"Every journey begins with a single step, and in that step lies the promise of adventure." - Jade Maki
Chapter 1 - New Family, New Home
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As Lydia sat on the train, the gentle sway of the carriage and the rhythmic clacking of the tracks beneath provided a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. Glancing up from her book, she caught sight of Anne, her face illuminated by the soft light filtering through the window. Anne's eyes were alight with wonder as she gazed out at the passing scenery, taking in the lush green fields and quaint villages that dotted the landscape.
They were on their way to Avonlea, a village nestled on Prince Edward Island, where her new family, the Barrys, awaited her. The prospect of starting afresh in a new home both excited and unsettled her. While she longed for the stability and sense of belonging that a family could provide, the uncertainty of what lay ahead weighed heavily on her mind.
As she reflected on the circumstances that led her to this point, a pang of resentment stirred within her. The Barrys' decision to adopt a child, while undoubtedly well-intentioned, felt like a mere display of their privilege and status. In their world of upper-class comforts and societal expectations, adopting a child from less fortunate circumstances was perhaps seen as a noble gesture, a way to showcase their benevolence to the world.
But for her, it was hard to shake the feeling of being viewed as a charity case, a token of their generosity to be paraded around like some kind of trophy. The thought of being taken in by people who viewed her as nothing more than a project to be molded into their idea of a well-behaved, respectable child left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Turning her attention back to her book, she tried to distract herself from the simmering anger that threatened to consume her. But then, the sound of a baby's cries pierced the air, jolting her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she looked up at Anne, her worry evident in the furrow of her brow.
Anne's past was shrouded in mystery, with only glimpses of the pain and hardship she had endured peeking through her typically cheerful demeanor. Though Anne never spoke of it in great detail, she could sense the weight of her past bearing down on her, a silent burden Anne carried with grace and resilience.
As the train continued its journey, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to her past, a turbulent narrative she had kept largely hidden from Anne. Growing up in the rugged terrain of the Rocky Mountains in Alberta had been far from idyllic. It was a harsh existence, marked by poverty, instability, and the constant struggle to survive.
She had chosen to shield Anne from the darker chapter of her history, fearing that revealing too much would only burden her with worries she didn't need. But as she felt Anne's hand in hers, a silent gesture of solidarity, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for keeping her in the dark.
"Are you quite alright, dear?" a woman's voice broke through the quiet of the train cabin, her concern evident as she addressed Anne directly.
She glanced over at Anne, noting the furrow in her brow and the distant look in her eyes. She waited for Anne's response, her worry mounting with each passing moment. Though they had shared many moments of laughter and joy on their journey, there were also shadows lurking beneath the surface—memories and fears that they both carried with them, unspoken but ever-present.
Anne's reply was measured, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I like imagining better than remembering," Anne said softly, her words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity. "Why are the worst memories the most insistent?"
She gave Anne a somber smile, feeling the weight of Anne's words deeply.
"I wouldn't know," the woman uttered. "Try to rest."
"'If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, but your conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.'" Anne quoted a sentence from one of the many books they read together. "I love Jane Eyre, don't you?"
Anne's serious gaze met the woman's confused expression, creating a moment of tension between them. It was as if Anne's penetrating stare held a weight of unspoken words, conveying a depth of emotion that the woman struggled to comprehend.
"I never met her," the woman said after a minute.
"I'm glad you've woken," Anne said warmly. "I have so many more questions for you about Green Gables."
"I'm sure you do," she awkwardly smiled at Anne.
"Why do you suppose neither of the Cuthberts ever married?" Anne asked the woman.
Sensing the woman's discomfort at Anne's line of questioning, Lydia felt a surge of unease wash over her. Anne's curiosity, while well-intentioned, had inadvertently crossed a line, delving into territory that seemed to unsettle the woman.
Realizing the need to diffuse the situation, she interjected, cutting off Anne's question before it could be completed. Her words were gentle but firm, a silent plea for understanding as she sought to steer the conversation onto safer ground.
"Pardon me," she addressed both Anne and the woman, her voice soft but resolute. It was important to acknowledge the discomfort that had arisen and to address it with sensitivity.
The woman's expression softened slightly, her features relaxing as she looked at her. Though she still appeared somewhat unsettled, there was a glimmer of gratitude in the woman's eyes for her intervention. She inhaled and exhaled before beginning to talk.
Feeling a tremor in her voice, she offered an apologetic smile to the woman sitting before them. The weight of the situation felt heavy on her shoulders, and the nervousness in her voice betrayed her inner turmoil.
"Sorry, Miss," she began, her words tinged with a hint of apprehension. "Anne is very talkative and has a lot of inquiries concerning her accommodations."
"I hate talking to strangers," she thought to herself, feeling the awkwardness of the moment.
"Don't worry, dear," the woman responded, her tone laced with concern as she gazed at her. Despite the worry etched on the woman's features, there was a kindness in her eyes that she couldn't ignore. "Please watch for her next time."
"Yes, Miss," she replied with a smile, acknowledging the woman's request with a sense of gratitude. Despite the uncertainties of their journey, the woman's concern for Anne's well-being had offered a glimmer of reassurance, a reminder that they were not alone in navigating the challenges that lay ahead.
As the train carriage lapsed into silence once more, she found herself reflecting on the events that had transpired. The brief exchange with the woman had left a lasting impression on her, serving as a reminder of the kindness that still existed in the world, even in the most unexpected of places.
