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On what was said to be the hottest day of the summer, Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe sat quietly in the shade of Green Gables’ back porch, sipping on the lemonade Marilla had insisted upon them only moments ago.
“I won’t have the two of you dying of heatstroke on my watch,” she had said, one sharp eyebrow lifted high on her stern face. Gilbert accepted the drink and thanked Marilla most genuinely, making Anne wrinkle her nose. Gilbert could steal their cow and Marilla would still go on about how he’s “the most respectful boy in Avonlea.”
When the old woman finally drew back into the house with a tight smile and a curt nod, Anne kicked Gilbert’s foot and said in her most dramatic impression of him, “Oh, thank you ever so kindly, Ms. Cuthbert, for your undying generosity!” Despite her mocking tone, Gilbert smiled before directing his attention back to the book in his lap.
“It’s called being polite,” he said. “You should try it.”
“Hmm,” Anne replied, flipping to the next page of her own book. “I thought it was called being annoying.”
Anne looked at him then, a wicked grin twisting her heat flushed lips, awaiting his reaction. Gilbert nodded, carefully placed his book on the little wicker table at his side, and offered his own smirk that seemed to say Oh, you’ve done it now.
She squealed when he lunged for her, hands grasping nothing but the air as she dropped gracelessly from the rail, landing on her booted feet with a thud. Her laugh echoed through the fields and she made a beeline for the woods at the edge of the property. Gilbert wasted no time in hopping the rail and chasing after her. Anne peeked over her shoulder, faltering in her steps and shrieking when she found him right on her heels. She pitched forward, running as fast as someone in an ankle length skirt could, and disappeared into the tree line.
Gilbert skid to a stop when he entered the haunted wood, chest heaving. To his amusement, the wood was still and quiet, and he let out a breathless laugh. She was hiding. He slowed his breathing and strained his ears, listening for the snap of a twig or crunch of leaves, but a sudden flash of white behind a large old oak tree caught his eye and he smirked. Got you, he thought. He crept forward slowly, silently planning his attack when Anne’s red head popped out from behind the tree, startling him.
“Gil!” She whispered, gray eyes wide with delight. Gilbert cocked his head to the side and squinted at her. She answered his suspicions by holding a finger to her smiling lips and waving him over with her other hand. Then, she disappeared behind the tree once more.
In the few long strides it took Gilbert to reach her, he felt excitement build within him. He knew Anne had a way of finding interesting things, or, rather, interesting things had a way of finding her. Whether her discoveries brought mischief or magic, he’d follow her anywhere.
When he rounded the tree, he found Anne cooing over a small pile of fluff nestled between the thick roots. The fluff, as it turned out, was a mother cat nursing her three newborn kittens. All three of the kittens had pristine white fur, while their mother’s coat was inky black. What a peculiarly beautiful picture they made. Gilbert smiled a sad, nostalgic smile when he was suddenly thrust into the past, reminded of the few times his father whispered him awake in the early morning to see that the barn cat had given birth overnight. But those cats were long gone now, having left their nests when the Blythe men went away, away, away.
In the present, he sunk to his knees next to Anne carefully, so as not to frighten the new mother. The sun’s rays shone through the cracks between the leaves, and bathed them and the cats in glowing light. The mother cat basked in it, looking proud as could be of her glorious accomplishment. Anne beamed at him, and he found himself beaming back.
“Aren’t they sweet?”
Gilbert nodded.
Anne bent her head down closer to the cat . “What a brave mother you are,” She whispered, “and your babies are so very beautiful, too. Well done.”
Gilbert looked to Anne, allowing himself to admire her during this rare moment of closeness. Her braids had been knocked loose when they were running, leaving her wavy tresses hanging off her shoulders, wild with the humidity. He couldn’t help the thoughts that invaded his mind, thoughts Bash would no doubt tease him endlessly for, the kind Anne might call romantical, which he knew would thoroughly horrify her if ever spoken aloud. He looked away.
Anne ventured a tentative finger towards one of the kittens, looking nervously to the mother cat as if asking for permission. When the cat made no protest, Anne trailed her finger down the first little kittens body from head to tail. The kitten stirred at her touch and Anne giggled softly before moving on to the next kitten, and the next.
