Author's Note:

I am sorry if this was not the update you were expecting (for readers of Down the Rabbit-Hole in particular!) but it was the update I very much needed to give you!

Although I have been (mostly!) posting on my other stories, even intermittently, this year, I have been very neglectful of THIS story and its readers. Thank you to those who have waited such a long while for an update and those who have discovered this story in the interim.

And speaking of the interim… I hardly know what to say about this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, except that I hope this finds you safe and well, and if you are struggling, anxious, overwhelmed or just really, really fed up, know that we all hear you and recognise you in ourselves, and I personally send my very best wishes to you x

With love and hope for a brighter 2021,

MrsVonTrapp x

Chapter Twenty Nine

The Year is a Book

Part Three

Tom felt there was a sad finality to him not journeying, this time, to meet the boat train at Bright River.

Davy, of course, had badgered him senseless as to why they weren't making the expedition, inventing all manner of reasons as to how they might find themselves within distance of the town, and surely it wouldn't be much to saunter over to wave at the disembarking passengers from Kingsport, a particular redhead among them ?

Even Matthew eyed him closely that late afternoon, as he lingered over their break for tea, deliberate in his determination that this was just as any other day, making it known through actions if not words that he had not changed his mind, and would not be travelling all that way just to wait in the shadows, whilst Gilbert, ever the Sun King, gave him a charitable wave before ushering Anne away. Her letters, after a shaky beginning, had continued apace through her last term at Redmond, deliberately chummy and resolutely fond, and he cherished their correspondence, even if it made him slightly sad, still, to think of what could have beens.

Not, admittedly, that he had much time for thinking on anything for long; spring had galloped towards summer with enthusiasm, and the long days found him from dawn to well after dusk out in the fields or taking Davy and Matthew round to survey the orchards or cast their eyes over the livestock. After supper, where once he had sat companionably with the others downstairs or flopped, exhausted, into bed, with only a half-hearted attempt at reading a chapter of anything at all, now he took himself off to the barn, having commandeered a corner of the loft to sitting at his adopted lathe and working the wood in his experimental endeavours.

His hands were supple and his body strong – and his will even stronger – and soon there were enough examples of his efforts sitting in baskets beside him to commandeer an entire stand at the Carmody Fair and still have goods left over. Spinning tops of all sizes, from the small ones Davy now carried in his pockets and liked to trade as prepubescent currency with his friends, to large ones with swirls and designs good enough to sit in wait under any Christmas tree. There were toy carts with actual working wheels, and an entire train with three carriages. There were several sets of skittles, the ball polished round and smooth. Tom had in mind for the future little playsets with different themes – farm animals complete with barn and fences; toy soldiers beside their barracks; a doll family with miniature home and basic furniture. And beyond that there were the specialist items he only had time yet to create in his imagination; chess sets; dolls' cradles; a proper doll's house with several levels, like some of the grander homes in White Sands or Charlottetown; and any number of household items, from trays to salt and pepper shakers; from bowls to tea caddies; his creations, in his mind at least, the perfect blend of the practical and the ornamental.

Here, now, he was attempting a set of candlesticks for the soon-to-be Mrs Inglis as wedding gift, for it had been kind of Jane to invite him alongside Marilla and Mrs Rachel, with Matthew delighted to sit the evening out, seizing his ready excuse of someone needing to be with the twins. At first there had been talk that there wouldn't be room enough for many Avonlea folk at this grand shindig, but somewhere along the line either through Jane's insistence or Mrs Harmon's desire to show off, the local guest list had been expanded exponentially.

With the newest Kingsport arrivals amongst them.

He could not think on it. He would not think on it. Would not think of her chatting with their friends or dancing in Gilbert's arms at Jane's wedding. Would not think of the long summer of not seeing her, with the tall grasses in the fields whispering her name mockingly till he could cry out in agony. Would not think of the long, desolate, lonely years ahead of him, with her back in Kingsport, squired around by Gilbert and as far from him as ever she had felt those lost seven years.

