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Anne ^of Green Gables
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A Valentine Story

By Jamie

Anne Blythe sat at the desk, one hand propping her chin and the other absently toying with a pencil. It really was silly-- her, the "famous" authoress, at a total loss of words. She should be writing a letter to Miss Cornelia, she knew-- oh, dear Miss Cornelia. Just the thought of the kindly lady made Anne homesick.

Unable to begin, other than the line reading "Dearest Miss Cornelia", Anne gave up, laid aside the pencil and cupped her face with both hands. She let her eyes wander to the window before her, and thus let her imagination carry her far away from the room in the east gable.

Green Gables was her first home, and she would always regard the darling spot such as it was due. But "home" to her it was no longer-- rather the word conjured up thoughts of a little white cottage nestled deep in a fir wood by the sea. Anne saw the sea now, in the distance, but here at Green Gables the shore was different. At her house of dreams, the sea was constantly reminding of its presence, always luring her and in actuality becoming a part of her. When she closed her eyes, she could envision it perfectly. And in her daydream roses would be blooming in the garden, lazy smoke curling from the chimney, and there by the hearth-fire Gilbert-- her Gil-- would be waiting.

Anne sighed, longing to return to the simplicity of those oh-so-few blissful weeks. How she wished life could have stayed that way forever, instead of Providence so cruelly intervening and stealing away the one she loved most in the world. For the peacefulness of Four Winds Harbour was not echoed in the Empire, and a war soon waged that would shatter both their lives.

Tears always welled in Anne's gray eyes at this remembrance, so she had to blink furiously for a moment and determine to think of more pleasant things. That was not hard, but tears also came at the pleasanter thought. Anne closed her eyes tight, once again reliving the moment she fell into Gilbert's arms and felt them tighten around her; the moment she sobbed against him and he wept over her; the moment all the endless doubts and fears vanished and she knew her Gil was really alive.

Anne's hands moved to cover her face. She felt undeserving to ask for one more thing, but her heart prayed anyway. She had her Gil back; now she wanted to know-- no, she had to know if Dominic was alive also. She never realized how much she would miss the sickly war baby; or how much, after all they had been through together, she really loved him. At times it felt like she would give anything just to feel the little body squirming and fussing in her arms once more.

And Gil-- he had always understood her better than anyone. This matter was no different, and when she had told him of her promise to always keep little Dominic safe, he had without hesitation made a promise of his own that they would find him. And Anne had known that he would do everything in his power to keep his word.

But yet, all these months later, it seemed like her dream would never become a reality. After exhausting and fruitless searches, they had been forced to leave the battlefields of France behind and return to Prince Edward Island and Green Gables and the two dear matrons waiting to welcome them home. Anne had tried not to give up hope, but with every lead turning into a dead end hope was a hard thing to hang on to.

This is how Anne sat for a long while-- head in hands with the sunlight spilling over her coppery tresses-- until the front door banged noisily on its hinges and excited voices were heard in the kitchen. She didn't feel much like moving, but curiosity soon got the better of her and she left her desk for the door.

Her hand was on the doorknob, turning, when a peculiar sound stopped her. It was footsteps-- heavy footsteps taking the stairs three at a time. A breath caught in her throat-- it was how Gilbert used to come to her in the old house of dreams days. But it couldn't be him; Gilbert had gone into town, she knew, and even if it could have been him it wouldn't. The war had taken its toll on him as well, and though he was still her beloved and adored husband, he wasn't the exuberant boy in love with life as he was of old. So she stood, rooted to the spot, knowing it wouldn't be Gilbert-- it couldn't be Gilbert-- it was Gilbert.

The door flung open and a handful of papers were tossed on the bed. Gilbert grabbed his wife and waltzed her round and round the room like a crazy schoolboy. When he finally stopped the reckless dance, it was a breathless and speechless Anne he held in his arms.

Gilbert's hazel eyes shone with joy as he met the eyes of his bride. "We've found him, Anne-girl."

Anne-girl. He hadn't called her that since the day he left for the war. But Anne only had a moment to ponder that as her mind tried to accept the rest of his words. "What?" she asked, almost stupidly.

"We've found him, Anne. He's ours."

Anne turned pale. "Dominic?"

Gil nodded, smiling in mouth and eyes as he bent his forehead down to touch Anne's. "His aunt brought him back to New York after the war, so he's safe and sound-- and he's ours."

"Ours?" repeated Anne, still not understanding.

"Sadly enough, the aunt passed away several weeks ago. He needs a home, Anne. Our home."

Anne simply stared in disbelief.

