Oh, gracious! It can't have been 16 months since I last posted on this! It CAN"T have been! I was really shocked when I checked back over my last update to find it wasn't Jan 2024 as I was expecting, but Jan 2023! It honestly didn't feel like it was quite that long, and I know I have done some writing on other stories in the meantime, but still! I can only genuinely apologise to all and thank my faithful and forgiving readers for sticking with this!

Sorry for such an expository update after all that waiting. I promise you that I will give this poor neglected story all the time and effort I can. There are some very interesting happenings coming up, for we are now into the second year at Redmond, and we all know what a dramatic year that is in canon!

Thank you to everyone who has sent lovely reviews and PM's through to me relating to this story in the long interval. I appreciate them all! With that in mind, this is dedicated to a stalwart lover and supporter of this story and many of my others, AnneNGil x Thank you so much for your recent message to me – it really helped to get this chapter over the line!

With love

MrsVonTrapp x

Chapter Thirty Six

The Glory and the Dream

Tom strode down towards the dock, taking a breath before continuing on to the fair-hued party awaiting Pris's ferry. He caught Pris's amazed look once she realised who was approaching them in a rather familiar blue suit.

"Mr Caruthers!" she attempted, almost squeaking her surprise.

"Hello Miss Grant, Mr Grant, Mrs Grant and young Mr Grant," he nodded to each in turn, extending his hand to the merry older man who reminded him of his daughter.

"Mr Caruthers! What a surprise to see you!" Pris's father greeted warmly.

"Not really…" Samuel Grant mumbled with a puzzled smile.

"We bumped into Mr Caruthers at the tearoom the other day," Pris explained a little hurriedly.

"Yes, he paid for the meal, actually," Samuel was at least prepared to give the fellow his due.

"You are all kindness, Mr Caruthers, and after Priscilla's lovely roses, too…" Mrs Grant gave him a careful, assessing smile.

"Not at all, Ma'am," Tom tried not to quail under her sharp look.

"Mother, Papa, Mr Caruthers has been here in Charlottetown on business. I understand after his success at the Carmody Fair he has several commissions now, including at Grayson's Furnishings," Pris offered, her face composed but her eyes shining brilliantly.

"Well, that's mighty fine to hear," Mr Grant was all affability. "How good to know a son of the Island is doing so well."

Tom, with effort, steadied the smile that he had fixed in place. It would not exactly advance his cause at present to detail exactly HOW he had come to be a 'son of the Island'. Meanwhile he dared not look at Pris in the moment but could feel her eyes on him.

"Thank you kindly, Mr Grant."

"We met another of Priscilla's Avonlea friends in Carmody," Mrs Grant offered. "Mr Blythe. Are you two acquainted?"

"We are indeed, Mrs Grant. Mr Blythe and I were in school together and are near neighbours."

"Such a charming, helpful, obliging young man…" Mrs Grant mused, as Pris coughed most immoderately.

"Yes, certainly, Ma'am," Tom colored but held firm. "Mr Blythe is indeed all those things."

"Well, we shouldn't keep you from your own connection, Mr Caruthers," Mrs Grant put a hand to her side for a moment, attempting to hide a wince, and even as he knew she was eager to now dismiss him, his kind heart went out to her all the same.

"Thank you, Mrs Grant. It was a pleasure to see you all again."

"And you, Mr Caruthers," Pris's father offered. "Good luck to you."

Tom wasn't one to act audaciously, and he wasn't bold. That particular suit fit Gilbert well, and even Herb Spencer. But Pris hadn't chosen either of THEM, and it helped to fortify his nerve.

"Mrs Grant… if I may…" Tom suddenly fished in his leather satchel, withdrawing a package. "Miss Grant told me of your wall display of articles from the Fair, of your fine achievements, and as I was going through my wares yesterday, I thought of this for you for next year, with my good wishes."

Pris's mother, understandably flummoxed, accepted the gift with surprise, unwrapping it right there on the dock, and all stood about murmuring their admiration at his beautiful frame.

