Devoted To You || Gilbert Blythe

XIX

~𝒜𝒹𝒶~
Creepy. An adjective. A characteristic of a person who is a creep; obnoxious; weird.
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I stood in the entrance of Gilbert's house, now my temporary home. The air inside felt still, untouched, carrying a scent of vacant rooms that had been longing for warmth. Dust particles floated lazily in the dim light filtering through the curtains, dancing in welcome as I stepped forward.

The interior, though well-kept, bore the marks of a house uninhabited. The furniture, adorned with protective coverings, stood in silent anticipation, waiting to be brought to life by the presence of its occupants. I moved through the rooms, my footsteps echoing in the quietness, as the house gradually embraced my arrival.

In the living room, I noticed the walls adorned with a mixture of family photos and sketches, a testament to the Blythe family's rich history. A vase of dried flowers, a delicate reminder of the passing seasons, graced the center table. It seems that the Blythe's had a taste for simplicity, a blend of practicality and sentimentality that made the space feel inviting.

As I ascended the stairs, I couldn't help but admire the soft color palette that adorned the walls, giving each room a serene ambiance. The bedroom, bathed in natural light, held a certain charm with its unpretentious decor. The bed, neatly made, awaited its next occupant.

Opening a window, I felt a gentle breeze carrying the scent of the surrounding nature. My gaze drifted to the window overlooking the backyard, and there it stood—my willow tree. Its cascading branches, adorned with fresh leaves, swayed gracefully in the wind, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

I lingered by the window, admiring the familiar view that had once comforted me in times of solitude. The rustle of leaves, a gentle whispering, seemed to convey a sense of reassurance, as if the willow recognized my return.

As the day unfolded, I unpacked my belongings, carefully placing items around the house to infuse a touch of my own personality. A worn blanket draped over the living room sofa, some of the paintings from my old room—these small additions began to transform the house into a reflection of my presence.

The evening sun bathed the rooms in a warm glow, casting a golden hue over the space. I sat on the porch, a sense of contentment settling within me. The willow tree, a steadfast companion, cast long shadows in the fading light, standing as a silent witness to the reunion of its familiar inhabitants.

***

I decided to take Anne's advise and visit Marilla. I actually used to spend a lot of time with Marilla. After mother died I needed a mother figure and she became that to me. We've drifted apart after Anne came along. Which is alright but I'd love to rekindle our friendship.

I arrive at Green Gables and I head straight for the barn. They always seemed to spend the most time in here.

"Hello?" I call out as my boots his the hard wood. "Anybody in here?" I hear scrambling from upstairs. A man, one I have never seen before.

He descends the ladder, and his eyes lock onto mine. There's a magnetic charm about him that sends an uneasy flutter through my chest. His dark hair is neatly combed, and his eyes, a shade of hazel, hold an intensity that makes me momentarily uncomfortable.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he says with a smirk, his tone carrying a flirtatious edge. He has lovely teeth. "I don't believe we've met. Name's Nate."

"Ada Smith," I reply, cautiously extending my hand. He takes it, his grip lingering a moment longer than necessary. The charm is undeniable, but something in his demeanor raises my guard.