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As the sound of hooves thundered closer, Lydia felt a wave of anticipation swell within her, her book momentarily forgotten as she rose to stand beside Anne. Together, they watched with bated breath as a grand carriage rolled to a halt in front of them, heralding the start of a new chapter in their lives.
A servant, moving with the grace of someone well-practiced in their duties, hopped down to open the carriage door, revealing the occupants within. A woman and a man stepped out onto the gravel path, their presence exuding a regal aura. The woman, with her dark brown hair arranged in a sophisticated updo, radiated an air of elegance, her finely tailored clothes speaking volumes of her wealth and status. Next to her, the man, distinguished by his meticulously styled gray and dark brown hair, stood with a poised elegance that complemented his partner's demeanor.
"You must be the child we've adopted, I presume," the man said, offering Lydia a gentle smile. "What's your name?"
"Yes, I am," Lydia responded her voice a mix of eagerness and apprehension. "My name is Lydia Miller. It's an honor to meet you."
"The pleasure is ours, Lydia," Mr. Barry replied warmly, introducing himself and his wife, Eliza, and inviting Lydia to address them as Father and Mother.
Lydia curtsied politely to Mrs. Barry, touched by the warm welcome and the promise of a new belonging. Despite the underlying uncertainty of this new relationship, the genuine warmth and acceptance she felt from the Barrys kindled hope within her for the future.
"It's a pleasure to meet you too, and please, call me Mother," Mrs. Barry said, her voice soft yet welcoming.
The brief but poignant exchange was momentarily interrupted by Mr. Barry, who suggested they make their way before nightfall.
As they headed toward the carriage, Lydia shared a heartfelt goodbye with Anne, their embrace a silent promise to remain connected despite the changes that lay ahead. "Promise to see each other at school?" Lydia asked, clinging to the hope of sustaining their friendship.
"I promise," Anne affirmed, her smile a beacon of optimism for Lydia.
With one last wave to Anne, Lydia turned to join her new parents in the carriage, ready to face whatever the future might hold.
Once settled, Lydia engaged in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Barry, answering Mr. Barry's inquiry about her origins with honesty. "I am originally from the Rocky Mountains in Alberta," she shared, the admission bringing a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.
Her new parents listened with empathy, encouraging Lydia to share more about her past at her own pace, and respecting her need for comfort and understanding.
"It's alright, my dear," Mr. Barry reassured her when she expressed discomfort about delving too deeply into her past. "You'll tell us in your own time."
Grateful for their patience and compassion, Lydia found solace in the passing landscape outside the carriage window, the beauty of the world offering a tranquil escape from her thoughts. The journey ahead remained uncertain, but at this moment, Lydia felt a peace she hadn't known for a long time, buoyed by the promise of a new beginning with the Barry family.
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As the grand carriage came to a stop in front of the imposing Barry estate, Lydia's heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The stately house, standing amidst the picturesque fields of Avonlea, seemed to exude a quiet dignity that commanded respect.
Watching as her new family descended from the carriage, Lydia couldn't help but notice the authoritative stride of Father, the graceful descent of Mother aided by a servant, and the tender assistance she received as she, too, alighted. The grandeur of the Barry house unfolded before her, its Victorian splendor a testament to a bygone era.
The porch, wrapping itself around the front like a welcoming embrace, beckoned Lydia to enter a world of contemplation and fellowship. Meticulously tended gardens surrounded the estate, bursting with vibrant colors that mirrored the changing seasons—a living kaleidoscope of life.
As Lydia adjusted to the opulence of her new surroundings, her attention was drawn to two girls emerging from the heart of the house. The older one, with long, black hair and an elegant dress, exuded grace and confidence. Beside her, a younger girl with light brown hair wore a matching outfit, creating a harmonious picture of sisterhood.
Approaching with curiosity and excitement, the girls introduced themselves. The older one extended her hand first.
"Welcome to Avonlea," she said warmly. "I'm Diana, and this is my sister, Minnie May."
Lydia shook their hands, feeling a surge of nervousness dissipate as they offered reassuring smiles. The exchange felt like a small bridge to the daunting prospect of fitting into this new family.
"It's lovely to meet you both," Lydia replied, attempting to mirror their politeness. "I'm Lydia."
Mother and Father Barry observed the introduction with evident pride, hopeful about the prospect of Lydia seamlessly integrating into their family.
"Let's get you settled in, Lydia," Mother suggested, guiding Lydia towards the house. "You must be tired after your journey."
The interior of the manor matched the exterior in grandeur, with spacious rooms adorned with elegant furniture and walls adorned with artwork. Everything felt luxurious and foreign compared to Lydia's simple life.
Diana and Minnie May led Lydia to her room, which bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight, felt like a sanctuary. Cozy and welcoming, it boasted a handmade quilt on the bed, a wooden dresser, and a small desk by the window overlooking the garden—a far cry from anything Lydia had known.
"We'll give you some time to rest," Diana said considerately. "Dinner will be in a couple of hours. We can't wait for you to try Mother's cooking."
As they left, Lydia found herself alone, absorbing the new surroundings. The fear and uncertainty that had accompanied her on the train ride began to ebb, replaced by a cautious optimism. Avonlea and the Barrys held the promise of belonging she had longed for.
Unpacking her few belongings, Lydia carefully placed a small photo of Anne and herself on the nightstand—a reminder of the friend who had been family when she had none. As she contemplated the new chapter ahead, Lydia decided to face it with hope, ready to embrace the Barrys as her new family and Avonlea as her new home.
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[A/n: Hey guys, I want to thank you for reading this story. It is my first fanfiction. And I hope you like it. - Celia.]