"Mr Caruthers… it is lovely…" Mrs Grant touched the wood reverently. "But I can't accept it…"

"Can't accept it?" Tom echoed confusedly.

"It's not quite good enough for our household," Mrs Grant added, more firmly.

"I'm sorry, son," Mr Grant shook his head sadly.

"I really think Herb Spencer could make something better…" Samuel Grant added, unhelpfully.

"Maybe it isn't good enough…" Pris now wavered, her blue eyes pooling with tears. "And you know, Herb is so jolly. You're so straight-laced and serious, Tom. How did you ever think we could fit together?"

"Herb really is the perfect fit…" Mr Grant assented, thoughtfully.

"And he's a Spencer," Mrs Grant sounded her death knell.

"Not quite good enough…" Pris sighed heartrendingly.

They all turned to look at Tom, sorrowful but resigned, shaking their heads at him as others around them turned and did the same.

"But… it IS good enough…" he protested weakly, and then, with more conviction, "I AM good enough!"

He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to marshal his thoughts… trying to unsee their approbation…

Tom bolted awake, the tears of frustration sparking his pale blue eyes. A month since he had farewelled Pris, and he'd been so busy with the farm and commissions he hadn't been near Spencervale, let alone have started to make things interesting for Herb Spencer. He felt such a disappointment. Even in his dreams, he failed.

Marilla noted his hollow-eyed look when Tom emerged around nine that morning, a previously unheard-of time for him or indeed anyone on a farm, but circumstances were a little different now. He was currently two days on the farm and three days off it, hiring help the other times and overseeing their work before heading into the village to the little shop space he had hired on the main street, which was originally going to be an extension of Blair's that had never quite come to pass, and had sat there forlorn, empty and dark until Tom had mustered his resolve and organised a short-term rent on it. He'd needed somewhere with better light and conditions than up in the loft of the barn, a secure place to store his growing goods and materials, and the baskets and blankets that had previously been overflowing with samples and experimental designs now sat proudly on the shelves he had erected in the otherwise sparse space.

At first the townsfolk didn't quite know what to make of quiet Tom Caruthers and his huge treadle lathe. News of his success was well noted and even a source of local pride, but this indeed was a curious development. Was the lad getting a little ahead of himself? And what of the Cuthberts relying on him to run the farm, with Matthew Cuthbert hardly able to do more than feed the pigs these days and young Davy still at school? Although it was a workspace and not a trading store – and Tom, never apprenticed, could never advertise himself as a woodturner at any rate – it still attracted curious schoolchildren and the occasional villager who would say hello at the door, and pause on their errands to stare, amazed, at the shirt-sleeved young man pumping at the massive wheel as it turned furiously, helping to fashion whatever Tom directed with his large, skillful hands.

Soon enough some of Davy's mates would come in begging for whatever new toy Tom had fashioned for him that week; the spinning tops were soon replaced by pocketfuls of jacks Tom would kindly trade with them for all manner of odd schoolboy paraphernalia. It made him think on his long-ago trade of woodchopping for a new pencil or a faded green ribbon for a certain redhaired individual with a wistful smile. Though none of them, even Davy, could have him fashion a second set of balls and skittles that was Dora's pride and joy, and had the girls actively playing and laughing as much as the boys in their break times, so much so that the boys would beg to be allowed to occasionally join, promising best behaviour, which gave the young females a rare and valued sense of power and authority.

He'd had a lovely note from Jane Inglis, exclaiming over how much his gifted candlesticks for her wedding had already been used and admired, which had rather puffed up Rachel more obviously and Marilla more secretly in the sewing circle that week.

He'd also had several letters from Pris and Anne, both treasured many times over, though only the latter's could be read aloud to the family, with amusing anecdotes aplenty regarding exploits in their new shared house including an involved tale over the adoption of an unlikely-sounding feline.

But now, he sat down at the breakfast table still laid for him whilst the twins had been accompanied by Rachel to school before she stopped by the post office for gossip and stamps, in that order, and whilst Matthew quietly contemplated the newspaper in the rocking chair in the corner.

