'I've known it from the moment that we met,
No doubt in my mind where you belong'
--
Anne's knee bounced anxiously as their cart rode through Avonlea. Green Gables was painstakingly far from everything. On a normal day, she'd love the scenery.
Not today.
Gilbert held Delly throughout the ride. Bash wasn't good under pressure, and the tension in the cart was enough to send him spinning. The last thing they needed was a crying baby.
When they could see Green Gables in the distance, Anne suddenly jumped out of the cart and ran towards the house.
"Anne!" Gilbert couldn't follow her with Delly in his arms so he looked at Bash instead, "What couldn't you tell her?"
"I don't want to say the wrong-"
"No," Gilbert cut him off. He was becoming just as frustrated and nervous as Anne was, "What symptoms does she have? Give me something to work with here."
Bash pinched his nose in frustration, "It's in her brain. She went to some sort of doctor. 'Neur' something."
"Neurologist?"
Gilbert instinctually tightened his grip on Delly. Neurology was so new to the medical field.
Bash whipped his head up at Gilbert, "Yes, that's it...what is that?"
"Like you said, a doctor for the brain." Gilbert sighed in dissatisfaction, "It's a new specialization and they haven't made much progress yet."
"So they can't do anything?"
Gilbert didn't want to quite admit that yet because he didn't want to believe it himself.
"There's mumblings of surgery in the United States and some success in Scotland."
Bash's eyes widened, "Surgery in your brain?"
"It's lucrative."
"Could they do that for Marilla?"
No.
"We're not even sure if that's what is wrong."
The cart rolled up to the house as Gilbert handed Bash his baby, "I need to...."
His head was already spinning.
"Go."
--
Anne's feet pounded through the farm as she jumped the fence and ran towards her house. By the time she made it to the house, she was heaving.
"Marilla?" She pushed through the doorway, dirty shoes and all, "Marilla, where are you?"
Anne flung herself up the stairs and to Marilla's bedroom door.
"Marilla are you-"
She halted when she saw a flat and seemingly tiny body in her Marilla's bed.
She walked to the bed in silence, holding her breath and hoping to hear some sort of noise.
Please. Please let her be okay.
"Anne?" A hoarse voice replied.
"Marilla!" Anne charged towards the bed and wrapped her arms around Marilla in glee.
"Anne, please quiet down. This volume is not conducive to rest."
Anne sat on the bed and stared at her adoptive mother, "I thought you were-" She shook her head, "I didn't know if you were okay."
"I'm..." Marilla paused carefully. Anne's mind would make anything she admitted much worse, "I'm okay, my girl."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Marilla looked at her daughter fondly, "How was your trip?"
"Marvelous." Anne couldn't help but tell the truth. Her history of lying to Marilla never ended well.
Despite wanting the best for Anne, Marilla felt a bit of pain in her chest.
She looked Anne up and down and frowned, "You haven't taken off your shoes."
Anne found the urge to laugh. Marilla wouldn't be like this if she wasn't at least a little okay.
Instead of responding with frustration, as she typically did, Marilla joined in laughing. The fact she was worrying about dirt while everything else was hanging over her head was comedic.
Anne removed and placed her shoes at the foot of the bed.
"That's better."
Marilla took Anne's hand, "I suppose you want to know."
"Please."
A knock on the door made both Cuthberts jump.
"May I come in?" Gilbert asked softly from the hallway. He wouldn't dare ruin their moment and he honestly would rather not know what was happening. But it was his duty as a doctor.
"Yes." Marilla responded. She had been awaiting Gilbert's arrival anxiously. Her priority was always Anne, but the sanctity of her health was impertinent to Anne's well-being.
Marilla squeezed her daughter's hand, "Anne why don't you go unpack while Gilbert and I-"
"No. I want to be here." Anne refused to be left in the dark.
Marilla furrowed her eyebrows, "Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I don't care if I'm on my feet or dead on the floor -- you will listen."
Despite not wanting to be ordered around, Anne was grateful at Marilla's protest. Another Marilla classic.
Anne huffed as she stood up, "Fine."
She brushed past Gilbert, who couldn't look away from her, "Trust me...please."
"I said fine."
Gilbert closed his eyes, the last thing he needed was Anne being mad at him again.
"She'll get over it." Marilla called from the bed, prompting Gilbert to walk over.
He bent down at the bed and placed his hand on her forehead, "How are you feeling?"
"I've certainly been worse." Marilla coughed.
He removed his hand and searched her eyes, "Can you describe your symptoms?"
"Light-headed, dizzy, everything is blurry. I'm much more tired and my hearing seems to be fading on occasion." She rattled off, "Nothing I haven't felt before but I do have to admit it all is more intense than usual."
Gilbert stood, "Usual?"
"This isn't the first time."
Worry spiked in his heart, "How long has this been happening?"
"Years. Over a decade I suppose."
Marilla read his eyes and felt her body numb in fear.
