Possibility (Gilbert Blythe)

Chapter seven

When the early morning arrived, before the sun had even begun to break over the mountains, I carefully placed the kettle over the stove. It was unusual for me to be awake before the sunrise, but new circumstances require new ways of adaption. Miss Cuthbert had ultimately decided to go to Mrs. Spencer with Anne, to clear out the confusion. I had not pried enough to know whether that was an attempt to get Anne into another home or send her back to Nova Scotia.

There were too many opinions I shared on the matter; I would burst into an argument too harshly if I was led into a conversation about it. Therefore, I decided to stay quiet. I wanted nothing else than to keep Anne here, to let her know she has finally acquired a sense of security, but it was not up to me, and I was afraid I might do more harm than good when arguing.

I peeked over the bench and out the window. The misty forest line created a mysterious landscape I wanted to explore, perhaps write, or draw. I squinted my eyes in hope of catching a deer, or perhaps a beautiful stag, until my eyes landed on something fiery running across the field. A tiny, but swift fox traveled across. It came to a halt at the middle, stretching its neck up to sniff out prey before it strolled into the misty forest. Such an elegant creature.

"For God sakes, isn't she up yet?" Miss Cuthbert interrupted the quiet morning as she entered the room. I found myself jolted back into reality.  "I'll go check on her"

"Is the kettle on?" Asked Miss Cuthbert when I had ascended the stairs. "Yes"

"Eggs collected?"

"Yes ma'am" She waved me away and I hurried into the hallway with the pictures. Anne had stayed in my bedroom. I had offered it for the new arrival because I remembered how comforting the light from the window, the cherry blossom tree, and the size made me. Besides her bedroom was another room that was a bit peculiar. It roomed another bed but it was bigger, and had a closet filled with the most incredible things that at night made them look like tiny beasts. It was darker as a tree outside the window interrupted with the light, but to me, its perfection. I had hoped the bedroom with the lovely cherry tree would make the night for Anne less awful, but her sobs filled the house with a saddened mood that was hard for anyone to ignore.

Politely I knocked on the bedroom door, a tiny voice rang as a welcome, and as I pushed open the door, the sun-washed over the dark hallway and filled it with a sparkling light. My eyes adjusted to the sharp light as Anne's red hair twirled around on the wooden floor, a blanket wrapped around her neck and a wonderful branch of cherry blossoms in her hand. When she met my eyes, she smiled so brightly I could hardly believe it was the same person that arrived.

"Good morning Anne" I greeted her, folding my hands behind me.

"Oh, it sure is?" She inquired as she took the blanket off her shoulders and peeked outside the window.

"Miss Cuthbert wants you downstairs, dressed," I told her with a soft tone as to not seem commanding, the least I would want is to rush her. She simply smiled and nodded, and my curiosity got the best of me as she resumed her imaginative state: "Could I be so bold as to ask what it is you're doing?"

"I was imagining that this morning was different than what it is. I was making believe that I was a beautiful princess and this was my sacred chamber, high in a tall stone spire" Her hands reached up as she twirled around in her own and safe imagination and it gave a similarity to my own self. I could not help but break the facade and I giggle, requiring a glimpse from Anne where her eyes were filled with uncertainty, as if she believed I was to make fun of her, but hoped I was not.

"That sure sounds wonderful. I too at times imagine that I'm on a theatric stage...." My body twirled around in the shine of the sun. "..Dancing for thousands of people and everybody is applauding my art"