Chapter 1
Anne walked briskly up to the door of the Blythe house. She'd brought Gilbert's books like Mr. Phillips had asked. Now she wanted to deliver them as quickly as she could so that she could return to her beloved Green Gables and not have to be in the presence of that boy any longer than was necessary. Even though she'd technically forgiven Gilbert, she still wasn't a fan.
When the door opened, however, it was not the Blythe she'd expected to see. This man was clearly Gilbert's father, but he seemed so frail leaning against the door frame that Anne was momentarily at a loss for words. She managed a reply to Mr. Blythe's inquiry about her business, and found herself relaxing as he smiled.
A brief but forceful coughing fit shook Mr. Blythe's tall frame, however, and Anne barely caught him as he swayed away from the support of the door. Anne gasped, dropping the books as she caught him. He was heavy, but not overly so, and Anne was wiry, so she managed to get Mr. Blythe inside and into a chair.
"You need water," she said rushing into the kitchen and pouring a glass.
She returned with the water and helped Mr. Blythe to drink a little before setting it on the table to wrap a woolen shawl around his shaking shoulders.
"You don't have to," he began to protest, but Anne wouldn't hear of it.
"It's all right," she said. "Have some more water." She lifted the glass once again to Mr. Blythe's lips.
A sudden pounding of footsteps sounded on the porch as Gilbert rushed in, having spotted the open door and the hastily dropped piles of books.
"Dad!" He hurried to his father's side as Anne put the glass down again and stepped out of the way.
"I'm all right," Gilbert's father assured him. "Don't fuss."
But Gilbert was fussing, tightening the shawl and tucking a blanket tenderly around his father's knees.
Anne turned away hastily. "Your books," she exclaimed, rushing back to the porch.
Gilbert looked at his father one last time, and, being reassured by his father's words and the color coming back to his cheeks, hurried after Anne. He met her on the porch where she was trying to pick up all the books. Kneeling down beside her, he picked up the ones she'd so far missed. As he reached for the last book, so did she, and their hands, his in gloves and hers without, met before jerking away from one another. Their gazes met and held before she glanced away, cheeks red, though from embarrassment or cold he couldn't tell. She scooped up the book and stood as he did, then handed him the book.
"Mr. Phillips doesn't want you to fall behind," she said.
He smiled. "Thanks for the books. I'll study hard. You too, okay? I want to beat you fair and square."
Anne nodded, smiling. "I will."
"And thank you," Gilbert continued. "For helping my father, earlier."
"It was nothing," Anne said awkwardly, turning for a moment to study the beautiful white snow against the backdrop of the blue sky. "Is…your father…will he be all right," she asked finally.
Gilbert sighed, his breath causing a white mist to float across the porch. "He'll be all right today. But for how much longer…" Gilbert trailed off, unable to even think such a terrible thing.
Anne glanced at him, nodding in understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said, realizing that if Gilbert's father died, he'd be an orphan like her. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even her worst enemy.
For a moment, the two looked at one another, not saying anything. It wasn't awkward, and they didn't need to talk. They just stood in silence for a few moments, Gilbert holding his books, and Anne holding hers, their breath causing white mist between them.
Soon, Anne shivered, even in her coat, and the moment was over.
"I should get home," she said.
"Yeah. Thanks again for the books," Gilbert said, walking her to the edge of the porch.
Anne nodded and walked toward the road. For some reason, she paused at the gate and turned around. Gilbert was still standing on the porch watching her, and he lifted a hand to wave at her. She waved back before turning toward Green Gables.
Gilbert hurried back inside to his father, who was still sitting in the chair, tightly wrapped up to keep warm. Gilbert put his books down and helped his father to bed. Once he'd brought tea, he sat down in the chair and picked up their book, but his father stopped him.
"Gilbert, why don't you tell me about this charming young lady I just met today?"
Gilbert chuckled, though a blush crept up his neck. "Her name is Anne," he began. "And she was adopted by the Cuthberts. I think we could have been friends from the start, but I made a grievous error, and she whacked me with her slate…"