To think this story started with the image of a tree growing in an unlikely spot. Thanks for joining me. I know it had its moments, but it couldn't have a happy ending since no one apart from Marilla and Matthew knew anything about Gideon.

There's just one chapter after this and a short epilogue; and then I wait for inspiration to strike again.

"Gideon!" Marilla ran out the kitchen door to meet him as he drove in. They embraced warmly until he announced, "I have a surprise for you."

Marilla peered into his wagon to see an ornate machine affixed to a bench. She turned to Gideon curiously asking, "what is it?"

"Finally, someone's invented something that's actually useful. It's called a sewing machine; it's designed to make clothes making easier."

"Goodness. Are you going to sell these?"

"Eventually. This is the first one. I want you to have it."

"Oh, no Gideon. I couldn't possibly. This thing must be expensive."

"Don't worry. I have a hidden motive." Gideon patted his rump. "My pants are wearing thin; I had hoped you might learn how to use this contraption and make some for me."

Marilla rolled her eyes, "there's always a catch."

"Ach yes, ketzele. But the benefit for you is that you get to keep it afterwards. You can make yourself a new dress and maybe something for Matthew."

"What's wrong with my dress?" Marilla bridled, plucking at her skirt.

"Nothing of course, but um every woman likes to look her best," unknowingly Gideon had walked into dangerous territory.

Marilla softened, "sorry I didn't mean to put you on edge. Of course, a new dress would be lovely, but it's so much work and the fabric expensive. I can't justify it too often."

"That's the benefit of this 'sewing machine'," Gideon explained. "I can't produce cheap cloth but this 'ere beauty," he said patting the machine. "Should make the process far easier."

"Well, aren't you going to take it inside?" Marilla asked, teasingly.

"I need a hand. It's rather unwieldy." He turned to see Matthew approaching, wiping his hands on a rag. "Ah, good timing Matthew. Could you help?"

Marilla halted just inside the house, the men staggered behind her and dropped the machine with a small thump. "Where do you want it?"

"We'll put it in my sewing room, but I'll have to make a bit of room first. Maybe just put it by the door for now."

When the room was cleared, they placed it in the centre of the small room and Gideon showed Marilla how to thread the needle and work the treadle to run the needle. "Most ingenious," she declared. "I expect I won't have any trouble running up some trousers for you."

"Thank you," Gideon kissed her cheek.

"Well, I haven't done even anything yet." She regarded the machine for a moment before shyly admitting, "I'm a tad hesitant, truth be told."

"It is rather daunting," Matthew said scratching his head beside her.

"I have some instructions," Gideon replied. "I wager before long you'll have the mastery of it."

"God willing," replied Marilla staring at the thing wondering if she'd ever be brave enough.

Monday lunch time found Marilla and Gideon picnicking on a nearby beach. That morning Gideon had announced his desire to take Marilla off for the day. "Lucky Mrs Lynde didn't comment, after all we are unchaperoned." he said with a smile when they had eaten.

The sun warmed Marilla's legs as she lay with her head in Gideon's lap tracing circles in the sand relishing the silky sensation of the fine sand trickling through her fingers. "She's off with the Ladies Aid," she explained. "Thankfully."

"That lunch was perfection, ketzele. It always amazes me how you can just effortlessly whip up a picnic."

Marilla smiled, "not exactly effortlessly."

"Well, it looks that way to my pathetic manly gaze." He bent down to kiss her, the taste of tangy raspberry tingly on his lips.

Marilla laughed, "maybe."

"Comfortable?"

"Mm I don't think I've ever been as comfortable; in my life."

"You know," he said cautiously. "If you wanted, we still could have babies one day. I'd like children, would you?"

Marilla was still and eventually she replied, tears in her eyes. "When I was young, I always thought I'd have them, although I never could picture it. Rachel was different, she always told me she'd have a houseful. She'd describe her future to me in precise detail. For some reason I could never play the game. Of course before I met you, I'd thought my time had come and gone. When I," she heaved a wavery sigh. "The timing may not have been perfect, but I hoped that at last, I could join Rachel on that big adventure. And then… well." Gideon wiped her welling tears away with his thumb. She shook her head in exasperation believing that she should be over it. "Anyway, I suppose I was foolish. Sometimes I think God is punishing me for my sins."