“You know,” Anne began while the mother cat sniffed her hand. “Mothers are the strongest creatures on the planet.” When she was met with Gilbert’s silence, she continued, “some mothers give their lives for their children! It’s the most powerful love there is, I think. But I’m no expert.”
“Neither am I.”
Anne’s big grey eyes locked with his hazel ones, and she placed her warm, freckled hand on top of his. Without a word she told him she understood, and he knew she did probably better than anyone. Gilbert smiled, even though he felt sad, because he simply couldn’t help it when she was with him. Especially now, in the woods together, with her hand on his.
Anne drew away and he felt cold despite the heat of the day.
“Let’s give them some peace, shall we?” Anne said as she stood and brushed the dirt from her apron.
“Of course,” he agreed. Anne bid the cats farewell, and encouraged Gilbert to do the same (though he felt a bit silly about it).
Gilbert’s soul felt lighter as they walked slowly back to green gables, like they had entered a whole new world in the woods and came back different. Anne was quiet, grinning a little as she brushed her hand along the tall grass. Gilbert wondered if she felt it too.
“Today,” she finally said when they reached the fence, “was a very good day.” Gilbert leaned his arms against the white washed wood of the gate.
“Yes, it was,” he replied, his eyes soft on hers.
When it comes to expressing her emotions and opinions, Anne is anything if not open. So, despite her better judgement, she stretched forward onto her toes to place a friendly kiss on Gilbert’s cheek. But of course, since things never seem to go perfectly to plan with Anne Shirley, it just so happened that he turned to her at the exact moment her lips made contact with his skin, landing on the corner of his mouth rather than her intended location. The shock of the kiss sent them flying apart and Anne slapped her hands to her mouth, her blush contrasting fiercely against her gray eyes. Gilbert found himself quite speechless, but before his muddled mind could form a coherent thought, Anne began to wail.
“I’m sorry! Oh, I’m sure you must think me an indecorous fool, but that is not the case! Well, perhaps I am a fool, for that-that error was a complete miscalculation on my part, you see, I- your FACE was- oh, for goodness sake!” She dropped her head in her hands and groaned, and thought that the world might be better off if she became a recluse! Or took a vow of silence! Or both!
Anne peaked at him through her fingers and was not surprised to find he hadn’t moved a muscle, stunned to the spot as if her mortifying lapse in judgment had turned him to stone. His mouth hung open slightly and he stared at her in sheer bewilderment.
“I’m sorry, Gil,” she said in earnest. This seemed to snap him out of his trance for his brows crinkled in confusion, and he grabbed her wrists gently, drawing them from her reddened face.
“No, Anne, please don’t be,” Gilbert said. He did not let go of her hands, a fact that made Anne’s stomach flip.
“Don’t be sorry,” he shrugged. “I’m certainly not.” They both knew then that whatever happened next could change everything or nothing, and it was up to them. It would be so easy for him to convince her this didn’t affect him, like she hadn’t just mistakenly tipped his entire world on its side, like being kissed by her, accident or not, didn’t burn him alive. He searched her face desperately for a sign that she might be thinking the same thing.
“You’re not?” She asked him, voice small and embarrassed. He shook his head and smiled bashfully, and suddenly she knew. She knew she could trust him, probably more than anyone. She knew he was one of her very best friends and most cherished kindred spirits. She knew for certain that he was not the boy who called her carrots all those years ago, nor was she the same girl. She also knew that he just might have the piece of her heart she never thought she’d have the chance to give away.
So, she kissed him. She kissed him soft and sweet and on purpose. It was not at all what she expected it to be-Gilbert was not at all who she expected him to be. She pulled away and giggled at his murmurs of protest, before pulling him to her again.
~*~
On what was said to be the hottest day of the summer, Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe bid each other goodnight at her door, just like they had countless times since their friendship began. Except this time they stood there together until well after sunset. This time, when Anne turned to go inside, Gilbert grabbed her by the wrist and spun her back around, kissing her just once more.