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we don’t need nothing // except each other // but there’s no reason to say it out loud*
Gilbert found Anne in what he knew was one of her favourite reading spots. She was sitting with her back against a tree, her straw hat thrown carelessly to the side, a book open on her lap, her eyes fixed on the faraway horizon. The only incongruous element was the small anxious furrow etched between her eyebrows.
He had stayed behind in Redmond a week longer than Anne, having had to arrange for an internship which he was to complete the following semester at the local hospital. And, although she would never admit it to anyone, Anne found herself missing Gilbert’s company even in that short space of time.
It was only when he was less than ten meters away from where Anne was seated that the crack of a dry branch he’d stepped on made her notice him.
‘Gil, you’re here!’ she exclaimed, scrambling hurriedly to her feet, the sight of Gilbert somehow making her momentarily forget the cause of her uneasiness as well as the uneasiness itself.
The high midsummer sun was in her eyes and hair as he came up to her, and her radiance positively took his breath away. She closed the distance between them in one joyous leap and threw an arm around his neck in a quick, light hug. The unexpected salutation was over in a matter of seconds, but even so it left Gilbert looking at her with a dazzled smile.
‘Good to see you too, Anne,’ he said, looking deep into her limpid gray eyes. ‘What have I done to deserve such a warm welcome? Not that I’m complaining,’ he added teasingly, following her as she led the way back to the tree under which she had been sitting when she saw him.
‘It’s more about what you haven’t done.’ After the initial onrush of joy at seeing him was over, Anne suddenly felt rather ashamed of having been so effusive. She immediately set out to make up for it by continuing in a dry tone, ‘You haven’t got on my nerves for a week.’
Gilbert quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘But I haven’t seen you for a week.’
‘Exactly.’ Anne sat down, hugging her knees and frowning up at him. ‘Therefore, if you wish to remain in my good graces, I would advise you to try to make your presence felt as little as possible.’
Gilbert dropped down onto the grass by her side, nudging her shoulder with his. ‘Don’t let’s start out by arguing,’ he said in a placatory tone.
Anne tried to give him a scathing look, but somehow his earnest expression made her change her mind, and she simply gazed into his eyes quietly for a moment. Suddenly, she became very conscious of the fact that their shoulders were still touching, and she moved uneasily a little to the side under the pretence of adjusting her skirts.
‘Anyway, why are you out in the middle of the day in such heat?’ asked Gilbert, absent-mindedly picking up the book Anne had thrown aside when she got up to greet him.
Anne sighed, leaning her head back against the bark of the tree, her eyes closed. ‘I wanted to be alone for a bit. I got so annoyed with everyone I felt I just had to seek the refuge of solitude before I kicked up some terrible row or another.’
‘Oh,’ said Gilbert apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, then, for intruding. I just wanted to say hello. I’ll leave you to—’
‘What? No!’ Anne’s eyes snapped open and she clutched at Gilbert’s sleeve impulsively as he made to get up.
‘But you just said you didn’t want anyone else around you,’ he said confusedly.
‘Yes, you idiot,’ Anne let go of his sleeve and gave him a wry smile. ‘As in, I don’t want other people. I didn’t mean you.’
‘Oh. Okay,’ Gilbert replied slowly, settling back down. Somehow, although she hadn’t said anything really special, her words sent a pleasurable thrill through his body that made his heart beat a little faster.
Anne snorted impatiently, her thorns all out at the ready again. Gilbert saw that his best course would be to distract her attention from whatever had just occurred between them. Accordingly, he held up the discarded book, and asked in a tone of impersonal interest,
‘What’s this?’
‘The usual stuff,’ Anne replied with a dismissive shrug. ’A fair heroine meets a dashing hero. She hates him, he’s insufferable, she’s obstinate, he mends his ways, she realises she loves him, he proposes—‘
‘That reminds me!’ Gilbert put in eagerly, sitting up a little and looking at Anne with a broad grin on his face. ‘Isn’t it great to get back home to such big news? Jerry and Diana are actually the first of our schoolmates to get engaged, aren’t they? I suppose you and Diana must already be deep in planning the whole thing out.’
To his bewilderment, Anne’s whole body stiffened perceptibly at his words. For a moment, the mask of irritation slipped from her face, and Gilbert realised that in reality she was seriously, deeply miserable about something. Then her features reassumed the incongruous frown, and she replied in a would-be unconcerned tone,
‘Diana seems to only enjoy one person’s company these days, and, as you can guess, I’m not talking about myself.’
Gilbert’s eyes scanned her face attentively. ‘Anne,’ he asked slowly, a bit unwilling to irritate her further, but resolved to talk the matter out, ‘are you—are you angry because Diana spends more time with Jerry than with you?’
Anne lips became a tight, white line in her now visibly flushed face. ‘Excuse me, Mr. Blythe,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘but, in view of the fact that it’s likely to prove a matter for covert ridicule of my humble person, I refuse to discuss the subject with you.’
Gilbert did his best to repress the smile her heightened register brought to his lips.