"No, ketzele. God is more forgiving than that."

"Who can say? Well, all that to say that yes, God willing, I would like to have bear your babies, hopefully more than one. I think we might make good parents. I think I would like that," she reached up to caress Gideon's chin. "I think I would like that very much indeed." Gideon slid his hand up her skirts, but she brushed him away. "No."

"Just a little feel."

"We can't. I can't let you. Not at home and certainly not here, in public."

"It's not a little bit exciting, ketzele?"

Marilla felt it too, but she couldn't risk it. "No. I mean yes, but no."

Gideon withdrew his hand, frustrated but pleased she felt it too.

"What are your favourite names?" she asked needing to change the subject.

"Rebecca, after my mother, boys I'm not so sure. What about you?"

"Matthew of course and Geraldine."

"We'll have to take turns."

Marilla smiled, "I'd like that." She shifted on the sand turning over onto her side, her head still in his lap. He moved his caresses to her flank and across her back, and she in turn to his legs. "Love you," she whispered.

"Eh? What was that?"

"I love you," she said, louder this time.

"That makes me happy to hear, because I adore you."

"You do?"

"Ach, that you even have to ask?"

"I still can't always believe."

"Mm?"

"That we found each other."

"Ach, that was a happy day."

"Mm."

"I wish."

"Mm?" Marilla was half asleep in the warmth.

"Sometimes the feeling is so strong I want to scream it from the rooftops. I want to run into the mercantile and yell, 'I'm in love with Marilla' at everyone there. I'm sick of it being a secret, I want everyone to know, everyone deserves to know." But Marilla had fallen asleep, and he realised she hadn't heard a word. Her steady deep breaths warmed his thighs, and he leant back on his arms marvelling at her quietude. In his experience this was a woman who never stilled, was always working. The only time he'd seen her this quiet was in bed when la petite mort had overcome them.

She stirred later and smiled sleepily up at him. "Better?"

"Mm," she stretched, still waking up. "I'm a bit hot." She felt that sticky tightness that comes from the salt air.

"Up for a walk?"

"Give me a moment." He waited until she was fully awake and then gave her a hand up. They walked along the beach, paddling in the waves. Marilla stopped and stared out to sea, relishing the moment, the calling gulls, the sea, the light, the ozone, and her beloved by her side.

"Wait a moment," she put her hands up to her head and loosened her hairpins, then with a swoosh her hair was free to cascade down her shoulders.

Gideon smiled kissing her cheek, "beautiful."

Salt encrusted her skirts as they walked along the beach, waves catching at her hem and her bare feet revelling in the cool water. Gideon bent over to flick some water and she squealed merrily. He loved to see the sunlight catch her hair. When she overbalanced in the shifting sand, he was there to catch her laughing in his embrace.

"Ow," Marilla's foot collided with a rock rolling about in the waves and she plopped down in the water with the shock. Gideon knelt by her, lifted the offended digit, and placed it in his mouth, his voice muffled around it saying, "let me make it better." Marilla smiled for the warmth of his tongue really did take the smarting away. She put her arms out to prevent her from overbalancing and giggled when the next wave nearly overcame her. "Now I'm all wet."

"Ach, the good thing about water is that it dries."

"I suppose I can't argue with that." Still her skirts were heavy with water and cold and uncomfortable against her legs.

"Let's sit and you can let them dry," Gideon suggested. Marilla nodded. But the wet skirt picked up the sand dragging her down. "Here, get up." Somewhat unwieldly she got back to her feet and watched with some dismay as he undid her. Leaning on his shoulders she stepped out of the skirt leaving her just in her damp petticoats. "Now these too," he said. Glancing around in all directions Marilla let him remove her petticoat too and she sat down in just her bloomers. "They must be wet through."

"Yes, they are. But I'll survive."

"You don't want to…?"

"No."

"There's not a soul about…" Marilla did not deign to reply merely raising her eyebrows. Gideon knew a tone of finality when he heard one and understood in any case that he was unlikely to get her naked in public, even if they were the only ones there.