"The papers are over there if you don't believe me," Gilbert teased to her silence.

"Oh, Gil-- I'm trying to believe, really I am. It's just that it's so hard to actually believe again after all the months of-- of--" Anne's voice broke into a sob as she threw her arms around her husband and buried her face in his shoulder.

Without a word Gilbert held her as she cried against him; and if one looked closely one might catch the tear that dripped onto the beloved red head.

After a long releasing cry, Anne gathered what was left of her wits about her and pulled back to face Gilbert-- this time the tears in her eyes sparkling from joy. "Then it's all true? Dominic is our son?"

Gilbert nodded once more.

"Oh Gil--" a laugh bubbled out of Anne, and instantly it felt that all was right with the world. "You're going to be a wonderful father."

"And you'll be the dearest little redheaded mother in all of Canada," Gil returned teasingly, but Anne knew he meant it with all his heart.

"Does Marilla know?"

Gilbert lovingly erased the tears lingering on Anne's cheeks as he spoke. "No, I knew you would want to tell her."

Anne laughed again. "Then let's go do the telling. I'm sure by now two ladies--especially the grayer, plumper one-- are fairly exploding with curiosity."

Gilbert grinned, taking Anne's hand. "Then by all means, let's go."

* * *

The next day Green Gables stirred awake with the dawn, the first rays of sunlight streaming through the windowpanes as the inhabitants eagerly prepared for what the day would bring. Anne awoke into a distracted and nervous state, and Gil was just as distracted by his excitement. Marilla had her job cut out for her trying to force some nourishment into the pair, but nerves-- or excitement-- or both-- won out, and not even Mrs. Rachel could be prevailed upon to entice them to breakfast.

Starkly contrasting with the hubbub of Green Gables was the quiet ride into town. Anne's tongue, for once, was silent; and Gilbert simply chose not to speak. Their automobile rumbled into town just as the train lumbered down the tracks, its smokestacks coughing billows of soot-laden steam and the brakes screeching and squealing for all their worth.

Gilbert parked the automobile and lifted his wife to the ground. Anne clung to his hand as she wordlessly followed him through the departing passengers and into the low building serving as the depot. They found their way to a side room that displayed Stationmaster on the glass door, and a kindly older man opened the door in response to their knock. As he and Gilbert talked over their business, Anne took the opportunity to bring her jumbled thoughts into some sort of order. At last Gilbert scrawled his signature on the paper and the stationmaster pointed them around the corner.

When they both stopped, Anne knew it must have been the same place Matthew had shyly hidden so long ago. When Gilbert smiled understandingly and let her go on her own, she began to realize just how Matthew might have felt.

Anne took a deep breath and stepped around the corner with more confidence than she felt. She only prayed that she wouldn't discover the same mistake, however fortunately made, that Matthew had. It was a frightening moment of looking about before her gaze fell on a small tyke of two years sitting on a bench-- the same one on which she had waited that fateful day. Chubby legs swung with childish fervor, and the cherub-like face was wrinkled into a concerned frown over the upside-down beetle his small hand was trying to right.

"Dominic?" the word escaped from Anne's lips as barely above a whisper. Just as she was preparing to try again, a pair of wide brown eyes met her own.

The moment of hesitation was brief indeed-- if there was such a thing at all. The chubby legs were swung even more furiously as the little body wriggled off the bench, leaving the forgotten beetle to his own unfortunate fate as his would-be rescuer ran across the platform with child-like abandonment.

"Dominic!" Joyous tears were already welling up as Anne bent down, opened her arms wide, and caught the little boy. "Oh, Dominic, my baby!" She held him tight for a long moment, then finally drew back enough to look at him closely.

"My baby," Anne continued to murmur, although it was clear Dominic was no longer a baby any more than he was sickly. The dimpled cheeks were filled out quite rosily, and on the whole his little squirming body was wonderfully well. She kept delighting over him; touching his face, his arms, his hair; then she hugged him close and covered the poor boy with kisses.

Gilbert stood just alongside the wall of the depot, watching the beautiful scene with love and pride shining in his hazel eyes. It was hard to believe that all the months of uncertainty were over, but they were-- Anne was now turning to beckon him-- and when at last he wrapped his wife and new son in a warm embrace it seemed a little easier to believe.

The three stood there for a long moment, relishing in each other and in the family they now formed. Finally Anne stepped back ever so slightly and made the proper introduction.

"Dominic? This is your new daddy." Almost unwilling to let him go so soon, Anne released Dominic into her husband's arms.

