Hello, Anne-girls!
You may be forgiven for thinking I promised an epilogue to this story and then decided to not bother writing it, and in many respects it didn't need one, except for my love of the Gardners and desire to tie up a few loose ends into a very big bow. Apologies, as ever, for it taking so long.
Thank you to everyone for following this story and for your generous comments and reviews. It was incredibly fun to write and I hope that sense of Wonderland-inspired humour prevailed, even though the plot took me, occasionally, to darker places than I was expecting.
A gentle trigger warning that there is a small section towards the end of the chapter related to birth complications.
And now… to the important part. It's Jonathan Crombie's birthday remembrance today (12th October). Many of you do not need to be reminded, and quite a few of us have built a perfect shrine in our hearts to him. You know who you are, and many of you have shared that love with me, and gosh I love you for it! Happy Heavenly Birthday, JC x
With love and thanks
MrsVonTrapp
P.S. A very Happy belated Birthday, as I must do, to the incredible, inspiring Julie Andrews – 88 years young and as gorgeous as ever x
Epilogue
'Everybody has won, and all must have prizes'
Gilbert stood nervously at the altar, fighting the urge to fiddle with the cuffs of his best suit, squaring his Blythe-strength shoulders as the organist began a rather familiar processional.
He gave an encouraging smile to the young man to his far left, catching the knowing look of the gentleman between them, before darting seeking hazel eyes behind him for a longing gaze that locked with the grey-green eyes of the woman he'd loved for half his lifetime already.
The bride was a vision in chiffon and lace, her veil fluttering behind her in her long walk up the aisle of the Presbyterian church, one of Kingsport's finest. The lump lodged in Gilbert's throat and would not budge; the memories swirled and danced. Was Anne having similar thoughts to his own? Was she ensnared by the same remembered music from the time when their hearts had first beat together?
Her smile was joyous, as she met his eyes, but he could see that her concerns were more prosaic at present; how to disentangle Jem's fingers from Joy's hair as the twins both shared room on her lap, whilst baby Walter rested, safe and snug, in Auntie Dorothy's arms beside her. Both women looked across with proud grins to note Jem's sister Constance as bridesmaid and to see Dorothy's daughter and Roy's son as flowergirl and page boy, trundling cherubically up the aisle preceding the bride, Lily looking as radiant as the day Gilbert had met her… the day he had become engaged to Anne. Jem Gardner's wedding today capped six years of waiting, through his own degree and his two years learning the family business alongside Roy. Six busy years that had seen three other weddings, his and Anne's included, as their connection to the Gardners, the Blakes and Kingsport itself had only grown and strengthened as their various lively progeny had.
Gilbert turned back with a smile that could hardly encapsulate his happiness, not only in his own felicity but in that of all his friends. Unlikely but now resolute brothers-in-arms, he and Roy had been specifically asked by Jem to stand up with him, and Gilbert wondered errantly what his past self would have thought of that notion, as he raced across his adopted city to try to waylay the man next to him from marrying the woman he loved. Today was not the perfection of a wedding three years ago within the orchard of Green Gables, under the cerulean September sky of Avonlea, but his heart was so full in the moment it came close.
Mrs Gardner hosted a typically lavish reception for her favourite (and admittedly, only) nephew and his bride back at the Gardner mansion, with a guest list including the crème de la crème of Kingsport society, as well as several families of far lesser social standing it had pained her to invite, though Jeremiah had been annoyingly insistent on that score. Dr Gilbert Blythe and his wife would ever remain a thorn in her side, no matter Dorothy and Jeremiah's slavish devotion to them, and Royal's own patently bewildering friendship with the woman who had rejected him and the man who had claimed her in his stead.
Thank goodness, then, his wife Rosemary was a sweet, obliging thing, and little Rupert Royal Gardner a handsome, fine little boy in his father's image, though he was shamelessly bossed about by Dorothy's girl and led by her into all kinds of mischief too reminiscent of her mother for comfort. But then again, the young girl had been brought up helter skelter, virtually learning to walk up and down the hospital corridors, Dorothy always at the beck and call of the hospital board and never quite knowing her proper place, for all she had done decently well for herself by marrying a doctor. If only Aline could have lowered herself to find someone like William Johnston or even one of Royal's more decent contacts in business, but the girl – and hardly that anymore, besides – looked set to be at her elbow forever.
