There was a slight personal emergency yesterday, so here’s the somewhat late first chapter. So, so sorry!!!

I would like to clarify, as well, that a month after I made the decision to base this story off of Anne’s House of Dreams (novel) instead of Anne of Green Gables: the Continuing Story (movie), a character from the latter piece came to me, quite furious over his deletion. Being a favorite character of mine, for reasons unknown, I agreed to write some of his Continuing Storyline in near the beginning.

Gilbert is furious with me, and protests that Jack Garrison was only thrown into the movie to aid and abet Anne later, in Europe, but this only caused me to have a reason for writing him in, by having him pop up again much later.

IN SHORT: I like Jack Garrison too much, and so Gilbert and Anne are going (back, in Gilbert’s case) to New York and then experiencing Anne’s House of Dreams, during the course of which Mr. Garrison will again be minutely featured.

(You didn’t think I was going to let Gilbert get married right away, did you?)

Enjoy!

-M.R.

Chapter One: Postponement

The word “engagement” has two meanings: in war it’s a battle, in courtship it’s a surrender.

-source unknown

“…can’t believe Fred and I shan’t dance at your wedding for another YEAR, Gilbert Blythe. Really—how on earth did you get Anne to agree to an engagement over those first three years? And besides,” groaned Diana Barry Wright, staring hard at her subject over her and Fred’s shoulders, as Gilbert leaned nonchalantly back in the buggy, “Mrs. Harmon Andrews says a long engagement is bad luck.”

“Diana, Jane was engaged to Mr. Inglis for much less than a year; her mother can afford to say things like that.”

Fred chuckled.

“Well,” sighed Diana, settling back in her own perch beside Fred, “don’t come running to me or Fred when Anne breaks another slate over your head. Here you’ve been away at that dreadful New York hospital for three years while Anne was at Summerside, but now her term is up—”

But they had reached the seashore, and at the sight of the slim figure pacing on the beach Gilbert vaulted out of the now-stationary buggy and slid boyishly down the sandy slope towards her.

Any other woman would have been classified forever as “odd” who walked without clear purpose up and down the shore, speaking aloud—to no one—and sometimes jotting things down in a small notebook; but Avonlea had very long ago come to accept this as part of Anne’s personality. How could they complain about the writing process of a young woman who had twice already put Avonlea on the map through her publication?

Anne, who was at this point not too far off from Gilbert, swerved suddenly, caught sight of him—stopped dead, uttered a shriek of surprised joy, and ran towards him, her arms outstretched, only to trip headlong over the large driftwood branch whereupon her hat rested jauntily.

“Anne!” Amusement and alarm evident in his voice, Gilbert crouched beside her, only to break into a wide grin as he heard her peal of self-deprecatory laughter. “Nothing broken or bent, I hope?” he asked, trying to sound serious.

“Only my pride,” she gasped. “Oh, Gil, help me up!”

This operation was hampered severely when Anne kissed Gilbert; and it was a few minutes before Gilbert was able to propose a walk in the lane.

Fortunately, Anne, being Anne, talked for some time on the subject of the A.V.I.S.’s recent improvement to Avonlea, the telephone; she spoke with an amused smile of the problems created by nosy neighbors when ever the ’phone rang for someone else. “And Cordelia,” she continued, referring to Diana’s second child, Small Anne Cordelia, “turned two last month, and there was the funniest little party, attended mostly by all the babies and toddlers Avonlea had at its disposal. Oh, Gilbert, the dear things! I can’t wait until we have our own children,” she continued dreamily. “If Diana has her way, we’ll be married within a week.”

“Um,” said Gilbert, who was not averse to children, but rather wary of Anne’s not being able to “wait,” which would go sadly against the plans he wanted to discuss with her. He decided that he had to do so now. “I have a decision to make, which may turn our plans upside-down.”

“What?” Anne’s voice did not contain the danger note which Gilbert had so early in life begun to learn how to detect; her face was calm, questioning, so Gilbert pushed on.

“Bellevue Hospital’s asked me to remain on staff for the year—”

The calm smile slid from Anne’s lips, and she turned and kept walking. “We agreed that—”

Gilbert rushed after her. “Anne, I realize that—”

“—at the end of three—”

“—but this is a remarkable opportunity,” Gilbert pleaded.

Anne, who knew Gilbert’s weakness for remarkable opportunities, sighed heavily.

“I know you’ve resisted visiting in New York in the past, but—”

“You’re…asking me to come with you?” Anne asked quietly.

Gilbert smiled and nodded, chucking her under the chin. “I couldn’t bear another year without you,” he vowed solemnly.

“I want to be with you, too, Gil,” she said, laughing. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Then come with me.” He could feel her resolve weakening. “Right now. And we’ll go immediately.”

“But I couldn’t be happy living anywhere but here!” Anne flung out her arms, towards the hill over which peeped a white house, plain but for its green roof and gables. “This is where I want to be. Here, with you,” she indicated Green Gables, “and Marilla and Mrs. Lynde, and the twins…There are some many memories stored up here, Gil, and so many more are waiting to be made. I don’t want to make them anywhere else but on this Island.” She looked up at him seriously as he placed an arm around her shoulders. “This place is in both our souls, Gil. Promise me we’ll grow old together here.”

“Old?” Gilbert repeated in mock indignation, trying to lighten the moment. “Come, on, Anne. We’ve still got a few years ahead of us!”

She laughed, as he knew she would, and they walked on again in silence. Gilbert was unsure of how to re-open the topic; Anne’s set jaw as she appeared deep in thought forbade speech presently. Gilbert only hoped that she would let him speak of it again soon, as he must either report or write back to the hospital within the next two weeks.

“I’ll go with you to New York.”

“What?” Gilbert started; he had been lost in reverie was well.

“To New York—I’ll go.”

Gilbert smiled.

“Just to see if I like it first,” Anne warned him.

Gilbert grinned.

“But PROMISE ME, Gilbert Blythe, that we’ll come back to the Island to raise our family.”

Gilbert beamed. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Anne leaned back against Gilbert. “Whatever will I do while you’re at the hospital?”

“New York is a wonderful place for a writer,” said Gilbert slyly, “all those…publishing houses…

“But are you sure?” he asked, even as Anne smiled in dreamy anticipation of her literary discovery. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

And, though it might sound cheesy to any but the two standing face-to-face on a hill near Green Gables, Anne said, “I’m only sure of one thing: that I’m scandalously in love with you.”