Our Own Island

Chapter 1

Anne admired the work of the upcoming summer as she took a bend in the road that cut through the woods. The warm sun was filtered by the canopy of trees, and she was glad for the coolness, despite her love of the weather.

The work, as in the fullness of the trees and the grand sweeps of growing flowers, made for one of the only things she liked about the walk to and from the Blythe farm. Luckily, Gilbert hadn't been around to tease her or anything. She just picked up what Marilla wanted from Sebastian.

Apples and honey sounded like a recipe for a fantastic treat, but Anne knew anything Marilla made was going to the church before her own belly. Still, she loved those apples. Whoever said they were the sweetest in Avonlea, they were right.

Anne had eaten a quick and small breakfast that morning in her rush to get to the barn and watch Belle's foal. She was regretting that now as her stomach growled loudly.

Marilla had asked for half a bushel of apples, but Anne couldn't help herself now from reaching into her cloth bag to take one now. She'd have to get more later in the week, but an extra trip there wasn't so bad –even at the thought of Gilbert's teasing.

As Anne bit into the apple, she knew she wasn't doing Gilbert fair justice. She still thought of him as the boy that had teased her all those years ago, but he truly wasn't like that anymore. She actually couldn't remember the last time he'd been actually mean to her. She could remember snapping at him, though.

She didn't know why she did it. She just did. When they got along, it was like music. But when they fell apart, it was more like sour notes. It was inevitable, Anne decided.

They were just too different.

Anne crunched on her apple as she cut deeper into the woods. She remembered now all the silly things she'd do when she first came to live here, like dawdling just to take off her boots and put her bare feet in the creek. She remembered wanting nothing more than to sleep in a tree.

At sixteen, it was almost embarrassing to think back on herself that way. She was still with whimsy, of course, but a refined type. She still used her imagination every day, she was just now more careful about who she shared those daydreams with.

Anne finished her apple and dropped the core onto the ground. A few steps later, Anne realized without the crunching rattling through her jaw, she could hear something else among the forest sounds.

Footsteps behind her. Anne looked over her shoulder, scanning the path. She then saw him a ways back. An older man walked hunched over, with a hat pulled down low. He wore a coat and scarf despite the time of year.

The man looked up to meet her gaze and then quickly looked back down. Anne smiled, as the shyness reminded her of Matthew.

"Sir? How are you today?" Anne called.

The man looked up again and walked quickly towards her. As he did so, Anne tried to place him but realized she did not know him. Her stomach swooped just slightly. Marilla was always telling her to watch out who she spoke to when she didn't know them.

"Miss. Hello." The man greeted. In the few short words, Anne thought she heard an accent, but she wasn't sure.

"Where are you going today, Sir?" Anne asked.

"You hair... love you hair." The man reached out to touch one of her braids, Anne found herself instinctively turn so that her hair fell away from his hand.

"Thank you." Anne didn't launch into her usual tale of having to learn to like its color. Instead, she just repeated again. "Where are you going?"

"Go..." The man looked up and pointed down the road before letting his outward arm trail down another road.