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The funeral was small. Larger than Marilla and Anne had anticipated, but small nonetheless. Matthew Cuthbert passed peacefully in his sleep, the perfect death for such a gentle soul, Anne thought, and she hadn’t thought of much else.
For once in her seventeen years of life, Anne was silent and had been since Marilla broke the news. It came in the form of a letter while she was at Redmond, and she would never forgive herself for not being with him. She would never forgive herself for the fact that she could not remember the last thing he said to her, no matter how hard she tried. She would always wonder if he knew how much she loved him, and would always regret not telling him goodbye.
“Matthew Cuthbert was a simple man...”
Anne tried to listen to the service, she really did. But it was so boring, so plain. The words used to describe Matthew did not do him justice because he was not just simple, or just quiet. He was infinitely more and now no one would know. No one would know him like she did.
Anne stared at his coffin, which was now placed neatly in the ground. She read the plaque on the front. Matthew Cuthbert, 1832 to 1900. He was far too young to die, and Anne wasn’t ready to let go of the only father she’d ever known. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t have enough time.
Panic rose in her chest and her breath quickened, and as if by some invisible force, Anne began to run. Ignoring Marilla’s protests, Anne ran as hard as she ever had. She ran with no destination, nowhere to go. Her long skirts slowed her down, and she wished she were a child again. A child who didn’t have to cover her ankles, or wear corsets. A child who had Matthew.
Her legs grew tired more quickly than they used to, so she slowed and leaned against a large oak tree, it’s cheery green leaves mocking her. At this moment, she finally let herself cry. Huge, bellowing wails escaped her throat, and even she was surprised at how loud she was being, but she didn’t care who heard. Let them hear. Let them hear how much he meant to her. She kicked and screamed and threw an absolute tantrum, letting out all of her anguish, punching all of her despair into the base of the oak tree.
Anne hit the tree with her fist over and over, ignoring the pain. She was so, so angry, but with whom, she didn’t know. Herself? God? Matthew? When her knuckles began to bleed, she realized what she was doing and stopped, scolding herself for behaving so foolishly.
Anne’s head was pounding in her skull, her fingers were bloodied, and her hair in disarray, the tears still dripping off her chin. She sat with her back against the tree, and her legs spread out like a child. With her eyes closed, she just focused on breathing.
She suddenly heard footsteps approaching her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and see who it was. The stranger grabbed her hand and she winced in pain, meeting Gilbert Blythe’s worried gaze.
“God, Anne, what have you done?” He examined her fingers carefully, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the dirt off of them. She wanted to snatch her hand away and tell him it was none of his concern, but she was too numb to move.
“Well, none of them are broken, thank God,” he said jokingly. She dragged her eyes away from his, the Lake of Shining Waters just ahead of them.
“I-I didn’t run as far as I thought,” she whispered, the first words she had uttered that day.
“I,” she took a deep breath, “I thought I had gone much further. I wanted to be as for from Green Gables as possible.”
Gilbert’s heart broke for her. Anne was the smartest person he knew, and now she was dumb with grief. He had never seen her so utterly broken.
“Do you want to be alone?” He began to draw his hand from hers, but she tightened her grip.
“No,” she croaked. She wouldn’t look at him, afraid of what she might see. Anne didn’t want him to be sad for her, she just wanted things to be normal.
“I need...” she trailed off, turning her head towards him.
“Yes?” He gently wiped a tear from her cheek, and she finally looked him in the eye. Surprisingly, he was smiling. Not out of pity, but out of support. Something as simple as a smile from him comforted her beyond words, and she found the corners of her mouth lifting as well. She couldn’t help it when he looked like that.
“I need a hug,” she said pleadingly, a sob escaping with her confession.
“Oh, Anne,” and without a second thought he brought her head to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her cheek lightly and pressed his lips into her hair. The sound of his heart beating relaxed her, and for just a moment, she felt peace.
After a while, Anne broke their comfortable silence. “Marilla would be positively scandalized if she happened upon us,” she murmured. He chuckled and ran his hand up and down her arm.
She should be a blushing fool, all wrapped up in a boy's arms so intimately. But considering the circumstances, she just wanted to forget all the rules and allow herself to be held, no matter how improper.
Anne took his left hand in hers, running her fingertips down the creases of his palm. She felt his heartbeat quicken against her ear and grinned with the satisfaction of making him nervous.
“Thank you,” Anne whispered. She stood slowly, wiping the grass from her skirt, and offered Gilbert her hand. Gilbert accepted it and rose.
”Come on. Marilla must be worried sick by now,” she joked weakly.
They only released each other’s hands when Green Gables came into view.