He pumped the lathe ferociously, but his focus had wandered and he paid for it in the sharp sting to the side of his hand, as skin instead of wood fell under the rotating pressure. He gasped and sucked at the little wound, the blood shining new and bright, but not pooled enough to drip into the hay.

He took a laboured breath, eyes shifting to the window, where dusk had fled towards twilight, now, and knew that Anne would have arrived at Orchard Slope, probably still up talking with Diana, making plans that did not involve him. He turned back and surveyed his hand dispassionately. He had shed blood for her before, when they were still children; willingly and gladly. But he couldn't do it again. Not this way. She who had first opened up his heart after his mother's death was the one he had to protect himself from, now.

It was enough. This mourning for her was enough.

And yet… and yet… there was a part of him that knew he hadn't been completely fair to her… it was not Anne's role to make everything right by agreeing to be with him. Just as she was the one to remind him that he shouldn't feel guilt for being the one to come here to Green Gables. If she had absolved him of that, how could he still hold her to task, even in his head, for not being able to love him as he had wanted her to?

He sighed deeply, wrapping his hand with a scrap of material from the bundle Marilla had given him, for that very purpose, and wondered how long she had mourned the loss of John Blythe. He'd heard the story from Rachel once (of course) when younger, though he wasn't really meant to know it. In the aftermath of Anne's last visit to Green Gables Matthew had found him to offer some quiet comfort, and mentioned it in passing, as one might any attempt to soothe a distressed soul. Marilla had survived and so would Tom. Moreover, if Marilla had married John Blythe there would be no Tom at all; and possibly no Green Gables, as Matthew by his own admission would never, with advancing years, have coped on his own and would never have worried Marilla so, with her own family perhaps and her own farm to help run. So Anne's choice of Gilbert might even be providential, in time, in the same way.

Tom appreciated the kindness, even if he felt unconvinced by the lesson.

Calling it a night he took long, steady strides back to the house. Everything about him was steady, he lamented, even his heart. He'd never have the dash and derring-do of Gilbert, that he knew, but neither did he have to trudge a long, relentless, unbroken path towards an unchanging horizon.

That you took your chance and used it well.

If he couldn't change his nature… perhaps it was finally time to change his circumstances.

Anne had risen early the following morning, leaving a note for Diana. She wanted to walk into the village and purchase a gift for Jane; the general store, she was reliably informed, was doing a very nice trade in some specialty items, and she was hoping for a vase or bowl of some description, since unfortunately her talents did not run to the sorts of homemade gifts the other women had undoubtedly spent months crafting.

It was indeed a picturesque outlook in little Avonlea; wildflowers preened from the hedgerows; neat houses looked self satisfied behind their white picket fences; majestic trees swayed proudly; and all above the vast, sweeping cerulean sky and the vivid red earth below.

It made her weep for a young Tom, seeing all this for the first time, after the relentless grey drabness of their lives before. What must he have felt about it? How uncomprehending, how awestruck, to discover that there could be such beauty in the world, and unable to share it with her.

Oh, Tom…

She must see him – she longed to see him – but didn't know how to manage it. She felt absolutely unable to journey out to Green Gables, despite both Tom's and Matthew Cuthbert's assurances that all was well in the letters they had exchanged this term – her correspondence in particular with Matthew Cuthbert like an unexpected benediction. She had never had an older man in her life, even to write to, surrounded almost solely by women at the asylum and at the girl's home. She had hardly known what to do with his kindly and supportive sentiments, at first, but now they bolstered her at unexpected moments.

But they didn't bolster her now… not five minutes in the store and perusing the few shelves indicated to her by the kindly shopkeeper, she noted the woman enter and walk to the counter with unfussy purpose, exchanging pleasantries in a low, husky voice that had warmed Anne when she had first heard it, and now vibrated painfully in her chest.