Gilbert held him a little awkwardly, but smiled into the curious brown-eyed stare. The gaze held a long time, then Dominic proclaimed the first word from his limited vocabulary, "Papa", and circled his little arms around Gilbert's neck.

Gilbert's arms now tightened, no longer awkward in any way, and from that moment on it never mattered at all that Dominic was another man's son.

Anne saw the whole exchange and stored the precious memory of it deep in her heart. She found herself smiling-- it really was true. They were a family. And it was confirmed once more when Dominic suddenly remembered her presence and disengaged himself from Gilbert to lean into her arms and lisp the dearest sound she had ever heard. "Mama."

As Anne exclaimed over Dominic, a thought struck Gilbert and he suddenly realized he had forgotten completely what day it was. In the whirlwind of excitement, the possibility that the day could be any more special on top of everything had never crossed his mind. "Anne-- do you know what day it is?"

"Hmm?" The new mother was busy playing a quick game of peek-a-boo with her son. "Oh, yes, Wednesday."

"Well, yes, but no, Anne-- it's Valentine's Day."

Anne gasped softly. Her wide gray eyes told Gil she too had forgotten. "It is!" she laughed joyously. "Can you imagine it? This day being even more special."

A new light sparkled in Gil's eyes. "What do you want for Valentine's, Anne?"

"Gil, I've got all I need to make me happy." Her gaze traveled from him to Dominic and back again.

"I know, but I'm serious. Anything you want, Anne-girl, and it's yours."

"Anything?" ventured Anne timidly. "I shouldn't even say it, for it's not really necessary any more as long as I have you and Dominic and we're all family. But, Gil, what I really want-- I want to go home."

"Go home," repeated Gil, and at once Anne realized how foolish and impossible her request was.

"Don't worry, Gil, it's okay--"

Gilbert hadn't stopped smiling since Dominic had pronounced him papa, but now the smile warmed and widened, creasing his cheeks and touching his eyes.

Anne saw this change and, shifting Dominic to her other arm, questioned, "Gil, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing." Gil's eyes twinkled merrily as he took Dominic from Anne and swung him up to perch on his broad shoulder. Dominic squealed, clapping his hands with glee before burying them in Gil's brown curls and hanging on tight. Gil steadied him with one hand and held the other out to his wife.

"C'mon, let's go home."

* * *

When Gil had first announced they were going home, Anne felt sure that he misunderstood and thought she had meant Green Gables. She had known her real request was foolish, and so resolved herself to the mistake quite easily.

But Gilbert had indeed understood, and before Anne could truly realize what was happening they were packed and saying their last goodbyes.

"You young people just get a notion into your head and go flying off at the smallest whim without even giving a fair warning, that's what," clucked Mrs. Rachel disapprovingly.

Anne was kneeling on the floor in the entryway of Green Gables, helping Dominic into the small coat. She was about to make apology when Gilbert came to her rescue and spoke up in their defense.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lynde-- and please don't scold Anne. I'm afraid it's really all my fault. We both got a bit homesick and anxious to return to Four Winds, but it wasn't Anne's notion to pack up and go today."

"Well, I always say--"

"Rachel, leave them alone," interrupted Marilla with measured severity.

Anne stood to her feet, giving Gilbert and Marilla grateful looks before embracing the older woman. "Marilla, thank you so much for understanding everything."

"Of course, dear, I understand perfectly." Marilla held Anne at arm's length and smiled to assure her. "Now, you two-- um, three," she corrected with a wink at grinning Dominic, "better get going before the train leaves without you."

"Yes, ma'am," Gilbert agreed, scooping Dominic into his arms.

"Okay-- well, I guess this is goodbye." Anne looked a little sad as she embraced Mrs. Rachel.

"Goodbye, dears, and may God be with you," was Mrs. Rachel's final heart-felt benediction that seemed to erase her earlier remarks.

"Goodbye, Rachel. And goodbye, dearest Marilla." Anne hugged Marilla again fiercely. "Thank you for everything."

"Yes, thank you both," added Gilbert.

"Now, Gilbert, you take care," reminded Marilla with a firm but loving pat on his arm. Then she touched Dominic's cheek and kissed the top of his unruly curls. "And you, young man, watch out for your mama and papa. And make sure they bring you back to visit your Aunt Marilla before too long," she added with a conspiratorial smile.

Anne gasped softly to herself, marveling at the significance of the word aunt. She could remember the long ago day when . . .

May I call you Aunt Marilla? A young redheaded girl was skipping alongside her adored benefactress, upturned face bright with hope.

No, you may not. I am not your aunt, and could never pretend to be.

