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MrsVonTrapp x

Chapter Five

Through the Looking-Glass

Kingsport

September 1895

With all due respect, Phil Blake thought it a travesty that on the seventh day God rested, because Sundays were the busiest day of her week.

There was the manse, ensuring all was freshly scrubbed from top to bottom, in the event a parishioner found themselves at their door for some sin or service that could not wait for regular hours; there were two young boys who had to be scrubbed and presented in their Sunday best before the church populace; there were the Sunday School classes and Jo's main service; and then, invariably, over their midday meal, there were assorted guests, neighbours and occasional family members.

Uncle Gil was a regular and beloved visitor to Patterson Street and more often than not an actual bona fide blessing, occupying the boys through the Sunday afternoon with horseplay and general cavorting, card games, and more lately instructing Gordon Gilbert Blake, aged seven, and his younger brother John Jonas, on the finer points of football. It allowed Jo and her the tiniest respite in a crowded week, or even just a chance to draw breath. His unusual absence today – having earlier in the week regretfully informed he had a mountain of preparation for his first lecture of the year, which had been brought forward in the schedule - was perhaps, Phil had thought pensively, a blessing in itself. For they would have a new and very unexpected visitor in his stead, and Phil was unsure whether Jo would have to call on his divine connections if these two long separated acquaintances happened across one another at this point.

Phil and Anne's reunion – Anne's last, fleeting, almost clandestine visit had been two years ago, on the strength and the success of her book – was a beautiful thing to witness. The boys had rarely seen their merry mother so happy and weepy and overwhelmed, and Papa likewise seemed very pleased to welcome this pale, youthful-looking lady with the ready smile and the quite extraordinary hair. She wasn't as much practical fun as Uncle Gil, but she did tell a ripping story after lunch, and books as presents weren't their preference but at least they weren't children's Bible stories, of which they had an unreasonably large collection.

The adults had all settled themselves with tea and cake when a knock at the door, answered by the boys in a rush of excitement, having already spied their new visitor from the front window coming up the short walk, necessitated Phil coming to see what was generating all the fuss and noise.

"Gilbert!" Phil's mouth dropped open. "We thought we weren't to expect you!"

"Sorry, Phil," Gilbert replied sheepishly. "I got through my lecture notes quicker than I thought, and I figured I might as well see these ruffians for a time," he grinned, indicating John Jonas, not quite five years and known within the family as Johnny, currently clinging on his back begging for a horsey ride, and his brother Gordie, strenuously resisting this attempt, and fully prepared to invoke privileges as godson and namesake if so required.

"Oh, Gil… that's… it's… wonderful, naturally, to see you!" Phil struggled. "Except, I need to tell you that – well – that Anne Shirley is here!" the last part of her greeting was given in a dramatic stage whisper.

Gilbert's entire body stilled, including that lean, still-handsome face, allowing Gordie opportunity to clamber up to join his brother's perch. Gilbert, straightening and shouldering his dual cargo with ease, attempted to recompose his features.

"That's all right, Phil," he replied slowly, with utmost care. "I read that she was back, from information Redmond sent out."

"Yes, that's all well and good," Phil felt she might wring her hands for good measure, "but I meant that Anne is here! Now! Sitting this moment with Jo in our parlour!"

Phil's brown eyes were locked on widening hazel ones, and so she saw immediately when their gaze shifted over her shoulder. Turning, she saw Jo framed in the doorway at the end of the hall, and beside him, the pale, unmistakable form of Anne.

He had not seen her, physically, in the flesh, for eight years.

Eight years was evidently not nearly long enough.

Gilbert wanted her changed, alien, unrecognizable; someone he might pass in the street without a second glance. Or else an image through a photographer's lens, such as in the Redmond booklet; mysterious, unknowable, unattainable. Not here, in this second home that was also haven, looking like she had just popped in on her way to a lecture as in the old days, with the tell-tale flush slowly consuming pale cheeks, and those damnable haunting grey eyes regarding him with both anticipation and, annoyingly, something approaching apprehension.

