Save me

10. Snow

"Death is the dropping of the flower that the fruit may swell."– Henry Ward Beecher

❦

It was a dark day In Avonlea when the funeral of John Blythe was held. Annabelle had awoken to the feeling of an absence in the air, each breath she took felt hollow, more so than the ones she had gotten so used to. Now she stood in black leather boots and dress borrowed from Mary, the fabric drowning her in even more sorrow.

The sound of the pastor's monotone voice filled the open space with meaningless words from an unknown entity. She could tell it was slowly suffocating the crowd of people who varied from blank stares to ones avoiding the sight of Johns's open grave in which his black casket was slowly being lowered down under the earth.

Annabelle fell into the majority, as her eyes felt glued to the ground, her fear of looking into Gilbert's own consuming her.

suddenly a small cold hand grasped her own, a slight tremor between their intertwined fingers making her look up, she looked down at their hands and then back up at Anne's solemn face "I hate funerals" she whispered, Anne's gaze returning to the casket. A familiar yet eery chill crept over Annabelle's skin, she couldn't help imagining her own body in that casket, slowly being locked away from the living world.

Soon after the final word was spoken, the crowd began its migration into the Blythes house, or rather just Gilberts house now, their murmurs unintelligible yet loud enough for it to be known it was shared words of pity and grief for the now orphan boy. Annabelle couldn't bring herself to speak a single word, the adults around her simply handed her a plate, asking her if she was doing okay and whether or not she wanted peas with her potatoes. Annabelle almost felt a small laugh leave her lips, such a tragic thing was so suddenly done in a flurry to feed those who had just watched a young boy bury his own father.

Annabelle finally found herself seated solemnly on a small dark velvet chair, food on her lap she couldn't bear to touch. Her eyes eventually fell on Anne and Diana both with fallen expressions as they stared out a small frosted window, she tilted her head to see what they were staring at and there was Gilbert. His body turned away, staring out into the open farm, snow blanketing its landscape. "Perhaps one of us should go talk to him..." Diana exclaimed, even her cheery manner diminished to a weary whisper. Anne who had remained silent looked at Diana "I'll go."

Diana nodded slightly, as Anne placed her plate down turning to face Annabelle, she slowly nodded in acknowledgment and Annabelle returned the gesture. She watched as Anne slowly made her way towards Gilbert through the window, Anne's hand reaching for Gilbert's shoulder, but she couldn't bear to watch, she didn't want Gilbert to turn around, to watch his cold, pained expression she knew nothing could warm. Annabelle stood up placed her food aside and walked away from the crowds following the open spaces till she reached that long beautiful entryway, Annabelle couldn't help but glance back at her aunt and uncle who were in deep discussion with other parents. But she couldn't help but continue her steps, hand automatically connecting to the wooden banister as she began walking up the stairs, Annabelle wasn't even quite sure if she would remember which rooms were which, yet her impulse to be alone overpowered her. Once she reached the top she looked at the many doors all shut surrounding her, the golden door knobs telling which was mostly used as the more worn they were the more polished the gold was. She found her hand turning the first knob she saw and walking through.

As soon as Annabelle entered the room her senses were completely overloaded with the scent of Gilbert. She knew the scent so well it almost taunted her on the daily. it was warm and rich just like him, she could swear that she felt what was like a wave of comfort and joy completely blanket her body. The room Annabelle immediately noticed was well kept, everything neat and tidy. The only thing out of place slightly was a leather-bound book on his desk a quill and ink left out next to it. She examined each aspect of the room before sitting down on the made bed. she was amazed at how 'him' it felt. it was so refined yet completely antique, the sun slightly shining its natural light through his window above the desk. She wanted to sink into its wholeness, the entire room's ability to consume a person in what Gilbert felt like. Perhaps she was going mad, perhaps she simply was too sensitive after the events of the day, but she couldn't help it. Her eyes locked in with the book on his desk, the book not shut closed by its leather straps, her eyes could see the dried ink in his cursive between the pages like musical notes. It could've been so easy to simply pick it up and read Gilbert's inner and most private thoughts. But Annabelle knew she could and would never do that to him. To anyone.

She took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly trying to savour the brief escape she had from the completely separate world spinning downstairs.

"Annabelle?" She jumped as the tall lean figure of none other than Gilbert stood in the doorway staring down at her. His expression as she had feared all day was blank, he looked at her seated on his bed before quickly glancing to his book, seeing it was untouched. Annabelle noticed "I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't know it was your room when I first came in I just wanted to sit down" Her voice sped around the room as Gilbert stared back at her. She stood up quickly, her hands smoothing down her dress 'I'll go" she said making her way toward the door. He remained still staring down at her, his height as always remaining an advantage over their dynamic.

"It's okay. stay" He said. Annabelle now standing opposite him, less than a meter away opened her mouth to apologize again but as she looked at his face once more, she knew better.

"Sit back down," he said and she slowly backed back into the plush surface. He still stood in the doorframe examining her movements. Annabelle quietly stared back, finally allowing herself to see him. His black warm coat covered the black suit that he wore, his skin had seemed to pale in the winter and it opposed his brown curls which had darkened as the sun slowly went away. She saw the slight redness under his eyes combined with dark circles which told her he hadn't slept. He finally moved, walking towards her calmly before sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed, their legs almost touching. She could hear his breath, consistent and smooth yet his heartbeat seemed to ring through his body. both of them looked forwards at the white wall staring back at them a single bookshelf to the right. Annabelle felt herself at an ease, her fear of him and his pain slipped away as it began to feel like he was just there, she was just there. They were just there. together.

Slowly Annabelle broke their comfortable silence with something she knew she should have said before.

"I'm sorry Gilbert. He was one of the kindest men I ever had the pleasure of meeting and I'll miss him dearly"

Her words sat between them for a while, but she felt not a second of regret, nor anxiety for saying it now. Annabelle knew he would know that she meant it, she would truly miss him.

Slowly similar to what had occurred earlier, a hand slipped into her own, except this time it was Gilbert's into her own. She accepted it into her own and his head fell to her shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed in exhaustion and grief as a deep sigh which he had been holding in for what seemed like years escaped his lips.

A/N season three of awae slaps