That Fateful Night

Chapter Eighteen

Anne's POV

The thought races through Anne's mind over and over as she continues laying in bed, confusion ripping through her like a tidal wave. The sweet song of birds and the whistling wind are drowned out by her pounding heart. She plays with the lace overlay on her bed, the smooth lace falling through her fingertips, calming her.

No no no. There's no way I love Gilbert Blythe. He's an annoyingly handsome boy, I'll give him that. His beautiful hazel eyes, and those luscious curls that I long to touch. Tall, dark, and handsome and- no. 

Anne begins speaking aloud, her frustrations too much to keep in her head.

"No. I don't know what love is. I'm a girl of age sixteen, I couldn't possibly know that this is true love. I didn't even know what it meant to feel love until Marilla and Matthew. I couldn't possibly know enough about love to fall in love with a boy! I'm the bride of adventure, never meant for the loving embrace of another or a bond of marriage."

A sinking feeling passes over her as she realizes how truly hopeless the last part sounds. She begins to wonder if being the bride of adventure would truly fulfill her as much as she wants it to. Though she longs to explore the entirety of the world, she feels as though it would be empty memories if they weren't shared with someone special to her. Though she never wants to admit it, she wishes more than anything to have a boys interest. The jealousy she feels over Diana's good looks and even Jane's good economic standing makes her feel more prone to ending up like an old maid.

The years and years of Anne's isolation and feelings of worthlessness having caused her to believe that no one would ever love her, which in turn, created her "want" of being the bride of adventure. 

She often wonders what it would be like to be married, as she has little experience with the aspect of it, since she was raised in an orphanage and neither Matthew nor Marilla could explain it as they devoted their single lives to their family's farm. 

As Anne lays in her room on her bed with the beautiful lace overlay wrapped around her, she wishes for love. She wishes for a bond with another that could never be broken. Not by hard times, or poor health, or bad economic standing. Not by loss or temptations. She wishes for the purest form of love. And she hopes that someday she can have that. Little does she know that as she traces her hands over the intricate lace patterns, imagining what her handsome and kind prince will look like, there's a boy in his house a few miles away planning a way to prove his devotion to her. 

Gilbert's POV

Gilbert runs a hand through his messy curls as the wind blows, the brown strands moving around in the air like seaweed on the ocean floor. Twigs and sticks crack under his boots as he walks up the path to his home, the old home visible in the afternoon light. Bash is in the fields, tending to Mary's garden. He glances up with a smile as he spots Gilbert, putting a hand over his eyes to block out the early spring sun. 

"Hello Gilbert, you're in a good mood today. Did a certain girl proclaim her love for you today?" Bash asks with a laugh, using his other hand to throw a handful of weeds out of the garden.

"No, Bash, a certain girl did not profess any feelings for me. We had a nice beach trip, that's all."

"I bet Anne looked nice at the beach. The wind blowing through her bright red hair, a bright smile on her face."

A blush rises to his cheeks, even though he knows Bash is just poking fun at him. Anne did look absolutely stunning with the wind tossing around her fiery hair. Her ever-present smile was brighter than the shining sun. 

"Oh Gilbert, when will you just tell her how you feel? It makes me feel so sorry to see you like this," Bash says with mock sympathy, "be a man. Only boys pine over a girl in silence. "