"Boys! Off Uncle Gil, the pair of you! Let the poor man catch his breath before you both accost him!" Phil now instructed her sons belatedly, almost a shrill call of the protective mother hen, as if she had to safeguard him, her vulnerable chick, from some sort of danger. She ushered her progeny down the hallway, past Jo and Anne and to the door, instructing the pair of them to play for at least ten minutes in the back garden before they dared show themselves for refreshments.

"Gilbert, come in and join us! I'll fetch a tea for you, and you can sit with Anne and Jo in the parlour," Phil's brown eyes pleaded with her husband's amazed ones, figuring there surely wouldn't be a scene in front of a man of the cloth, and deciding to normalize this strange and untimely reunion as much as possible.

Gilbert felt he was moving underwater, and that the buzzing in his ears must be because he had forgotten to breathe.

"Thank you, Phil. Hello Jo. Hello… Anne." He almost choked inadvertently on her name, so rarely had he uttered it he almost couldn't properly form the particular mix of vowels and consonants anymore.

"H-hello, Gilbert."

As they stared at one another helplessly, Jo leapt forward in rescue, shaking his hand with his equally large one, shepherding them both as his flock into the parlour, unruffled and obliging, talking with all the apparent ease of someone who definitely hadn't just seen the ghost of his Christmas past. Gilbert, trying to mask his bewilderment, marshalled his courage and some semblance of thought, finding himself politely if mechanically responding as Jo guided the conversation, and listening as he engaged Anne with innocuous enquiries until such time as Phil returned with his tea and additional cake, entering the conversation with zeal and an overbright smile.

"Isn't this so lovely! Some of the old gang back together again! All that's missing is a few dozen cats!" Phil chirped hopefully, with an edge of desperation.

They all laughed politely, the awkwardness excruciating, and it was a relief to have Gordie and Johnny tumble back inside, their own conversation the only one he felt he was equal to at present.

"And you'll both be teaching at Redmond," Phil beamed.

"Yes…" Gilbert ventured, as Johnny sat himself on the floor with his slice of cake, leaning against Gilbert's legs, and he patted the boy's dark hair absently, from old habit, and then felt he should withdraw his hand as if scalded, seeing the depthless look that crossed Anne's face at his action. "My congratulations, Anne, on your appointment," he offered stiltedly.

"Thank you…" she murmured.

"And, ah…" he searched around, at Phil's encouraging nod, for anything else to add, "your being published, and so successfully."

"Thank you very much," she flushed. "And your own achievements, Gilbert, within the medical faculty and the hospital. They are hugely impressive."

"That's very kind," he smiled tightly, and they both lapsed again into tongue-tied silence.

Oh, this is abject misery, he thought despairingly. If this conversation were a person Jo would be administering the last rites.

As if trapped in a whirlpool, Gilbert sensed their talk swirl around him; Anne's determined enthusiasm and Phil's chirpy laughter and Jo's interested asides, but he felt unable to reach across the water, to breach the divide of years of silence and shattered trust. He couldn't help but see Anne in his mind's eye, the last time he had lain eyes on her. He had been bleary, disorientated, and weak from his fever… so weak, but ever hopeful… he had shared tears and truths with her, as she sat by his bed after having tended him in his own house, and he would have shared – and asked – so much more. For four nights and three days she had stayed, before taking her tearful leave, vowing to return to him. Promising him. And like the fool he had been at every juncture in their relationship he had waited, and he had believed. Having willed him to live she had then left him with nothing to live for.

It was thus rather challenging to make small talk now.

"Will you do some passes with us today, Uncle Gil?" Gordie asked from his perch on the armrest beside Jo, bringing Gilbert back to the present with a jolt, his brown eyes exactly like his mother's lighting in hope that the promised football practice might still eventuate.

