Chapter Text
Introduction
Bash had thought it strange that the first thing Blythe had wanted to do when they arrived in the early morning to Avonlea, was to go to school. "Relax a little! You just came from around the globe, have a nap first," he had told him. Blythe had shrugged, smiling with that absent-minded smile of his as he saw the snow outside. It was freezing. Quite literally.
"Just make yourself at home," he told him, patting him on the shoulder and leaving him in his new room. His room. His very own, for the first time. And then Blythe was gone, leaving him in that frozen house in the middle of the still winter air.
He spent the day taking drapes off the furniture, uncovering one by one the pieces of his friend's childhood and learning a bit more about him with each one. He made a fire on the stove and cooked some stew, leaving it ready for when he arrived. He tried to warm himself and failed, and ended wrapping himself in a quilt he found in his room. How did these people manage to live, let alone work outside in this weather? he asked himself as he settled with a book from the Blythe library.
"This is good, man," said his friend as he ate the stew with a good chunk of bread. They were finally having dinner and he felt more settled in, ready for this new life. It was going to be good. It was going to be warm. He was going to be happy. He chuckled. It helped that he now had a real sweater and the house was slightly warmer than in the morning.
"Of course it's good. It has my mommas spices" he answered. The kept eating in silence for a moment.
"She has short hair, now."
Bash looked at him as understanding dawned on him. Then he gave a big, hearty laugh. Not making fun of him, but happy for him. Of course, Blythe had wanted to go to school first thing in the morning of his first day in Avonlea after god knows how many months.
"Pretty?" he asked, teasing him the same he had done since he received his first letter, back in Trinidad.
"It's... it's not like that" Blythe answered at the end, the ears a bit red, his half-smile on. Bash laughed again. He knew. And his friend knew he knew. Time was the only thing the boy needed.
Winter
After a couple of weeks, Bash already felt more adjusted, to Gilbert's great relief. He wanted him to be able to live life fully with him in Avonlea. He wanted Bash to work for his own future, to grow, to be able to achieve his dreams. And maybe, while he did all that, to be beside him as he figured life. He had come to consider him his brother. Someone would think he did it lightly, now that he had no one in the world, but that was wrong. He was actually very selective as to who he held close to his heart.
Like most nights, they were seating in front of the fireplace. It was the warmest place of the house, after all. Bash was reading some books from his father's library on crop rotation, and he was trying to write an essay that was due next week, after the holidays. But he just couldn't concentrate, not after all the excitement from the Panto last night. He had tried working in the barn in the frozen weather to see if that way he was able to think of something else, to no avail. Now, he was bone-tired, every single muscle achy because of the cold and the physical effort, and still he could not take his mind off the memory of Anne stepping into a part he knew she hadn't prepared for. And doing it all the more perfectly.
She had been incredible, that she had. Full of life. Full of dramatism. Every bit of her into the character. From the other side of the stage, Bash had caught his sight on more than one occasion, smiling with his knowing smile. Gilbert had had the first-row view of the whole thing and had enjoyed it immensely.
It wasn't that he didn't know how he felt, how much he cared for her. He knew that already. She was closer to his heart than Bash even was. He knew she was it for him. God, he had even discussed it at length with his father on his last days. He had only written to her that he might not come back because he was really trying to be far from her, to give her space. Measuring the words, keeping space, containing the sentences so the letter was short and friendly, and… short. He couldn't speak his heart yet.
He still tried to give her space and would keep trying unless he saw there was something in her that told him she at least could see him for who he was now. Maybe the dictionary had been a good idea. It was an innocent gift. She had looked so surprised, almost a blush in her cheeks. He wanted her to beat him fair and square. Not just in the classroom, but in life. That much was true. But she was still shy of fifteen and he had vowed to his father he would not make any move unless she was already sixteen. Already of age. He repented up until his last days on going after Marilla too soon and ruining it.
He still remembered his words. It was late afternoon, and he was able to sit and hold a conversation more than the previous days. He was treasuring the moment, doing his best to remember everything, trying to learn as much as he could from this man that was just slipping away from him. Too soon. He had been telling him about Anne, because he asked, telling him how he knew she was his girl. It was incredible how an impending death stripped you of embarrassment and self-consciousness. He listened carefully. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, he finally spoke.
