corner of her eye as her father reached for Mother's hand, and they walked on as romantically as youngsters.

"I suppose you two had lots of moonlit rambles here when you were courting?" she asked mischievously.

"Not so many as you might think," Dad replied gravely, only a deep dimple at the corner of his mouth showing his amusement. "We met in college, remember, and then came the War, and it wasn't until I came home injured that I was able to visit Ingleside."

"We did plenty of moonlight rambles after we were engaged, though," Mother said happily, squeezing Dad's hand.

"I almost feel like I should leave you two alone," Gwen said, half-joking and half-serious.

"Nonsense!" Mother exclaimed at once. "Dearest Gwen, your father and I have had each other all to ourselves for a year; we haven't had a chance to talk with our eldest daughter in all that time. Tell us everything, daughter dear—everything, that is, that you want to share." She smiled. "I know there are some things young women would rather not tell their parents."

"I don't have any secrets I need to keep from you," Gwen said fondly, and proceeded to share with her parents all about her running; her cooking and sewing lessons with Aunt Ruth and Lynde; her improving grades; even her broken friendship with Fanny.

"It isn't as though I deliberately set out to push Jack and Lynde together," she ended. "And I had nothing to do with it, really! It just happened that Lynde and I got ready for the dance together, and so now apparently Fanny thinks I betrayed her."

Mother sighed. "I never had much luck with girl friends, either," she said ruefully. "They all either moved away or proved to be false friends. I did hope you children would not inherit my ill luck."

"But what happened this summer to drive a wedge between you in the first place?" Dad asked, watching Gwen keenly. "And does it have anything to do with why both Phil and Jo hemmed and hawed and hedged their way out of talking about anything much this summer?"

"Oh—well—that," Gwen faltered.

"I thought you said you had no secrets?" Mother asked lightly.

Gwen looked down at the contrast her dark boots made against the white snow. "It isn't a secret—it just seems so silly."

"We like to hear everything, even the silly parts," Dad prompted.

"But only if you feel comfortable telling us," Mother added.

Gwen stuffed her hands inside her coat pockets and told them. She even told them about her crush on Oliver, and how that had precipitated the problems with Chloe. Mother, of course, had already known about that part, but Dad's face changed and he had to swallow violently once or twice.

"It ended up working out, though," she said as she finished. "I mean, I'm still not happy about getting mad like that, but it did result in Isaiah and me becoming friends, and Jack dealt effectively with Chloe, and everything settled back down. Mrs. Douglas even apologized to me in public, and now I get free ice cream at the pharmacy any time I want—Grandmother and Grandfather can't for the life of them figure out why, since nobody ever dared breathe a hint to them about the rumours.

"And Dad, it was good for my crush on Oliver, too," she hastened to add. "When even he believed the lies, well, I didn't stop liking him at once, but it was the start, and now I don't think of him as anything more than just a friend. Really."

"That's good," Dad said calmly.

"And even though Fanny and I aren't really friends anymore, I did end up becoming closer with the girls on the team because of it all, and I even … I even discovered a new love. No, not a person, Dad!" seeing the expression on his face change from relief to fresh alarm. "I discovered that I love to write, to tell stories, to string words together to make a beautiful picture … and I never would have known about it if I hadn't had to write that story for Jo-Jo."

"I'm glad for that," Mother said. "But oh … the sins of the mothers."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked.

Mother explained.

When they had all been young, before the War, she and Uncle Walter had been best friends. Aunt Rilla was always jealous, because she loved Uncle Walter and didn't want to share him with Mother.

"Then the War started, and we were away at school, and Walter and I drifted apart," Mother said sadly, staring off into the night. Gwen saw Dad's hand tighten around hers, as though for comfort. "He started turning to Rilla, who unabashedly worshipped him, while I, I am ashamed to admit, didn't have much time to spare for his troubles. I was busy with school, and trying to help Nan keep up her courage with Jerry gone, and while I loved Walter as dearly as ever, I didn't have much patience for what I saw as his self-absorption. If he didn't want to fight, I thought, fine. Find some other way to help, instead of wandering about bemoaning what a coward he was.

"Rilla, though … Rilla listened to him with endless patience, and told him over and over again how wonderful he was and … well, it's no wonder he turned to her, the adoring baby sister, rather than the sister who told him in exasperation that he was being selfish and foolish."