‘Whenever you start talking like this, I know it’s something serious,’ he said, and to Anne’s surprise there was a tinge of nostalgia in his tone. ‘It’s the same way you used to talk at me back when you still refused to acknowledge my presence.’
‘You sound as if you missed those days,’ Anne scoffed. ‘If it really suited you so much, I can always go back to ignoring and avoiding you.’
‘Could you really?’
There was a serious note in Gilbert’s voice which startled her into looking at him. He gazed into her eyes with odd intensity. Anne, who had meant to shoot back, ‘Of course I could; when do you want me to begin?’, suddenly realised how fundamentally untrue such a response would be. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no wish to lie to Gilbert; not about how important his friendship was to her.
‘No, Gil,’ she said eventually with a solemnity she could not help. ‘I don’t believe I could.’
Her response brought a triumphant sparkle into his eyes. She half-expected him to tease her about her admission, but all he said was,
‘Good. I’m glad of that.’
Anne herself was rather perplexed. When had Gilbert Blythe’s friendship become so indispensable to her? The thought of losing him actually hurt more than the thought of losing Diana – it hurt, in fact, on a completely different plane. With Diana, it was simple, childish jealously, and Anne knew it. With Gilbert, it was as though not to have him around as often as possible would mean leading a life out of which all colour had been sucked, leaving her in an void of eternal grayness.
Gilbert, who sat watching her in anxious silence, saw that the irritated scowl was gone: now, she merely looked rather tired and very much crestfallen.
‘Anne, about Diana,’ he began uncertainly. ‘It’s not like she’ll stop being friends with you now she’s got engaged to Jerry – or even after she marries him. You know that, right? Surely, you understand that she and Jerry want to enjoy each other’s company without anyone else around. After all, that’s what being in love is about, isn’t it?’
As he said this, he suddenly remembered Anne’s earlier words about wanting to be away from ‘everyone else’ but him.
Anne, who was looking away towards where the distant spires of the Avonlea church showed white in the buzzing June landscape, replied thoughtfully,
‘Of course I know that, Gil. It’s just that... well, I guess I don’t really like the thought of us all growing up and changing and drifting away from one another. And Diana’s engagement brought that fact home to me rather forcibly.’
‘Come on, Anne, don’t be silly,’ chuckled Gilbert. ‘Who’s drifting away? Jerry certainly isn’t drifting away from Diana; the last time I saw them he could barely look away from her long enough not to stumble over his own feet while walking down the stairs. Neither of them is really drifting away from you, since they are going to stay in Avonlea after their marriage. And, as far as I know, the rest of our friends are still without serious matrimonial plans.’
‘But, Gil, that’s exactly the point,’ sighed Anne with some impatience, turning around to face him. ‘They are ‘still’ without matrimonial plans, but they'll be with them soon enough. Ruby, Tillie, Jane, Moody.... you,’ she added, managing to hold his gaze despite the fact that her cheeks burnt as though they were on fire. ‘You’ll all get married and move on eventually,’ she went on quickly, looking away from him with a wistful smile. ‘And I’ll have to attend your weddings and pretend I’m having fun, when in reality it’ll be like attending burials of all the separate little pieces of my childhood, such as it was.’
Gilbert was momentarily speechless. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell her that he was only going to get married the day she did, and that he hoped with all his heart that she wouldn’t be feeling like she’s burying anything when that glorious hour finally arrived? Or that it had never even crossed his mind to consider marriage to anyone else but her possible? That he was incapable of conceiving of a future in which they were not together? All this was true; on the other hand, he could confess none of it to Anne right now unless it was his plan to scare her into refusing to be alone with him for the next ten years.
‘Anne, I think you’re forgetting something,’ he said finally, doing his best to keep his tone detached. ‘You’re talking as though you believed you’re going to be the only one left behind while all the rest of us get married off one by one. And that’s not a plausible scenario.’
Anne looked at him, tilting her head a little to the side. She was trying hard not to let on how miserable she was made by the thought that some fair heroine must eventually come along and make Gilbert fall in love with her like the dashing hero he was.
‘Perhaps not, if I happen to win a lottery,’ she replied with an impish smile. ‘That’s actually quite an idea. I obviously can’t get pretty overnight, but I could, given a little luck, get rich enough to make someone want to marry me for my money.’
‘You aren’t serious, Anne.’ Gilbert’s voice was a bit tense. It was not a question, but a statement of fact, and Anne shrugged.
‘Of course not. All the same, wouldn’t you marry me for my money, provided I had some?’ She didn’t really mean to ask that question, but it slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
Gilbert blinked.
‘I would,’ he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘In a minute. Would you marry me – for my money?’ The second part came a heartbeat too late.
‘In a minute,’ Anne replied breathlessly, for there was something in the way he looked at her that made it impossible for her lungs to work quite right.
She didn’t know when or how, but this nonsensical exchange had had the effect of bringing their faces into startling proximity. Her lips felt unusually dry, and she quite automatically moistened them with the tip of her tongue. Gilbert’s throat bobbed up and down. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Anne’s ear, his knuckles just grazing the flushed skin of her cheek.
