Daisy in the garden of roses {Gilbert Blyth x Oc}

The wind speaks

Alice has already gotten an earful from Emma for "attacking her hair", even though as she put it, it is Alice's hair. She found herself spending the past few days on the front porch rather than shutting herself in the cramped dusty attic. Although she loved it in a quiet book-filled room the dust seemed to make her sneeze more and more with each daily visit. So she found herself taking a book or two with her to the porch or outside in a secluded area of the overgrown yard.

The yard has been overrun by the triplets and Billy Andrews. Billy can't get it through his thick skull that Alice hates him about as much as she hates raisins. Or as she prefers shriveled up brain-looking gross dead grapes. Her disdain for Billy has caused her to start sitting on the porch trying to keep as far away from him as she could get and yet to her, it wasn't far enough.

Two oceans surely would suffice but for now, sitting on the smooth railing around the porch was enough. One hand holding onto the side of the beam the other gripping onto a book. The wind blew her hair in crazy directions, it smacked pages against her thumb. It wasn't violent as attention-seeking. Playing with the leaves and knocking against the house's windows.

Her mother would have thrown a fit if she found Alice sitting on the porch. Willow, her mother, was an extreme worrier and slightly irrational. Before she died Willow was consulting with a psychiatrist, he found that she could be schizophrenic. Alice's father pulled her out of the psychiatrist's care before she was given a proper diagnosis. At this time being schizophrenic was a sign of "the devil", her mother would have been committed and put through hell. So instead she drank her life away so that she was so far gone that didn't show her symptoms. 

The faint hint of snow on the ground and the knowledge of more coming meant Avonlea was only getting colder by the hour. A soft voice spoke up from behind her, "You shouldn't be outside in this weather, especially with no coat. You'll freeze to death, my love."

Alice knew that voice once. A voice is once so full of life that somehow seemed hollow and dead like the wind. Turning the page she had barely managed to take in she tried to continue the conversation so it would never end, "I'll be a fine mum. It's not that cold out so the likelihood of my freezing to death is slim." 

The sound went silent for a moment before her mother spoke up again, "Don't be silly, go inside." With every word, she sounded more and more like her actual mother. With a soft sigh, she spoke to the wind, "I'm not afraid of a silly cold, I'll go inside when I can see my breath."

When Alice was younger and still living in London, she made countless deals with her mother. Every time it dealt with the cold Alice told her mother, 'I'll come inside when I can see my breath.' The wind grew violent for a moment the front door flung open. It slammed back within only seconds. As the wind settled she could no longer hear her mother's soft yet aggressive voice.

Silence flooded the air. Alice had read the same page over and over not being able to comprehend what she was reading. The whole conversation she had was just a figment of her imagination. But it felt so real like she could hear her voice. It was the cold getting to her head  but for a second she believed. She could see her breath. Again a voice that she thought was just the wind spoke up, "Alice?"

Already confused with her emotions she spoke bitterly, "Go away, Billy."

Laughter filled the bitter wind, "Really? Comparing me to the pig." Shaking her head she tried convincing herself it was just the cold getting to her. But the wind couldn't take books out of your hand and the cold nor the wind looked like Gilbert Blythe. Looking up at the doe-eyed boy she couldn't help but smile, "Blythe?" 

"Hello Daisy," He said softly.