What About Yesterday? - anne with an e

Chapter 12 - I'll Leave You Words

Anne didn't know what to think, it was so unexpected. She would never have guessed that Gilbert would voluntarily leave UOT after only a year..  She could not ignore the fact that her heart missed half a beat at the thought that they could go to Redmond together. Or was this just more competition? Would he really try to take away her scholarship?  Perhaps she was overthinking.

And here is the part that I had been avoiding. But Fred, he's leaning against the shut door of my room and his eyes are fixed to me. So I'll put pen to paper and just write it how it is.

I didn't propose to, and I will never marry Winifred Rose. I know I was cruel, and I didn't realise the weight of her and her parents expectations for marriage. I'm not ready for that, and Winifred is such an amazing person and she deserves someone who was ready, and committed. So she left for Paris. The loss stings, but I don't regret us turning our separate ways.

I'll admit, I'm not sure what you mean in parts of  your letter. Again, if I could see you, if we could talk in person, things might begin the make sense. If only a little. We could try and talk to each other, with out yelling or arguing. And if we can't do that, just your furious face scowling up at me would be enough. Because I miss your voice too, Anne.

She struggled to organise her thoughts, flooding in with all messes of emotion. Relief, he and Winnie were truly finished. Warmth,  lips dry-  a strange realisation that he thought of her, missed her  the way she did of him.

Phillipa Gardener and Fred Wright are childhood friends- or at least acquaintances. That willow tree wasn't hard to find, it's clearly an ancient relic in Toronto. You can almost sense it's past, the history is almost tangible. Fred told me about their story, it's a sad one. Tom Walker died a few years ago, and by rumour she hasn't been back since. I suppose this has also subconsciously increased my want to return to Avonlea, and move to a school closer to my own home.

Tom was... dead? But Phil only mentioned she hadn't seen him for years, not that he had died.. But, why ?

I am returning for Christmas, and I look forward to every little thing- the farm, and  orchard and everyone there. Will you tell Moody to write to me? I'm not sure if you speak to him much anymore, but if you do I'd appreciate it. I'm attaching some writing, I found it lying about the house. It's torn, paper corner snagged under a floor board. I have searched for the book it's become detached from, but nothing seems to fit. Perhaps you have better luck than I have?

Best wishes,

Gilbert Blythe

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Jay Irving stood at the end of an empty road that lead to everywhere. The sky was a blank display of white, that made the haze of silent snow appear a begrudging grey. Feeling invisible in the bare scene, he drew nearer to the Queens Entrance way. Footsteps echoed off stone and breaths came quicker- instinctively, his eyes recoiled from the non-existent people that a few hours ago, packed the hallways. Monday declared it's self with the excited talk of Winter Exams, and he guessed it was met with nerves by the students there. Maybe not, maybe it was a normal pressure they received from Professors that they accepted with familiarity.

Maybe.

His stomach crawled uncomfortably with the thought that he wasn't prepared for them- his head ached with the constant reminder that these exams mattered so much more to him, than they did to most of the people at Queens College. These last few years he had been lucky enough to make an agreement with one of the teachers, he had managed to get his hands on some resources. Books, papers, even some personal feedback on his essays. But it could never be the same as actually enrolling there, he couldn't speak to anyone, couldn't talk about it.