Mother fell silent for a moment.

"But what does all this have to do with us now?" Gwen ventured to ask after a moment or two.

"Oh well—after Walter was—was killed—Rilla went about pluming herself on being his favourite sister, and showing how brave she was for comforting Mother and Father while her heart was broken, while Nan and I were off gallivanting in Kingsport. No, that's not fair. She never said anything of the sort, and she really was crushed by Walter's death, but that was the impression she gave to me when I came home. Thinking about it now, it was most likely just her grief and anger at his death working its way out at its nearest target, but at the time, I was in too much pain myself to see it that way. We exchanged sharp words—she accused me of never really loving Walter—I told her that Walter had always loved me best, even when he had turned to her for momentary comfort—and well, we never really got on at all after that. Even now, we're only ever polite to each other at family functions. I love Rilla as my sister … but I don't really like her as a person, I'm afraid to say."

Gwen couldn't imagine ever having that sort of relationship with one of her siblings. Imagine if she and Lee ever fought like that! It was unthinkable.

"I had hoped that our animosity would limit itself to just the two of us," Mother continued. "But I see now that some of it transferred itself to our children. I am sorry, Gwen."

"Oh Mums, it's not your fault," Gwen exclaimed. "I don't think Chloe dislikes me because of you—it's just me."

"Maybe, but I'm sure there's some latent hostility from Rilla," Mother said.

"Well," Gwen said firmly, "Maybe so, but at least Isaiah and I have broken the pattern. We're friends now, Mum, really-truly friends, and I don't think we'll let anyone come between us now."

Mother laughed that beautiful laugh Gwen loved so well, and put her arm around Gwen's shoulder for a warm hug. "I am glad, my Gwen. You do me proud!"

"And I'm proud of you, too," Dad said quietly, but with a note in his voice that made Gwen's eyes tear up. "You and Phil both. You handled the situation extremely well—even with your Blake temper—and no father could be more proud."

"Now," Mother said, surreptitiously passing Gwen her handkerchief. "Tell us more about the writing, and why you haven't said anything about it in your letters!"

"And then," Dad said, "We need to talk about what your decision is about where you'll be spending the next few years."

Gwen dabbed at her eyes and passed the handkerchief back to Mother. "Yes," she said. "We do need to talk about that. I've finally made up my mind."

Christmas came and went in all its glory, even more lovely this year than anyone could have hoped, because Mother and Dad were there. On Boxing Day, when they were all sitting around the parlour roasting nuts on the fire and eating popcorn, Grandfather brought up the subject of Gwen's schooling.

"So, Gwen," he said casually. "Where are you going to be after the new year?"

"Why, with us in Kingsport," Lee said in astonishment. "Where else would she be?"

Gwen winced. She had meant to let her siblings know beforehand about their grandparents' offer, and her decision. After telling Mother and Dad what she wanted to do, though, she had felt such relief that she'd forgotten about telling anyone else.

"Actually Lee-love," Dad said lightly, coming to Gwen's rescue, "Grandmother and Grandfather offered to let Gwen stay with them a bit longer."

"Why?" Jo asked bluntly.

"To continue her running, and to help with her school," Mother jumped in. "You all know what a hard time she had back home."

"But—would we stay, too?" Lee asked in confusion.

"Just Gwen," Dad said gently. Lee looked ready to cry. Jo simply looked astonished that they had managed to keep this a secret from him. Phil's face was unreadable.

"Are you going to stay, then?" he asked gruffly.

The Owls were over as well, and there was no disguising the eagerness in Oliver's eyes as he leaned forward to hear the answer.

Gwen looked around the circle of faces. Most of them, even her family, had been practically strangers to her before this year. Now, though …

Aunt Ruth, Uncle Bruce, Ruthie and Winnie. They had been such a comfort to her while she was outcast, and Aunt Ruth had helped her grow into a comfortable sense of who she was as a woman, as well as helping her learn to control her limbs.

Uncle Shirley, Aunt Persis, Leigh, and Owen. Dear relatives, and delightful friends.

Uncle Jem, Aunt Faith, and Jack sitting with his hand wrapped around Lynde's. Uncle Jem and Aunt Faith hadn't exactly been delighted over Jack's sudden affection for Lynde—Gwen suspected they both hoped the two young people would outgrow it—but neither of them voiced their disapproval, or treated Lynde any differently than they always had. They were dear to her, and Jack and Lynde were dearer yet.