Eventually he asked, "ready to head back?" Marilla nodded, their picnic spot had disappeared around the corner, so it was impossible to see how far they'd walked but she was feeling weary. He helped her dress again and they set off. Fortunately, the walk home seemed shorter than the way there, possibly because they'd been walking into a slight headwind before. The sun was low on the horizon when they reached their buggy. "We're late," Marilla announced as Gideon turned the horses. "Matthew will be wondering where his dinner is."

The sound of fiddle playing wafted across the road a few miles from home. Marilla noticed Gideon's body reacting to it though he said nothing initially. "Hear that?" he said.

"Mm," Marilla did not want to be distracted. She was ready for home. The buggy turned a corner and before them they saw a circle of gaily painted wagons. "Oh my," said Marilla, startled.

One swarthy, roughly dressed man came towards them as Gideon slowed down. Alarmed Marilla stiffened beside him unsure of what to think when the man put his hand on the horse's bridle. "Gideon," the man said. "It has been a while my friend."

"Motshan! good to see you. Didn't expect to see you around these parts."

"We're just travelling through, pretty country." He looked up at Marilla curiously.

"Meet a friend of mine, this is Miss Marilla Cuthbert." Motshan reached up and took Marilla's hand kissing it lightly. Marilla was so shocked that she let him do as he wished. She turned and stared at Gideon when the man let her hand go, but Gideon was still talking. "I'm staying not far from here myself."

"Stay and have a drink."

"We can't…" Marilla started, dismayed when Gideon spoke over her, saying, "that would be grand, I'd love to see Kezia and the children, any more since we saw each other last?"

Motshan's laugh boomed out across the clearing, "no, my friend. But there is one on the way."

Annoyed Marilla hissed at Gideon when he turned the buggy into a clearing. "Matthew…"

"He'll be fine," Gideon replied easily. "These are old friends of mine. I haven't seen them for ages. You'll love them too."

Marilla knew what they were, they were Gipsies she'd read an article about them in the paper the other day. Rachel had been dismayed to hear that they were lurking in the area. "Dirty folk," she'd said. "Better make sure you lock up at night. You can't trust them."

Ignoring her dismay Gideon jumped down and came around to help. Marilla hesitated but Gideon insisted. Annoyed because she felt grimy and tired Marilla avoided his outstretched arms. Unperturbed Gideon turned to his friend letting Marilla trail after him. Clapping the man on the shoulder they fell into a series of hearty inside jokes which Marilla could barely follow. Instead, she walked behind them trying not to stare at the people who parted to let them enter the circle and who surrounded them after they'd passed. Marilla felt increasingly uncertain about the whole affair, but Gideon seemed perfectly at ease. Someone produced a stool and patted it for Marilla to sit.

Surrounded by these swarthy, unkempt folk Marilla sat ramrod straight unwilling to look anyone, least of all Gideon, in the eye. She was offered drink and then food but rejected all advances. Around her the talk ebbed and flowed, but since she had no idea of what they spoke about, she let it all wash over her.

The music recommenced and despite herself she found it strangely intoxicating and almost without thought started tapping her toe in time. The music was foreign, unlike anything she'd ever heard before but somehow it spoke straight to her heart so that despite herself swayed back and forth. When Gideon offered her his hand, she took it without thinking and started to dance in earnest letting herself go in some fey way to the beat of the drum, the unintelligible singing and the lilt of the fiddle. A bottle was passed her way and she drank deeply, uncaring of its providence or even contents. The same happened sometime later when a plate of food was thrust into her hands.

Eventually, without warning, the music ceased, and the magic stopped. She found herself standing in the clearing while the crowd disappeared into their caravans leaving her and Gideon and Motshan standing forlornly in the dark.

"Good morning," Gideon greeted her cheerfully when he entered the kitchen.

"Hm," Marilla slammed the pot down on the stove and went to fetch more eggs; swearing gently under her breath when she broke one.

"Is everything quite right?" Gideon asked.

"It's fine!" Marilla snapped. He took his seat and waited for her to serve him his breakfast as she always did but was surprised when Marilla served herself and Matthew but left his plate untouched.

"Um?" Gideon gestured at his plate. Marilla frowned and slopped some eggs his way.

"There's something the matter isn't there? You're upset for some reason. Is it me? Are you angry with me?"

"No."

"I was just wondering if you wanted to measure me for those trousers."