You might think a teenage romance is what you want, son. Because you're a teenager now and you just want instant gratification. But if your heart is anything like mine, you already have the answers for your life. Don't ruin it by going too fast. Cultivate the next few years so that when your reap, you both are grown, mature and steady. So you go into this adventure with full conscience. Wait until she's sixteen, at least, give her space to grow and become her own and not an appendix to you.
So he was giving her space, even when he knew Anne was never going to be an appendix for anyone and hadn't intended to come back for a few years at least.
But in the end, Bash had convinced him: working in the depths of a ship made no sense at all for a scholar like him, and he could use working somewhere else. The family farm wouldn't go to waste. He could go study medicine in a few years when they saved enough and they knew how to take care properly of the farm. And he would get to see Anne again. His Anne with an E. Anne who had found herself in some sort of problem that had made her cut her braids (he really wanted to know the full story), and who managed to look as radiant as always with hair shorter than his. Even when she looked at him like he was a ghost, as she had done on the first day he came back to school. Never expecting him.
"Blythe, are you done writing your love letter?" Bash's voice out of nowhere brought him back to the present as nothing else could. "You've already made a mess of your paper and everything" Gilbert saw that, in effect, the ink had stained the lone paragraph he had written so far and he could no longer make out the words. What was the subject? "Well, I'm going to bed. You just do the same and have sweet dreams".
"You have sweet dreams," he answered jokingly.
Winter days started blending with the weeks. He helped Bash in the morning before leaving for his classes and together they tried to make sense of everything that surrounded them. Gilbert remembered some of what he had learnt from his father before he fell ill. He might have been three, four, five years younger than he was now, but he had managed to pick the basics. Or so he thought. And then his father had many (many) books on apples, orchards and other fruit-bearing trees. Bash managed the cold better once he started wearing some wool underpants that still caused Gilbert to make fun of him when he remembered. He managed to cramp some of his studies by night when Bash's chatter allowed him. He had loads to catch up to, but it wasn't his first time doing it: it had been the same after coming back from Alberta, and now he wasn't taking care of the farm and his dying father. Mr. Phillips might not help him, but he would manage.
He started measuring time by the growth of Anne's hair. It was as long as his when she went somewhere for a weekend with Diana and the shy guy, Cole, and returned as if from a life-changing experience. He had half-debated with himself going for a call at her house, just to see how she was doing but hadn't been so brave. Bash had made fun of him when he returned one day after walking almost to the edge of her property.
Then her hair was just shin-length, all nice and straight, but not long enough so she could do anything with it. It looked lovely when it moved as she walked. It was around that time that he had met with miss Cuthbert on the way to Charlottetown with Bash. She had truly been a blessing when she helped them get on the train. People were just so conceited and closed-minded!
When she took out the little package from Anne, flower and all, he noticed one more time the care she put into everything. Of course, she would pack something for Miss Cuthbert to take and remember her. They exchanged a couple of words on the redhead. He tried to praise her a much as he could without being improper and then looked at the landscape with the fear of having said a little too much. Bash would absolutely tease him for this. The senior woman had a knowing look on her face. But if he was honest, was there truly any harm in Miss Cuthbert knowing about his intentions? He pondered that for a few minutes as he chewed on the little raspberry tart that Anne had sent. It was delicious.
They made more small talk on the train, regarding their errands and how the farm was working out. Miss Cuthbert offered for them to come for lunch the next Sunday, sure that Mr. Cuthbert would be able to give them some good pointers and help in any way he could. They agreed immediately, utterly grateful for the proposition. Some guidance as to how to run the farm was a gift for him and Bash, who really felt a bit lost despite having been able to find a rhythm. He only needed Bash to feel better for that day, and he knew they were on the right track for this. Doctor Ward was extraordinary and he didn't hold any grudge against him. After all, there were no treatments for cancer. One thing more to study for.