The touch of his hand galvanised Anne’s dazed brain into a frenzy of activity. She jumped abruptly to her feet, almost knocking Gilbert over with the suddenness of her movement.
‘I guess it’s lucky then that neither of us is rich, huh?’ she laughed nervously, bending down to retrieve her hat, while, in the periphery of her vision, she saw Gilbert scrambling to his feet.
When Anne had finished the complicated business of dusting off and putting on her hat and turned back around to face him, he was standing quite still, looking at her with an inscrutable expression. ‘Yeah,’ he replied, his voice perfectly colourless. **
‘Because we would probably start quarrelling before we were well out of the church.’ Anne wanted very much to stop talking, but Gilbert’s unblinking stare unnerved her so much that her one wish at the moment was to either make him laugh or get angry with her – anything would be better than this merciless scrutiny.
To her boundless relief, Gilbert did smile – or rather smirk – at that.
‘I don’t quarrel with you, Anne,’ he said, picking up the book she had almost forgotten about in her haste to get ready to go. ‘We bicker. That’s different.’
Anne, careful to keep her fingers from making casual contact with his, grasped the edge of the book Gilbert was holding out to her in an outstretched hand. He didn’t let go of it at once, which made her look up at him quizzically.
‘Because,’ he went on, and Anne was relieved to see his expression had lost its unnerving intensity, and he was his normal, teasing self again, ‘I had mended my ways and stopped being quite so insufferable after a certain obstinate girl had refused to talk to me for a year.’
Anne snatched the book out of his grasp and gave him a slight shove on the chest with it. Then she turned on her heel and marched off in the direction of the road.
Gilbert caught up with her before she had taken three steps. ‘What was that for?’
‘Making fun of my taste in literature.’
‘But at least you’re not quite as far down low in the depths of despair as you were when I found you.’
‘No, you’re right. I was miserable before – now I’m simply annoyed.’
‘Then why, may I ask, are you smiling?’
‘Because with every step I take, I’m closer to home and consequently to getting rid of your company.’
‘You could always just tell me not to walk you home.’
Anne pulled up short and tilted her face up so that her sparkling eyes might meet his. ‘I couldn’t, because you’re actually being useful for once,’ she said with mock solemnity. ‘You’re tall, which makes you a perfect sunshade. And Marilla’s already angry with me for using lemon juice as a remedy against freckles. She thinks it’s wasting it.’
Anne had resumed walking, but this time it was Gilbert who stopped and caught hold of her hand to make her pull up as well.
‘A remedy against what?’ he asked unbelievingly, peering into her face. To his relief, the freckles were still there, in even greater profusion than usually.
Anne rolled her eyes. ‘It’s easy being a boy, isn’t it?’ she scoffed. ‘Lemon juice is supposed to render freckles less visible. When used consistently enough, it may even make them vanish altogether. That’s the effect I’m aiming at.’
‘What? No!’ Gilbert said in a sharper tone than he had meant to use. Anne raised her eyebrows, surprised at his vehemence. ‘I mean, don’t do that. Don’t try to— to make them vanish,’ he continued, stammering a little.
‘And why ever not? Since when are you authorised to tell me what to do or not do with my face, Gilbert Blythe?’ Anne tried to sound indignant, but somehow didn’t quite succeed.
‘I’m not – but I think it’s lovely the way it is. Your face. I mean, your freckles. I like them. They’re – unique. Special.’ Special like you, he wanted to add, but somehow the vulnerability that he saw appear in Anne's face at his frantic utterance made his throat feel very tight. He swallowed hard and gave her a crooked smile.
Somehow, Anne managed to smile back at him, but although she very much wanted to, she could not think of anything to say. Her extensive vocabulary seemed to have suddenly shrunk to three words, 'lovely', 'unique', and 'special'. As she stood gazing up into Gilbert's eyes, she kept hearing his voice using them to describe her, Anne Shirely's, appearance. She felt very much like pinching herself.
‘Come on, let’s get out of this heat before we both get a sunstroke,' said Gilbert eventually, tugging lightly at her hand. He kept it locked in his as they made their way towards Green Gables, enveloped by a silence each felt both unwilling and afraid to break.
When they arrived at the gate, Anne let go of his hand and turned around to face him.
‘Will you come to dinner tomorrow?’ she asked, looking up at him with a smile that was just the least little bit shy. ‘I’m sure Marilla will be happy to see you.’
‘Sure,’ he grinned. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’
Anne nodded, and Gilbert stood with his hands in his pockets, looking on as she entered the courtyard and latched the gate behind herself. When she had taken two or three more steps she turned around once again, one hand clasping the book and the other shading her eyes as she looked towards where he stood.
‘And I promise not to use any more lemon juice,’ she said, and although her tone was bantering, her face was suddenly rather flushed.
‘Good,’ he answered simply, grinning. ‘I’m glad of that.’