when tragedy strikes ☾ shirbert

chapter 09: small but certain alterations

a/n: ❤️don't be a silent reader. or do, if you want, but you'll be way less cool. i'm kidding! (kinda)

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Stair to stair, each tiptoe freed small creaks that had been trapped under the floorboards, begging to be released. A typical early Sunday was quiet at the Barry estate, and Anne tried keeping it that way as she snuck into the kitchen.

Grand center on the table was a polished silver cloche, and Anne lifted it to reveal a pile of twisted golden pastries. They looked freshly made, and she relished in how they'd taste with a bit of honey, before taking two off the mound. She imagined she was a house mouse while she scavenged for a butterknife, hoping to pair breakfast with any sort of spread. The fifth cabinet contained her success, as she found a jar of strawberry jam (and a butter knife in the drawer below it). She borrowed her usual small hand-woven basket that was lined with plaid baby blue fabric and laid everything inside.

Anne crept to the front door, picking up her boots that she set out last night by the grandfather clock. Unlaced and with plenty of worn-in creases, she made sure to shut the door slowly on her way out, shoes in hand. As she sat on the porch to tie them, her mind was bombarded by birds and rustling leaves.

Last night passed dreadfully with very little sleep, similar to all the evenings weeks before. But the ungodly hours spent awake were devoted to Princess Cordelia, that was her time to come alive. The riveting adventures were only on the account of insomnia for Anne, yet the redhead figured it was a fine deal to make. The weakness wracking her body was carelessly blown off as a side effect of her wounds, although the back of her mind couldn't be fully convinced that was so. Still, she strolled the pine needle trail to Green Gables, swinging her basket as she thought about what her day might be like.

Rest and relaxation, or rather a mocking image, since she found it hard to succumb to either. Lunch would be eaten outside, to no surprise, and after she'd ask a friend to visit a brook with her that was North of the barn. However, she wanted to show them a meadow directly South of it too- maybe they could decide for her. Dinner would be warm and delicious, she'd nestle in with Diana only to start all over tomorrow. Lost in ways to repay the Barry's for their kindness, her surroundings slipped her mind until she saw Gilbert leaning out from the barn wall to catch her eye.

He waved gently in her direction and was pleased when she waved back. Anne felt herself smile and looked away to unlatch the gate. Cheating Dr.Ward's orders for bed rest, Gilbert showed up every morning to keep the early men company. Although he wasn't much help now that he couldn't stay on his feet, he paid no mind to it, especially since Anne started joining him. What was first surface level talk about how his leg was fairing, was next strange insignificant confessions about parts of the world you wouldn't normally think to mention.

Gilbert began, truly, feeling like Anne was his friend.

"Good morning, Shirley," He said, squinting up at her while shielding his eyes from the morning sun.

"Oh, aren't you a joy," Anne sarcastically remarked, putting in no effort to correct him.

Day after day, she left to meet him at the barn. Eventually, she stopped leaving notes on her whereabouts, as Marilla and Matthew grew to assume she'd gone to Green Gables. Soon enough, she walked him home. It happened first on accident, a 'heated' debate about private schooling (even though they failed to see that they were both on the same side), led Anne to be too caught up to think about anything else while she walked. Gilbert noticed, and didn't question it.

"Books?" He asked, referring to the basket she moved in front of her once she sat down.

"No books, not today," Anne lifted the basket's top, "Although Diana says she still trusts me fully to browse her collection, I don't agree, her trust shouldn't be rightfully placed in my poor ability to be careful with them again."