My Fairy Queen Anne

i like the way you're everything i ever wanted

That night, Marilla was expecting the Blythe-Lacroixs over for Christmas dinner and the exchange of presents. She had offered both Alexander and Josie a place at their table, but he had promised Josie that he would accompany her to her parents' dinner. It was polite to have dinner with her parents when he was in town, and Josie would be in for a world of melodramatics if she were to leave her parents on Christmas Day after being gone for Christmas Eve.

Anne flitted around, straightening things that were already prim and proper, cleaning things that were polished thoroughly already, volunteering to help Marilla finish up the cooking, even if the most she could do was chop a leaf of parsley for garnish. It was all to distract from something else that was weighing on her. Ever since she had gotten back from her stroll, she had seen the barn and realized something disheartening.

This was her first Christmas at Green Gables since her beloved Matthew had passed. All the drama with Gilbert had her distracted, and it horrified her to think she could forget about her Matthew just like that! But as soon as she had realized, it hit her with twofold the impact. 

Times like these, it pained her to an unfathomable extent, remembering her last three Christmases. She wouldn't be able to grasp his warm hands when saying rare words of grace over Marilla's scrumptious meal; she wouldn't be able to play-fight with him in the barn and get scolded by Marilla for filthening themselves; she wouldn't be able to wrap him in her arms when he got her the most magnificent present with such humility as he did each Christmas, not realizing how perfectly happy she was with him. She would trade every present now for him back. 

"Anne, stop your idling. I don't know what you're so worked up about," Marilla said sharply, though she felt the impact of the loss on these past days also. She just didn't want to weigh her darling Anne down with the realization. It didn't occur to her that Anne might feel the same.

"Me, idling? Oh no, Marilla. I'm just... uh, trying to recall the last time we thoroughly cleaned the homestead," she covered up, laughing nervously. "It's been quite an age, has it not?"

"Its been a week," Marilla responded dryly, walking out from the kitchen in one of her nicer violet dresses. Not anywhere close to Anne's most non-serviceable bottle green colored dress with puffed sleeves and plenty of ruffles, but embellished enough for a decently formal Christmas. She softened looking at her daughter who was playing with the edges of her sleeves, looking so much like the innocent thirteen year old with the constantly working brain Marilla had first known her as. 

"What's afflicting you, child?"

"I don't want to weigh you down with my melancholia," Anne demurred, sitting down on the couch with a gentle plop.

"Fiddlesticks! You'll tell me what it is, and we'll figure whatever it is out!" Marilla objected, sitting beside her. Her tone was reprimanding, yet her hand floated to rest on Anne's comfortingly. When Anne looked up from where her eyes were fixed intently on the folds in her skirt, Marilla could see the remnants of tears in streaks down her freckled cheeks. As for Anne, she was glad that Jane's carmine rouge was quite adhesive, for if it were any weaker, it would have streamed off her cheeks and probably set Marilla -- a firm non-believer in beauty products -- off on a lecture about vanity on the Lord's day, no less!

"It occurred to me this morning," she hiccupped, wiping her streaming eyes in vain. "That today is the first Christmas without... without Matthew."

She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her anguish for fear of upsetting Marilla also.

"Oh Anne," Marilla sighed, taking the girl in her arms. "My strong girl. You'll be okay now. He's with us still. He's looking down upon you right now with such pride. He loved you more than anything, and he wouldn't want you to ruin your Christmas with such thoughts."