Anne shrunk back behind the shelves reflexively, fascinated by the woman who loomed so large in Tom's life but panicked to think, after the clear disappointment on her face after their last meeting, that she would actually be thrust before her again so soon. Marilla Cuthbert chatted pleasantly and waited for her package, casting a look around the store that took in Anne and then with cool distain moved past her without a moment's pause or acknowledgment to await her order.

Anne felt a tightening in her throat and her eyes well with ridiculous, unreasonable tears.

"You don't want me!" * she whispered to herself, overcome with an emotion she could hardly understand, let alone properly express. The past came rushing up to her as a rumbling before an avalanche, the slights and rejections of countless cold hearted so-called carers and classmates roaring in her ears. "You don't want me because I don't want your boy!"

Was she not good enough on her own for Marilla Cuthbert, without the presence of Tom to make her palatable?

Hot, angry tears spilled over her flushed cheeks. She would wait until the woman was gone, and never even contemplate crossing her precious threshold again! She would see Tom, Mr Cuthbert and the twins some other way, or not at all!

The shopkeeper returned, with a wrapped package and a tall glass vase.

"Miss?" he called out towards her, searching the shelves she had sequestered herself behind. "I say, Miss…Shirley? I think I've found something that may be of assistance to you!"

"Shirley?" Marilla Cuthbert repeated, clearly startled, peering back towards her general direction, her gaze making distracted, ineffectual sweeps of the store. "Miss Anne Shirley?"

Anne surrendered her hiding place, composing herself, and walked with head held high to the counter.

"Good morning to you, Miss Cuthbert," she offered with cool, cutting civility – she would not lower her own standards of politeness no matter the personal affront. "That will do wonderfully," she turned her attention and her smile to the man. "Thank you, Sir."

The gift was much more than she had ideally wanted to pay and would leave a terrible pinch in her meagre savings, but she was not about to conduct an entire conversation about the merits and costings of comparable items in front of Marilla Cuthbert. She stood with frigid patience as the shopkeeper at least wrapped her purchase with elegant paper and an admirably extravagant bow and was good enough to include a complimentary card.

"Thank you, Sir," Anne nodded, face heated.

"Most welcome, Miss. I'm sure the future Mr and Mrs Inglis will find it a handsome addition to their mantlepiece."

Anne paid and gave a wide smile in farewell and a curt nod to Miss Cuthbert, turning on her heel and leaving without hesitation.

Marilla struggled to catch the flame-haired girl, juggling both her package and the stairs and in an agony of indecision regarding whether to stow her bundle in the buggy first before leaving in pursuit of her, or hollering her name in the middle of the main street.

The hollering won.

"Anne! Anne Shirley!" she called, and the young woman stopped her rapid progress reluctantly, dashing at her cheeks with her free hand before she turned, but not effectively enough to prevent Marilla from observing the hot tears that had glistened there.

"Why Miss Shirley, whatever is the matter?" Marilla was all genuine, throaty concern, coming towards her with an air that made the pale girl's pretty face crumple in confusion.

"M…Miss Cuthbert, you needn't feel compelled to speak to me now! You made your feelings clear at the store!"

"Compelled? Feelings?" Marilla echoed uncomprehendingly. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You saw me and you cut me to the quick! I understand your reasons but.. I don't have to accept them!"

"Saw you? Well of course I saw you, once you were at the counter. It was too dim to see you earlier. But what do you mean cut you to the quick?"

"Too dim to see me…?" Anne's fury wavered.

"You think I slighted you?" Marilla asked slowly, her brows drawing together.

"I… I…"

"Oh Anne Shirley! It's my eyes, you see. They've been failing for years. They're worse in dim light, though, or when there is too much of a contrast between the glare outside and inside. And those back shelves - I wouldn't even know how to manage them now. If you were browsing there I'm afraid I hadn't a hope of making you out."

"You couldn't see me…?" those large grey eyes looked to hers in astonishment. "I… I… I'm dreadfully sorry. I had forgotten your difficulties. That is... I… I apologise unreservedly and - "

"Hush, now, child. There's been no harm done," Marilla gave a gentle smile, those troublesome blue eyes softening at the corners, and the girl before her promptly collapsed into sobs.

