Some days later, amidst the drone of Mr. Phillips' revision of last week's math, Thomas's mind had wandered far from the confines of the classroom. His slate had become a canvas for idle doodles, a testament to his boredom. However, the sudden call of his name by the teacher snapped him back to reality.
"Thomas!" the teacher called out.
"Oh, uh.. 74?" Thomas blurted, scrambling to remember the last thing Mr. Phillips had addressed.
His response elicited muted laughs from his classmates and a disappointed shake of the head from Mr. Phillips. Thomas was just glad he wasn't scolded by the teacher. With the room's attention finally unified, Mr. Phillips cleared his throat.
"Now that I finally have the attention of everyone in class, I may begin the announcement," he stated.
He went on to explain the upcoming anniversary of Avonlea, a significant milestone that the school intended to celebrate through a series of projects highlighting the town's heritage. These assignments, designed to be completed in pairs after school, varied in theme and content, sparking an array of reactions amongst the students.
As Mr. Phillips detailed the tasks and began pairing students, the classroom was filled with a blend of excitement, apprehension, and in some cases, displeasure. The dynamic of working in pairs, especially on a project of such importance, brought about a mix of enthusiasm and anxiety. Finally, Thomas and Anne were called to Mr. Phillips' desk.
"And given that you two are my best students, you will be doing a project on the history of Avonlea," he informed them, handing over a paper with instructions.
Thomas and Anne exchanged uncertain glances, both surprised and perhaps a bit apprehensive about being paired together for this significant assignment. The prospect of working closely with Anne on a project about Avonlea's history left Thomas conflicted. On one hand, Anne's passion for storytelling and her vivid imagination promised to bring a unique and enriching perspective to their work. On the other, their previous interactions, marked by moments of awkwardness and a mix of emotions neither could fully understand, left Thomas unsure of how their partnership would unfold in an academic setting.
"That will be all for today, class dismissed," said Mr Phillips.
As Mr. Phillips made his departure to the storage room, the classroom quickly filled with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and the low murmur of students either eager to leave or forming preliminary plans with their project partners. Anne, carrying a mix of reluctance and determination, navigated her way through the clusters of her classmates to find Thomas, who was standing somewhat apart in the corner of the coatroom.
"So.. the project," Anne initiated, breaking the ice between them.
"Yeah.. not at all what I expected," Thomas replied, sharing a glance with Anne that communicated a mutual feeling of being thrown into unfamiliar territory.
"I guess we should make a plan on how to approach this," Anne suggested, her tone pragmatic, betraying a hint of enthusiasm for organizing their efforts.
"Staying at school after the lessons end could work, or perhaps we work on this at one of our homes?" she pondered aloud, considering the logistics.
Thomas, his gaze sweeping over the classroom, noticed a few pairs already attempting to start their work, though distractions seemed rampant.
"Here is probably a terrible idea if we actually want to get anything done," he assessed, his observation underscored by the noise and commotion that filled the room.
"You're probably right.. is your house an option?" Anne asked, her inquiry laced with a hopeful curiosity.
"Uh.." Thomas hesitated, the thought of inviting Anne to his home bringing an unspoken worry about his father's reaction to the forefront of his mind. "Is there any chance we can work on this at Green Gables?" he asked, his request tinged with a hint of haste.
Anne considered his question for a moment before responding.
"If I tell Marilla and Matthew it's for a school project, I'm sure they won't object," she said, her shrug conveying a casual assurance that working at her house should not be an issue.
"Great, well, let me know," Thomas replied, a wave of relief washing over him. The prospect of working in the welcoming environment of Green Gables, away from the scrutiny of his own home, seemed an ideal solution.
Before parting ways, they exchanged a few words about the project, touching on possible research topics and resources that might be useful. The conversation, though brief, laid the groundwork for their collaboration.
As they headed their separate ways, Thomas felt an unexpected wave of anxiety wash over him and he couldn't quite understand why.