"Gordon, not whilst we have company," Jo advised firmly, giving his son a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"I certainly shouldn't keep you from your plans," Anne seized on the moment, jumping from her seat like a jack-in-the-box and talking with a breathless urgency. "You have a first-rate coach there, Gordie. Gilbert was Redmond College captain, as I'm sure you know. And your Mama in her day virtually led the cheer squad!" Her wide accompanying smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and she deliberately avoided his. "I had a wonderful afternoon – thank you all very much. But I'm afraid I must be going. Much to prepare if I'm going to keep up my end of things at the college."

"Anne, it's I who interrupted your visit," Gilbert protested uneasily, his innate politeness coming to the fore, though he didn't realize how he undercut it by his inadvertently stern look.

"Not a bit! Phil darling… Jo dearest… I am delighted to say that I'll be able to see you both again soon," she pressed a kiss to both their cheeks, and they each rose as she farewelled them.

"Thank you for the books, Miss Shirley," Gordie added, after a whispered reminder from his father.

"You are very welcome! It was wonderful to see you and Johnny again, both so grown up!"

Anne was in a sudden flurry to depart, collecting her bag and flinging a parting smile at Phil, and then turning to Gilbert, standing stupidly, the teacup and saucer still in his hand.

"Such a very nice surprise to see you, Gilbert. My very best wishes for another all-conquering year."

She stepped out quickly, Jo almost at a run to keep up in order to see her out, whilst Phil stared after her and then turned to him frustratedly.

"Gilbert!" she urged.

"Yes, Phil?" he sighed, collapsing in his seat, the adrenaline that had shot through him in seeing Anne now dissipating, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

Phil pursed her lips, urging her groaning sons away to finish their cake in the kitchen, before turning back to him, her disappointment clear.

"Are you just going to let her leave?"

"It is what she does best," he replied tiredly.

"Gilbert. Blythe!" Phil looked very much like she might stamp her foot at him, and Jo gave them both a long look as he returned to the parlour.

"Jo, not you, too!" Gilbert grumped.

"I didn't say a thing…" Jo remarked mildly, his look one of exaggerated innocence.

"Well I will say plenty!" Phil stood over him, hands on hips. "Anne Shirley is my longstanding friend just returned from nearly a decade away from us all! How hard do you think it was for her to come to see us today? It's not your fault you came along – you didn't know she had been invited – I thought that it was perfectly fine to have her over after she sent word to me on Friday, knowing you yourself were busy. But it's not her fault she was here when you came, either. She has every right to be here with us, or back in Kingsport, or even at Redmond, Gilbert!"

"When did I say she didn't?" he protested, exasperated.

"With just about every word and gesture this past hour! Or your lack of words, more accurately!"

"And what should I have done?" he rose, agitated now himself.

"Be her friend, too!"

Deflated, Gilbert's shoulders slumped, and he collapsed again into his chair.

Your friendship can't satisfy me, Anne… * he heard his long-ago words sound accusingly in his head.

"Gil…" Phil attempted more calmly, taking a chair herself and putting a hand on his arm, looking to him imploringly. "I know this is not easy. You both have a long and fraught history. Believe me, I know – I was there for quite a chunk of it. But there were obviously reasons – very good reasons – that kept her away for all these years, and… well…" Phil bit her lip, as if wanting to say more, before continuing, "if she never contacted you, that didn't mean she didn't care… She may not have corresponded with you directly, but she has with me, and she was always desirous to know how you were and what new advance in the history of medicine you'd made…" here she gifted him her crooked smile, full of pained understanding.

"Phil, she could have made any of those enquiries directly to me…" he demurred, knowing full well the argument was already lost.

"And you were so busy and important you couldn't pick up a pen?"

"It's a little difficult to write to a phantom with no forwarding address," he frowned at her.

Philippa Blake sighed heartily.

"And were they phantom pains you felt all these years, Gilbert?" she challenged, with the directness he had come to know well.