And then they met Mary. They shared a room at her place. Gilbert wouldn't hear anything about having the bed: Bash was sick so he was to be more comfortable. It had been weeks since they had shared a room, and still, it felt like the most normal thing in the world, like they had always done it. He had so much in his mind at this moment he didn't even know if he was going to be able to sleep at all.
"I don't shy away from the truth like some fellows I know," said Bash, after he teased him about how he answered Mary when she had gone to give him the receipt for the night. He didn't even acknowledge his comment with anything more than a non-undistinguishable grump. He didn't shy away, he knew how he felt. It just was too soon.
"I don't think I'll sleep much," he finally said. "Too much has happened today". Between the lingering taste of the raspberry tart and the discussion of the apprenticeship with Dr. Ward, he was set for a sleepless night. Like so many others.
"I know exactly what you mean," answered Bash. Neither moved to turn off the light. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, each lost in his thoughts. "I feel at home," Bash added, in a very low voice. Almost as if he was talking to himself.
"Here in Canada? Or here at Mary's?"
"Here. Don't get me wrong. Your place is the nicest place I've ever stayed at, but Mary… She's everything I looked for. I could just feel it when I entered the laundry. All determined, strong-minded, no-nonsense, but kind. And beautiful."
Gilbert stayed in silence for a moment. He really wished Bash would feel at home at the farm. It was his family's place and he was his family now. But he could not keep him away from Mary if anything came to be. Just as much as he wouldn't want anyone to be in between him and Anne when the time came. He wondered for a few minutes before answering him.
"You know… The house is big enough for a couple more of us," he said, as quietly as they had been speaking for the last minutes. Bash made one of the little happy noises only him knew how to do.
"You serious, Blythe? You can't take that back"
"Dead serious, but only if you're serious about this. Don't make choices without thinking. And make an honest woman out of her," he said. How he wished he could one day have Anne at the farm as well. Him, family doctor of Avonlea, researching in his home lab. Anne teaching or writing or doing whatever she wanted. Bash caring for the farm.
"As I told you, I don't shy away from the truth," answered Bash, looking at the raw wood ceiling. Then he stayed silent for a moment. "You're not shying away, aren't you?" As if he was connecting some mental dots. Gilbert closed his eyes. There was actually no way of denying this.
"I'm not. I'm just waiting," he said, after what felt like ages.
"Waiting for for…?" Bash asked, a moment later, when it was evident Gilbert wasn't adding anything else.
"For her to come of age."
"But you do care for her, then? All that talk of "this is not like this", "she's just a classmate"... You tricky tricky man, Blythe"
"I am really trying on concentrating on my studies and getting the farm running with you, so I just try and ignore all of this as much as I can for now."
"It's not like she goes after you," Bash bantered and Gilbert just furrowed.
"Believe, I do know that." He was acutely aware, actually, and it was almost painful at times the way she just ignored him. So contrary to Ruby. "I'm just waiting. When she's of age, I will try to talk more to her. I have no idea how I will manage without her breaking another slate on my head, but at least I will try."
"And in the boat? There was no point denying it then."
"I just really wanted to get away from everything. I didn't want to come back at first, remember?" he honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to have this conversation with Bash at that moment. But apparently, sidetracking the conversation was not going to work this time. He opened his eyes and saw that Bash was on his side, looking at him intently. He sat again against the nightstand. This night was certainly going to be very long.
"Well, here we are. Just don't keep staring at her like a fool and we should be alright," said Bash when they arrived at Green Gables next Sunday.
"I go to school with her. Every day. And I don't stare" Gilbert answered, taking the lead as if to demonstrate something. They had even brought some paper, eager as they were to learn from Mr. Cuthbert, who opened the door. They greeted him and he invited them to come in. Marilla was just finishing cooking, Anne by her side, humming something. She had two very little ponytails that day, half the hair already out of them.
"Hello, Anne, Miss Cuthbert" Bash greeted the ladies.
"Thank you for having us," said Gilbert, to all of them. He was just so thankful for Mr. Cuthbert's knowledge, Miss Cuthbert cooking and being able to see Anne without the other girls pressuring her. He never understood their dynamics, but Anne was always nicer away from school. Like on Christmas, when they had blown out the candles.
"It's with pleasure, don't worry, come along, now," said Mr. Cuthbert, directing them to the set table.