She didn't quite know how she found herself bundled into Marilla Cuthbert's buggy and directed back to Green Gables, but they were on the long approach to the house in what seemed a heartbeat, Anne having taken considerable time to compose herself. She looked about her wildly as they came to a stop, fearful for what reception she would find inside on this occasion, and unable to bear the look of reproach from Mrs Rachel Lynde or the hidden hurt that Tom had tried to mask.

Marilla Cuthbert seemed to read something in her face.

"Miss Shirley, rest easy. There's no one but myself here today. After morning chores Mrs Lynde took the twins on a promised summer outing to White Sands and Matthew has gone with Tom to Carmody."

"Oh." Anne gulped.

"So please, dear, come inside and have a spot of tea."

Anne could hardly cope with dear from the older woman any better than she had my child, but she obeyed without demur, her little heels sounding loudly on the floorboards as she entered, invited to deposit her heavy vase on the sideboard and take a seat at the generous kitchen table she remembered.

"Now…" Marilla Cuthbert mused, happy to relinquish her own package on the kitchen bench and begin preparations.

"Do you… would you like some assistance?" Anne asked carefully, to be rewarded with a wry laugh.

"Oh gracious no, thank you! I'm perfectly capable of getting about my own kitchen. I really could do that blindfolded, as long as Rachel doesn't take it upon herself to suddenly rearrange everything."

Anne nodded slowly, attempting a faltering smile.

"You've come to Avonlea for the summer?" Marilla Cuthbert asked, almost conversationally.

"Unfortunately no, Miss Cuthbert… only a few days. Until just after Miss Andrews' wedding."

"That is a shame! Avonlea is so lovely in the summer. But where will you go after? Surely not back to the College?"

Anne swallowed carefully.

"No… I will return to Summerside, where I've lived since… that is, I've been there…"

"Ever since Tom came here," Marilla Cuthbert finished quietly, her eyes searching Anne's.

Anne didn't trust herself with the pretty speech she had prepared; for Phil; for Gilbert and the Blythes; for Diana and the Barrys; and even for Tom, if required. She had overspent and overindulged, underestimating how expensive mere living could be, as well as the fatal allure of friendship, and the activities that accompanied it… and she couldn't help wanting to look good for Gilbert, her old green skirt notwithstanding. But now, she had the prospect of a lonely summer in order to safeguard her next year of studies, which would be even more demanding, financially, given that Phil Gordon was still trying to shore up their new accommodation at this very moment.

Marilla Cuthbert looked thoughtful as she arranged some beautiful savouries, the delicious plum puffs, and sat to pour the tea.

"I'm so sorry, Anne, about.. before," she began, hesitating slightly.

"Oh Miss Cuthbert, really, it was my mistake, my misunderstanding! I didn't realise that – "

"No, Anne. I am referring to your last visit here, and the reception to the news you were courting Gilbert Blythe. I am afraid that my conduct… and admittedly, Mrs Lynde's… was uncharitable and unchristian. And very unfair."

Anne stared down at her pretty cup and saucer; a rose design uncomfortably similar to another she had encountered, once.

"Please don't think on it, Miss Cuthbert."

"Marilla, I insist. And I'm afraid I do think on it, Anne Shirley, with no pleasure and a great deal of regret."

Anne's eyes when she looked up were wide and dark on the older woman's, and her composure was again in danger.

"I must tell you, Anne," Marilla Cuthbert continued, almost doggedly, "and Matthew undoubtedly has, that we have known of your very particular friendship with Tom for a long time; how you came to meet, and the unfortunate circumstances of your parting. We really are sorrier than we can ever express. I've wished often that we… that we'd had the means, then, to welcome you into our home as well, and it was perhaps Tom's dearest wish in the early days. He rather clung to the memory of you for years, and at the point when you came back into his life you brought such happiness…"

Marilla paused, considering her next words, seeing how carefully her companion was watching her and reading her reactions.