Gilbert searched for Anne in the politely milling crowd at the reception, grinning when he spotted her tucked away in animated conversation with Dorothy and one of Dorothy's many friends on the board; the second female hospital board member she had herself championed in her stead. Anne, Dorothy – and the indomitable Phil Blake, who had so generously agreed to mind their own small fry during the reception – had formed a triumvirate for good within their local communities in Kingsport, positively impacting access to medical services for all, girls' education and the lives of the working poor.
Gilbert felt a strong hand clap him on the back, and moments later a familiar voice, one it had been a privilege to confer with daily, these past three years.
"Taking in the view, Dr Blythe?"
Gilbert chuckled warmly at the knowing, appreciative tone.
"I am indeed, Dr Johnston. It's a rather wonderful sight."
Dr William Johnston nodded agreeably, standing alongside his former patient, now trusted and esteemed colleague.
"That it is."
"I wonder that we both escaped the hospital to be here today," Gilbert grinned. "Do you think it will still be standing tomorrow?"
"It wouldn't dare be otherwise, or my wife will know the reason why." William looked over with admiration as Dorothy lifted up their daughter to show her some of the floral arrangements woven along the banister behind them and snaking up the grand staircase.
"I never knew someone so lovely and agreeable could be so fearsome. Even Matron Burgess steers clear of her now."
William's smile now matched Gilbert's own.
"So fearsome she almost instructed the Board to refuse your letter of resignation."
Gilbert's own smile wavered momentarily. "I almost… didn't offer it."
William nodded again, understandingly. "Still time to withdraw it," he raised a speculative eyebrow. "You'd be set to follow me as Head of Surgery one day."
"And you have no idea how tempting the thought of that is," Gilbert sighed. "Only…"
"…only you have other gifts that need to be put to use. You have a wonderful bedside manner, Gilbert – I've seen none better. Patients can't help responding to you. Excellent diagnostic skills, abreast of the latest research and techniques, as well as an outstanding grounding in all manner of clinical procedures, if I do say so myself."
"Thank you, William," Gilbert flushed at this hard-earned praise. "Anything I've achieved I owe to your good self and the excellent medical staff and instructors. Not to mention the small matter of owing you my life." He paused, his heart paining momentarily. "And Joy's."
"As I owe you and Anne mine," William looked again fondly towards his little family.
"Some on staff have indicated they think I'm mad to be leaving it all for general practice, and in such a small community at that," the chagrined smile found Gilbert, not wanting to linger on some of the more choice reactions to his proposal to take over Great Uncle Dave's practice in far-flung little Glen St Mary, PEI. Desperate to retire, Uncle Dave had nonetheless persevered in hope for a further three years, with the help of a series of locums, celebrating the day his great nephew finally assented to keeping the practice in the family.
William shook his head in mock despair. "Most of our colleagues would have it we surgeons breathe rarified air, Gil. A dangerous mindset, let me tell you. There are all sorts of coal-faces in medicine. Country doctoring is surely one of the toughest, and don't let anyone try to tell you otherwise." William's implacable expression softened. "It's a noble calling, though we'll miss you. We'll miss you all. Don't be a stranger."
"Never." Gilbert's choked response prohibited anything more effusive.
Anne glanced over that moment to see two brothers-in-arms of a different nature, locked fast in a quick embrace before they turned to meet the fond looks of their better halves.
"Do you think they'll be more teary in parting than we will?" Dorothy's wry rejoinder sounded in Anne's ear.
"Don't bet on it, Dorothy darling. I'm feeling decidedly weepy about now."
"Well, then, Anne Blythe," Dorothy laced her arm through her friend's, squeezing affectionately,
"let's get a dance in with them both before all the waterworks start!"
There were certainly waterworks to be had as Jem and Lily farewelled their family and friends, leaving in a flurry of rice and good wishes, but not before Jem saved a heartfelt hug for Anne and then Gilbert, promising to keep up a dedicated correspondence with them and all the children, particularly his little namesake Young Jem. The newlyweds were to set out for a European wedding tour, much as Jane Andrews had done as a new bride, though Anne did not envy them this opportunity, having too many cherished memories of her own seaside honeymoon down at Prospect Point, which had been Phil's (and Jo's) hearty recommendation.
But it seemed as if the sea was to continue to call them, for they would be leaving the day after next to cross the strait and then eventually settle in their little coastal community with its views out to the gulf. The bittersweet tang of last times was tasted in their farewells after the newlyweds had been waved off.
"Can't we come to the ferry with you?" Dorothy implored.
"Darlingest, if you do I might hardly get on it. I'm telling Phil and Jo Blake the same. I'd rather remember you all here, happy and with Jem's celebrations still echoing in my heart."
