Wait For Me - anne & gilbert

Wait For Me

Before you begin, this short story was written for #avonleafair on twitter! Be sure to follow @ascopetoimagine and @tagicalanne if you can. This is set after Anne's and Gilbert's first term at their schools (Queens, UOT) , and they reunite in Avonlea. They haven't admitted their feelings for each other, and haven't had any communication since they left. I hope you enjoy, and please do comment your reactions/thoughts!!
—

The air was sweet; the richness of warm earth uplifting the aroma of wild-flowers spilling all over the hillside. If you turned to the west, you could breathe in fresh-cut grass, and possibly hear the distant shouts of children playing under the great, gentle cerulean sky.

Protected from the fervent wind, Anne watched long arms of grass wave back and forth above her, in the high reaches of the meadow where she rested. Anne twisted daisies absentmindedly between her fingers. She weaved their stalks together until they either snapped, or formed a crisp green ring adorned with yellow jewels, admiring the lacy white petals that encircled them.

It felt so good to be home.

Avonlea was her only constant, a steady and familiar thing that grounded her. Queen's had rocked everything she thought she knew, her perspective shifted so sharply. It was a relief to return, to breathe again without feeling so seen. Now she was back, and she felt like a little kid again- bounding across fields in her best dress, then letting her bare feet swing in the cool brook. When Marilla reprimanded her for leaving her clothes abandoned about the floor, or ranting about whatever, she beamed. Comforted by the routine, by its lasting. And sometimes in the late, drawn out evenings when she lifted the off-white calico curtain away from her gable window, a blurred light would be emitted from the highest window of the Barry's House. It shimmered through the tangles of trees and blinked at her, so Anne would steel herself away with anticipation- running eagerly over to talk perfect nonsense with Diana all night long. Those were excellent evenings, but the best nights were spent quietly, when the wind was warm Anne sat with her head nestled into Matthew's shoulder, the pair of them watched dutifully by the moon.

She had been home a week, and had just a few more days left before she- and her friends- had to pack her necessities, bid farewell to Avonlea and catch that train all the way back to Charlottetown. Fortunately, the annual County Fair was to take place before they left, this Saturday.

Tomorrow.

For a moment Anne picked up something strange on the wind, mellow and slightly musky.

Cold, just a spot on her right cheek. Then another, as it trailed down her nose. A third and a fourth, all in increasing succession patted down on her face. Too many to count, and her hair began to stick to her forehead and grass clung to her hands and feet. Rain fell like a sea of the sky, tearing at the clouds, until nothing held it there. For a moment Anne paused at the romantical image, but then her legs began to shiver and she stood, slipping in the unveiled mud.

She vaguely made out an outline of the bandstand a way off, and reached it clumsily, ducking under its shelter and rubbing her eyes to rid them of the blur. The tail of her dress left a trail of water from the entrance, to the puddle quickly gathering around her bare feet. Sighing heavily, she gazed out at the cascades of rain now toppling down in great sheets. She expected that this tirade would last a while, so relented to residing here, undercover, until it settled. Turning away from the view and into the shelter, something shifted in response to her movement. Anne drew back, suddenly aware of the figure opposite her.

He was similarly drenched from head to toe, and he stared at her. Like, really stared. Anne supposed she must be staring back. And how could she not? Surely anyone would, after so many months. Because he was so different, his silhouette formed new outlines against the muted, grey light. They cut more sharply around his shoulders, but faded, undefined about his head, probably softened by the new length of his hair. Odd, how her face would probably only come up to his high chest now. She'd be able to rest it near his heart, no higher. Strange, how even though he was different, he still seemed so achingly, so undeniably familiar; his chin, holding the same angle of his jaw; eyebrows were still dark and folded close to his eyes.