"I thought to make amends for the past, for the dreadful mix up of that day years ago, by embracing you as Tom's young lady. Your partiality for each other was clear, and you charmed us all. I'm sorry to say it was a shock to me that you chose Gilbert, and I was not… gracious. Though I hurt for Tom's sake I… I did not stop to consider you in all this. Your friendship is everything to him and I should not have expected you would, or could, automatically give more…"

"Miss Cuthbert…"

"Marilla, please," she urged.

"Marilla…" Anne clutched her cup and saucer too tightly, and had to relinquish them. "I thank you very much for your kind words, and your apology, and accept them happily and unreservedly … I love Tom, indeed I do, but I'm sorry it couldn't be the sort of love that he and everyone wished I'd – "

"No, Anne Shirley… you've offered him more than mere courting. You offered him comfort and kindness and hope. I only wish we could now do the same for you."

If Anne had been still holding her cup she most certainly would have dropped it.

"I… I… I don't quite understand."

Marilla hardly knew, evidently, how to explain it all herself, refining the idea as she went. She pushed down thoughts of the girl Anne Shirley may have been… remembering too well how the sight of Tom his first evening with them had haunted her… the scars that were so visible then, and the invisible scars she had belatedly realised this girl still carried.

"I know you are a young lady now, and independent, and of an independent age… and I am well aware you have made many friends whom you may visit and correspond with… but friends are not, well, family, Anne. And I… we… that is, Matthew and myself, we were able to offer Tom a family, and after a time also the twins, and it occurred to me lately that, well, why could we not extend the offer to yourself as well? As the girl who couldn't come to Green Gables, but still found such a way to be connected to us…"

Anne was dumbfounded, and Marilla wondered if she had overstepped some invisible boundary.

"You wish… you wish… to adopt me?" Anne spluttered.

"Well, Anne, being that you are past eighteen, I would say it would be rather a matter of whether you wish to adopt us."

Those grey eyes grew round, till they seemed to swamp her face. Anne's little laugh, when it came, was all wonder and amazement and incomprehension.

"Miss Cuthbert – Marilla – I don't know what to say! I can hardly believe what I'm hearing! But what… what.. what of the others? What about Tom? And Mrs Lynde? And Matthew? How would we ever…?"

"How would we ever manage it, you mean to ask?"

"Well, yes!" a bubble of laughter rose from Anne again, more joyous this time and perhaps more believing.

Marilla Cuthbert gave a classically wry smile. "Probably in the way we've managed most things around here the past ten years or so, Anne. With a little planning and a lot of prayer!"

This time the older woman's throaty laugh joined Anne's, each staring at the other in amazement.

"You really mean it?" Anne found herself asking, the girl who had been let down so many times before emerging in her imploring eyes and trembling lips.

A brown hand, weathered and worn and warm, reached out to take hers. Anne stared down at her own pale hand so encased...or maybe cradled. She didn't know if Katherine had ever taken her hand in such a way, and certainly never Mrs Cadbury; Diana's touch was soft and tender, but more of friendly fellow-feeling; this was different; meaningful… maternal.

"Yes, Anne Shirley."

Anne didn't really need to hear the answer; though it echoed around her head and reverberated in her slight body, right down to the marrow.

Miss Priscilla Grant was well and fondly remembered in Carmody, and the former schoolmistress beamed as she walked down the wide, well-tended streets, acknowledged by students and former families as she went, happy to be on her Island again even if her family reunion back in Spencervale the day before was always as fraught as much as it was fabulous.

She made a mental note to stop later at the haberdasher's; saw with a twinge of sadness that Mr MacPherson the old woodturner must have retired at last; and beamed at the schoolhouse as she passed with its most excellently shingled roof, though she was certain the new young teacher resident there was not as appropriately appreciative of this fact as she could be.