"What will I do without you?"
"The same as you always have done, Mrs Doctor Johnston, only with the memory of my kiss on your cheek." Anne then delivered on her declaration.
"Don't you set me to crying now, Anne!" Dorothy took a hankerchief to the corner of her eye, as her husband put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and their daughter Daisy looked to them both in puzzlement, which continued as Auntie Anne swept her up briefly in her arms and rained kisses upon her.
"Is there room in these commiserations for two more?" Roy's dulcet tones sounded behind her, and Anne turned to beam through her tears.
"The more the merrier!" she gulped, depositing Daisy to crouch down to the young boy holding fast to his father's hand.
"You were an excellent pageboy today, Rupert!" Anne sniffed, patting him fondly on his silky dark head. "Did you have fun?"
"Yes, thank you, Auntie Anne." The boy nodded politely, with an endearing formality which always brought to mind his father.
"Well, the next time I see you, you'll be ever so much bigger…" Anne's voice began to waver tremulously now.
Roy gave her a pained smile. He could never have admitted it aloud, but the kindest thing Anne had ever done was to refuse him all those years ago. It had made him take stock of himself, and he had found himself wanting, and had worked hard to be better. That, and the fact that Anne and Mother might have one day come to blows if they had been forced into closer proximity to one another though her marriage to him.
"You'll look after yourselves," Roy now nodded in turn.
"Of course! And I am expecting you to do the same!" Anne hugged him impulsively, and then turned to William and finally Dorothy, the two women tightly entwined in a way that might never end.
Gilbert moved to rescue a rapidly disintegrating situation, exchanging a firm handshake with Roy and receiving a final clap on the back from William, before drawing Anne from Dorothy's arms and into his.
"Goodbye, friends," he offered simply, his own throat closing over, and without delay he ushered his wife through the celebratory crowd and out the wide front door to the waiting cabs.
Anne wept on the way to the Blakes', sobbed in Phil's arms, composed herself adequately enough to farewell Phil, Jo and the boys so that she would not upset her own children, and was quiet and subdued during their final carriage ride home, the children tucked on and around them. Home was – for one more day - a handsome house on a pretty, treelined street close to the hospital, and Gilbert glanced out as they passed that familiar façade, nursing his own fragile feelings.
The twins were tired after their busy day, with first the wedding ceremony and then a rambunctious afternoon toddling around adoringly after the Blake boys. Jem was already a sturdy little boy with an adventurous spirit, a mop of softly curling copper hair and his father's eyes. Joy, their wee white lady, was pretty as a picture with her creamy skin and dainty features, delicate, still, in body but with a determination to keep up with her brother that fondly evoked her mother, and that Gilbert remarked on with pride at every opportunity.
Baby Walter, still snuggled in Anne's arms with his otherworldly grey eyes shut tight against the world, didn't even rouse as she watched Gilbert manage the twins, having to kiss one and then the other and then one and the other again in indulgent farewell before adopting a mock-gruff exterior that made them giggle but brokered no more funny business. Anne's eyes sparked with new tears at a sudden memory, and Gilbert turned to see them, arm around her and her cargo as they crept out, leaving the door ajar.
"Sweetheart… I thought you'd have no more tears left."
"I have a limitless supply, but I'm not weeping now over what you think I am."
"Oh?" he bent to whisper lips across the downy dark head of little Walter.
"I remember you doing that. The double kisses. When they were born and when… we almost lost Joy."
It wasn't an occasion either of them liked to reflect upon often, that June day, dawn to dusk, of the twins' birth. Anne had been feeling unwell all the preceding week, and Gilbert had been concerned enough to insist she be admitted to the hospital for observation. And thank goodness he had, because when contractions began it was evident something was very wrong. Jem emerged, bonny and bawling, but nothing would entice his sister, and by this stage William and Head Nurse Chalmers had arrived to support a frantic Gilbert, making the decision to put Anne under immediately whilst they hauled Joy out, the baby being too weak and awkwardly positioned to make her own passage through. Gilbert had monitored Anne, Nurse Chalmers took Jem whilst William worked on their little daughter, so silent and small, and her weak, affronted mewing what seemed an age later became the most beautiful sound the new, relieved father had ever heard.
Anne had later roused to make out Gilbert kissing their newborns not once but twice, before turning to her with that beautiful Blythe smile she so loved.
He gave her that same look now, tinged with everlasting thanks that Anne's own memory would never contain that unspoken wash of fear, of those dread dark minutes as Joy's life hung in the balance, moments that had bonded he and William forevermore.