"You were late back last night, love," Marilla poured a little milk into his eggs before whisking them quickly, glancing back at him in concern. "You don't think it's all too much at the moment?"

It wasn't what was troubling him and they all knew it, but Marilla floundered when it came to the proper cause of those shadows under his eyes and Matthew was no help whatsoever. It had been a joyous thing to have had Tom return from Charlottetown full of news of his successful meetings and commissions, let alone the lovely news of a young blonde maiden having had such feelings for him, and Marilla burst to let it be known, even if Rachel still could not be trusted with the news. But Marilla feared the secret was slowly eating away at him, being fed by the latent insecurities that had always plagued him, however unreasonably, in his low moments.

"No, thanks, Marilla, I'm managing fine," Tom hedged, taking a long sip of his tea.

Marilla, thin lips pursed in frustration, served his eggs alongside a generous serve of crispy bacon and plentiful rounds of toast. If she couldn't yet get to the heart of the matter emotionally, she would just have to pour her love and care and worry into her cooking.

Anne had indeed written to Tom and the Cuthberts – and the Blythes – about her adoption of a certain feline, and the story was so wonderful she also wrote it down in the little notebook she now reserved for her writing ideas.

Walking home one time, she had the distinct impression she was being followed, though the looks of passersby were bemused rather than worried. Turning, Anne was confronted by the unlikely spectacle of the most bedraggled excuse for a cat she had ever seen, trotting along behind her… The animal was well past kitten-hood, lank, thin, disreputable looking. Pieces of both ears were lacking, one eye was temporarily out of repair, and one jowl ludicrously swollen. * The color of the cat was of a dark, singed orange, and this alone may have sealed its' fate, if not for its air of defiance even in the face of obvious misfortune.

"Oh, poor little puss!" Anne exclaimed, scooping it up in her arms without hesitation. She hurried home, cradling the creature and crooning to it reassuringly. Inside Patty's Place the other girls huddled around her, displaying varying degrees of disapproval.

"Oh, Anne – what a sight!" Pris exclaimed with a giggle.

"Has the thing been fighting the entire neighbourhood?" Phil mused wonderingly, to which the thing in question seemed to raise its' head proudly.

"Surely you don't mean to keep it?" Stella questioned. "It looks half wild, Anne, and Aunt Jimsie is bringing her own cat and possibly another. We'd be overrun!"

"But look at him!" Anne implored, wasting no time in fetching a saucer of milk and watching the surprise guest lap it greedily.

"We are," Phil replied drolly.

"There are so many strays in Kingsport, we couldn't possibly adopt every one of them we saw," Pris offered with a gentle warning.

"I'm not proposing we adopt every stray cat," Anne seemed to have borrowed the feline's own defiance, "but he has adopted me. He was following me home for goodness knows how long."

"He does looks like a fighter," Stella frowned.

"Or he was just defending himself!" Anne urged.

"It's nothing a box and some chloroform wouldn't fix," Phil offered. *

Anne gave such an aghast look at this idea that it was immediately abandoned, and there were those present mindful that an orphan could have a strange affinity with another orphan, different species aside, and left Anne to stroke and croon and feed and tend to the poor cat's injuries in the first happy weeks of their tenancy at Patty's Place. Indeed, there seemed a rare kindred spirit-ness between Anne and that whom she had named Rusty, and thereafter Rusty was beloved of Anne and in turn loved her and her alone. The other girls he begrudgingly tolerated, but forever viewed Gilbert, obviously trying at every opportunity to usurp his place in Anne's affections, under a black veil of suspicion.

Stella's Aunt Jimsie arrived three weeks later with a smile on her face and a cat under each arm (or more accurately, each cat came express by crate) named Joseph and the Sarah-cat respectively, and her irrepressible good humour and girlish sensibilities were a welcome relief for Anne, used to matrons and martinets overseeing her lodgings. Soon the little household was functioning smoothly, with Stella overseeing the rent, household accounts and their modest weekly budget, Pris and Anne grappling with the majority of the shopping and evening meals, and Phil (in a move sure to shock her mother) volunteering herself for general cleaning and household errands.

