CHAPTER XXXIV

Dec. 20 The Palisades Avonlea

Someone's in the family way. Diana Wright was trotting to the Blythe's outhouse every twenty minutes. There's either a bun in her oven or she has the worst case of honeymoonitis ~ though she looked far too self-satisfied for that to be the case. I wondered how long it might take before the Barrys began knitting up booties. Gertie reckoned on a winter confinement because no one, not even a dullard like Fred Wright, could last three years without sampling the produce. Whereas I said two summers at least, because Fred would need at least six months to figure out what to do, and Diana would need six months before she would give in and let him!

If I was the nasty minded sort I might come to a similar conclusion about Anne. She's back in Avonlea for Christmas and looks suspiciously delicate ~ all big eyes and pale face ~ I swear she only basted two sheets for the orphanage. Does she want those poor foundlings to go without? How soon the high and mighty forget their squalid origins. First plain Jane Andrews has some tycoon sniffing round her, and now the Rollings Reliable redhead has one too! Well, what do they say but love is blind.

Not that Anne would know what love was. Fancy giving up Gilbert Blythe for money after flirting with him shamelessly for years! She did look gratifyingly uncomfortable in the Blythe's parlour this afternoon. Apparently, the Green Gables folk insisted Anne come in their stead ~ what with Rachel coming down with bronchitis and Marilla getting over it. I could scarcely believe Anne had the nerve to attend! But then why shouldn't Anne be made to do her share? People make too many concessions for her odd little ways.

Mrs. Blythe was far too obliging by half. You'd think it would be me she would be making an extra effort with, when I am Gilbert's oldest, most loyal friend. If it wasn't for that gold-digging ingrate, poor Gil would be here right now renewing past acquaintance, instead of killing himself with his studies. Anne Shirley has ruined Christmas for everyone. If I was Sarah Blythe I would have slammed the door in her face! But oh no, it was:

"Anne could you get Pippin out of the wool basket, Anne could you help Miss. Parson thread her needle again, Anne could you run into Gil's room and fetch the desk lamp for Mrs. Silas to see by, Anne would you make sure Ruthie doesn't sit on Tuppence?"

It was probably the sight of Anne's infantile stitch-work that forced Mrs. Blythe to keep her occupied with less taxing tasks. Now if it was a Quilting Bee instead of the Ladies Aid you can be sure Green Gables would have found excuses to keep Anne at home. The Sloanes are right, she'll never be fit for homemaking. Not that it matters. No doubt Anne will have servants to do it all for her. She'll set up house in Kingsport and we shall never see her again. So much for bosom friends! After wasting all Marilla's money on a pointless Bachelor's degree, Diana would have been expecting Anne to return to Avonlea for good. She would have been counting on it! As Diana isn't showing yet ~ well her waist isn't any thicker than it generally is ~ I'd say little Junior will be here by July. And where will Anne be? Prancing about on her wedding tour of Europe no doubt. Why, she and Jane could go together!

I just don't understand how this happened. I don't understand it at all!

…

December 20th, Green Gables

Well Diary, I survived. It wasn't the most awkward moment in my life. I've endured so many it will take something more than the Ladies Aid to bring me to my knees. So why do feel like crying?

It must be Diana's secret. Though why this should suddenly sadden me even I couldn't say. I had been hoping we could go snow-shoeing up to Hester Gray's garden this morning. Avonlea looks like a white frosted cake, dusted with powder so fine it fairly chirps as you walk upon it. Poor Marilla doesn't sound much better. Why couldn't it have been Rachel who lost her voice? Since my arrival, she's been threatening hourly that it's about to disappear, though it hasn't encouraged her to ration her conversation. I wouldn't mind so much if she spoke about something other than why no girl could do better than Gilbert Blythe. Why is it that no one in Avonlea can give up on the idea of our being together? Perhaps the only thing that will silence them will be his engagement.

Oh, Diary, do you really think he might marry her? I can't imagine it at all. There is nothing here that could satisfy Christine Stuart. Whereas Gilbert ~ well he is the Island. He could never be happy living somewhere else, I KNOW he couldn't. Fred was crestfallen to learn Gilbert wouldn't be back for Christmas. He'd pulled up a stand of oaks near the pig run in order to plant potatoes, and erected a spectacular mountain of logs for the New Year's bonfire.

"Our very first party at The Pines, and probably our last for the foreseeable..." he said to me, going redder than ever.

"Yes," Diana said, with cheeks to rival her husband. "We thought we would do this now, because next year..."

Then they eyed each other with these deliciously giddy expressions ~ I could never imagine Roy looking at me like that. I had my suspicions about those two. But they weren't confirmed until I invited Diana for a ramble in the snow, and she looked at Fred as if expecting him to tell her whether or not her legs still worked.

"Oh, Anne," she beamed, "We're not supposed to say anything yet, because we're not wholly certain and it's really too soon, but... we think... we might... we're possibly... going to have a baby!"

Then I really did cry, and they were tears of undeniable joy. I felt myself blushing as I embraced them both. I couldn't help thinking that Diana and Fred have now done everything there is to express their love for each other. Whereas I haven't even been kissed.

I keep waiting for Roy to look at me that way ~ as Phil would say. Charlie had this unnerving habit of licking his lips when he wanted to kiss me. Sebastian Miles would hum a little tune, and Neil MacDonald would cough. Gilbert used to stare into my eyes, then gaze briefly at my mouth. Eyes flicking up, eyes flicking down. Up, down, up, down until I forgot what I was saying. It used to infuriate me. I wanted to grab his curly head and remind him to keep his eyes on mine and nothing else. I have attempted the same flickering stare with Roy, but the sweet boy only worried that he had something stuck in his teeth.

