Part 2 of "The Three of Us"

212. Something Old, Something New

As she put the envelope into the mail, she remembered a conversation she'd had with Jane long ago:

"There was a purpose to it."

She had said it so confidently, not because she was sure of it, but because she had an imagination.

Jane paused, but when Anne didn't say anything, she asked curiously, "What was it?"

"I don't know."

"...Oh." Jane was confused.

Anne sighed. "I don't know what the purpose is. Maybe I'll never know. I've thought and thought and I can't find one..."

It was only later that day, as she sat with her Bible, that she came across a verse that spoke to her- through her doubt and through her pain.

And then she had decided that this happened to her because her Walter was needed in this world to do good things. She, Anne, as a mother now, was going to make sure his life amounted to good things, no matter what is background was. He would do as-yet-undreamed of things for humankind, and then she would then understand why he was there, and finally all would make sense.

Gilbert had remarked later that day, as they worked on geometry together, that Anne looked fresher somehow.

"I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born," Anne whispered to him.

"What?"

"Ephesians" She explained. "Why God allows bad things to happen. Because something good will come out of it...it has to. ...So now I know."

Gilbert worried Anne was pinning too big a future on a little baby, but he said nothing to dampen her new sense of peace: if what she believed helped her cope with what had happened, it was fine with him.

It was only a few years later that Walter gave Anne enough trouble to put a pause in her dreams for him. But now he was finally past his stage of throwing tantrums, and she resumed her belief that he had a some great, divine purpose.

---

Billy did not open the letter immediately. He kept it hidden for a few days first.

Finally, he took it out by the brook and sat with it for a long time, as it took him a very long time to read anything.

When he saw Margaux coming up the lane he folded it quickly and tucked it in his pocket. He said nothing to Margaux about the letter, and when he went home he pushed it into the box at the back of his closet that contained all his mother's letters to him, and a photo of Walter.

Many years later- when Margaux discovered the box- he would wish he hadn't kept any of it.

In truth, he didn't know why he did.

---

One week after sending the letter, Anne received a response back.

She too, did not open it immediately, but let a whole week go by, as she wasn't sure she even wanted to read it at all.

I specifically asked for him not to reply, she thought disparagingly, but then, of course he wouldn't care what I want, would he? Oh, why did I even send him a letter at all? Now I have this to deal with. I'll have to decide whether or not to read it, and I don't want to have to decide that...

Finally she decided to open the letter and just skim over it briefly to see what the general idea of it was.

If she could tell that he had written excuses and justifications to her, she would shut the letter and not finish it. But if he seemed to have anything intelligent to say, perhaps she'd read it...if she felt like it.

She opened the letter with trepidation and found that it contained one, and only one, sentence:

I'm sorry Anne.

And that was all.

She did not know what to make of it; there wasn't any context to figure out if he was genuine.

Finally she decided it did not matter if he was genuine or not. She had said what she wanted to say, and she had no need to communicate any further with him.

She put the letter into the fire because she did not want Walter to ever come across it.

---

Gilbert came over after nightfall, surprising Anne. She'd already gotten into her nightclothes, and Matthew and Marilla had long since gone to bed.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked him worriedly, moving aside for him to come into the parlor.

He smiled, reaching for her hands. "No. ...I just wanted to see you one more time."

They kissed.

"It's hard to believe that tonight's our last night apart," Gilbert said, rubbing the place where his ring was on her finger.

"We've waited so long, it feels like," she laughed in breathless anticipation. "I can hardly believe it."

"Anne- you're sure?" Gilbert asked, his eyes serious for a moment. "You don't feel rushed, or anything?"

Anne's mood matched his. "No...are you sure?"

He laughed. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I just...I guess I felt like I needed to know if you...if you were having any doubts, or anything."

Anne bit her lip.

Gilbert waited.

"I'm not," she said. "Not having doubts. I want us to be together more than anything. I just wish...that we could be together in...in every way."

Gilbert touched the side of her face, his palm to her cheek. "I'm not worried about that, love. So don't you worry either. I'm just looking forward to the idea that we can live together and be with each other all the time. That's what I want most, more than anything else. All right?"

Anne's eyes were shining, sensing how strong his love for her was. She nodded, and leaned in to kiss him again. "I love you," she told him.

"I love you too," he whispered, kissing her again.

When she returned the kiss, he pulled away from her. "I better go," he said regretfully. "Gotta be at the church bright and early."

"Yeah...thanks for coming by."

"Goodbye, Miss Anne Shirley," he said, leaning down to give her a knightly kiss on her slender hand. "That's the last of that- tomorrow I can say Goodnight, Mrs. Blythe, instead."