"Do you mind if I give you a physical examination?"
"You think it would help?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
--
Anne paced in her room.
Too much had happened in such a short amount of time. She admittedly fell in love with Toronto. She was offered a scholarship that could make her dreams come true. Gilbert drunkenly confessed his heart. Now Marilla was sick.
What now?
Her choosing a school was already complicated with Marilla as healthy as she could be. But now, Anne couldn't leave. Not if Marilla truly needed her.
She had just admitted Toronto was her destiny and Gilbert was a potential factor in that future. It surely sounded like he and Winifred were doomed no matter what.
If they both went to Toronto...who knows what would happen.
Anne grabbed her embroidered pillow and flopped onto her bed. She was beyond tired, despite having slept on the train.
Don't cry.
Her mind wandered to what on earth could be happening in the room next to her. How serious was Marilla's condition? What kind of care did she need? Was there anything Anne could even do to help her?
What if there was nothing they could do?
It felt like hours were passing as Anne laid on her bed. How long could a simple diagnosis take? Anything difficult would be serious. Hopefully Gilbert knew what he was doing.
Despite that pang of doubt, Anne did trust him. Though she wouldn't admit it.
"Anne?" There was a soft knock on her door, "May I?"
"Yes."
Gilbert walked in and closed the door behind him with an unreadable expression. He stood in front of her silently until she gestured for him to sit on her bed.
He sat down, "Let me tell you everything before you jump to conclusions."
She bit her lip. A nervous habit she thought she grew out of.
"There's an issue in her brain in a medical discipline called neurology. It's pretty new, and growth in medicine and recovery is unfortunately bleak."
Gilbert was flashing back to Dr. Ward's initial diagnosis for his father. As much as he was glad to be empathetic, no one should go through caring for a sick family member.
"Considering her symptoms, it sounds like she may have a brain tumor."
Anne was appalled at his calm composure. It made sense since his calm while delivering Delly, but he also broke afterwards. It killed Anne to think he wasn't being honest with her.
"What is that?"
Anne was right about Gilbert intentionally keeping his calm, "It's a mass that grows in your brain."
"Is it fatal?"
Yes.
"It alters your life expectancy," he skirted the truth.
She didn't want to ask any more questions. Anne would rather exist in limbo, or so she thought.
But she was too curious. She needed to know, "What is someone's life expectancy?"
Gilbert scratched the back of his neck, "It depends on their timeline and age."
"That's not an answer."
The air in the room was thick. Every breath was harder to take.
Gilbert stared at his lap. He couldn't look at her, "An average of five years. After the initial growth."
"How long...." She trailed off, not wanting to think about finishing her sentence.
"I'm not exactly sure. Decades, she claimed. He symptoms have been worsening."
Typically, Anne would cry at the threat of loss. She lost herself when Matthew died. Gilbert expected she'd react the same way again.
But instead she sat there, void of emotion.
"There's nothing we can do." He stated bitterly. The medical field was failing him yet again.
Anne gripped her bedspread so hard her knuckles turned white.
Gilbert reached to take her hand, "I'm so sor-"
"Stop," Anne backed away, "Don't do that. Don't look at me like I'm a kicked dog. I'm not the one laying in there dying."
He put his arms up in surrender. If there's one thing Gilbert understood, it was people trying to solve someone else's grief.
"How can I help?"
Anne wanted to scream. Help? Why did he think he could help?
But she took her anger out on him last time and it didn't bode well for either of them.
"Go home." She stood and pointed at the door.
He stood to face her, "Anne-"
"You asked what you could do. I said you should go home." Anne spoke through her teeth.
"Okay. I'll be downstairs."
Gilbert was aching to at least be near. Though Marilla wasn't his biological mother, she might as well have been. No one else had extended kindness as she had.
But Anne came first.
"Go home." She pushed him, just as she did when Matthew died.
He easily caught himself against her closed door, "What if you need medical assistance?"
"You said there was nothing you could do." She shot back, "Why can't you just let me be with my mother?"
Gilbert went silent. Anne was right. It was her choice.
"Okay." He opened the door and turned but paused in her doorway, "You know where to find me."
She nodded quickly as Gilbert walked down the hallway.
"Wait."
He looked back at Anne, who finally was letting tears brew in her eyes.
Without saying a word, Anne rushed to him and threw his arms around his shoulders.
"I love you."
Gilbert held her as tightly as he could, "I love you too."
--
A/N
The drama. The intrigue. The way I'm making myself sad.
I've gotten so many sweet comments recently and they make my day. Thank you to everyone taking the time and effort to comment and vote. I probably would've stopped if not for you.
Hope you all are doing well <3
- K
P.S. If this is hitting you in a hard way and you would like support, please consider:
National Alliance on Mental Illness (800-950-6364 / nami.org)
Mental Health America (1-800-273-8255 / text MHA to 741741)
Or call 911 if you need help.
There is no shame in needing help.