Devoted To You || Gilbert Blythe

VIII

~𝒜𝒹𝒶~

Fond. An adjective. Meaning having a liking or affection for something or someone.
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I am fond of Gilbert Blythe.

The brisk wind tousled my hair as I stepped out of the school building, catching up with Gilbert, who was a few steps ahead. The air held the crisp scent of winter, and the setting sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink.

"Quite the day, huh?" I chimed in, falling into step beside him.

Gilbert chuckled. "It had its moments, that's for sure. Anne and her strong opinions about mnemonics."

"I think she's secretly allergic to anything that sounds remotely like assistance," I teased, a smile playing on my lips.

He nodded in agreement. "Seems that way. How about you? How was your day?"

I sighed, letting the weight of the day settle. "It could've been better."

"And what does the night hold for you?" He inquires.

"Chores, the usual. Sometimes I wonder if the cows gossip about me when I'm not around." I giggle.

He laughed, the sound carrying through the crisp air. "Gossiping cows, now there's a novel idea. If they do, it's probably about how great you are at taking care of them."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "I doubt it. They much prefer Alexander. But speaking of novels, any exciting plans for the weekend?"

His expression turned thoughtful. "Not particularly. I might help Father with some tasks around the farm. What about you?"

"Just the usual farm life. Maybe a bit of baking or reading if I can sneak it in," I replied, my gaze drifting to the horizon.

"Well, if you ever need a break from the cows and the gossip, feel free to drop by. I'm sure we can find something more entertaining to do," Gilbert offered, a playful gleam in his eyes.

I chuckled, appreciating the invitation. "I might take you up on that. Thanks, Gilbert."

"But I beg of you. If you get around to baking some of those cinnamon rolls, please bring me one." He pleads making me laugh.

As we approached the split in the road, he turned to me. "This is where we part ways. Have a good evening, Ada Faye."

"You too, Gilbert. See you around," I replied, watching him continue down the road that led to his family's farm.

The evening unfolded with the comforting routine of farm life, but a small spark of anticipation lingered. The unexpected companionship with Gilbert had added a pleasant twist to the routine, and I couldn't help but wonder what other moments awaited us under the vast skies of Avonlea.

The sun cast a warm glow over the farmstead as I approached our home, the familiar sight of the rustic red barn and the gentle lowing of cows greeting me.

As I stepped inside the cozy kitchen, I was met with the comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal. My heart skipped a beat as I spotted my father, sitting at the worn wooden table. His eyes, tired from travel, lit up with a warm welcome as he saw me.

"Ada, my darling," he exclaimed, rising from his chair. I rushed into his embrace, feeling the familiar strength and warmth of my father's arms around me. The scent of another place, probably Paris, lingered on his clothes, a subtle reminder of the world beyond our farm.

"Father, you're home early!" I exclaimed, pulling away to look at him. His familiar brown hair and weathered features were etched with lines of experience, but his eyes held a glint of joy at seeing his children.

"Indeed, my dear. Alexander picked me up on his visit to Charleston, and he convinced me to stay a while. Until Christmas at least," he explained, his gaze filled with affection.

I couldn't help but smile, my heart swelling with gratitude for the unexpected reunion. "I'm so glad you're back, Father. How was Paris?"

He chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Busy as always, but the city of lights has its own charm. However, nothing compares to the beauty of Avonlea."

I nodded in agreement. There was a unique magic in the simplicity of our rural life, a magic I had come to appreciate more in my father's absence. As we sat around the table, he shared tales of his travels, weaving stories of distant lands and grandeur.

The kitchen was filled with laughter and the clinking of utensils, a melody of familial warmth. My brother, Alexander, joined us, his smile just as bright as mine. He has our mother's smile, so it's always a treat when he flashes those pearly whites. The reunion was a cherished moment, one that brought a sense of completeness to our small farmhouse.

As the evening unfolded, we gathered around the fireplace, the crackling flames casting a gentle light on our little family. My father's eyes bore into mine, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges we faced in his absence.

"Ada, my dear, you've done an exceptional job managing the farm. I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said, his words carrying a weight of paternal pride.

Tears welled in my eyes, a mixture of joy and relief. "It wasn't easy, Father, but having you home makes it all worthwhile."

The evening continued with shared stories, laughter, and the simple joy of being together. As I looked around at the familiar faces of my family, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the unexpected gift of this evening and the return of my father to our humble abode.