Marilla met Anne's wondering gaze and smiled a little sadly. The small allowance just then meant that all the old gruff ways were regretted and somehow, Anne felt, Marilla hoped she might have a second chance. She wouldn't miss it this time.

The others missed the small exchange between Anne and Marilla, and soon Gilbert had Anne's hand and was walking beside her out the door. One last look back, waving over their shoulders, and Green Gables was left behind them. Anne couldn't help but be a little saddened over leaving, as she always was, but a tremor of excitement ran through her.

She looked up, catching Gilbert's eyes. She could tell what he was thinking, and wasn't surprised at all that it echoed her own thoughts.

We're going home.

* * *

It was late that night. Anne stood in the doorway to Dominic's room, her red head leaning against the doorframe as she watched her new son soundly sleeping. A large full moon had slipped up over the gulf, peeking through the curtain and bathing the room in silvery light. Waves lapped rhythmically against the sandbar, echoing the peacefulness of the harbour. The night sounds were very subdued indeed, and yet Anne knew each one with aching familiarity.

The air held no chill, but Anne wrapped her arms around herself as she reflected upon the day. The return to her house of dreams had been bittersweet in more ways than one. So many years had passed, so many moments were lost, so many of those beloved dreams had changed. She couldn't help but be saddened as she crossed over the same stoop she had crossed as a bride-- the stoop that by now should have born the marks of countless friends' comings and goings, but instead was hardly worn. She couldn't help but be remorseful when Gilbert had finally coaxed a fire in the old hearth-- remorseful of all the happy evenings that would have been spent there but now could never be recovered.

She sighed. So much had changed. Even she bore the changes the past couple years had brought. No longer could she be a blissful bride, spending her days dancing along the seashore, or strolling in the garden, or baking in the kitchen just for the sake of baking, or popping in on Miss Cornelia any time she took the notion. Now she was not only a wife, but a mother, and would be expected to be responsible and sensible like all mothers should be.

Anne stood there for a long while, very thoughtfully, until Gilbert came to stand behind her. Tenderly enfolding her in his arms, he joined her in watching their son. Dominic had spent every ounce of energy exploring his new surroundings, and at last his head had touched the pillow only out of pure exhaustion. Now he lay curled on his side, peacefully sleeping, long eyelashes brushing his rosy cheeks, his even breathing filling the room.

"He's beautiful, isn't he, Gil?" asked Anne, very softly.

"Yes, he is," Gilbert agreed, his tone matching his wife's.

"And he's ours. It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm," murmured Gil. There was a moment of silence before he continued, "Today was hard on you, wasn't it? Coming back home, I mean."

Anne smiled into the darkness, so thankful that Gilbert could always look past her smile and see her heart. "Yes, it was. So much has changed, Gil."

"Are you sorry we came back?"

Anne shook her head against him. "No, not sorry. We had to come back. This is our home-- our house o' dreams. It's only that those dreams are different now."

"If I could change things back the way they were, you know I would," said Gilbert with great feeling.

"I know you would too, Gil. But we can never get our old life back. It's time to move on, to build a new foundation. One that's not only for us, but for our son." Anne's tone changed only slightly when she continued with pride, "You're going to be a great father, Gilbert Blythe."

Instead of replying Gilbert turned her to face him. He circled an arm around her waist and began to dance her very slowly, very deliberately.

"Gil-- what are you doing?" whispered Anne.

With one hand Gilbert tipped her chin upwards until those gray eyes met his. In those eyes he read the past three years-- the sorrows and the joys-- that somehow had worked their way into refining his girl into a woman of character and integrity. In her face was the girl that he fallen in love with, and the woman he had learned to love-- both becoming irrepressible in their strength and complementing in their weakness.

"Remember our first Valentine's?" he asked, then laughed-- quietly though, so not to wake Dominic. "No, of course you don't. Avonlea's Valentine Dance-- you were sixteen, I was in love. I asked you to dance, but you pretended you never heard."

"I remember," murmured Anne. "I hated myself for turning away."

Gilbert tightened his arms around his wife. "Happy Valentine's Day, Carrots," he whispered against her cheek. He felt the smile that crossed her face at the old name, once hated but now beloved.

"Happy Valentine's, Gil," Anne whispered back. She rested her head contentedly on his shoulder as they at last made up for the dance that should have been theirs long ago.

Out the window, just over the sea, the moon seemingly smiled down on the little cottage. It was as if it could foresee the many more Valentine's celebrated in that house, still as full of dreams as when it had been an imaginary castle in the air.

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