//"Please, picture me ; in the trees, in the swing over the creek"//
Gilbert tried to hide a shiver, tracing a single finger over the dry ink- they coiled into dauntingly familiar writing. Loops, folding into 't's and 'h's sent his mind racing, restless. He held the envelope closed, indulging in the peace of his ignorance. Whispers of the alternative were a raging temptation, but the fear of disappointment was a more persuasive force. Fingers over paper, waiting for a shift, for the letters to flow into something far more acceptable for his stubborn conscious.
"So, when are you gonna open it?" Fred's curiosity was evident, he continuously peered over at the letter.
"I will. But, I can't. How can I? I don't know." Gilbert shook his head.
Fred sighed, exasperated, and set aside a dusty shovel with a heavy clunk. It collided with something metal, lost in the knee-high pile of ancient clutter that the pair of them had evicted from the crumbling garden shed. The resulting mess spilled out across a wilderness of withering grass, slowly flattening with autumns brittle winds. It was barely contained by a high stone wall strangled by ivy- it peeled away at the bricks, weaving through it as if it was nothing more than loose soil. Three towering oaks guarded the back, its branches dipping low, cradling the old wooden structure like a nest. One had to crouch a little to reach it, bare twigs would catch and snag on Gilbert's hair and clothing. It was more sheltered than the rest of the garden, warmth sometimes could be found in the dense bed of nettles, moss and dry leaves. But on windy days, the trees would sway and writhe agitatedly from their roots, arms swinging uncontrollably. Fred warned not to venture out on those days.
"Look, how about I open it and save you the effort?" Fred suggested, sitting down on a over turned box- it reminded Gilbert of the sort they used to collect apples in back home.
"That is possibly the worst idea you've had." Gilbert stated, moving to sit near his friend. He leant on the remains of a old wheel barrow, the bottom side now exposed to the light for the first time in what looked like years.
"I thought you would have been happy, to get a letter from your village friends. Figured it might help the home sickness." Shrugged Fred.
"I'm not home sick. I barely have time to think about it, with all the work you pile onto me." Gilbert lied, gesturing to the pile of rubbish lying all around them.
"You get letters from Bash all the time. And one from that girl Diana. But now you're freaking out, so it can't be from either of them." He deducted, shifting his position on the box as it groaned under the tall boy's weight.
"Ok, I'll just open it." Gilbert sighed, cringing as he began to break the seal on the envelope.
"Don't rip it."
"Shush."
Gilbert carefully withdrew a thin, off-white letter out of it's folds.
Dear Gilbert Blythe,
I don't know when this letter will reach you, or if I'll even decide to send it at all. But if you are in fact reading this, I must have done.
It's strange to think that it might be days, or even weeks between writing it myself, to you receiving it. I don't think I've ever sent a letter so far, perhaps with exception of the inquiry made to Glanarch, Scotland- that was in chase of details about my families history there.
UOT must be exciting, so new. So different. I'll be the first to admit I do envy you some. Only a little, but with your explorations on the steam ship then schooling in Toronto, you have explored much more than I even hope to accomplish in my life time.
Gilbert exhaled gradually, trying not to go too fast. He wanted to savour it, wanted to keep the first reading long in his mind.
"It's from her, isn't it?" Fred finally concluded, the realisation only provoking his curiosity more. Eyes wide, a mischievous smile hinting in his face.
Queens has begun quite grandly: classes are constant, gardens and grounds vast. I guiltily enjoy occasional study sessions which are majority gossip, not revision. I occupy the library at most free moments, and have met a few new friends. I plan to compete for the Avery Scholarship, which would mean a dream route to study next year at Redmond. It's ambitious, and the grades here of other students are not lacking.
Do you have a bias to science in your school schedules? I suppose that would suit you nicely. Diana has expressed curiosity, so I ought to ask, where are you boarding in Toronto? Are you living with many other students?
"She asked where I'm staying," Gilbert falters over his words, realising that truly it was Diana who had asked.
"You should write back, tell her all about me." Fred rolled back his shoulders with an grin, winking exaggeratedly at Gilbert.
"I should. Write back, I mean. Not the other thing..."
Gilbert's eyes itched to return, to run down the paper, and Fred could see it plainly. So he gestured, a pointed nod, to imply he should continue.
He read on for a while, captivated by her descriptions of Charlottetown, her boarding house, and the people she had met. Phillipa seemed like a reoccurring theme, a persistent force if you will. Continually jumping in and appearing significantly in Anne's narrative. Ruby was a topic of pleasant surprise, she was flourishing, Anne phrases almost with a little sadness. That small town girl was vanishing, something new and modern growing in its place.