Gilbert was on hand at every opportunity, fortunate that on first meeting he had effortlessly charmed Aunt Jimsie, enough to be an exception to the girls' rule of no friends or gentleman callers except on a Friday evening. He soon availed himself of this opportunity as well, smilingly drawing Anne away to a quiet part of the downstairs not inhabited by chaperones or cats, and the pair kissed and laughed and talked together until they lapsed into companionable silence, her head on his shoulder, in a lover-like world of their own until one of the girls was deputised to find them and send him on his reluctant way.

Gilbert was still incredibly busy all the same, still on the student council even though he had farewelled his role as Freshman president, and still captain of the football team, dashing around in feats of bravery and athleticism, always certain of his cheer squad of Anne and Phil and often one or other of the remaining girls to boot. He and Anne masterminded a return to the Patterson Street school, having fixed on this as a termly enterprise, and brought along a dedicated group of volunteers and teddy Sir Lancelot for good measure, gifting him as mascot to the schoolroom, his size and softness making him an immediate hit with the young pupils. Anne regaled the children with a recitation of Tennyson, naturally, in helping to explain his moniker, whilst Gilbert and Pris organised some riotous games outside and new Redmond scholar Moody Spurgeon McPherson took great delight in conversing with the young seminary student who had come across from the church especially to meet them all.

"He was just lovely, Phil!" Anne enthused later, tucked up on the sofa with Rusty in her lap. "I wish you had met him, for he would have changed your mind about the boring nature of theologians!"

"I can attest to this fact on good authority, considering I have so many men of the cloth in my family, and all of them are undisputedly boring," Phil, in rare ill humour, sniffed into her hankerchief, a bad cold having kept her from the afternoon's expedition across town.

"Well, he's hoping to eventually be called to the church up the road, if he can possibly help it, and is being guided by the reverend there. So there's every chance we'll all cross paths again."

"The only thing I want to cross is this floor, and then traverse the stairs, and then dive into bed," Phil countered miserably. "Only I know I will turn into an icicle the moment I leave this fire."

"It is a shockingly cold house, for all its' charm," Stella agreed. "And it's only October!"

The girls all nodded agreement, for it was already becoming necessary to add an extra layer as they moved about the house during the day and there had been a mad scrambling for additional blankets at night. Currently they were all making do with the few thin blankets left behind by their landladies in the linen closet, though they all wondered how they would cope at night with the true onset of winter.

Luckily Anne had thoughts of Gilbert, and of Tom's achievements and new workspace in Avonlea, to warm her, let alone the real physical presence of a defiant ball of rust-hued fluff, whom during the night regularly made a nest on her bed at her feet.

Not for the first time did Anne wait in anticipation to help host an afternoon tea, but this time was tinged with more than a little excitement, and a tiny nagging worry that her layer cake was not quite up to par.

"Anne, stop being nervous!" Phil gave her crooked smile. "Gilbert would eat cardboard if you iced it for him. I'm hopeless in the kitchen, as you well know, but your cake looked very fine to me."

Anne was only slightly reassured, worrying that the vanilla extract smelt a little funny but not really knowing how it might smell in the first place – it could smell of liniment for all I'd know, she grumbled to herself. ** However when Gilbert arrived from his last class, flanked by Moody and Charlie and a few others from the football team, observing the garland strung up and the kitchen table laden with food and gifts and the others girls and Aunt Jimsie surrounding him good wishes… his grin was enough to split his face, and his kiss to Anne in greeting all the assurance she would ever need.

"This is just wonderful, everyone – the best birthday I've ever had! Thank you!"