Pris was headed for the local newspaper offices, however, and in the nick of time, too, for they were taking deposits from hopeful stallholders and entries for the upcoming Carmody Fair prize sections, and the deadline for both was tomorrow. Or possibly it was today, she sighed to herself, seeing the line snake around the inside of the building and almost out the door.

She joined the queue with an impatient resignation, viewing the tops of many heads with the vantage point of her additional height, seeing a tall, fair-headed figure far in front of her at the window and wishing she could swap places with him. After some time she noted him finish his business and turn around, heading back down past her fellow unfortunates still in line, knowing as his pale blue eyes lit on her the surprise on his face was felt on hers.

Tom Caruthers came steadily and somewhat bashfully towards her, hat in hand and small smile playing about his lips. She had tried to imagine him often these many months of their new and enjoyable correspondence, having already fielded her mother's inevitable enquiries as to his identity and whereabouts the previous evening.

"Mr Caruthers, I presume," she gave him a jaunty, jovial smile.

"Miss Grant!" he chuckled sheepishly. "How very nice to see you. Are you here to take your own advice?"

"I am here on my mother's behalf, Mr Caruthers, and I certainly hope you are here on your own!"

"Yes indeed, Miss Grant," he nodded, tanned face breaking into a shy grin. "I didn't dare meet you again without having first made appropriate arrangements."

"I am very glad to hear it."

They stood smiling at one another, until Tom's wide-shouldered bulk was causing difficulties as people tried to pass him, and he gave a chagrined look.

"May I wait for you outside, Miss Grant?"

"That would be much appreciated, Mr Caruthers."

The queue dispersed much faster for Pris having her unexpected meeting to mull over. She had indeed badgered Tom in her letters this past term to try his luck at the Carmody Fair at the end of the summer, to see what eventuated from his toy crafts as both a stallholder and a competition entrant. It gratified her in ways she couldn't well explain that he had listened to her urging and encouragement.

She entered her own mother's name in several produce and baking sections and paid the small fee for each, sending up a silent prayer that her mother would be well enough to enjoy the day and that her entries would be worthy of all the effort, in more ways than one, that would go into them.

Back out into the gentle morning sunshine, Tom smiled and tipped his hat as she noted him standing unobtrusively by the railing, though his neat attire and good looks left him well provisioned to be noticed by many a young lady who walked past. But he did not notice them; his gaze was only for her, and though it didn't smoulder as Gilbert's look to Anne, nor was it full of the longing that had marked Fred gazing at Diana, it still showed a quiet and steady interest that quickened her pulse all the same.

"May I accompany you on your other errands, Miss Grant?"

"Thank you, Mr Caruthers, your company will be most welcome. Though we must dispense with this Mr and Miss business, or we shall be right back where we started."

He nodded in pleased agreement. "I am at your service, Pris. Or at least until it is time for me to meet up with Mr Cuthbert."

"You came together today?" she began to walk along beside him, enjoying the novelty of being in the presence of a gentleman she actually had to look up to.

"Yes… we come here for our grain and feed and provisions we can't easily get in Avonlea, and I'd be uncomfortable in having Matthew tackle heavy sacks by himself. But I enjoy my trips across to here, and I've made a few friends in the town."

"Including our retired woodturner?" Pris gave a wide smile.

"Yes, indeed," Tom nodded, meeting her look. "I think if you hadn't insisted I enter the Carmody Fair, I think he would have taken up the cause!"

"Well, excellent, Tom! My work here is done!"

He gave another chuckle at this, a warm low rumble that she herself felt in her chest. He really wasn't as seriously minded as many would have it, she had often mused, his letters full of a self deprecating humour and the occasional slyly witty observation. It was simply that he felt no need to advertise himself in the way of so many other young men of her acquaintance, such as those at Redmond; some trying too hard, like Charlie Sloane, or others who wore their charm so easily but also so recognisably, like Gilbert. Tom Caruthers was sweet and steady and sincere, and she found she missed and valued that commodity.