The next day, as the lessons drew to a close and the afternoon stretched its golden hours over Avonlea, Thomas made his way to Green Gables, a bundle of notes and books for the project tucked under his arm.
As he approached, Jerry, who was busy attending to the horses in the enclosure, caught his eye. Thomas waved and walked over for a brief exchange.
"Hey, Jerry," he greeted, leaning over the fence.
"Thomas! What brings you here?" Jerry asked, pausing his work to chat.
"Just here to work on a school project with Anne," Thomas replied.
After a quick catch-up, Thomas bid Jerry farewell and continued toward the house.
As he neared the entrance, Thomas's attention was soon captured by an unfamiliar figure on the front porch. A man, broad and bearded, was diligently cleaning his boots. The stranger stood, turning to greet him with a demeanor that was both welcoming and curious.
"Why hello there, young man. Who might you be?" the stranger inquired, his voice carrying a welcoming tone.
"Hello, I'm here to see Anne," Thomas replied, a hint of caution in his voice as he added, "Name's Thomas, and you are?"
The man extended his hand in greeting, a smile breaking through his beard.
"Ah, where are my manners? I'm Mr. Dunlop," he introduced himself.
"So you must be the one Anne was going on about," Mr. Dunlop teased, a playful glint in his eye.
"Oh.. uhm.." Thomas found himself momentarily at a loss for words, the implication that Anne had spoken of him stirring a mix of curiosity and embarrassment. Mr. Dunlop laughed.
"I'm just joking, pal. Head on inside," he said, opening the door for Thomas and offering a theatrical bow as if welcoming a guest of honor.
"Thanks," Thomas managed, his expression settling into a puzzled frown at the unexpected encounter.
Stepping inside, he was immediately greeted by Ms. Cuthbert who was working on something in the kitchen. After polite greetings from both sides, she called out upstairs for Anne. The response is almost immediate - the sound of hurried footsteps descends from above as Anne comes rushing down the stairs, a whirlwind of enthusiasm and slight disarray.
"Yes, Marilla?" Anne calls out, her voice echoing through the house.
She skids to a halt at the base of the stairs, her eyes widening in surprise as they land on Thomas.
"Thomas... the project! I had almost forgotten," she stammers, quickly trying to smooth out her dress and regain some semblance of composure.
"Goodness, Anne, slow down," Marilla advises, observing the scene.
As Anne leads Thomas upstairs to begin their work, Marilla's voice follows them, a gentle reminder of the house's rules, "Remember to keep the door open, Anne."
Anne guides Thomas to the right, towards the far end of the hallway, and opens the door to her room. Hesitantly, she steps inside, with Thomas following close behind.
"It's not much... but it's my very own place," Anne says, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and shyness.
Thomas takes a moment to look around, absorbing the essence of Anne's world encapsulated within these four walls.
The room is a direct reflection of Anne - simple in its furnishings but rich in character, adorned with flowers, leaves, and various tokens of Anne's vivid imagination. It's a stark contrast to Thomas's own, more orderly room, and he can't help but be drawn to the warmth and charm of it.
"I think it's lovely," he quietly responds, his sincerity clear in his tone.
Anne, visibly relieved and pleased by his approval, rewarded him with a shy smile.
With the limited space at the table, Anne gracefully opts to sit on her bed, creating a makeshift workspace that somehow feels just right for the task at hand. As they lay out the array of materials gathered for their project - a motley collection of history books, notes, and assorted papers - the room is filled with a sense of purpose.
Their initial discussion on how to approach the project reveals differing viewpoints. The brainstorming session is lively but marked by moments of polite contention as they struggle to find common ground. It's Thomas who finally breaks the deadlock with a proposal that plays to both their strengths.
"How about this, we start with a rough draft, with all the facts and boring stuff, I'll write that," Thomas suggests, laying out his plan while Anne listens, her attention undivided.
