Part 2 of "In The Woods When First We Met"

203. Imaginary Pictures

After school, as Anne and Diana gathered their things to go, Gilbert nervously approached Anne.

He stood there a second, until Diana gave him a look that said, Go on!

"Anne," he finally asked, "I wondered if you might come over after school. Not for me," he said quickly, "For my father. He's...not doing very well, and I thought maybe seeing you would help."

Anne looked at Diana, biting her lip.

Diana gave her a push. "She'd love to," she said for her.

Anne glared at Diana.

"You don't have to," Gilbert said. "I just thought-"

"No, I do want to," Anne told him. "I just...Matthew and Marilla are picking me up again, in the buggy."

"Oh, well..."

Diana interrupted: "Good, then you won't have to walk home to ask them. How convenient."

Anne gave her a look.

But turning to Gilbert, she said, "I'll ask them."

--

And ask she did.

Gilbert saw her walk to their buggy, and speak to them a moment, gesturing toward the schoolhouse where Gilbert waited.

A moment later they were driving away, Anne giving a half-hearted wave.

--

She came back to Gilbert looking like someone about to sit for a test.

"Gilbert, please tell your father I hope he feels better," Diana was saying as Anne returned.

Anne looked at Diana, unsure about whether she was doing the right thing.

Diana was sure she was doing the right thing.

"Bye, you all. See you Monday," she called, waving happily as she left them alone together.

Anne turned to Gilbert.

She had that heartsick feeling she'd had for the past two days, and it was only made worse by being so near him.

"Well- are you ready to go?" He asked, just as uncomfortable as she was.

She only nodded.

--

The buggy ride felt short, mercifully, and soon they stopped in front of the Blythe's home.

Gilbert helped Anne down, wondering if it was all right to touch her, realizing with amusement that it would be awfully hard to help her out of the buggy without taking her hand.

Not that Anne needed help, of course. But it was right to offer, so offer he did.

Anne felt a flare of something akin to pain when she took his hand. It wasn't pain exactly but she could not recognize the spark that seemed to fly from his hand to hers. She pulled away quickly, thinking she shouldn't have touched him- it only made letting go harder.

"I don't know if he's still awake. He was reading the newspaper when I left him, but he doesn't stay up for very long, so..."

Anne waited in the hallway while Gilbert entered his father's room.

A moment later, he reappeared, smiling.

"He's awake, and he's so happy you're here."

Anne felt warm inside as she came into the firelit room. "Hello, Mr. Blythe," she said to the wrapped figure before her.

He looked worse than the last time she'd seen him but there was still that spark of teasing in his eyes, and she was relieved that despite all his illness had taken, his eyes remained the same.

Gilbert pulled a chair over for her and she sat down, never taking her eyes from his father.

"Are you still a voracious reader?" he asked her. "Now that you've finished my stack of magazines- and memorized Walden, surely-" she smiled at him- "Have you run out of things to read?"

"No," she told him. "I'm still...voracious." Then she shook her head and said with a laugh, "That's a new one for me- what does it mean?"

He laughed too. "Avid. Insatiable."

"Then, yes- I'm a voracious, insatiable, avid reader."

Gilbert caught his own reflection in his father's mirror and saw himself with a proud smile.

"What have you been keeping yourself busy with?"

"Matthew and Marilla bought me Alice in Wonderland," she told him. "It's about this girl named Alice who's sitting by a riverbank with her older sister, and her sister's reading, only Alice doesn't like the book. She says it doesn't have any pictures. I don't agree with Alice there- pictures are lovely to have, but if there aren't any, you can have a wonderful time making your own."

"So you're an artist, too."

"No...only in my mind," she admitted. "I imagine the pictures."

He smiled, but clearly the short visit was wearing on him.

Anne wondered if she should go, but Mr. Blythe leaned back against the pillow and let his eyes close.

"Maybe I could try it, too- do you think? Make my own pictures. Tell me the rest of the story, Anne."

He held his hand out, and she took it. "Well," she began: "After a while Alice starts to feel sleepy, because they're sitting by the flowing river and the poppies are nodding and her sister's words start to lull her to sleep. But then she sees something that startles her back to life- a white rabbit rushing across the grass, holding a pocket watch."

"A rabbit with a pocket watch, hmm? My, that is unusual."

"Alice thought so, too. She left her sister and decided to follow the rabbit. But when she followed him into a hollow tree, she began to fall. She fell a long way down- so far she thought she'd come out on the other side of the world. She was falling, but I imagined it to feel like flying, Mr. Blythe."

Anne continued, going on about the Mock Turtle's song and the race that didn't go anywhere and in which everyone got prizes, only poor Alice ran out of prizes once she got to herself.

He began to nod off, and by the time she told him the Mouse's Tale and- with delight- how the words on the page were arranged to be in the shape of a mouse's tail, Mr. Blythe smiled in his sleep.