Kindred Spirits - Anne x Gilbert

Fall Break- Train Ride to Avonlea

We're nearing the train station now. Anne has been talking non-stop this entire ride, and I love listening to her tell me about all of the adventures she has taken since college began. She tells me about how she and Diana go shopping in town whenever they can, she tells me about her classes and everything she has learned about becoming a teacher. She says one thing she is very excited about once she becomes a teacher is decorating her classroom. We talk about how boring school was before Miss Stacy became our teacher, and how barren our schoolroom was. She says that Miss Stacy wrote to her and told her all about how to make prints on the walls using potatoes, and she proposes that if she collects and grinds up enough flowers, she can create colorful paint to decorate her room. She says that she wants Cole and Ruby to come in and make clay structures and turn the walls into beautiful scenes. She says she'll have Cole draw a portrait of me; she'll frame it and set it on her desk so even when she's at work, we won't be apart. "Although, we're never really apart," she explains. "We're kindred, our souls are connected even when our bodies are far apart."

We arrive at the train station. I get both of our bags out of the back and haul them in. We take a seat on a bench and I pull two train tickets out of my pocket.  "Avonlea, 7:00 PM departure, 9:45 PM arrival" the ticket reads. I hand one of the tickets to Anne and she reads over it, analyzing it. I want to know how her mind works. What is she thinking right now? I look at her face to try and decipher what her expression means as she stares at the ticket. Does she imagine what words she could use in place of what is written on the ticket?

"This ticket allows you to travel to the gorgeous town of Avonlea. Take it not for granted. You will leave your current, barren, boring location at seven in the afternoon. After a brief train ride, although in eager awaitance of your final destination it will feel like an eternity, you will arrive in the breathtaking Avonlea. Your body may simply be in a plot of land labeled Avonlea, but your heart will soar through the beauty of every moment."

Or maybe she is imagining herself in Avonlea. Maybe she watches from a bird's eye view as she steps off of the train and into her kind hometown, greeted by all who she knew before leaving to enhance her education.

I'm snapped back to reality when Anne perks up and faces me. "Did I tell you about the first time Matthew called me his daughter?"

She's told me this story before, but I don't want to ruin her fun. She loves storytelling, and I could listen to her talk for an eternity, so I say, "No, I don't think you have." She goes on to tell me about the time she was in a train station, just like this one, trying to make money by telling stories and poems, and when Matthew came to take her back to Green Gables, she tried to avoid him. When a stranger asked if Matthew was bothering her, Matthew responded, "She's my daughter," which made Anne sob. She had never been a daughter before, she tells me. Only an extra set of hands. To be someone's daughter, to be loved, cared about, to matter to Matthew the way all the girls at school mattered to their fathers, it was unexplainable. She is overjoyed as she tells this story in remembrance. However, listening to Anne talk about being a daughter reminds me of when I was a son.
I try to hide the feeling that just washed over me, but she can see it.
"I'm sorry, Gilbert," she apologizes, guilt filling her voice.
"Don't be. You deserve to have parents who really care about you."
"You do, too," she smiles. "You didn't end up an orphan because you deserved to be one. Nature is extraordinarily cruel to the kind. You didn't deserve to lose your parents."
"Thank you. Thank you, Anne." She pulls me in and hugs me, and I cry on her shoulder, missing my parents. We're returning to Avonlea over Fall break so Anne can visit her parents, and of course, I'm ecstatic to see Bash. But I don't get to visit my parents over break.
"I'll never get to experience the feeling of being welcomed back into my childhood home, smiles on my parents faces and arms around me," I manage to say through my tears. She hugs me harder, just a silent acknowledgement of what I'm feeling, and it's just like the day of my father's funeral, us in the snow, wrapped around each other and pitiful. I compose myself and look up at the large clock on the wall in front of us. The clock reads 6:45.
"We've got a train to catch," smiles Anne.
"My father did love a train ride," I smile back weakly. She stands up and reaches out her hand to help me to my feet. I grab our bags and we make our way to the loading station.