"Once we get all that done, you can put a more interesting spin on it," he adds, offering Anne the creative freedom she thrives on.
Anne's face lights up at the suggestion, excited by the prospect of weaving her storytelling magic into the dry fabric of history. With a new sense of direction, they dive into their work, Anne dictating facts and stories as Thomas captures them on paper. The collaboration is smooth, their earlier disagreements giving way to a productive rhythm.
During a brief pause, curiosity gets the better of Thomas, and he ventures to ask about the unfamiliar figure he'd met on his arrival.
"So who's Mr. Dunlop?" he inquires.
Anne's explanation is casual, reflecting the normalcy of new faces at Green Gables.
"Oh! He's boarding here, at Green Gables for a time. He and Nate," she explains.
"I see," Thomas responds, the presence of boarders at Green Gables reminding him of the difficult financial situation the Cuthbert's found themselves at the end of last year.
With another book exhausted and their notes steadily growing, Anne stood up from her spot on the bed to stretch her limbs and wander closer to Thomas, who was still seated at the table, diligently finalizing a sentence on their shared document. Peering over his shoulder, Anne's gaze lingered on the paper, an unexpected recognition washing over her as she observed Thomas's handwriting.
"Thomas.. did you.." she started, her voice tinged with disbelief, her finger hesitantly pointing towards the paper.
Puzzled, Thomas glanced between Anne and the paper, scanning for a mistake he might have made.
"Huh? What did I do wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"It was you, last Christmas," Anne managed to articulate, the realization fully dawning on her. "You left me the book on the porch."
Caught off guard by Anne's discovery, Thomas felt a flush of embarrassment warm his cheeks, his attempt to maintain composure faltering slightly.
"Oh.. uh, yeah," he admitted, trying to sound nonchalant, "Did you enjoy it?"
Anne's response was immediate and genuine, her smile broadening.
"Oh and how," she exclaimed, her gaze drifting as if recalling the many times she'd delved into the pages of the book. "I must've read it like five times."
Her attention snapped back to Thomas, curiosity and a hint of reproach in her tone. "Why didn't you sign it, or tell me it was you?" she asked, seeking understanding for his anonymity.
Thomas hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing upon him, before he opted for honesty.
"I was afraid you wouldn't accept it, given everything.." his voice faded, the unsaid words hanging between them.
Anne processed his words, her gaze softening as she responded. "Thank you, it was a wonderful gift, I just regret I didn't have anything for you."
"Don't worry about it," Thomas quickly reassured her, eager to dispel any sense of obligation.
Setting the paper aside, he stretched his arms, a subtle indication of his need for a pause.
"I could use a break," he suggested, looking to Anne for agreement.
Relieved at the idea, Anne nodded in agreement. As Thomas and Anne made their descent, the warmth of the kitchen enveloped them, filled with the pleasant aroma of baking and the low hum of conversation between Ms. Cuthbert and Mr. Dunlop. Upon noticing their arrival, Marilla offered them each a sweet roll, freshly baked and still warm to the touch.
"Please bring one to Jerry as well, Anne. He's working in the barn," Ms. Cuthbert requested.
With their sweet rolls in hand, Thomas and Anne stepped outside, the crisp air a refreshing change from the cozy warmth of the kitchen. As they munched on their treats, Anne's infectious enthusiasm led them to pause by the chicken enclosure. With a gleam in her eye, she began introducing Thomas to each chicken, sharing the whimsical names she'd bestowed upon them. Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, Anne's imagination shining again.
As they approached the barn, their lighthearted conversation was interrupted by the emergence of a figure from within - a man Thomas hadn't seen before. Young and with an undeniable presence, the man's intense gaze was momentarily disarming.
"Hello, Nate!" Anne greeted the newcomer warmly as she waved. The man's expression immediately softened as he set his eyes on Anne and Thomas.
"Hello Anne, who's this?" Nate inquired, his curiosity piqued as he turned his attention to Thomas.