The birth of Walter had, thankfully, been without incident, but his baptism was sure to be a highlight of the Avonlea social calendar, when they all crossed back to the Island to spend a precious week in the company of long-missed family and another set of bosom friends at Lone Willow Farm.
Anne and Gilbert deposited his sleeping form gently in the cot in the corner of their bedroom, bare now, as the twins' room was, but for their remaining trunks.
"He has his own big day in store," Anne smiled tiredly.
"Indeed he has, Anne-girl," Gilbert's arms stole around his wife, cradling her against him.
"It was kind of you to ask Moody to perform his baptism, Gilbert, though a little puzzling. It will be sure to put the new Avonlea minister's nose out of joint, to play second fiddle in his own church to an interloper, even one born in Avonlea."
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders suggestively and drew her towards the bed.
"Ah, but there is a story to that choice, Mrs Doctor Blythe," he smiled silkily.
"Oh there is, is there? I thought I was the appointed storyteller in the family?"
Anne's writing had become another addition to her long list of accomplishments in the years since her engagement to Gilbert, when he had first urged her to consider her avid if fledgling hobby as something more. Championed by her beloved Miss Stacey during her years at Kingsport Ladies College, she had penned a loving homage to her adopted home and its characterful residents in her well received collection of short stories, Avonlea Vignettes,* and had followed this with a multitude of stories and columns in the local newspapers and even in some of the national women's magazines, such as Canadian Woman and Women's Home Journal, the latter a little personal victory after it had rejected her work many moons ago.*
"You are the far superior storyteller, certainly," Gilbert now gave a full-bodied grin, sitting on the edge of the bed with his wife on his lap. "But I think you'll find this story of great personal significance."
"Personal significance…" Anne echoed slowly, running her fingers through his beloved curls, twisting those above his temple around her slim white fingers, making his hazel eyes flare in the lamplight.
"Yes…" Gilbert cleared his throat, mightily struggling to remember the original purpose of the conversation. "And the story concerns the moniker of our second-born son."
"The story is about Walter's name of Walter?" the corner of Anne's mouth lifted indulgently. "Walter is named for my father, Gilbert Blythe, as you well know, having agreed to it at the time. It was even your suggestion."
"Yes…" Gilbert grinned. "It was."
Anne stared into that beloved lean face, caressing a cheek, contemplating. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Only that we owe the most Reverend Moody Spurgeon McPherson basically… everything. Our marriage, our lives together, and most certainly our son's name."
This news was met with the incredulity he had anticipated.
"Then it must be a very good story!"
The memory was like the momentary flash from a photographer, lighting up his heart. Gilbert could still hear Moody pounding on the door of his dorm room, the day after Convocation, could still feel the surge of adrenaline coursing through him as it did that moment, to know there might still be a faint sliver of hope.
"Oh it is, my love…" his lips found Anne's, vibrating with the assertion. "It really, truly is."
THE END
Chapter Notes
A chapter title I indeed saved till last! Our quote is from the Dodo in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Ch 3 'A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale'.
Forgive me the double-bluff of the opening paragraphs here. If you thought it was Anne coming up the aisle for Gilbert, then I am grinning as widely as the proverbial Cheshire Cat.
*Hello, Sullivan series references! In particular, The Sequel/Anne of Avonlea.
And some final correspondence…
DrinkThemIn: Darlingest, you know I love that we live in the same world too! Sometimes I feel as if I should come and camp there permanently x I know that you of all will appreciate that blend of canon, KS and fanfic that is the last chapter and epilogue here. And I loved your comment about enjoying 'all the sanity and serenity after all the hijinks' of this story! It was indeed a narrative rollercoaster ride! Thank you as always for never hesitating in buying a ticket x
Guest of May 22nd (Ch 19): Thank you Guest! I'm really thrilled you have enjoyed this story and hope that the epilogue did it all justice x
Guest of May 23rd (Ch 19): Thank you Guest for your kind words x It is always wonderful when someone shares they like my style of writing as well as the storyline! Hope you enjoyed the epilogue!
Astrakelly: Sorry to make you wait so long after you were all caught up! Hope that the epilogue was worth it and thank you for your support of this story x
Guest of Aug 1st (Ch 19): Dear Guest thank you for your lovely message! It really spurred me on to finish this epilogue and wrap everything up! I hope to be posting more on my other stories as well and thank you for thinking of me after my many months being quiet on the site x