Remains to be Seen

Chapter Twenty-Four: You and Me in One

Anne lifted her head at the sound of birds singing, as she opened her eyes she saw it was just before dawn and the sunlight was just starting to knock on the horizon. She leaned trying not to wake Gilbert as she reached for her mug on the table side.

The mug was icy in her bony fingers, and frozen to her lips. Her nose crinkled in frustration, finding the half full cup of cocoa frozen.

"Good morning," Gilbert's drowsy voice startled her.

"Oh! Gil, don't do that!" She whacked him with the back of her hand, "but good morning."

Anne sighed, and Gilbert read her mind, "today is the day."

"I suppose it is," Anne looked from out at the dim morning skyline to the boy next to her.

"I don't want you to leave," Gilbert didn't look at Anne—he couldn't.

"I don't want to leave, Gil, but I suppose it is far time for me to go back home to Green Gables; time things got back to normal," Anne tried to get the boy to look at her but still he wouldn't.

"Normal," Gilbert nearly spat the word, like poison off his tongue.

"Yes, normal. Eventually I will go back to school, maybe even sometime next week if Marilla is doing well adjusting. Normal life back on the farm, my chores," Anne's face dimmed, "I feel although my time to grow up has come."

The hint of sadness in her tone finally forced Gilbert's hand, and he looked down into her shining tearful blue eyes. 

"Anne," Gilbert placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing away the stray tear, "let me help."

"No. I-I mean, Marilla wouldn't have it I'm sure," Anne stuttered, " besides you have your own farm and life here with Sebastian—"

"Anne, please, I thought," Gilbert cut her off only to be cut off himself.

"Gil," Anne placed a hand on his, pulling it off her face, "please. You've been so kind and helpful to me with Matthew's death, but now I must learn how to go on," a solemn tone resonating in her voice as she looked out at the fields.

Gilbert sighed, "Anne, do you know why I wanted to help you?"

"I just said, because you are kind and have experienced the pain of loosing a loved one and—"

"No, Anne," Gilbert sighed, "I read very true words one time, and maybe they will help explain:

'I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely:'"

Anne's head shot up at the boy, her eyes locking with his as the words spilled off his tongue; her own lips automatically joining in on the quotation,

"'a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.'"

Anne looked at the boy in disbelief, starting to say, "I had no idea you knew Jane Ey—"

Her words were stolen from her, but given right back as she felt lips on hers. Her half frozen lips suddenly warm, his soft and tender. Anne simply sat there, electricity flying through her veins. After what felt like minutes, yet also only seconds, Gilbert pulled away placing a hand on her cheek stroking her jawline with his fingers.

"I apologize for being so forward," Gilbert looked out at the sun starting to peek through the forest trees, then back at Anne, "but you can be so difficult."