Should I tell him I have been in Gilbert's room? It was only to fetch a lamp. But when I stood there today I felt as though I was somewhere I shouldn't be. I don't know why it made me so uncomfortable. There was nothing wholly unexpected in there, in fact his room is the mirror of my own. No wonder he knew where to position my desk, he has placed his own by the fire as well. His is in a far worse state than mine. Marilla would never have allowed me to carve words into the desktop, no matter how battered a thing it was. Mrs. Blythe appears not to mind, however. It was all so clean and cared for, with not a speck of dirt ingrained in any mark he'd made ~ and not only his. Judging by the hand someone else had once carved into that table, which I can only assume was John Blythe. There were anagrams too. Some audaciously rude, some obnoxiously clever, and others not for my eyes.

Above the desk there was a small shelf of well-thumbed books, and where I have my silvered looking glass, he has another smaller window. There was a cat in that spot, catching the last of the sun on the sill, and another puss on the counterpane that covers his bed. It was made in the apple-leaf pattern ~ of course it was ~ in reds and whites just like mine. But the care that went into the quilt of Mrs. Blythe's bonny boy was beyond anything even Rachel Lynde could conceive. It was the work of months not weeks. I couldn't help draw my hand over it. So exceedingly fine, even an embroidery dunce like me could appreciate the skill, the time, and the love it must have taken.

He had the usual rag-rug on the floor. I have a circle, he has a square. What really intrigued me were all the keepsakes on display. By the fireplace where I have all my flowers and photographs, he has jars filled with birds' eggs and bird bones, dried grasses, iridescent feathers, scrolls of birch bark and bleached sticks of drift wood.

It was like a poem to the Island, but an Island I didn't know. A secret one that only those who are born here would understand. I stood there tracing my hand upon a creamy shell that had no place on our red shores and thought about the apple tree. How Gilbert had managed to find something no one else in Avonlea had ever seen before. I knew even then at three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon he would be up to his eyebrows in books, seeking out secrets in the musty old library while everyone else had gone home for Christmas. If I missed him, how much more his mother would have. There wasn't a mote of dust upon one tiny bone. Sarah Blythe must come into his room every day and carefully clean each one. I knew why too. You couldn't help but think of him as you stood there and touched those things.

Fortunately, it was thinking about Mrs. Blythe that reminded me why I was in Gilbert's room in the first place. But before I could fetch the lamp, the window sill cat leaped into my arms. It was when I looked up in surprise that I saw two very curious things.

Upon the ceiling pricked out in brass tacks was the Virgin's constellation. And under the lamp, scored into the wood, like a wound, like a scar, the words ~

Heavenly lone iris.

…

26th December, The Pines, Avonlea

So Journalette, we've finally gotten to the bottom of it! The mystery of the pink heart necklace. And a darling little thing it is too. Gilbert Blythe, you sentimentle lummox. I never would have thought it of him!

Apparantly it was all Davy's doing. He really is an imp ~ oh I do hope this little bean growing inside me is a girl. I have no experience with boys at all, besides Fred of course, and all his brothers. But I wouldn't have clue how to manage one even a tenth as much trouble as Davy Keith!

The scallywag got hold of the necklace last Christmas when he was sent to collect the mail. There was Gilbert's little package with that sweet pink heart inside. Of course, Gilbert wasn't the most popular person in Avonlea back then. All the boys and girls were simply furious about him wanting to sell Domino. Davy had been wanting to get into the good graces of Pippa's big sister, so what did he do? He gave the heart to Stella Fletcher! The girl had no notion of its actual worth. It's a Cloisonné enamel, Journalette. From France! When Stella and Davy had a falling out, she gave the heart to Roberta Yearling in exchange for her paste pearl bracelet. Roberta's big sister took to wearing it then, until her beau wanted to know who had given her the fancy love token. When she flung it at him he went and left it for the teacher as a gift from a secret admirer. But Minnie-May saw him leaving it on her hat hook ~ that Minnie-May sees everything ~ and swiped it for herself! The little minx has been wearing it for months tucked under her little white apron. Until Christmas day when she didn't have to wear one and we went to Green Gables for dinner.

"Whered'ya get such a thing?" Davy roared at her. "That was mine!"

"Where did you get such a thing, Davy-boy?" Anne said, taking up the pendant and studying it. Journalette, she went as pink at that heart.

Davy refused to say, of course, and was sent to his room in shame. We could hear him kicking up a storm above our heads ~ Fred even offered to administer a good swift wallop! I hope he knows he won't be doing that to our babies. Poor Anne was desperate to go up and discover the truth of it all. She has such a wonderful way with that boy ~ and with all boys come to that. The thought of Davy missing out on Christmas pudding seemed to upset her almost as much as the mystery of where the necklace had come from.

I'm sure that was why Marilla and Rachel relented and allowed Anne to go to him. We were stuffed by that time anyway. Oh, I can't wait to have a big round belly so I can eat as much as I want and no one will be able to tell. But right at that moment I began to feel a little green. I don't know where this idea started that expectent mothers only feels wretched in the mornings. I feel just awful at the strangest times, and Fred and I had to go home.

I was just bursting to know the truth of it all. Anne knew that, of course, and came straight round to The Pines this morning. That's when I found out half the Avonlea school house had been wearing Gilbert's necklace. Well, it's Anne's now. Though she wasn't wearing it, it was back in the velvet box Davy had been keeping a glass eye in.

There was a small card tucked under the cushion with a brief message inside it. Anne didn't tell me what it was he'd written, but I don't expect it will be very romantic. For all Gil practically lives in Kingsport, he is an Island boy after all!

...