"And how are your parents?" Tom asked her after a time, in his careful way, "I am sure it was a very happy reunion for you all."

"Thank you. It was. They are both well, I am very relieved to report."

"I am very happy to hear it," he turned to her, his soft blue eyes lighting with warmth. She had confided more than she perhaps should have of her mother's ill health these past years, and the pressures it had placed upon the family. But she had found him a knowledgeable and sympathetic ear, never able to forget the many long years he had nursed his own mother when still a boy himself. Before he had come to Avonlea… before he had even met Anne.

Her other friend had been on her mind, too, as they had alighted from the train at Bright River yesterday. Those wide grey eyes had searched the platform, seemingly half afraid of what - or more accurately whom – they would find there. Pris didn't know if it had been disappointment or relief to find there hadn't been, this time, a tall, fair young man waiting in the shadows for her. And she hadn't wanted to search her own feelings too readily to learn whether she had felt some pinprick of relief herself.

They double-backed past the schoolhouse, now, pausing to talk of Tom's handiwork of long ago, and her own happy memories teaching there; they ducked into the grain store, where Tom shyly introduced her to the older man with the kindly blue eyes, still-impressive beard and the quiet, gentle demeanour; and finally they were back at the haberdasher's, where she would undoubtedly spend too much time and too much money on material and embellishments for her wardrobe for Redmond next year. Not to mention, she thought with a sigh, what she could do to dress up the pretty pink gown she had worn to the football fundraising dance, to make it fit to be seen at Jane's lavish nuptials.

"You are coming to Jane's wedding, Tom?" Pris asked now, loathe to think she might be in Avonlea and not have them cross paths again.

"Yes, she was very kind to extend the invitation to all of us, though Matthew will very willingly spend a quiet night with Davy and Dora."

"I'm guessing you would rather do that yourself?" she teased a little knowingly, the spark of mischief lighting her eyes.

"My secret is out," he grinned sheepishly, his cheeks coloring faintly, and then seemed to pause before adding, "though I think you're rather good at keeping them."

The deep timbre of his voice made the seemingly innocuous comment hum with meaning, and she found herself blushing at the illusion to the secret of he and Anne, carried around with her since she herself had been still a girl.

"I like to think so."

Her pulse fluttered at his look, deep and searching, as it had been that time at Orchard Slope when she had first told him what she knew.

But there had been hurt and confusion in his eyes that day, too, whereas now… now there was an intangible shift; a new openness in the way he regarded her, as if something within him he still kept shuttered, protected, was slowly showing itself to the world.

"I may have to trust your good self with another secret of mine, Pris Grant," he bit down on a smirk. "I'm afraid I'm not a very good dancer."

"Well… I trust that… I may soon have the opportunity to judge for myself, Tom Caruthers," she answered; a line she had given to many a potential dance partner, from Queen's to Carmody to Redmond, with a smile that skipped along the edge of flirtation. But today the quip didn't feel like a line; it felt like a wish.

Another flash of a self-effacing smile. "It would be my honour to receive your… ah… appraisal."

They must be subtly rubbing off on each other, Pris thought to herself as they took their leave; she feeling his own earnestness, as he seemed to catch some of her teasing and try it for himself.

Miss Priscilla Grant of Spencervale would have been delighted to see his rare, unrestrained grin as Tom turned to head back to where he would meet Matthew, but she was far too busy processing her own.

Chapter Notes

The chapter title is of course a continuation of previous chapters, from Anne of the Island (Ch 22)

"The year is a book, isn't it, Marilla? Spring's pages are written in Mayflowers and violets, summer's in roses, autumn's in red maple leaves, and winter in holly and evergreen."

*Anne of Green Gables (Ch 3) slightly modified!

