Baker - G. BLYTHE

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CHARLOTTE RAYHILL HAD NEVER CONSIDERED HERSELF TO BE A PRETTY GIRL. In fact, if you had asked her on any given day of the year she would have said she was too homely, too plain looking to even be considered pretty. That even her own mother wouldn't have been able to pick her out of a crowd. So when she looked into the glass which hung upon the faded papered wall, she never spent too long looking at the figure in front as 'there are far prettier things to look at on this earth'. Freckles littered her nose, just thrown about her face randomly as if meant to vex her. Ribbons of light brown hair fell halfway down her back with waves like the sea, she thought it looked plain. Too ordinary. She found two things about herself okay, the blush pink plump lips that other girls had and the one thing that no one else had. In her left emerald green eye sat a single speck of the most beautiful hazel. A mix of different shades of hazel swirled and twirled around each other inside the shape which contrasted so much to the emerald green that people often pointed it out as if she didn't know her own reflection.

However, she knew that her house was very far from ordinary. She had the only house in Avonlea that had two purposes, her house was a bakery. A few years ago, after her father's death, the large amount of land that surrounded her house was rendered useless. With her brother back in Ireland for school the land just simply could not be farmed, so they relied on mother's bakery. The front of their house had been converted to look like one of the shopfronts in Carmody, with stands to showcase all the baked goods. These were always either made by one of the Rayhills and they both soon became well known for cakes around Avonlea. The bakery, as they called it, had a few small tables inside with matching wooden chairs surrounding it. People did sit in inside on the odd occasion, but mostly they sat outside in the fields. After a few years of the land being untouched (and a little help from a young Charlotte) the land turned into grassy fields full of the most beautiful wildflowers that attracted all sorts of beautiful butterflies and buzzing bees. It was the perfect place to sit and read or paint on an evening when the sun hit just the right spot dousing the sky in a mixture of magnificent colours.

At the very bottom of the land was a large pond, connected to the stream, that had the most beautiful fish swimming in it. She adored going down there with her father and brother years ago, they would spend all day in the sun and try to catch some fish. Charlotte's favourite part was when it got slightly chilly and everyone would huddle underneath one blanket since no one wanted to make the trek back to the house to get another. They watched the sun go down, sitting in complete peace as if no bad things could ever happen in the world. She would almost always end up with a terrible head cold after but the memory of those evenings made up for the sick days in bed and the scolding from Mother.

Charlotte hadn't been to school since Father died, between helping at the bakery and her other chores around the house, she simply felt that there simply wasn't the time for a proper education. She read as many books as she could get her hands on, the ones Brother left behind when he went back to Ireland or the ones that lay collecting dust in Father's study. She knew nothing of mathematics, except for the changing of recipe contents. Since she didn't go to school, she hadn't the privilege of making any friends. Apart from the conversations with customers, who were often older women or sometimes on the odd occasion a girl her age, she only talked to Mother. So naturally they had quite the bond, they loved each other dearly. In their eyes it was them against the world. Normally young girls were shielded from the goings-on in the world but this wasn't the case for them, everything was shared. Even when the bank nearly took the house a few years ago and especially the precious family recipes.

Like usual, Charlotte sat behind the counter with a book waiting for anyone to walk in. She barely got five minutes to herself during the day so she slowly made her way through one of the novels she had picked up. Miss Marilla Cuthbert had just dropped off a batch of her plum puffs to be sold, that was something else they did at the bakery. People could drop off things that they had made too much of and sell them, the Rayhills would keep a small amount of the money but the majority would go to those who donated them. Miss Cuthbert's plum puffs would sell quicker than most things so she always took one for herself. She read and gradually ate the puff before the wooden door opened back up again.

"What can I get you, Mr Blythe?" Charlotte asked stepping off her stool whilst smoothing non-existent creases in her skirt. Mother always said that looking presentable meant no creases in dresses, so naturally, this was a habit she had gotten rather quickly.

"Gilbert really is fine," He smiled softly as he gazed across all baked goods. Mr Gilbert Blythe had a head of curly brown hair, the hazel eyes to match and he was pretty tall. She always called people by their last name when they are customers, in her eyes it was a sign of respect. Gilbert Blythe came into the bakery twice or sometimes three times a week and she much enjoyed their short conversations. Gilbert was the type of friend she wished she could have, seeing him walk through the door always made her smile. He insisted on every occasion that she call him by his first name but she never relented. She also never told him her first name, mainly as a point of conversation but it was also very amusing to her. They made the same light conversation, how are yous and him trying to guess her name as she wrapped up what he asked for. A loaf of bread and a few plum puffs and he left with a soft smile on his face. They liked talking to each other more than either would care to ever admit. And that's how every interaction went between them, they talked and thought over what we talked about until something else became a distraction. For her it was a new customer, for him it was his father who was getting sicker by the day.

-ˋˏ *.·:·. [ONE WEEK LATER] .·:·.* ˎˊ-

Gilbert's father, Mr John Blythe, heard much about Charlotte Rayhill from his son and the woman who helped around the house, Mrs Kincannon. They both spoke very highly of her so naturally, the man wished to meet the girl. So after much consideration and reassuring his son that he was in fact well enough to go, the two took a carriage to the Rayhill's bakery.

Charlotte watched through the window of the cafe as Gilbert helped an older looking man out of a carriage, she quickly realised it was probably his father. A small smile formed on her lips as she watched the two interact, Gilbert was making sure his father was okay and the man just waved off every enquiry like it was nothing. As the two walked out of her view, most likely to go and sit in the field, Charlotte couldn't help but feel a small tug on her own heart. Father used to do the exact same thing when he got sick. After around a seconds contemplation, she took one of the smaller cakes from the stands, along with a couple plates and stepped out into the garden (with Mother's approval of course) it wasn't a particularly sunny day but without wind, the warmth deepened the pink on the tops of her cheeks.

"Afternoon Miss Rayhill," Gilbert spoke as soon as she was close enough, having watched me walking closer and closer as he and his father sat down. John and Gilbert had shared a short conversation about the girl, John saying that Gilbert did a terrible job of describing her.

"Afternoon Mr Blythe," she smiled forming one on both of the Blythe men. Her presence reminded John Blythe of a girl he knew when he was younger and he smiled at the thought of his son having someone like that in his life. Charlotte set down the cake, which was cut whilst John introduced himself. She whispered her first name to the older Mr Blythe which Gilbert strained to hear but thankfully didn't hear a syllable. The three of them sat in the grassy field, slowly ate cake whilst making polite conversation. She learned things about Gilbert and he learned things about her things that made them both feel more connected. He learned that she had moved here from Ireland when she was seven, which explained the different accent that he had tried to place since they met. He learned that she hadn't been to school since the move, her family were too busy getting settled to begin with then with Father getting sick. She just simply felt that there wasn't the time for school and that the education she was getting from books was enough. The two Blythes shared a look, one which triggered a serious conversation on the carriage ride home. Charlotte however couldn't have been any happier and even her mother noticed the goofy grin on her face. She loved talking to them both, Gilbert was looking to be a great friend and John was, as her Mother would say, a great soul.