He rolled his eyes at her melodramatic turn of phrase.

"We are not talking missing limbs here, Mrs Blake."

"Aren't we, Doctor Blythe?"

As the slow flush found him, Jo hastened to intervene.

"And therein concludes today's debate," Jo chuckled, putting an arm around his wife as she rose to stand beside him. "Unless I need to wave a white flag?"

It was Gilbert's turn to sigh deeply, as Phil looked to him hopefully, her jaw stubbornly set.

"Won't you at least go talk to her properly, Gil, and give her a chance to explain her… decisions?"

Gilbert knew Phil had his measure, shaking his head helplessly.

"All right, Mrs Blake," he conceded. "But I do this for you, much more than for her. Will you give my apologies to the boys, then?"

"Of course, honey!" she gave him a relieved peck on his cheek, losing no time in finding his hat.

As the Reverend and Mrs Blake washed and dried the dishes – egalitarian Jo having always insisted on doing this task together – there was an unnatural quiet between them, both lost to their own thoughts. With the boys for once helpfully quiet in their rooms, the only sound was the clutter of cutlery and the gentle chink of china placed on the draining board.

Jo was thoughtful as he looked across to his most beloved wife, unable to fathom the past eight years without her, and wishing, not for the first time, equal personal and domestic happiness for Gilbert, who had been friend, confidante, godparent, honorary uncle, medical marvel and most esteemed colleague in their joint efforts to bring health and education, and not just religion, to the poor of his parish.

"Phil, love…" he began.

She turned to him and gave a careful smile.

"You don't need to say it, Jonas Blake," she sighed.

"All these years, Phil…"

"Yes …" she hedged.

"We thought he knew why Anne really left – well, after a time - and just couldn't bring himself to discuss it..."

Philippa Blake turned back to the sink, paying rather too much attention to ensure she left it dry and gleaming, feeling her husband's meditative eyes upon her and uncomfortable with what they might see.

"You knew Anne hadn't ever told him." It was a gentle sort of accusation; more a sudden, regretful realization.

Phil turned to him again, her brown eyes troubled.

"She begged me not to, Jo! Even after it was safe to do so. I think she wanted to give him a chance to carry on with his life. She wanted to leave him in peace. You know Gilbert – and you know how he would have reacted if he'd been appraised of the whole story! And more to it, Anne knew him as well! She loved him too much to speak, and I've loved him too much – and her - to break her silence."

Jo's gaze was pained. "He has a right to know, Phil," he claimed, voice low, in the closest approximation to stern he would ever accomplish. "Why she left, and how it came about, and why she hasn't been back. He needs to be told. For both their sakes."

"I am sure Anne will feel free enough to tell him now."

"And if she doesn't?"

His wife had no answer for him, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he would pray upon it that evening.

Chapter Notes

Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll is a sequel to Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, published in 1871, where instead of that infamous rabbit hole, Alice goes through a mirror.

Anne of the Island Ch 20 'Gilbert Speaks'. A phrase that has come back to haunt both of them in this story!

And some correspondence…

DrinkThemIn (Ch 4): I am so glad you wanted to! Job done!

Guest of March 6th (Ch 4): Thank you for your responses, here! Awful is absolutely how I envisioned this scenario – just a terrible trap with no easy escape. I am delighted you want to read on and find out how things went!

Guest of March 11th (Ch 1): Hello Guest and thank you for reading and enjoying! I am very sorry that the site was playing up again – it seemed to settle after a time, but it is so frustrating for you and disappointing for me to have chapters readers can't access. I hope you have been able to catch up x

Guest of March 12th (Ch 4): Thank you dear Guest for your words of support – I am delighted you are enjoying this! However, yes, Roy is pretty dastardly here, though as you perfectly point out it doesn't come from a place of natural vindictiveness, but from heartbreak and humiliation – thank you for noting that! As to the length of time till he marries… it will be revealed soon! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!