And some very, very, VERY overdue correspondence…

Firstly a thank you more than I can express here to my regular reviewers and new reviewers alike. I think it demonstrates an incredible faith to post a comment on a story that seems like it (and its' writer!) has gone off on a very, very long lunch. But please know that, for many of us, there are times when we just can't get to another update despite our desire to, or may have to take a planned or inadvertent extended break (and this year has certainly, unsurprisingly, seen that more than ever). And yet that little wave or nod of encouragement in the meantime is so valued and appreciated. Many of you have done that for me here, or on my other stories, and I thank you sincerely.

I last posted on this story in March and unfortunately thus many guest reviewers have been unacknowledged since – please indulge me while I take the opportunity to do so here, and a general thanks to all…

Guest of Feb 2nd (Ch 27): Such prescient words regarding your fear that Gilbert will get his heart broken! I am afraid there will be rough waters ahead for him, but I have his happiness in my keeping and will remember it x

To SY (Feb 10th Ch 26): Thank you first of all for SUCH generous comments and your lovely review! It really thrills me to know how closely you have been reading this story! Some of your descriptions of characters' relationships I want to copy out and stick on my wall! And you are VERY right that Tom has projected his image of Anne over those years apart onto her, though I'm afraid Gilbert has done some of that as well. I hope you are still reading this story or are able to pick it up again! Thank you x

Guest of Feb 11th (Ch 27): Thank you! It is so important to me that I try to get the tone of this right, and I really appreciate that feedback!

To Random Thoughts (Feb 18th): I DO love the thought that so many of us have connected over Anne! Some of my closest friends, though we have never met in person, I have found through this fandom x

DrinkThemIn (March 15th Ch 28): Darling, you KNOW I grin every time I include some Sullivan, knowing how you will smile yourself when you read it x

Guest of March 16th (Ch 28): Thank you for your kind comment!

Guests of March 17th and 18th (Ch 28): Thank you all for your encouragement, and I hope you have found fanfic to be a much-needed balm during this incomprehensible year x

Guest of March 20th (Ch 28): I really enjoyed the bittersweet nature of Anne and Katherine's goodbye here, and the sadness it was natural for Anne to feel. I too love that Katherine "begrudgingly" likes Gilbert and he knows so! Regarding Tom: You are right in that he has had some "possessive" thoughts regarding Anne, and needs to scale that back a bit. I address that a little more in this chapter, hopefully.

Ds (March 25th, Ch 28): Oh, so many lovely observations; thank you! Re Gilbert's parents: yes I ADORE writing them, and am often dangerously close to giving any story of mine over to them completely! Re Matthew: it has been lovely to be able to write him – one of the compensations I've built in to this narrative x Re Gilbert encouraging Anne and not just wooing her: yes another reviewer had a point, here, though you do too remembering that he has been encouraging of her too, academically, and proud of her when she's bested him x Re Anne and Adela Blythe: yes absolutely I am glad you and others are seeing the similarities between them in interests and personality, and a certain parallel regarding their romantic relationships, which I am hoping to explore further still! Re Jane's wedding: yes I pushed it forward almost four years! I think at the time I wanted Jane to be part of the Kingsport narrative so shifted her move out west to earlier (virtually after Queen's) and therefore she met Harry Inglis earlier – but luckily with the same fortunate result Thank you again for your valued support!

Guest of May 4th (Ch 24): I waited a long time for "swoonworthy" kisses under apple trees Take 2, and am so glad you liked the results!

Guest of May 6th (Ch 28): Wow you're right! Anne has had quite a year!

Daisy Burnett (Ch 28): I hope you are reading this to know how your words thrilled me! Thank you for this truly lovely encouragement and I'm delighted you might have more cause to delve into a little more poetry now! I sincerely hope you have had a fun time exploring all the tremendous writers in our fandom x

NVMF (July 13th, Ch 9): Thank you very much for commenting on this chapter! It is a horrible chapter of course, in so many respects, but it is one I spent a lot of time on and wanted to get as 'right' as I could. It is one of the sections I am most pleased with, so I really treasure your note on it!

Guest of August 2nd (Ch 28): I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update! I am well, thank you, and feel even better for getting this chapter out!