Chapter Text
The sun was hot and relentless in the sky. As it happened, all Anne could hear was a ringing in her ears. It was only when she saw Marilla’s back turned away on her carriage that her mind processed what was happening. Her lungs seemed to collapse, and Anne couldn’t breathe.
She felt a heavy load drop into her arms, making her stumble. Laundry. The recent series of events went off in her mind as her eyes stung. For the first time in a long time, Anne’s consciousness slowed down to a crawl. She followed Mrs. Blewett into the house. A deep part of Anne’s mind went silent, almost dead. Her body went on autopilot as she entered the house.
Anne’s optimism rivaled even the most dire of situations and only a few hours earlier, as the sun was making its way up, Anne was confident she found her forever home. How she loved her gable room. The bed, the window, her wonderful Snow Queen; it rivaled what she came up with in her imagination. She was so confident she’d find a way to stay. Anne was truly on her best behaviour around Marilla that morning. That’s one disadvantage of being optimistic, Anne thought. When what you’re dreaming doesn’t come true, the fall down to reality is that much harder.
Besides the plates she dropped, she seemed to be doing well. And when Marilla stayed calm as the mishap from the orphanage was explained to her by Mrs. Spencer, Anne felt even better. By the time they left she felt on top of the world. A home. A family. The sun was shining. Truly, nothing could be better in Anne’s world.
But then they passed Mrs. Blewett. When they didn’t immediately leave should have been a signal for Anne. How many times has she been handed over from person to person and place to place? Too many to count. So she should have seen it coming, should have seen the signs. Maybe optimism clouds reality too much.
“Your baby has colic.” Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? Marilla was right, she did talk too much, and all it did was tell the people around her that the Blewett household was where she belonged. And with that Marilla left her. Told her to be on good behaviour. Climbed on her carriage like she wasn’t breaking Anne’s heart. Road off to Green Gables, taking Anne’s dream with her.
The inside of the house was eerily similar to that of the Hammand’s, and it made Anne’s skin crawl. It was bigger, that was true, but the space was laddened with children. She couldn’t count them all, but Anne knew that she would get to know them well. There were piles of laundry everywhere, three foul smelling pots on the stove simmering, infants crying. The windows were small and dirty, so the entire space was dark. The space was chaotic and messy, the opposite of Green Gables in shape and spirit. Again, Anne found it hard to breathe.
She felt nervous, but tried to be positive. She didn’t want to let on how anxious she was feeling. “You have a really nice home, Mrs. Blewett. It might not seem like it, but really there’s a lot of space and I think it has so much room for imagination. See here, this couch cushion? Its brown colour reminds me of trees in the Nova Scotia Orphanage, they were really old, sturdy trees. In the summer months I would climb them and try to sneak a book up with me, but it almost never worked. But once it did, and I was reading poetry! It was about a bird that flew far away from his nest and couldn’t find its way home, isn’t that tragic? If I were that bird I would absolutely die. Imagine having a home and then losing it!”
“That is quite enough young lady, stop your jabbering!”
Anne’s mouth clamped shut. Suddenly her situation smacked her across the face. She was in service all over again. Adoption or no, Anne knew what she was there for. Overwhelmed, she turned to Mrs. Blewett. There’s no sense in thinking about what's lost. Now, wouldn’t Marilla approve of her practicality. Certainly this place lacks magic, but that is what imagination was for.
“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Blewitt. I’m Anne Shirley, Anne with an e, if you don’t mind, I’m quite particular about that, because the e just makes it so much more romantic than plain old Ann without the e, and I was wondering --”
“Well you stop right there. Look at this house, girl, it’s loud enough as it is. You’re here for a reason, mind you, and it is not to add to the noise. Do your jobs properly and we won’t have any problems, you hear?” Anne nodded silently, slamming her mouth shut. Her hands were shaking as she gripped her elbows, trying to comfort herself.
“You look over Jacob, the colic baby, and do the laundry while you’re at it. Come find me when you’re done and you can start on dinner. And don’t let me see you slacking on your first day and -- hey! Get rid of that glum look on your face. Do the work I tell you without any fuss or there’ll be consequences. You’ll have to earn your keep.”
Of this Anne had no doubt, so she made her way out the door and down the steps to the laundry line. With the baby pouched on her hip and a frayed clothes in the other. She got to work.
Less than an hour later, with all the clothes on drying and the baby left in his basket, Anne headed to the gate of the house to get her bag. Really, the only things in there were her sleeping things, and they fit her even worse than her day dress, but Anne was still attached to the barely functioning bag that held all of her worldly possessions. In the Hammond's house, Anne slept in a new location every few days, mainly in the sitting area of the house. It led to terrible encounters with a drunken Mr. Hammond, and the clear way to the door meant he easily dragged her outside for a whipping when he saw fit. Here, Anne hoped she would get her own corner of a room. Nothing could ever beat her gable room with the Cuthberts, but Anne was learning to temper her expectations.
She carried her bag in one hand and the baby in the other, heading inside.
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Anne didn’t get much at dinner, but she didn’t expect to. She fell back into the routine of service quickly. The change of events gave her a mental whiplash, yes, but the shock was wearing off. The first evening with the Blewetts was almost exactly like with the other families she served, and so Anne knew how to make it bearable.
Really, she thought, she’s not starting from scratch. She knows to leave a bit of stew at the bottom of the pan, so she can eat it while she cleans after dinner. She knows how to hide bits of bread in the folds of her dress. She knows where to tuck her bag to get out of the children’s way, and she knows how to reply to Mrs. Blewett. So really, that must mean that this is where she belongs!
She was going to spend the rest of her life taking care of these children and cleaning this house, she was going to spend the rest of her life avoiding Mrs. Blewett's strap and Mr. Blewett's belt, she was never going to meet a bosom friend or fall in love or get a castle in Spain, and that was fine! What had Marilla said? That she must pray to thank God of her blessings? Well this must be the blessings she meant. Certainly, her situation could get a lot worse. Maybe this was the depths of despair to her, but couldn’t she climb out of it? Mrs. Blewett has one set of twins instead of three. A blessing indeed!
Settling down on the couch of the sitting room, staring out the window and to the main road outside, Anne’s imagination took her down the street, past the cliffside, by the Lake of Shining Waters, and into Green Gables. And finally, she fell asleep.