Chapter Text
To say that Mary loved cooking was an understatement.
She wasn’t sure if her passion for the culinary arts came from having to raise a fussy boy with an appetite fit for a king on her own for eighteen years, or if it came from hosting the huge gatherings of friends in the Bog, where the food was limited but the love and unity was boundless.
Either way messing around with different ingredients smuggled in from Charlottetown and experimenting various recipes on Elijah, Constance and Jocelyn had become a comfort to her, when work became too much or memories from her past threatened to consume her.
Moving into Bash and Gilbert’s home had been a drastic change. Now she was able to peruse through the aisles of ingredients for as long as she wanted and pick whatever she liked, despite the constant withering stares from the shopkeeper and townspeople that, after 33 years, she had long ago become accustomed to.
Since Gilbert was a hopeless cook and Bash, although helpful in giving little tips that he had picked up from his mother when he was younger, was also pretty much clueless, Mary was all too eager to spend her time in the kitchen by herself blending together items that gave their happy home a constant aroma of warmth and flavour.
However she missed cooking for masses of people and hearing their quiet hums of pleasure as they bit into whatever snacks and meals she had made from the few ingredients she had. So when a certain redhead had mentioned to her that Marilla hadn’t the time to teach her to cook now that harvest time was steadfastly approaching, Mary immediately offered her expertise.
“Oh Mary, could you really?”, Anne asked, her eyes shining with excitement.
“It would be my pleasure Anne. Our Doctor Blythe has forbidden me from helping with the harvest since it won’t be long now until this little one greets us,” she fondly patted her swollen stomach, “I have too much time on my hands and it would be a welcome distraction from the fact that this baby insists on making my body their personal playhouse.”
“This is truly a thrilling prospect! I have so much to learn and you are by far the most spectacular cook I have ever met, although don’t tell Marilla I said so.” Anne gushed, “When can we start?”
“How about every Sunday at around 2? That’ll give you enough time to help at Green Gables as well.”
“Perfect! I already can imagine all the wonderful things we will create! Do you think we can use spices? We used up the bottle Bash gave us for Christmas last year, and everything that I taste now does seem so dreadfully boring.”
“I’m sure we can manage that.” Mary replied with a smile.
“Wonderful! I really must go now, Marilla will be waiting, but I’ll see you next week.”
She kissed Mary on the cheek and blew a kiss to her stomach, before bounding out the door with so much energy that Mary’s aching limbs moaned in protest at just the sight of it.
Bash and Gilbert entered a few moments later, their faces covered in sweat from the exertion of carrying the heavy logs that were stacked on their shoulders. They didn’t seem to care however and were bickering mindlessly with one another.
After placing the wood down near the stove, they collapsed into the dining chairs, panting and resting their feet on the chairs next to them.
“Was that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert I just saw walking out of here?” Bash asked, not-so-subtly sending a teasing smirk towards Gilbert, who was firmly pretending to tie the already done up laces on his boots.
“Yes, it was. She came over to bring some of Marilla’s plum puffs.”
This snapped Bash’s attention fully back to Mary. “YES! Where are they?”
“No way, not until after supper. You’ll spoil your appetite otherwise, and this soup is looking rather good, if I do say so myself, although that could just be the cravings talking. Speaking of which, I’m planning to start giving Anne cooking lessons.”
Now it was Gilbert’s turn for his attention to be caught. His head was drawn up so comically fast that Mary had to resist the urge to laugh.
“Here?” he asked.
“Yes Gilbert. Here .” Mary smiled knowingly. “Every Sunday.”
Gilbert seemed to be deep in thought, so Mary turned away, only to catch sight of Bash attempting to sneak his hand into the basket of goods that Anne had brought over. She slapped it away with her wooden spoon.
“Ow!”
“ After .”
He pouted and rubbed at his hand mournfully, looking more like a five year old who had been denied his favourite toy, rather than a grown adult.
“How come you never taught me how to cook?”
“May I remind you that I tried to teach you when I first moved in and it never worked out.”
“Oh right. We always ended up getting too distracted.”
Gilbert eyebrows shot up and he pushed himself away from the dining table.
