Made and Meant for Each Other (an Anne of Green Gables fanfiction)

Marilla

Marilla Cuthbert had all but given up hope.

It had first sprung up inside her, where hope had rarely had cause to take root, years ago when Anne began to be friends with Gilbert Blythe and reminded Marilla of that long-lost, nearly forgotten romance of her own; then it died when Anne for reasons of her own—foolish, romantic reasons, as Marilla had clucked to herself too often in the intervening years—had refused Gilbert's offer of marriage. That boy Roy Gardner Anne had spent so much time with at college had been nice enough, or so Marilla had heard, but he hadn't been a good solid Avonlea boy—and more, he hadn't been John Blythe's son.

She had tried to learn to live without the hope, to greet Gilbert's mother with a nod when they met and engage in the mutual deception that they weren't bitterly disappointed in Anne's decision, to consider Gilbert as good as engaged to some woman named Christine Stuart whom he had met at Redmond. Gossip certainly held that he was, and Marilla forbore to ask Anne. Regardless of what Anne thought her feelings were, the flash of pain in her grey eyes when Gilbert's name was mentioned was something Marilla chose not to bring up. She knew all too well how stubborn her girl could be, and despaired of it.

When Gilbert nearly died of typhoid, Marilla had seen the depth of Anne's feelings in the silent vigil she had kept, in the hollowness of her eyes the next morning, in the joy and despair that had been in her face when she came in to tell them Pacifique Buote had told her Gilbert would recover. And Marilla and Anne had watched together in silence as Gilbert tramped cheerfully away after the first time he had dropped by once he had recovered, both saddened and disappointed and confused by his frankly comradely tone.

They didn't talk of it, though. Anne had always been careful to hold that particular dream close to her heart, and Marilla had never wanted to encourage her to talk or think about boys—other than that one, and Marilla felt conflicted enough about her deep desire for Anne and Gilbert to make a match of it that she had squashed any temptation toward carrying her conversations with Anne in that direction.

Something about today seemed different, though. Marilla steadfastly rolled dough and smacked Davy's hand away from it when he would have pilfered a bite, pretending not to notice as Anne came down from her room in a brown dress, went back up and changed to a blue one, went back up and changed again to a green one. That Gilbert was coming and they were going on one of their long 'tramps' through the wood Marilla knew; that Anne had awakened to a knowledge of her own feelings for Gilbert she also knew. What Gilbert was thinking Marilla did not know, and the not knowing was driving her wild enough that she nearly let the kettle boil dry while she rolled the pie crust until it was as thin as a sheet of paper and wondered furiously whether these two young people would ever figure out what was what.

At last Gilbert came, whistling merrily. Anne had gone outside to wait for him, and Marilla managed to find a reason to go to the door and watch them when they met. But Gilbert's face gave nothing away, and Marilla sternly forced herself to put the hope aside again and get back to work.

So it was that when Anne came back hours later, and shut the door and leaned against it, standing in unwonted silence, Marilla was not expecting anything particular.

Until Davy said, "Say, Anne, you look real queer. If you're sick, can I have your slice of pie?"

Marilla looked up. Anne did indeed look unusual. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes starry and alight, and she was hesitating there in the doorway without moving, as though she were glued to the spot. "Anne?" she asked, trying to keep that unbidden hope out of her voice.

"I ... Marilla, I ..."

It was one of very few times in their lives together that Marilla had seen Anne at a loss for words. She clasped her hands together in a gesture she would later find ridiculous in a woman of her own age, and said, "Anne, are you engaged?"

Tears stood in Anne's eyes as she nodded, and Marilla gave a whoop of joy that would make her absolutely cringe when she thought about it later, and clasped her girl tight in her arms, feeling that all was right in the world, at last.