The Owls, good friends and comrades. Oliver, her first taste of romance. He had sent her Christmas roses the previous day, leading her to a brand-new suspicion about who it was who had sent her roses on her birthday last March. She would never ask him about it, but … somehow it seemed even more likely than Grandfather.

Grandmother and Grandfather Meredith, purity and strength hidden behind their quiet exteriors. Grandmother and Grandfather Blythe, so very dear and sweet.

Her eyes landed finally on her siblings: sweet Lee looking so worried now; puckish Jo frowning fiercely, not bothering to hide his dislike for the idea of her not going home with them; Phil, her other half, trying to look unconcerned.

And, of course, Mother and Dad, who could have been strangers after a year apart, but were instead become even better friends.

"I'm going home," she said, smiling. "Back to Kingsport."

Lee clapped her hands, Jo jumped into the air, Phil withdrew into the shadows to hide his face, and Oliver's jaw dropped.

"But what about running?" Jack asked curiously.

Gwen shrugged. "I'll find a way to keep it up. And if not, well, becoming an Olympic runner isn't worth losing over two years with my family."

"What about school, though?" Grandfather asked, his eyes reflecting his disappointment even as he kept his voice carefully neutral.

Gwen's face hardened into determination. "I'll just have to work harder, that's all. If an education is really something I want, then I can't let poor teachers stand in my way." She softened her voice. "I do appreciate it, Grandfather—and Grandmother—but in the end, this was the only chance I could have made." Her mind flashed back to the conversation she'd had with Tryg, at the dance, and to the picture of a lone warrior aboard a Viking ship now sitting on her desk. "My heart won't let me do anything else."

Grandmother rose and kissed her forehead. "Then you are absolutely right in going back, my dear."

"Thank you," Gwen smiled at her gratefully.

Uncle Shirley, with tactfulness born of years of shyness, turned the subject then, and they spoke no more of Gwen's choice.

Later on, though, Oliver caught Gwen in the kitchen as she carried a stack of dirty dishes in.

"I can't believe you're throwing your future away like this," he said in disgust.

"I'm not," Gwen said calmly, stacking the dishes next to the sink. "I'm just taking a different path, that's all."

"But, Gwen," he persisted, reaching for her hand. "What about us?"

Gwen eluded his grasp. "We can still be friends, can't we?" she asked, deliberately misunderstanding him.

He wouldn't be deterred. "That's not what I mean, and you know it," he said, his dark eyes burning with intensity.

"It is what I mean," Gwen said steadily, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He winced and dropped back. "Very well, then," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I guess I'll see you next summer."

He vanished out the kitchen door, not even bothering to get his coat, and the last Gwen saw of him was his back rapidly vanishing down the road. She felt a pang of guilt, but mostly she felt relief that everything was out in the open, and he was no longer labouring under any kind of misapprehension about their relationship.

"Gwen?"

She turned away from the window and smiled gratefully at her brother. "Phil?"

He crossed the room and surprised her by giving her a fierce hug. "I'm glad you're coming back with us," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She hugged him back. "Or I you."

They went back to the parlour with their arms around each other. Gwen knew that she would miss everyone here, when she was back in Kingsport, but she couldn't find it in her to feel even the smallest amount of regret over her decision.

For as much as she loved everyone and everything here, nothing could compare with her family. It had been a wonderful year, but she was excited too about going home, starting fresh, rising to new challenges. It wouldn't always be easy, she knew, but her triumphs would be all the sweeter for having to work harder for them. Her place, for now, for this season of her life, was with her family.

Nowhere else.

The End

Author's Note: And so we come to an end ... and also a new beginning! Thank you all so much for joining me in this new journey, exploring a new vision of the Blythe family. Many of you have commented that as much as you liked Meggie, you prefer Gwen even more. Maybe, as their creator, I shouldn't say this, but ... so do I. Gwen &Co. have wound their way around my heart like very few characters I ever created have! I do have in mind a few more stories regarding Gwen, so this is not goodbye forever to them.

Thank you again for all the reviews and encouragement you have all given. There's very little that delights me more than knowing that characters I have created have touched other' lives.

-Elouise