"Yes, we do," replied Marilla setting up a pot of coffee. Rachel had followed the children out the door to let them catch up. "You've hardly said a thing, now tell me everything."
It was not a long tale, but it was a sad one. Having decided not to divulge the whole sorry saga to Marilla at the White Sands Hotel the last time they met, Anne now let it all out, barring for no good reason the pregnancy. Many tears, from both sides of the table later she finally wound her story up saying, "I just couldn't bear to be there any longer, Marilla. Those people didn't love me. I needed to be nurtured. I'm soul sick for the lack of it."
It had been hard for Marilla to listen, she adored her girl and to know that there were people out there who did not share that love was difficult at any time, but to know she had been so isolated, so bereft of love, well it was just as well she had come home.
There was a pause as both took stock of all that had gone before. Marilla broke the silence, "well, you're here now, where you belong. I wish that hadn't happened to you, Anne, I really do. But it did and we can't undo it. Now, you'll have to share my bed for the time being, there's not a single spare room in the place these days," she paused thinking of those long years when it had just been Matthew and she rattling around, shaking her head she continued. "So long as you don't mind sharing my bed, it should be fine."
"Nothing would give me more pleasure, darling," Anne replied. She had gotten used to sleeping with another person it was warmer for sure, but this of course, would be different. She shuddered recalling those uncomfortable nights with Roy.
"Hm?" Marilla enquired. "Everything alright?"
Anne laughed, "no, no, don't mind me." Marilla looked askance, unable to fathom it.
"Now, what next?" Anne started. "There's another mouth to feed, of course."
"I think we'll manage, Anne. You hardly eat a thing; it's Davy I worry about. Just as well we got another cow, he's going through milk like there's no tomorrow, gallons of the stuff, just loves it."
"He's a growing boy."
Marilla raised her eyebrows, "that he is. I swear I watch him grow. It's as if he puts on inches overnight."
"Recall when he first arrived?"
Scoffing, Marilla replied, "I'm not likely to forget. Never known a week like it, I aged a year."
"They made their mark," Anne said fondly.
"All my children have."
Anne got to her feet and walked around the other side of the table, sitting by Marilla she hugged her shoulders tight. "I wonder what Matthew would have made of us?"
"He'd have adored them, as he did you. We'll manage, we always do. Rather have you here and happy than… Anyway, if you're content to come back home, then I am too."
"How could I not be, home with the mother of my heart."
"Fiddlesticks," Marilla deflected the compliment in her usual manner.
Anne's trunks arrived that afternoon providing a reminder of another life. Her dresses were too grand for Avonlea, Anne was acutely aware of the difference in fashion when she pulled them out. Marilla looked on disapprovingly. "Well, they're alright for city life, I suppose."
Rocking back on her heels, Anne nodded. "I know they look out of place, don't they. I did like this one, though," she said fingering a green gingham. Dora squealed with delight at the sight of all the pretty dresses while Rachel looked on admiringly. "You have a nice eye, Anne, I will say. It's a shame they'll go to waste out here, that's what. Nice stuff like this," she said feeling the weight of a particularly nice blue velvet, "should be worn."
Tea with Diana made Anne surprisingly uneasy. Diana was horrified. "I can't imagine losing Fred. I would be just devastated. Oh, you poor, poor thing. I can't, I mean it's just awful. How are you coping? You poor darling." She was practically in tears on Anne's behalf.
Finding herself in the odd position of having to comfort Diana rather than the other way round, Anne said, "I mean it's terribly sad, Diana, but at least I had one wonderful year with him. That's better than nothing, you know. And I'm so lucky I had a home to come back to."
"Why did you Anne? Weren't you happy in Kingsport?"
"I, ah, well, I just missed you is all. Honestly, I'm alright, Di." Deciding she had better change the subject before she gave too much away, she directed her attention to young Fred. A baby no longer, he was growing into a bonny young lad. Di had more news to impart, namely that there was another one on the way. Again, Anne kept her news to herself.
There was much to think about on the way back home, her internal monologue now consisted of talking to the baby nestled within as she had once confided in Katy Maurice all those years ago. Diana's reaction was more hysterical than mine, did you notice. When her distinctive gables hove into view between trees tinged green with spring growth, she stopped and regarded the house with a sigh realising that her happiness didn't necessarily lie in Avonlea. I've changed, baby. I'm not the girl who lived here so happily. Much as I wasn't totally content Kingsport, I must admit I got used to the good life. Housework now, ugh, such drudgery. Even with the three of us working, I wouldn't say no to a Nancy or two.
Putting all that aside she joined Marilla in the kitchen. "Did you have a nice time with Diana?" she asked as Anne sat down.
"Mm."
"Oh? You don't sound too enthused."
Anne sighed; it wasn't easy to put her thoughts into words that wouldn't upset Marilla. "It's just I think city life has changed me." She had noticed it the very first night she got home when Marilla knelt by her bed to say her prayers, a habit Anne had to admit she had grown out of. Roy never said his and had mocked her the first time she had tried; she had rather forgotten that there were adults who still prayed. Marilla nodded, "yes, well that's to be expected isn't it. You need something to do, you seem at a bit of a loose end."
