Biceps.
Despite herself it was the image of sweaty forearms that accompanied Charlotte on her walk home, milk jug in her arms. Earl had offered to carry it home for her, but she thought that was going a bit far; a decision she regretted less than halfway as she awkwardly readjusted her grip for the tenth time.
Shortly after they had moved into Echo Lodge, Anne had driven Charlotte down the road to meet the neighbours. Rather than teach her how to milk they had decided it was better to purchase it. "And it'll be handy to know someone nearby, just in case," Anne had said. Charlotte nodded, despite her overwhelming shyness. The countryside was just so empty, something she was taking a while to come to terms with.
The first time she had walked up the road she had felt terribly self-conscious, but she had made the acquaintance of their son, Earl who had been out in the field, working. "Good morning, Miss," he'd said, raising his hat in greeting.
Charlotte had ducked her head and murmured her own greeting.
"It's a fine day for a walk," he'd said.
"It is," she replied.
"Where have you come from? There's nothing much up the road you're walking along, unless." Recognition hit him, "oh, you're living at Echo Lodge with Mrs Gardner, I'm guessing."
"Yes, that's right."
"Pleased to meet ya, I'm Earl. My folks said you might be by, you want some milk, I believe."
"If you don't mind."
"We're always happy to help out our neighbours, 'specially ones so pretty." He stated it so matter-of-factly, without guile that Charlotte could feel no hesitation on her part. "Well, follow me, I'll fetch you some. Have you brought a jug?" Charlotte hadn't, she had quite forgotten how she would transport the milk when she got it. "No? No matter, we have plenty. Just bring it back next time."
Earl chatted easily as they walked side by side up to the barn. "Here's Daisy," he said slapping a cow's flank when they had arrived at sizeable building painted stark white against the green field. "Silly enough name, I s'pose but she's a da, excellent milker, begging my pardon."
Charlotte watched as he poured milk from a large bucket into a nearby jug and held out her hands for it when he'd finished. She realised she had also forgotten to bring any money for the payment of it. "My apologies," she stuttered feeling very foolish.
"No matter, we'll see you back here in a couple of days," Earl replied. "And after all, we know where you live," he added with a wink.
Their first meeting might have been rather awkward, but Charlotte grew to look forward to their meetings. So much so that she had to curtail it when the pantry rather started to overflow with the stuff; there was only so much butter she could churn.
Winter was certainly on the wane she thought as she walked home, if Earl's sweaty biceps were anything to go by. She giggled to herself, imagining her fingers tip toeing around his forearms.
Initially Charlotte had accompanied Anne to Avonlea every chance she got, the silence of Echo Lodge unnerving her, but now as she became acquainted with Earl, she found herself agreeing to stay home more often. "I'm fine, Ma'am," she'd say. "I have plenty to keep me occupied here." Anne would drive away, happy that Charlotte was settling down.
That's not to say Charlotte never visited the Cuthbert's; Marilla's dry sense of humour and Rachel's big heart and ear for gossip proved to be good company. She developed a close relationship with Dora too, the girls were not far apart in age. After church they would do each other's hair. Marilla looking on in some consternation as Charlotte created outlandish hairstyles. "I'm not sure if that's entirely proper," Marilla would murmur, while Charlotte would smile, and Dora roll her eyes. "It's fashionable in the city, Marilla," she'd remonstrate, "isn't it Charlotte."
Davy enjoyed their visits also though he found staying in the same room as Charlotte rather confusing. Better, he found, to express himself by the wood pile. The staccato sound of the axe striking logs provided a constant backdrop until Marilla told him to come in. "We've enough to be going on with Davy." Then Davy would sit, fidgeting in the corner until someone noticed and gave him another job to do.
"There's something up with the boy, that's what" Rachel declared one morning when she had collected the laundry.
"Hm?" Marilla had her arms elbow deep in the tub.
"Just take a look at this," Rachel said. "Here."
Marilla frowned. "A new stain, whatever could it be?"
"Nocturnal emissions," Rachel said, quietly for her.
"I beg your pardon?" Marilla pulled her hands out, drying them on a nearby sheet.
Rachel sighed; she knew boys. "It's his age. It happens."
"I don't understand."
"It's not his fault, he can't help it. I'll have a chat to him."
"What is it, Rachel? Is it something I need to be worried about?"
"Not worried as such, just something boys go through around this age."
"Has he wet himself in the night, he hasn't done that for years."
"It's not urine, Marilla," Rachel said, somewhat exasperated. "It's the other thing."
"What thing?"
"Nothing, it's nothing."
"What are you hiding from me? I'm his mother, I have a right to know. Especially if I'm to have a talk with him."
"No, I think you had better leave this one to me."
"I'll do no such thing, Rachel. You stay out of it."
"But Marilla, you don't even know what's up. I do. Please."