Gilbert wasted no time in opening his gifts and sharing laughter and anecdotes with all assembled. Anne had agonised over his present, knowing she had missed his 21st birthday last year as it was during the time when she was still smarting from his slight to her and wishing him cut up into little pieces. How much change a year had brought! This year she had spent not innumerable time hand embroidering a man's hankerchief, with his initials in one corner and etched in green, the color he proclaimed to be his favourite, especially on her. She had then used it to wrap a new bar of shaving soap, having so often teased him about his intriguing, bristly dark shadow when he might visit with her till late in the evening. Anne loved to stroke his lean cheeks and splendid chin, a trembling little thrill coursing through her, the sensation of her fingers stoking his skin making his hazel eyes flare with feeling.

Now, in company, he hugged her close to him, admiring his birthday cake with fulsome compliments.

"Even better than Averil's, don't you think?" he whispered teasingly in her ear.

Anne blushed, grey eyes dancing, thinking how freeing it had been to finally share her writing with Gilbert when he had joined her in Summerside. Firstly, a draft of the entry she had sent into the Rollings Reliable competition, and then slowly, carefully, the old exercise books Tom himself had urged her to revisit. Gilbert had been moved beyond measure, unable to contain his emotions to gain a fuller understanding of the girl she had been and the awful challenges she had experienced, refashioned into the heroic escapades of the red haired girl and her lanky blonde companion.

The visitors drifted off in time and so in the end it was just Gilbert, Anne and the girls, stuffed to the brim and lounging contentedly before the fire, Aunt Jimsie in the chair in the corner almost nodding off over her knitting.

"Oh, Gilbert, I meant to mention it – Diana sent along a card for you," Pris yawned. "It's back on the kitchen counter."

"Thank you," he murmured, arm around Anne's slight shoulders, which she was currently using as a cushion, snuggled into him tightly.

"I brought something in earlier for you, too, Anne," Stella admitted just as tiredly. "I didn't bother giving it to you before, as it only looks like advertising or some such. Some baking powder or other."

In their sleepy stupors it took a moment for Anne and Gilbert to properly register this information.

"Baking powder…?" Anne repeated slowly, and then sat up with a jolt, grey eyes wide as orbs, dislodging a very disgruntled Rusty from her lap. "Rollings Reliable?" she turned to Gilbert sharply, and then leapt up and ran out of the room.

"What just happened?" Phil asked, and even Aunt Jimsie had been snapped to attention.

"The competition!" Gilbert too leapt to his feet, looking about the room and attempting to explain quickly. "Anne entered a writing competition a month or so ago. A story for a new baking powder – Rollings Reliable - as part of an advertising campaign for their new product." He took a few steps forward towards the kitchen himself, only to have Anne re-enter the comfortable lounge, having ripped open the envelope and trying to quickly scan the accompanying typed letter. Speechless, eyes staring and mouth agog, she gave the letter to Gilbert.

"Dear Madam," he read aloud. "We have much pleasure in informing you that your charming story 'Averil's Atonement' has won the prize of twenty-five dollars offered in our recent competition. We enclose the check herewith…" ***

He didn't even get to the end of the letter before someone or other gave a whoop of surprise, and within moments Gilbert was crushing Anne to him, as her fellow Patty's Place residents jumped and squealed around her, and Jimsie clapped her hands in delight.

Chapter Notes

The chapter title is from Anne of the Island Ch. 29 'Diana's Wedding'.

*All references and quotes from Anne of the Island Ch 18 'Adjusted Relationships'. Poor, poor Rusty. I know that attitudes to stray animals change over time, but I was not in this or any timeline going to have characters participate in a cat being chloroformed. I won't even remind you what happens to Mr Harrison's dog in the next canon chapter. I just won't.

**Referencing a classic episode in Anne of Green Gables Ch 21 'A New Departure in Flavourings'. I do love to give a little wink to any canon episodes I can, considering in this story AoGG and AoA never existed!

***Anne of the Island Ch 15 'A Dream Turned Upside-Down'.

And some exceedingly overdue correspondence…

Guest #1 of Jan 30th 2023 (Ch 35): Thank you Guest for being happy for Pris and Tom here! And yes Josie doesn't figure very much in this story except as a very unpleasant memory for him!