"Hi, Bash, Gilbert," said Anne with a radiant smile. She had flour on her cheek. Marilla smiled at them.
"Matthew, don't you want to go to the parlour? We'll still be a moment before we serve lunch and you can get started on the boys' questions. I'm sure they'll have plenty. Please, Gilbert, Bash, call me Marilla. Your father was a dear friend and you can count on us as your family" Anne looked at Marilla, wide-eyed. Bash, all charisma as usual, gratefully accepted. Gilbert blushed a little and chuckled at Anne's reaction. Family indeed.
"Thank you, Marilla," he said, before following the other two to the parlour.
The afternoon went very, very quickly. Matthew poured his knowledge in succinct sentences. He took them to the barn and showed them the use of some of the tools that neither Bash nor Gilbert had been able to decipher. He showed them everything. Told them stories. As shy as he was, he was kind like no other. Anne spent the afternoon reading on the couch and then catching up with some homework. Gilbert looked at her from time to time. When they finally were finished with al the farm business, and Matthew insisted they come again for anything they needed, Marilla invited them for tea.
"Anne's learning to bake so we have a surplus of biscuits"- he looked pointedly at her and she just returned the look, terrorized. As if learning how to bake was something shameful.
"I'm sure everything is delicious," Gilbert said, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes. What was it with her, really? They seated around the table, conversation diverging from farm care and more into their travels.
"Oh, we made a stew with the curry you gave us," Anne told Bash. "It was the most divine meal, so fragrant. Wasn't it, Matthew?"
"It was tasty alright," he answered.
"I'm glad you liked it. One day I'll teach you how to make crab callaloo," Anne's eyes were full of expression and wonder as always, asking about the dish. Gilbert concentrated on his pie slice and listened to the conversation, enjoying the moment with all his might. He yearned for moments like this one and tried to soak every second in.
All too soon it was Prissy Andrews' wedding with horrid Mr. Phillips- a relationship he hadn't been able to understand. Her hair was just above her shoulders then. The venue was lovely, the little church on the hill where his father's service had been, and it was full of flowers. How much they must have cost at this point in the winter, he could not even imagine.
He was watching Anne, who was across the aisle with Marilla and Matthew. She looked lovely on that dress, the same she wore on Christmas and the one she wore very often for church. It honestly did contrast very nicely with her eyes and her hair. Oh, how he wished time would speed just a little bit. How he wished she would talk to him like she did with everyone else. And that she would consider having her wedding here, in this same church, with him. In a few years, yes. But in the future.
And then she had looked to him and smiled. He was pretty sure it was just because she was so enthralled with the whole romance of the atmosphere, but it was still nice. He had had more smiles from her in this past couple of months than in all the time before he went away. They had called on a t-r-u-c-e, so maybe it was that? But then she had looked away, smile erased from her face, sight firmly in an abstract point. It was just so frustrating sometimes.
The rest of the wedding had not been like anyone could have ever imagined, but that was something else. When he went home to tell Bash about all the misfortune, he was seating near the stove, doing some numbers.
"So, how was she?"
"Oh, she looked lovely in her wedding gown. A bit pompous, but you've seen how the Andrews are. I just can't believe that she went running off. The rest of the girls went just after her."
"I meant Anne," Bash had said. Gilbert stayed silent, remembering her smile just before all the celebration of the day had gone askew. And then remembered seeing her, a few hundred meters away, playing in the snow with Prissy, Diana and Ruby. Careless. Free. Expressing herself just how she was. If he had thought of her before the ceremony as lovely, then he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. "Blythe? Still here?"
"She looked good, she was just in the same dress she wore for Christmas. Remember the blue one?" he asked. "But hey, you know it's not like that with her."
"I know you're waiting, but you don't have to tell me any more lies," said Bash, giving him a knowing look.
"Well, ready to do some work outside? Weather's nice today, there's hardly any wind. As I'm not in the wedding party, I thought we could just get ahead of our work so we don't have a hard day tomorrow?" He knew he was changing the subject, but for all, he loved Bash he didn't want to go into this subject again. It had been hard enough last time, at Mary's place.