Beneath The Apple Tree
Chapter 1 - Back In Avonlea
A man, once robust and lean, was now reduced to naught but skin and bone, with tear-streaked cheeks and eyes red-rimmed from sorrow. The dirt roads beneath his feet had not felt his tread for many a year. They had last seen him as a young man, brimming with life and eager to embrace the world. But now, decades older, pale as a wraith and burdened with grief, he walked with a heavy heart. His once lively curls had lost their spring, and the crooked grin that used to dance upon his lips had straightened into a solemn line. Two things accompanied him now that the roads had never seen before: a babe swaddled in a blue cloth, cradled tightly in his arms, and a golden band that encircled his finger.
The roads observed with quiet astonishment as he retraced the path he had once trod so frequently in his youth—a path he had abruptly forsaken, much to the roads' silent bewilderment.
The man was headed for Green Gables.
He approached the porch with a hesitancy that belied his years. "It's been some time, but this old place remains unchanged," he murmured to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips for the first time in many a weary day. Holding the babe closer, the man knocked, his heart full of uncertainty as to whether there would be an answer.
"Oh, Matthew, who could be calling at such an hour and in weather like this?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. As she opened the door, a gasp escaped her. The same piercing hazel eyes that had once been so familiar to her now gazed back at her again. He was a very different man now, aged and with a child in his care, yet those hazel eyes—her hazel eyes—remained unchanged.
"Mar…"
"John…"
Both stood, gazing at one another, the silence between them stretching into what felt like an eternity, neither knowing what to say. Finally, the woman's brother, a man of awkward manner, stepped to the door. "Err, hello, John. Do come in." The men stepped into the parlour while the woman remained rooted in shock. "Marilla, snap out of it," she whispered to herself, smoothing her plain skirt and adjusting her tight bun before she, too, joined them in the parlour. "So, John, how was Alberta?" she asked, her eyes meeting his.
"I—well, it was good, I suppose," John replied, attempting a smile that struggled to reach his eyes. "I met my wife there, Ella, about two years ago." Another awkward silence descended upon them until Marilla spoke again.
"I'm happy for you, John. Is she here with us in Avonlea now?"
"Actually, Marilla, Matthew—that's why I'm here…" He began, his gaze drifting to the baby in his arms. Both siblings exchanged curious glances.
"She died a month ago, when this little one here was born. He was a breech baby. I had planned to spend the rest of my days on the prairies with Ella and the baby, but now… now I have no family left to show him. Ma and Pa are long gone, and Uncle Dave and I… well, let's just say our relationship is a strange one. I suppose Avonlea and you two are the closest thing to family that I have left. I had to come back."
Marilla and Matthew were in disbelief. The man before them, whom they had once known as well as they knew one another, was now a man transformed by the worst kind of grief.
"John, we are so sorry for your loss. We wish we could have met Ella; I just know she was wonderful," Marilla said, her voice soft, a genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at John.
"She was," John replied, his voice trembling as he smiled.
"John, you must stay here for a few nights—leave your boy with us while you get your affairs in order. Please, let us help you," Marilla urged.
"You know I can't burden you with that, Marilla. You and Matthew have enough to manage with Green Gables and all."
"Nonsense," Matthew finally spoke. "If Marilla or I were in your shoes, you'd help us without hesitation. We're helping you, John, and that's final. You and your boy are family. You're always welcome at Green Gables."
Marilla and John looked at each other, surprised. A silence enveloped the room until John burst out laughing—a sound he couldn't remember the last time he made. "Matthew! In all the years I've known you, you've never spoken so much at once!"
"I can't say I disagree," Marilla added with a wry smile. "Well, I suppose I have no choice but to accept your offer, Cuthberts. Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am to you both."
After some time, John asked, "Marilla, would you like to hold my boy?"
Marilla nodded, her heart aching with a tender anxiety. In another life, John's babe might have been hers as well.
"He is the dearest little thing, isn't he, Matthew? John, he looks so much like you—the same curls, the same eyes. Now, what is his name?"
"Gilbert. Gilbert John Blythe."