Then he reached a phrase that alarmed him, reminding him again of that regret, that raging anxiety that made his head reel.
I managed to catch Winifred before she left for Paris- without you.
Gilbert bit his tongue, memories resurfacing in a confused collision of fears and hope.
I think to say I was surprise is understating it, but I don't want to bombard you with questions that may be painful to answer. She seemed alright, considering. I can only imagine her disappointment.
I realise this has been a rather extensive report of my last weeks, and I apologise for the ridiculous details I have forced you to suffer under. I miss your voice in class; it always used to mean that I could argue with you all over again. Days past and weeks too, but home never leaves my mind. Green Gables will be there when we return, and Avonlea. I keep my heart hooked on that, and my mind set on my studies.
I know, how your heart was already in Paris. After all the Sorbonne was and probably is still your dream, but I still hope you can find comfort and stimulation in Toronto. UOT is a fine school- and you won't catch me saying this often, but more than anyone you deserve to be there Gil. Even including me.
This is difficult to write, but if I don't ask I feel like a might scream.
Did you really think me too fragile to confront? After everything, dysfunctional as it was, I hoped we could be open with each other. I need closure on this Gilbert, because it's holding me back from working as hard as I can on that scholarship. You understand that, right? Just a word, and I'll leave it be. But I need that word.
Maybe I'll see you at harvest, maybe not until Christmas. There should be a full moon soon, but I don't know how many nights it will be before you'll receive this so, it's not much use telling you anyways.
Phil tells me to tell you that up in Toronto, there's a park near the University with huge oak tree. She carved her initials into that tree, when she lived there for a few years. Along with a T.W. I wonder if you could find that tree?
Best hopes for the term,
Sincerely,
Anne Shirley Cuthbert
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"Gilbert would you slow down!" Fred called after him.
Gilbert glanced back, one side in his coat and the other struggling to find the arm hole.
"Where are you going?" Fred sighed.
"The park, the one by the university." Gilbert replied.
"And this has something to do with what the girl said to you in that letter?"
At Gilbert's nod, Fred grabbed his own coat.
"Well, I could also do with some fresh air." Fred smiled wryly, ignoring the fact that they had both been sitting outside for hours.
"Lord, that girl really has hold on you." Fred concluded, as they both walked out the door and up the steep alleyway.
"I haven't heard from her in so long. I just- I used to see her everyday and now I can't."
"You miss her, ok. But Gilbert you don't sprint the park every time Bash writes to you." Fred reasons, trying to get to the bottom of it.
"I know, but with Anne it's like, like I can finally breathe again. Besides, she told me to go there." Gilbert tried to explain, and followed Fred around a narrow corner that lead up onto the School Grounds.
"So her name is Anne. Finally we are getting somewhere. And what's with the park?"
"She talked about a tree, where traditionally all the students would engrave their initials?" Gilbert recalled, and hastily found the iron gate that swung open revealing the grassy planes of the park.
He spotted the tree immediately: situated by the far left slope dipping down into river, the grey willow's rippled bark was riddled with engravings. Fred commented on a few of them, guessing the names that the initials stood for- school rumours of couples and the like. He was looking for P.G, paired with a T.W. Then he saw it, half hidden by stripped, thin branches, it looked old and weathered away.
"How many couples here do you know?" Gilbert asked Fred, who was laughing over something written on the other side of the wood.
"I always knew those two had something going on!" He mumbled.
"Fred." Gilbert alerted again.
"Yeah?"
"How much back story you got on these two?" He asks, tracing the letters with his finger. Once Fred sees them, his face falls, turning solemn.
"You- you picked a sad story there." Fred says.
"The girl, P.G, is Anne's friend in Charlottetown."
Fred's eyes widen, "Your Anne knows Phillipa?"
Gilbert nods.
"It is a small world." Fred remarks, then sighs as he begins.
"It's a bit of a local lament. Phillipa moved here when she was nine, maybe ten? Anyways, she was the darling of the town. All the boy's parent's bargained courting deals even before she was of age. But she never wanted to entertain any of them. No, once she and Tom Walker became acquainted, it was clear to everyone: he was the only one she was to marry."
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a/n : this is quite a short chapter, but i promise longer ones are coming soon. i hope you enjoyed this one, a little hint of the shirbert that's to come. but i wonder what happened between Phillipa and Tom....?
(as always pls comment your thoughts xx)