“And that is my cue to leave. I’m going to go freshen up.”
“You’ll need to do more than “freshen up” if you wanna get that smell off of you Blythe. Almost reminds me of latrine duty back on the ship.”
“You’re one to talk, Sebastian.”
Mary simply shook her head and turned back to the stove as the bickering started up again. The sound of laughter behind her however, caused her to smile and she glanced down at the bump under her apron and thanked every star in the sky for the life that she had.
Mary found herself enjoying cooking with Anne more than she had expected. She adored the redhead, of course but something about giggling like schoolgirls over a pot full of broth that they had made only worked to strengthen the bond between them.
However, this wasn’t the only reason that Mary enjoyed these sessions so much. It was Gilbert’s constant hovering around the kitchen after Anne arrived that provided an endless source of entertainment for her.
If Bash had been around, without a doubt he would have mercilessly teased Gilbert for his obvious reluctance to do anything but stand awkwardly in the hallway that lead to the kitchen, ducking behind the banister of the stairs whenever a head of fiery hair appeared in the doorway.
But he was out working in the fields, and Gilbert, who was supposed to be studying, must have felt more at ease to do...well whatever it was that he was doing.
It started off inconspicuously enough. Gilbert “casually” walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and admittedly spent a bit more time than it should have taken to drink it at the water pump. But then he walked back out without saying more to Anne than “Hello.”
Fifteen minutes later, he walked back in claiming he had forgotten his textbooks on the dining table. This sparked a small conversation about the recent discovery of polonium, which Mary honestly had found rather dull, but both Anne and Gilbert had seemed to be wholeheartedly interested in the topic.
Then he had forgotten his pencils. Then his ruler, which Mary pointed out he didn’t require for Biology but he insisted he needed anyway.
The fifth time, Mary was talking Anne through the order in which the different herbs were to be added, when Gilbert came back in saying that he couldn’t concentrate properly and was going to make a cup of tea to help.
“At 3 o’clock in the afternoon?” Mary raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t sure if he was meticulously planning these scheduled interruptions or if he just had a gravitational pull to Anne that couldn’t be ignored, even for something as fascinating as medical textbooks.
Either way, she was greatly amused by his antics and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little.
“Um, yeah, they say that tea helps you focus and improve your alertness”, Gilbert said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
“Ah, I see. Although you don’t usually have a problem with focusing, Gilbert. In fact most of the time when your nose is buried in a book it takes anything and everything to get you out of it.”
“Oh, I’m not a distraction am I?” Anne asked, turning to face him.
“What?” A faint pink tint came over the curly haired boy’s cheeks. Dear Lord, Gilbert Blythe was blushing . Oh just wait until Mary tells Bash about this.
“My cooking lesson. Is it a distraction?” Anne continued, unaware of the insinuations of her previous question, “While I do believe myself to be a good student and a quick learner, I am so awfully clumsy and I’ve dropped too many pots and pans to count in this past hour.”
“Oh,” Gilbert’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief, “No, not at all. Um. I’m not sure why I can’t concentrate. I-uh-maybe, it’s just too hot.”
“And your solution to this was to make yourself a cup a tea?” By now Mary was smiling, unable to conceal her mirth at Gilbert’s excuses, which he finally seemed to notice.
“Right. Um, yes I guess that won’t help much. I’ll just be off-uh-um-STUDY.”
He all but fled from the kitchen, and the rhythmic creaking of the ceiling above them informed Mary that he had given up for the day on his endeavours to talk to Anne.
Mary almost felt bad for being the cause of the this, but it was overpowered by her amusement and the thought of the look on Bash’s face when she told him of what had happened.
“It isn’t too warm today is it? I actually thought it was rather chilly for August.” Anne mused turning back to the pot.
“Hmmm? Yes I suppose so.” Mary replied, shaking her head slightly at the obliviousness of the girl standing next to her.
Ah well, there would be plenty of chances for Gilbert to interrupt them, and plenty of chances for Anne to realise that it wasn’t because of the borderline pathetic excuses that Gilbert was coming up with.
Mary smiled. Sundays had just become a great deal more interesting.