There are a few people in front of us in the line to step onto the train. Each rider hands the man at the door their ticket and he punches a hole in it, and they step foot onto the train with ease. That is until one specific man follows in line. A tall man dressed in nice clothes and a tophat with brown skin, dark eyes and black hair on his head hands the man with the hole puncher his ticket. The man with the hole puncher is shorter than the Brown man. He has pale skin with graying hair that seemingly used to be light brown, and brown eyes that are ever so slightly too far apart. "What is your reason for traveling to Avonlea?" the pale man asks.

"It's my first stop of many, sir. I plan to stay two nights in Avonlea before heading uptown," the Brown man continues his explanation of travel, but some of his words are cut off by the crowd and the noise of the train engine.

"And what might your name be?" the White man asks.
"Eli Daniels, sir."
"Eli Daniels? Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to allow you onto this train."
"If I may ask, why not?"
The man with the whole puncher scoffs. "For reason of suspicion."
"Oh," Eli realizes. "I understand," he frowns and begins to turn away, but I step forward.

"What are you suspicious of?" I ask. "This man," I turn to face the Brown man, "Eli, seems very trustworthy."
"Why are you questioning my authority, child?"
"I am questioning why you will not allow this man onto the train when there is nothing about him that seems suspicious. And I am not a child."
"I have reason to be suspicious of him."
"And that reason is?" I question him.
"I can't trust his kind."
I can't help but stick my tongue in my cheek. This brings me back to the time Bash and I were trying to board a train but weren't let on until Miss Cuthbert called for us.
"And what exactly is his kind?"
The pale man looks disgusted as he looks back at Eli. His eyes scroll him, up and down. Anne takes a few steps up from our original place in line and joins me. She places a hand on my shoulder and sets down her bag by her side, showing this man that we are not going anywhere until this is solved. Eli steps forward and tries to object, "It's no problem, really. I'll catch another train."
"No, you purchased this ticket, you should be on this train," I explain to Eli. I turn back to the short pale man and reiterate my question; "What is his kind?"
"They're all thieves," the man claims. Anne sees me tense up. I can hear what she's thinking at this moment; "Stay calm, Gilbert. You're not a child anymore, Gilbert." I take a deep breath in and continue.
"Sir, unless you can prove that this individual man has broken any laws, and unless this train is legally segregated, he has every right to take his lawfully purchased seat on this train."
The short, gray-haired man pauses before he angrily punches Eli's ticket. Eli smiles back at me before boarding and mouths a silent "thank you," and I nod. I hand the pale man mine and Anne's tickets and he punches them both with a salty look on his face. We step foot on the train, the sky darkening through the windows. We set our bags on the bag cart and take our seats next to each other. Anne sits next to the window; I want her to be able to see the beauty of this trip.

Anne searches through her purse before pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. She begins writing as she looks around the train cart and out the windows.
"What are you writing now, my Anne?"
"You'll see at the end of the trip!" she responds excitedly.
"Okay, my Anne," I yawn tiredly. I woke up before the sun rose this morning. I couldn't sleep thinking about Anne. It is nearly seven now, I've been up for at least sixteen hours. I lean into Anne, my head on her shoulder. She scoots closer to me as she writes and we find our comfortable position.
"Anne," I smile.
"Yes, Gilbert?" she responds, not taking her eyes off of her paper.
"I love you," I express. She looks away from her paper and our eyes lock. A smile takes over her face.
"I love you too, Gilbert. So much." She tilts her head down and presses her lips to mine briefly. "So much," she repeats. She wraps an arm around my shoulder and places a kiss on my forehead. She returns to writing; I'm so curious what she is writing.
"Anne," I call, my eyes closed as I fight off sleep.
"Hm?" She huffs.
"My Anne with an 'E'." Anne lets out a small giggle and I drift off to sleep.