My Lucky Penny

The Painful Eagerness of Unfed Hope

Penny always loved the feeling of crisp November air on her face. Though it bit at her nose, the cold always left her refreshed and feeling truly alert.

She had dedicated her Saturday to cleaning up the farm in preparation for the intense snowfall sure to come any day now. She fed the cows as well as her and Gilbert's horses. They had to sell their father's after he died for a little extra money. Executing the sale had left Penny in a puddle of tears. For her, it had added to the crushing reality that her father was really gone.

Basking in the memory required her to take a deep breath as she stood in the middle of her barren field. The Cuthberts had been so generous in curing much of her loneliness in the past months, but it was days like these where she remembered she was without a family in Avonlea.

At the very least, she was glad Nate and Dunlop were gone. Her hatred of them had only grown stronger with each passing day.

Putting away the rake, she decided to head back to Green Gables. Anne had been anxiously awaiting Gilbert's reply to her letter. If Penny received one, maybe it would heighten her spirits a little.

•••

Penny welcomed the warmth of Green Gables as she walked in. As she took her coat and scarf off, she was surprised to see Anne in the kitchen.

"Hi, Anne!" she greeted happily. "I thought you were spending the day at Diana's."

"I was supposed to," she confirmed begrudgingly. "Mrs. Barry seems to think we were engaging in perilous acts."

Penny considered the statement for a moment before raising her hands in surrender. "I know enough to not ask. Any word from Gilbert?"

Anne shook her head. "No. Only Matthew's third letter from Miss Jeannie."

"The seamstress from Charlottetown?"

"The very one," Marilla verified.

Though Penny wanted to ask, she could tell Matthew was uncomfortable so she let the subject die.

"You see," Anne rambled. "I've come to the conclusion that there's really no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea. It may have been easy in Camelot hundreds of years ago, but romance is not appreciated anymore."

"I wouldn't write it off that quickly," Penny refuted kindly. "I believe romance is still a cherished thing amongst most individuals."

"But you have written off all of your suitors," the redhead pointed out.

"That is true; however, it's not for a lack of wanting a great love. I simply haven't found someone whose feelings I reciprocate."

"Do you still believe you'll find that person?"

Penny smiled. "I do. Avonlea is only one town. It is a big world out there. I know my love is out there somewhere."

"Either way," Marilla interjected. "It's a day late and a dollar short for your newfound sensibleness. I dare say Mrs. Barry was right to call your pond business dangerous. Seeing as you can't seem to keep out of trouble, you will confine yourself to indoor chores."

"But, Marilla-" Anne protested.

"We all need to stop gallivanting around like nothing bad could ever happen in Avonlea!"

A tense silence followed. Penny sighed. She knew Marilla had not fully gotten over the havoc the boarders had wreaked. If she was being honest, she hadn't either. There were still times where she could feel Nate's breath on the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of her feet on the floor, trying to ground herself.

It wasn't until her head was no longer spinning that she joined back in the conversation.

•••

Penny was reading in her room when the door all of a sudden burst open.

"I can't take it anymore," said a distressed Anne as she plopped down on the bed.

Instantly, pink envelopes in the redhead's hand caught Penny's sight.

"Anne," she began cautiously. "What are those?"

She took a deep breath. "They're Miss Jeannie's letters to Matthew. I don't understand. Why hasn't he opened them?"

"I'm not sure," Penny answered, understanding the path that Anne's mind is on. "But the reason is only needed to be understood by him, don't you agree?"

Anne's posture seemed to deflate a little. "I suppose."

"So you're not going to open his letters, right?"

She gave a small nod. "Right."

"Good." Penny sighed in relief. "You should return the letters to where you found them. If Matthew decides to open them, he will do so on his own accord."

She watched as Anne left the room, hoping that, for once, she would stay out of someone's business.

•••

A few unusually quiet days passed before the next hullabaloo. Penny was cleaning dishes in the kitchen when she looked up to see Anne in a conversation with a peddler. He was displaying his wares to her and she seemed completely entranced.

However, it wasn't long before Marilla came storming over, yelling at him to get off her land. Anne tried talking her down to no avail. He left and the redhead came in a moment later, storming past Penny and up the stairs without a word.

Penny quickly went out to see Marilla, who had taken an exhausted seat on the porch. Penny went and sat down next to her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Marilla sighed, resting her forehead in her hand. "I already invited two dangerous men into our home. I will be damned if I let it happen again."

Penny's shoulders dropped and she looped her arm through Marilla's. "You mustn't blame yourself for the boarders. You took a scary yet necessary risk. It was the right thing to do in your circumstances. My father would have done the same thing."

Marilla offered a little smile. "I do often miss your father. He was quite the gentleman."

Though speaking of her father still made Penny feel somber, it didn't hurt as much as it used to. Time may not heal all wounds, but it does tend to make them more bearable.

"I miss him, too," she replied. "He really cared for you. I've always been completely secure about his love for my mother, but there's something irreplaceable about first loves."

Though Marilla didn't reply, the wistful look in her eyes let Penny know that she was somewhere else in a time where John Blythe was still alive.

And Penny was comfortable to sit in those memories with her.