And so, the first few years of Gilbert's life passed, happily spent on the Blythe property with his father. He visited Marilla and Matthew often, and the two of them took great delight in doting on him. Marilla would sing to him when no one else was around to hear, and Matthew would show him all the animals at Green Gables, weaving stories about each one. Mrs. Rachel Lynde would also call when she could, making quite a fuss over Gilbert, frequently offering her opinions on how best he should be cared for. At first, it annoyed John, but he knew Rachel's heart was in the right place (though he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for her husband, Tom!).
"Adam Wright! Little Fred! It's good to see you," John called out as the two men shook hands, their smiles wide. "Fred, Gilbert's playing in the field. Go and join him." As Fred scampered off, John ushered the large, stout man inside. Adam's face grew serious.
"John, we've been friends for a long time," Adam began.
"Yes? Where is this leading, Wright?" John replied, a touch of impatience in his voice.
"Well, as an old friend, I feel I can speak frankly with you, can I not?"
A silence fell between them.
"Err… correct."
"John, your boy is about to turn six any day now…"
"Wright, out with it."
"He needs a mother, John. And to be frank, you've been treating Marilla as if she is his mother, so why not do the right thing and wed her?"
A look of shock washed over John's face. Never in all his days could he have imagined Adam Wright saying such a thing. He was at a loss for words. Sensing John's inability to respond, Adam softened his tone.
"Blythe, long ago you were in love with the woman. I know you loved Ella—you wrote to me as such—but she's gone, and Marilla is here. I know she still loves you. Don't you still love her? Couldn't you love her in that way again?"
"Adam, I was fortunate enough to fall in love twice in my life, but you know I can't marry Marilla. I love her, but after Ella… I'm not ready to love in that way again. I can't. You know I can't."
"Well… think on it, Blythe. For Gilbert's sake."
John did not reply. Adam sighed.
"Very well. I'm sorry if this conversation was uncomfortable, but it needed to be said. Goodbye, Blythe."
"I'll think about it, Wright. But I make no promises."
John lay awake many nights after that conversation, tossing and turning. It was true—he did love Marilla in some way, and she loved him. Perhaps it was possible to rekindle the flame that had once burned between them. Gilbert needed a mother. Was it wrong of him to ask Marilla to help with Gilbert when they weren't even husband and wife?
In the pitch blackness of the night, John made a decision. He rummaged through his father's old chest and found his mother's ring—a delicate pearl set in a dainty golden band. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would ask Marilla for her hand.
The next morning, Gilbert went over to the Wrights' house to spend the day with Fred, while John made his way down to Green Gables as he often did. The ring seemed to burn a hole in his pocket as he walked. He felt certain of his plan until he saw Marilla, and then all he could see was his Ellie. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he spoke.
"Mar, care for a stroll?"
Marilla looked surprised. "John, we haven't taken a stroll together since we were sixteen," she replied, amused.
"Is that a yes?"
Marilla rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Very well, John. I'll take a stroll with you."
They left Green Gables together, each step accompanied by growing anxiety. John grew more tense, the ring in his pocket a heavy reminder, while Marilla was puzzled by this sudden friendliness. Though they were on good terms now, nothing had been the same between them since their quarrel all those years ago, which made this walk all the more strange to Marilla.
They arrived at a place familiar to them both. Marilla blushed at the sight of the lone apple tree in the woods, recalling the memories she and John had shared there so long ago. This was their place, and she had never expected to see it again.
"John, why have you brought me here?" she asked, turning to see John kneeling before her.
"John! What in the world are you doing?"
John opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he began to sob. "I am so sorry, Marilla! Forgive me! I can't go through with it. I love you so much—you will always be dear to me, but I cannot marry you. I cannot heal from losing Ellie. I know Gilbert deserves a mother, and you deserve a husband. Heaven knows I need a wife, but I can't do this—not with anyone. I am so deeply sorry. I came here with a ring and everything—Adam got in my head—and I shouldn't be imposing on you to take care of my boy so much—"
Tears welled up in Marilla's eyes as she knelt down beside him. "John Blythe! You haven't imposed upon me at all! Matthew and I love Gilbert as if he were our own flesh and blood. I would like to see you try to stop us from helping you with him. Both of you are family, John."