"Anne," said Dora one night after dinner. "Could you help me with my lessons. I'm having trouble understand this problem. I don't like geometry."
"Oh, you and me both, darling. Don't tell anyone but I've always struggled with it." At Dora's crestfallen look, she added, "but never mind, I'm sure we can muddle through together. But, tell me about school, are you enjoying it?"
"I am," replied Dora. "Mostly."
"Only mostly?" asked Anne, for whom school had been a pleasure.
"Yes, I mean I have plenty of friends, it's just," she paused unwilling to discredit her teacher. "It's just, well." Anne waited. "Well," she pressed on, "Mr. Biffin has been unwell so he's often away and then we're told just to study at our own pace. It's not very interesting and the boys are always playing up."
"I bet they are," replied Anne knowing all too well the sort of antics bored boys got up to. "Now, let's look at these problems and see if we can work them out together."
It gave her lots to think about that night. Marilla had put it right; she had been a bit restless since she had returned. She wouldn't have long, she plotted counting the weeks off on her fingers.
Her thoughts were interrupted the next day however, when a thin envelop bearing a Kingsport stamp arrived in the mail. Shaking Anne excused herself and escaped into the parlour to read a letter from Roy's lawyer explaining that he had left her the bulk of his estate and what's more the house. Anne sat and stared at the letter for a long, long time, her emotions mixed.
Rather than receiving such a large sum, she wished she had enjoyed a happy marriage. Instead, here she was, widowed, living back at home, sharing a bed with her mother in cramped accommodations. She made her way back to the kitchen and sat down with sigh. Marilla watched but said no word although Rachel was practically dancing with anticipation. "It's from Roy's lawyer," Anne explained. "Seems I have rather a lot of money to my name."
Rachel broke into a huge grin, "my goodness, Anne, now that's a stroke of luck."
Anne fixed her with a stare. "Luck?" she said lowly.
"I mean," Rachel replied, realising what she had just said. "I mean, I didn't think."
"No," responded Marilla in a stern tone. "That's evident." Softening her voice she asked Anne, "how does it make you feel?"
Glancing back down at the letter, Anne replied, "I don't know. I mean yes, it's nice not to have to worry about finances any more. But you know I wish I still had him by my side. He may not have been perfect, but he was my husband. I wish we had the time to grow old together. I wish…" she lapsed into silence, overwhelmed.
"I won't say I understand," Marilla said slowly. "It's not as though I have any experience to compare this to, but I think it's probably natural to be conflicted. May I?" she asked holding out her hand.
Anne handed it over, Marilla skimmed the letter closely. "And I see here," she said tapping the letter, that he left the house in your name."
"Yes," said Anne listlessly, but then she said, "you know, I don't think I can discuss this right now. I need a walk." The ladies watched her place a shawl over her shoulders and leave the house. "Poor Anne," Marilla sighed.
"Poor Anne! Rich Anne, I think you mean. How much are we talking about?" Marilla told her, and Rachel turned a shade of green seldom seen in this world. "My goodness!"
"Now don't tell a soul, Rachel," Marilla stated emphatically. "I mean it. It's private. I probably shouldn't have divulged myself. That's her money to do with as she wishes."
Strolling through nature always calmed Anne. Though she had tramped these paths a thousand times through all times of the year, she never failed to notice something new. Small spring crocuses bobbed in the breeze while blue jays called to each other hellbent on making new families as winter's bitter cold receded.
I don't know, she told the baby. I wasn't particularly happy living with your papa, but I don't feel as though anyone here understands me here. I'm like a fish out of water. I wasn't good enough for your grandmother and now I'm too good for home. What shall we do now, we may have all this money but everyone I've ever known has moved on. They're married, getting on with life while I'm stuck here. I know I'll be busy enough in a little while, she patted her stomach, but just now.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement and looking up spied Mrs Blythe coming down the road. She had made her way to an open piece of road, so there was no hiding else she would have ducked out of the way. Now she'd have to go through the rigmarole all over again. "Good morning, Anne," called Mrs Blythe. "I was sorry to hear your sad news."
Anne waited until they were closer to respond. "Good morning, Mrs Blythe, thank you. Yes, it was a terrible tragedy."
"And you came home?" There was an accusatory note in the woman's voice that Anne did not care for.
"I did. I needed to be back with my kin." Knowing she had no choice, she asked, "and how is Gilbert?"
"He wasn't well in the fall, but he's back to his normal self. Working too hard and making us proud."
Anne smiled, "I am pleased. Tell him I said hello."
"I will do that, Anne. Please send my regards to Marilla and Rachel."
Anne had to lean on the first available tree trunk when Mrs Blythe departed, it had not been easy to converse knowing all that had gone before. She wondered if Mrs Blythe knew that she had once rejected Gilbert's proposal. That lady could have been your grandmother. Let's just say I'm not her favourite person.
Wandering home the long way, Anne felt much better when she returned home and in her bed that night as Marilla snored, she made plans.