"Oh! This is my classmate, we're working on a school project together," she explained.
Thomas met Nate's gaze squarely, extending his hand in greeting.
"Thomas, pleased to meet you," he introduced himself, his handshake firm and confident.
"Nathaniel. Oof, hell of a grip there, young man," Nate commented as he shook Thomas's hand. "Well, I must be on my way," he added, excusing himself before striding off toward the house.
As Nate departed, Anne turned back to Thomas, her enthusiasm undimmed by the brief encounter.
"He's the other boarder. Oh, and he's a geologist! Don't you think that's such a delightful word - ge-o-logist?" she mused, her fascination with the word itself as clear as her interest in Nate's profession.
Upon entering the barn, Anne and Thomas were met with the sight of Jerry, seemingly frozen, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Anne's cheerful voice broke the silence as she approached him with a sweet roll in hand.
"Hello Jerry, Marilla asked me to bring you one of these," she said, her hand extended towards him with a bright smile.
Jerry flinched, startled by the sudden interruption, before his expression softened upon seeing Anne.
"Oh, merci," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas, observing the exchange, sensed something amiss.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Jerry's response was quick, almost too quick.
"Oui, I.. I go back to work now," he replied before hastily retreating further into the barn.
As they stepped back outside, Anne, seemingly oblivious to Jerry's peculiar behavior, continued on as if nothing had happened. Thomas found himself mulling over Jerry's behavior, a nagging feeling telling him there was more to it than met the eye. Before he could dwell on it further, Anne's voice snapped him back to the present.
"Wouldn't you agree, Thomas?" she inquired, catching him off guard.
"Huh? With what?" Thomas found himself scrambling to catch up.
"That we should get more books for the project," Anne repeated, her brows knitting together in mild frustration.
"Ah, right. I'll see if I can find anything else in our library," Thomas managed, attempting to cover his brief lapse in attention.
"Library?" The word seemed to spark Anne's interest, her expression brightening with curiosity.
"Ah, well, I call it that. It's more of a study, that happens to have a lot of books," he clarified, hoping to temper her expectations.
"Oh, that sounds like the most wonderful place in the world," she said, her voice trailing off wistfully.
Returning to Anne's room, their shared anticipation of making further progress on their project was instantly dashed by the sight that greeted them. The papers and notes that had been neatly organized on Anne's desk were now strewn across the floor, victims of a gusty wind that had swept through the open window.
"Oh, no, no, no," Anne lamented, the distress evident in her voice as she scrambled to recover the scattered documents.
Thomas, quick to act, moved to shut the window, halting the chaotic draft in its tracks. He then joined Anne on the floor, helping to gather the notes and papers. In their haste, they collided, a gentle but startling bump of heads.
"Ah, sorry," Thomas said, instinctively reaching up to rub at the spot of impact, a sheepish expression on his face.
"It's my fault, I wasn't looking-.." Anne's words tumbled out in a rush, her attempt at an apology cut short by their mutual embarrassment.
The brief awkwardness passed as quickly as it had appeared, leaving them to focus on the task at hand. Soon, they had managed to collect every last piece of their project, ensuring that nothing was lost.
With the disaster averted and their workspace restored, they delved back into their project, the incident serving as a small but memorable detour in their collaborative journey. As the light outside began to dim, signaling the approach of evening, Thomas suggested it was time to end their work for the day.
"Are you able to continue working on this tomorrow afternoon?" Anne asked, hopeful they could maintain their productive rhythm.
"I'll be here, and I'll see if I can find any more information," Thomas assured her, as he began to gather his belongings.
Stepping out onto the front porch, Thomas paused as Anne followed him out. Turning to face her, he wished to say something, but he did not quite know what. Eventually he gave up and opted for farewells.
"See you tomorrow?" he asked.
"See you tomorrow," she smiled, her nod sealing their agreement.