Guest #2 of Jan 30th 2023 (Ch 35): Dear Guest, it breaks my heart that you gave me such lovely tidings for the new year of 2023 with hopes to see a little more of my writing (as I did hope myself!) and here we are well over a year later and nothing much has advanced on this or most other stories! Big sigh there. Thank you so much for your lovely words of encouragement and support for Tom and Pris. It is a huge thing for me to know that you and other readers have been invested in Tom as a character who started as almost a throwaway line way back in Chapter 2. I really think I have grown as a writer through trying to fashion his story within this one… I hope you are still reading and still keeping faith! Thanks and best wishes x

Guest of Jan 31st 2023 (Ch 35): Dear Guest I loved reading your comments here and your deep dive into the romance of Tom and Pris. I smiled to myself when you reminded all of the 'hot guy she spotted at the dance' and Pris not quite being able to put 2 and 2 together. She says it was the good suit that stumped her so I'll have to take her word for it 😉 I am also so glad that you liked Pris's letter and the ways in which different people and circumstances help to get these two over the line – it certainly takes a village! As for that Summerside interlude, we get hints of it, but to write more would take a little too long, so I hope you instead enjoy all that is coming up for Anne and Gilbert x

Guest of Feb 8th 2023 (Ch 21): Aww dear Guest you have taken such time and care with your comments here and your musings and what ifs, and I really appreciate them! I am so delighted by your investment in Tom – so much so that you would also enjoy seeing an alternative scenario play out. That is really the highest praise! I did flirt for a few minutes with the idea of Anne saying yes to Tom and realising a little ways down the track that she had been wrong or mistaken or simply tried for something that was not wholly there… but I thought that Anne would come out of that badly, from a reader's perspective; Tom would be even more heartbroken; and the relationship that I had been building between Anne and Gilbert would have seemed less authentic. But you are so right, and thank you so much for your beautiful observation, that in echoing the long-ago words he had said in comfort to Anne after the Inspector's attack, Tom was really indeed asking whether he mattered and whether he counted. I really appreciate your thoughtful reading (and re-reading!) x

Guest of Feb 10th 2023 (Ch 23): Hello Guest – I love comments on previous chapters! That four-chapter arc comprising that first visit to Avonlea was a really huge one for Anne and for the story as a whole. Everything had really been leading up to that, and for the narrative to circle back to canon in its way, or at least run alongside it. I am so glad it resonated with you and that you noted Gilbert's huge part in Anne's healing and sense of coming 'home'. I also love your love for Mrs Blythe here! I try to write a slightly different Mrs Blythe in all my stories and yes, Adela Blythe is so far my favourite incarnation! (with maybe Beth Blythe from my other recent story 'All Good Things' a close second!)

Rusty cat: Dear Rusty cat – I feel this chapter was just written especially for you! Thank you so much for your kind words and for your support of all my stories. It thrills me that you have been enjoying them and if you believe I am in any way 'channelling' LMM then that is the highest praise! Thank you also for your note on my bio! This is the first time I have ever received feedback on it and that makes me grin! Hope I can continue to hold your interest in my stories x

Guest of Feb 28th 2023 (Ch 14): Aww dear guest thank you! I am always trying to deliver with kissing scenes! Really delighted this read well for you! Thank you very much for that feedback – I am always so happy when people comment on earlier chapters!

Guest of Aug 1st 2023 (Ch 35): Oh Guest thank you so much and I am SO SO SO sorry that this update has taken so long

Guest of Dec 9th 2023 (Ch 35): Thank you so much dear Guest and I am so sorry the new chapter has been so long in coming! I never intended it to be this long and I am already at work on the next chapter x

Guest of Feb 25th 2024 (Ch 35): Dearest Guest, thank you so much for these lovely words of support I am so thrilled to receive them! I am always delighted and humbled when anyone goes back over this or any other story and it means so much that this is something that 'brightens' your day! Reading your comment brightened mine x I loved writing the Summerside chapters and if I reread any of this myself it is usually that arc! I am so pleased that characters and their motivations seemed to have made sense and I am very pleased you are also enjoying Tom and Pris. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this overdue new chapter x