"Maybe I could get Anne, she always did have a way with him. Now you'll have to tell me eventually, Rachel."
"It's, um, well it's." For once, Rachel struggled to express herself. Looking at Marilla she muttered, "it's a male emission if you must know."
"What, like," Marilla glanced down, eyebrows quirked. "From down there?" her lips doing most of the work rather than her voice.
"Precisely."
"But he's just a child!"
"He's thirteen, Marilla. Old enough. Dora for instance, she's started her courses, hasn't she?"
"A few months ago."
"Well, there you go."
"No," Marilla stated emphatically, in some shock at the whole situation she found herself in.
"I'm afraid so."
"But who?"
"Well that I can't say. He might not know himself. Might not be anyone. I recall Thomas Jnr had them intermittently for years."
"If it's not one thing, it's the other."
"Welcome to motherhood, Marilla."
Shopping in Carmody a couple of weeks later an exhausted Anne, her arms full of parcels bumped into a gentleman exiting a store backwards. "Watch out," someone called but it was too late as Anne's parcels cluttered to the ground in an untidy heap. An epithet came readily to Anne's lips, but while they moved no sound came out. Her aggressor as she thought of him, proved to be none other than Gilbert Blythe. "Oh, I am so very sor. Oh, it's you Anne. My apologies, I wasn't looking where I was going. Here let me help you."
Mouth gaping Anne could do no more than stare somewhat dumbfounded while Gilbert gathered her things. "Here you go," he said handing them over to her. Anne looked at them as though they belonged to someone else altogether. "Um, they are yours, aren't they?" Gilbert said when she failed to put out her arms. When Anne did not react, he used the old tactic, the one that got him into so much trouble in the first place, the one that he was sure would snap her out of whatever was going on in her mind right now. "Carrots," he whispered. He received a reaction all right, unthinking Anne swung her arm towards him, and he ducked hastily, wincing when her arm collided with his shoulder. Anne looked at him sharply, grabbed her packages and ran away.
Breathing heavily in her buggy a few minutes later Anne's mind ran with the encounter, reasoning with herself that she could hardly be blamed for her reaction. Haven't seen him for years, what sort of a conversation was that. And ca, she couldn't bear to finish the word even in her own mind. Beastly man hasn't learnt a thing despite his years at university.
Still in a state Anne left the horse by the door when she arrived back at Green Gables and stumbled inside. "Anne!" Marilla said when she plopped herself down on a kitchen chair. "So good to, I say are you quite well? The baby?"
Anne blinked a few times, "er, no, no, the baby is fine. It's just," she lapsed into silence, unable to say more.
Pulling down the tea things, Marilla shooed Dora out of the house. "Go see if you can help Davy or maybe pay Minnie May a visit, will you," she whispered. "If you don't mind me saying, Anne," she said when Dora had left. "You seem to be in a bit of a state. We'll just have a nice cup of tea, and you can settle down. Now I have two cakes to choose from. One I've made and one of Rachel's," she added, prattling on in most unMarilla fashion. Eventually she ran out of words and sat down next to Anne, a hot drink in front of them. Since her comment about the health of the baby, Anne had not spoken.
Taking a deep breath eventually she started. "I just, oh it's no use I saw him I saw Gilbert Blythe. I haven't seen him for years but he's just the same, more than the same really." She scoffed, "he called me carrots, can you believe it? All the book smarts in the world, all that education and it's like we're back at school on that first day. Does he still, oh I dunno. He," she swallowed hard. "And what was I to say, after all that time? Maybe I should have, in fact I know I should, but I didn't and he and I and."
Marilla patted her hand, "take a deep breath"
Following her advice, Anne looked forwards and paused before continuing. "I don't know what to think, Marilla. I." she paused. "It's just oh I dunno," she lapsed into silence. Marilla sipped her tea while she waited and munched on a slice of her own cake, absentmindedly relishing its crumb. "It's been so long," Anne started slowly, "and I suppose I didn't treat him all that kindly last time we met. I never told you about that, did I?" Marilla shook her head. "He asked me to marry him, and I said I couldn't, that we could only be friends and I berated him for ruining a good friendship. I don't even know why I said that Marilla. I love him. Doesn't he know that? Doesn't everyone know that?" Marilla was silent, the girl was doing a good enough job beating herself up on her own. "And then we just bumped into each other now. I hadn't had a chance to think of what I was going to say. I mean I guess I've been thinking of nothing else for years, but when it came to it like that, well."
"Hm, tricky."
Wild-eyed Anne glanced at Marilla. "Exactly. In the moment what was there to say? 'I'm sorry I spurned you, Gilbert. I was a fool. Then I went and married the wrong man, oh and by the way, I'm having his baby.'"
Marilla thought Anne might have given a bit too much away then, even to her, but she decided not to save it for later.