I held off reading any reviews until now because those last four chapters were really important (to me) and I wanted to ascertain your thoughts after it was all out. The fact you are talking about the characters and their motivations makes my heart sing. That's when you know they are starting to become as real to you as they are to me. There is no better gift. THANK YOU!

As far as Fanfic influences, you can see them on my Favourite Authors tab. Formerly known as J taught me HOW and WHY to write and I love her like a sister, if you want to know why I keep on writing it's all because of her. I have always admired Alinya Alethia's tone, dry wit and subtlety are what I am drawn to even if I never have enough discipline to carry it through. Freya Frida inspired my ideas about Walter. Bright River was the reason I wrote Begin Again; Catiegirl said it was her favourite story of mine and I took that compliment seriously and tried to work out what I did right. Elouise Bates could be Maud reincarnated, and Laurie1 showed me how to make Maud's stories my own. To all my beloved Fanfic writers THANK YOU for your incredible gifts! Love, k.

28

Gilbert and Anne were upstairs, they both felt they needed an early night after such a fraught and see-sawing couple of days. Anne was in bed trying and failing to read a book, Gilbert was at her writing desk.

Unlike Owen, Anne did a lot of writing, and unlike Owen she didn't care if it was published or not. She had had a taste of that in her salad days and found that didn't just have a strong aversion but a full-blown allergy to the publishing world. The few times she had dealings with Walter's publisher had almost turned her stomach. They currently wanted to print Walter's poem on boxes and tins of things like fortified flour and condensed milk: the proper nutrition for Canada's bright young future, "Be strong, stay vital, keep faith!"

"It's so quiet," she said, "I can't decide if I like it or not."

Her husband lifted his pen from the page he was writing on but said nothing.

"Gilbert, are you ignoring me?"

As if such a thing were remotely possible. Gilbert Blythe had never once managed to ignore Anne since the incident with the dictionary (it was actually a writing slate). He might have made her think he was because his wife wasn't the sort to think the world revolved around her. In fact, she found it far more satisfying to simply wonder at its revolutions.

Storytellers are like that, and Anne could spin a very good story. But she couldn't spin this whichever way she turned it. Nan might have scurried away to Avonlea with her tail between her legs, but it was her mother who felt like she was in the dogbox.

Neither daughter nor husband had been best pleased with Anne's response to the engagement debacle, which was to suggest that Nan follow Jerry back to Redmond. She might even go for that one year diploma that Rilla and Una Meredith had talked about doing. What was it called again, home economics, household science?

"Absolutely not," Nan had said, "I am a Bachelor of the Arts. And besides, it's the principle of the thing."

"You're being a little naïve, Anne-girl," said Gilbert later. "I think we both know why Jerry and Nan cannot wait to be together, and it has nothing to do with college."

It was the phrase 'cannot wait' that needled Anne the most, for it suggested Nan and Jerry hadn't. And while Anne knew the intimate relations between a twenty-five year old man and a twenty-three year old woman were ultra vires so far as parents were concerned that did not stop her dwelling upon it.

Would it be so very bad? The mother and Christian in her vowed yes. The woman and lover pointed at those hypocrites and shouted no. Anne may have been parted from Gilbert in a geographical sense during term time at their respective employments, but they had certainly closed that distance in their summers together.

Anne watched her husband and waited, the pen still hanging in the air, poised to recommence. There had hardly been a time in all their years together that he would set aside his work because he could not wait to have her. Gilbert had the ability to compartmentalise his duties, giving the one commitment everything before even thinking of beginning another. It may have seemed predictable to some wives, but it made for an extremely thorough lover.

That being so, Anne wouldn't assume her husband hadn't heard her, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Then exactly as she decided this, she did the opposite. Gilbert knew she would. If he had his traits, she did too, and he knew them well.

"You are ignoring me."

"No, I'm not," he said stoutly, "I'm giving you the space to decide whether you like the quiet or not."

"And what about you?"

"I don't need the space to decide, I like it. I've had enough disruption to last me a while."

"But families are all about disruption, it's those calm and quiet ones I distrust."

"You don't know any calm and quiet families, Anne, that's a straw man argument and you know it. I believe you're disappointed it was managed so easily, with Nan cooling off in Avonlea, and John and Rosemary talking Jerry around."

"That's not what Rosemary told me. I got the impression that Jerry was going after her."

"But he won't because our girls are staying with the Wrights, and you know how petrified Diana is of Spanish flu. There's no way she would tolerate Jerry coming and going, especially now the quarantine measures have been extended again. I hope Ken can collect our car from Charlottetown harbour tomorrow. I've been waiting weeks as it is."

"He said he would. I heard him myself at Teddy's party, he said he could fetch it anytime. It's a pity he won't be around long enough to teach you to drive it. Rilla says they're off on Sunday."

"Mmm." Gilbert looked down at the page he was writing on and saw he had left an ink blot on the paper. "I might be speaking out of turn here, but I suspect we might not see young Ken again for some time."

The book on Anne's lap shut with a clap and she shifted to the side of the bed that was nearest her desk.

"What does that mean, how can you even think it when Ken made a thousand mile journey just to see our Rilla for one short week."

"Teddy did that too, don't forget."

"Yes, but Teddy has no intention of marrying our girl."

Gilbert tore the page from his ledger, rolled it into a ball and tossed it at his wife's red head. He had a good arm, and she was close, so it impressed him that she was able to dodge it.

"What was that for?" Anne demanded.

Gilbert gave a wry laugh. "Still got your wits about you, that's good. You had me worried for a minute."

"I'm not old." Anne got on her knees. "You are."

She placed her hands on her hips and was trying to suppress a teasing little laugh. Her prim, white nightgown juxtaposed against her dancing eyes. She was a contrary woman, and Gilbert was rather partial to her contradictions.

"Dear oh dear," he said. "You don't mean to tell me you've missed the lance corporal's pining looks in our daughter's direction. That's not like you."

"Pining looks never got a man anywhere. Nor a woman come to that."

"Would you prefer more obvious signs of affection," said Gilbert, coming closer. "What did you have in mind?"

He put his knee on their bed. He was lying between Anne's knees in the next moment and deftly unlacing the bow of her nightgown.

"Darling, my book, it's somewhere in the quilt."

"Dear oh dear," he said again. "This is a serious case, Anne, you're in danger of turning into a real fussbudget. Lucky for you, I've finished my work, and I've got some time on my hands."

"I know what you're trying to do, Gilbert Blythe."

He lifted his head from her breast. "Oh good, so you remember this bit."

"You're trying to make me choose between you and Mark Twain."

"And you are leading me to believe I have lost my touch."

"Hmmm…"

The fine skin at her neck vibrated under Gilbert's palm. A sound of deliberation. As if she was actually having to think about it, while her eyes darkened, and her hips arched beneath him. How he loved it when she did that: making him think she would always be just out of his reach and never able to truly possess her.

Then slowly but very purposefully, she guided his hand beyond the nightgown that was now gathered round her waist. Neither of them spoke again for some time, though the headboard made a bit of a racket.

In the dreamy, damp and liminal space between the act of love and sleep Gilbert was left wondering if they would return to the conversation about Ken and what he would say when they did. But his wife had since realised she wouldn't have to.

Rilla would talk when she was ready, and Anne would be ready to listen.

...

Next chapter to follow...