"No." Marilla slammed her saucepan down on the stove and stalked away.

Gideon stared after her, perplexed. Had he missed something?

He found Matthew in the barn as usual. "I need your advice," he said without preamble.

"Mm?" Matthew answered, his mouth full of nails.

"I'm not sure but maybe Marilla is upset with me."

"I usually know. It's not hard to work out."

"I asked if she was alright and she said she was fine."

Matthew spat out his nails into his palm and put them down on the bench. He looked at Gideon with wide eyes. "She said she was fine?"

"Yes."

"How did she say it?"

"I asked if I'd upset her and she said she was fine."

"But did she say she was fine or fine?"

"There's a difference?"

Matthew wished he had his pipe right about now, he always found it useful in emotional moments, and he also wished Gideon had asked just about anyone else for advice, except there was no one. "I dunno. I'm far from an expert in matters of women."

"But you are the Marilla expert."

The man had a point there. "Well now, if she says fine and stomps away then I guess you could say it's not fine. Did she do that?"

"That's exactly what she did."

"Best apologise and get it over with. Marilla's a good woman, but she does like to nurse a grudge."

Gideon left Matthew in the barn the staccato hammering echoing his footsteps back up to the house. "Marilla," he said when he found her letting her frustration out on the washing, pummelling the sheets mercilessly. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

Through gritted teeth Marilla said, "I told you I was exhausted."

"Ah. You didn't enjoy yourself?"

Even in her current state, Marilla couldn't lie, "I suppose I did, but."

"Then what's the matter?" Gideon interrupted.

"You didn't listen to me."

"But you had fun."

"Yes, but that's not the point."

"Sorry, what is the point then? At one point you looked quite swept away." Marilla returned her attention to the laundry, at least it didn't argue. "No, no. Talk to me."

"I told you I wanted to go home," Marilla continued to punch. "I was cold and sticky and worried about Matthew. Yet you insisted on stopping with those Gypsies. I mean I guess at one point I did enjoy the music, but how could you know that would happen when you overrode me? You didn't listen. You just did whatever you wanted." Once she had finished, she turned her attention back to the sheets continuing to work them but with perhaps slightly less energy. Pausing occasionally to wipe her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.

Gideon sat down and regarded her for a while gathering his thoughts before saying, "you know it can get quite lonely out there on the road. If I'm lucky I might find a nice clearing and make camp for the night, just me with the horse for company. One night I happened upon Motshan and his family, they're Romany by the way. Calling them Gypsies is akin to my calling you a Yankee. They were kind enough to welcome me into their circle. They're usually quite wary of strangers as you might expect, but we had a commonality both being European, so we fell into conversation. Now when I see them, I always stop and say hello. Sometimes we enjoy a night together depending on which direction we're travelling. I rely on our meetings, and it would've been rude not to stop. If I hadn't been with you, I probably would have camped nearby, and I'd be eating Kezia's eggs right about now."

While he'd spoken Marilla's pounding had slowed, then stopped and she had turned to sit down opposite him. Into the silence that followed Gideon's explanation she said, "I'm sorry. I was vexed but I understand."

"I'm sorry too. Of course, you were keen to get home."

"I don't like arguing."

"Nor do I." He shuffled his stool closer, and she leant into his chest feeling his heartbeat under his vest.

"I should have explained, I just got caught up in the moment."

"You weren't very nice to me," said with a small sob.

"No, I suppose I wasn't. I'm sorry. I promise never to do that to you again."

In a small voice, "see that you don't. Oh Gideon, I hate to quarrel."

"Sh, sh, you're completely right to be angry. I was a fool," he bent and captured her lips in his. Then taking her hand led her up the stairs. Marilla's resolve crumbled and she let him take her into her room and undress her. They lay together in her bed naked, but Gideon did not make a move towards her though she rather wished he would.

Having been too angry to sleep the night before she drifted off and woke a while later to the sound of splashing water. "What on earth?" she said when she found the steaming bath in the middle of the kitchen.

"Figured you'd still be sticky," Gideon said, testing the temperature with his bare elbow.

"Matthew will be in for his tea soon," she said blankly.

"You've slept longer than you thought. We've had tea already. Plenty of time for a soak," Gideon said, helping her to divest herself of her dress.