John looked up at her, his hazel eyes filled with anguish, and her heart ached for him. She continued, "I don't need a husband—you weren't the only man to ask for my hand, you know—and Gilbert already has a mother, Ella, and a community here in Avonlea that cares for him. And most importantly, he has the most wonderful father in you. You've nothing to be sorry for. You're doing the best you can."
Moments later, they sat together in silence beneath the lone apple tree, hand in hand. "Thank you, Mar, for everything," John whispered, his voice barely audible.
This was the last time the apple tree would see the pair together. But many years later, another pair—a young man who bore a striking resemblance to the man who last visited, and a girl with beautiful titian hair—would come to claim this place in the woods as their own.
Gilbert had grown accustomed to the sound of his father's cough in the night. But it still frightened him. Seeing his father grow weaker, coughing up blood, filled him with a deep and unshakable anxiety. Though he was only ten years old, witnessing his father's health deteriorate before his eyes forced him to mature beyond his years. He could no longer simply laugh and play with Moody and Fred as he once did. The carefree joys of boyhood had slipped away, replaced by a weighty sense of responsibility. He had to grow up, for his father's sake.
The Cuthberts came often to check on them. Marilla would prepare supper, and Matthew would tend to the farm. Gilbert helped where he could, but he was still just a boy, and he, too, needed care.
"Marilla… I'm going back to Alberta for the Prairie cure. I'm taking my boy with me," John said one evening, his voice frail but resolute.
"John, are you certain?" Marilla asked, her voice laced with concern.
"Marilla, I must. I have to stay strong for him. He's lost his mother, and I can't let him lose his father, too."
Silence filled the room, both of their eyes brimming with unspoken fears and regrets.
"John, before you leave, I need to say this. I love you, John. I am so sorry I didn't go to Alberta with you all those years ago. It tears at my heart to think of it now. Why was I so stubborn? I should have gone with you—"
"Marilla, you had your family to care for. Your mother was ill, and Matthew was still young. I don't blame you—it was selfish of me to ask so much of you. And besides, if things had been different, we wouldn't have Gilbert, and I know neither of us would trade anything for him. I love you, Mar."
"You're right. I wouldn't trade anything for him," Marilla agreed, her voice softening.
Suddenly, John was seized by a violent coughing fit, his handkerchief quickly stained with blood. Marilla sprang into action, fetching him water, rubbing his back, and cleaning the blood from his hands.
"Marilla…" John began, his voice weakened by the effort of speaking.
"Hush, John. You need to rest."
"Marilla… lie down with me?"
With all the strength he could muster, John shifted over in his bed, making space for her beside him. Marilla hesitated only for a moment before she nodded and lay down, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hand over his heart. Their breaths slowly synchronized, their eyes grew heavy, and together they drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber. In this life, they had never truly been one another's, but for that brief, bittersweet night, providence allowed them to be united as one.
The journey back to Alberta was arduous and fraught with uncertainty. John was weaker than ever, but his determination to reach the prairies was unyielding. The vast, open skies of Alberta had once brought him peace and hope, and he clung to the belief that they might still hold some cure for his ailing body.
Gilbert, though frightened, did his best to be brave for his father. The boy's heart ached with worry, but he had learned to keep his fears to himself, just as his father did.
As they arrived in Alberta, John felt a fleeting sense of comfort, but it was short-lived. The harsh prairie winters and the relentless advance of his illness left him more frail than ever. He did his best to keep up a brave face for Gilbert, but even the boy could see that his father was fading away.
Author's Note:
My first ever fan fiction I've written (or story to be completely honest). I'm not the greatest at writing stories, it's definitely a weak skill of mine so I wanted to practice by writing fan fiction. Please leave any comments, tips, or constructive criticism.
I chose to write about Anne's universe because I only read Shirbert fanfiction (lol) and I love this world so much! Anne reminds me so much of myself, and Gilbert is just the dream. Plus, who doesn't want to live in Avonlea?
Also I loved writing about John and Marilla more than I thought I would! This sort of unfortunate love story hurts my heart so much but was so, rewarding in a way to write about. I do plan on the main characters of this story to be Anne and Gilbert, but when I'm done writing this I am for sure writing more on these two lovebirds.
Also this story will be a mix of AWAE, AOGG, and my own head canons or changed I make to the canon.
I love you all :)