Disclaimer: Anne of Green Gables, all characters, places, and related terms belong to L. M. Montgomery and Sullivan Entertainment.
Author's Note: This plot bunny has been begging to be written for quite awhile. It is mainly movie-verse with splashes of book-verse thrown in here and there. This is my second Anne of Green Gables fic, and would really appreciate feedback.
Diana Blythe
Diana Blythe… I had tried out that name on my lips countless times, delighted with how sweet it sounded to my ears, so elegant and flowing. "Good day, Mrs. Blythe," I imagined I would be greeted some day. I did not think it was too much to hope and wonder.
I had "known" Gilbert Blythe for as long as I could remember. He was awfully handsome, with brown wavy hair, dark eyes, and a cocky smile. He was courteous but, like the other boys, very mischievous at times. I'm certain he never knew how many girls, myself included, secretly set their sights on him.
I can recall when I first became dead gone on him. I was nearly 13, and school had started a week earlier. I was walking home with Ruby Gillis when Gilbert ran up to us and handed me my new blue hair ribbon. He said he found it outside the schoolhouse and realized it was mine and was glad he had caught up with me. It must have come undone and fell out of my hair without my noticing. I had stammered a shy "thank you" and looked into his dark eyes. His fingers lingered on mine a moment longer than necessary, and then he touched his cap to us and rejoined his friends. The rest of the walk passed in a daze to me. My fingers still tingled from Gilbert's warm ones. I was shocked that he knew the ribbon was mine. He had noticed and remembered! I attempted to brush aside Ruby's teasing me about how soon my and Gilbert's names would be up on the porch wall under the "Take Notice" sign. But I could not hide my flaming cheeks nor stop my pounding heart and wondering thoughts. I was severely disappointed when my name never appeared with his on the wall as the school year went on.
I secretly watched him in class and during church. I never was bold enough to go up and talk to him at the picnics and other outings where I saw him. So I simply observed him as he played with his friends, chatted with Josie Pye and her friends, and sat bent over his school desk, his face full of concentration and determination. He was unaware of my silently encouraging him during our many spelling bees, my cheering him on when he raced his friends, or my being proud when he was head of our class.
He didn't take notice of me, nor really of any of the other girls in our class, in a fanciful way; however, he loved to tease us girls mercilessly: pulling our hair, stealing our books, and poking fun at us. (While I voiced along with the others how annoyed I was by such treatment, I looked forward to those very rare times when I was the object of his teasing. When he would actually see me, his eyes twinkled as he made some comment about my hair or how I missed a word during a spelling bee. I wondered if he ever saw the adoration in my eye, if he knew that I loved being tormented by him.) Even Josie, who fancied him terribly, was not safe from his pranks. But I know he never mooned over her.
Then Anne Shirley came to Avonlea. I had heard many things about her before I finally met her face to face at one of the Sunday picnics. She was what some might call queer and dreamy -- a romantic at heart with a huge imagination. But I knew we would get along just fine when we shyly smiled at each other when Mother introduced us.
She had talked me into taking part in the three-legged race. I was awed that she was not embarrassed that we were the only girls and would surely be beaten. I was helping her tie the cloth around our ankles when I heard, "Hey, Diana."
My heart galloped as I looked up into Gilbert's eyes. He was talking to me! He knew my name! I prayed I was not blushing.
"Who's your friend?" he asked, eyeing Anne with undisguised interest.
"Anne Shirley," I had answered, smiling, looking from one to the other.
It was when we rode in a boat on the lake that I brought up the subject of Gilbert. I was honestly envious when Anne said she thought it very bold of him to have winked at her after the race, and I confessed I wished he would have done the same to me. Gilbert had never done anything like that before -- and to a new girl besides! We spent a delightful time talking about Gilbert and Josie.
During the weeks before school started, I was pleasantly surprised when Gilbert sought me out after church and at various outings. Our conversations centered on Anne. He wanted to know everything about her, and I told what little I knew and thought right to share, for Anne and I were already trading confidences and I did not wish to break her trust. He asked if I could properly introduce them soon. I never was able to. Anne was not as eager to make Gilbert's acquaintance as he was.
The time I became aware that Gilbert was interested in Anne was the first day of school. Anne and I were seated next to each other. I looked up from my history book and peered around Anne in time to see Gilbert throw a small piece of paper into her lap. She met my eyes knowingly, but it was only I who looked at Gilbert, who appeared frustrated that Anne ignored him. Then came the defining moment: he tugged on one of her braids and hissed, "Carrots! Carrots!" He then had Anne's complete attention. She leapt up and broke her slate over his head!
He and I both waited for her when Mr. Phillips kept her after class. I rushed to her side the moment she emerged from the schoolhouse and took her arm. Gilbert intercepted us and tried to apologize for getting her in trouble. But Anne gave him only a cold look before turning her head away and marched with me down the road.
I was astonished. Gilbert had never said he was sorry for anything before. And for Anne to refuse him…! I would have gladly forgiven him.
From then on I knew where Gilbert's interest truly lay. Josie tried to keep him to herself, but he was never rightly hers to begin with. He sometimes went off with her after school, but he always looked over his shoulder at Anne. He had eyes for no one else. Oh, he would talk to me occasionally, but it was not me he desired to speak to; he wanted to hear about Anne. I was her bosom friend and could answer almost all his questions. He often wondered if she would ever forgive him and they could at last be friends. I hoped she would, but Anne was very stubborn. She saw Gilbert as her rival, and they worked hard to beat each other every week at the mathematic test or spelling bee.
The first and only time I witnessed Gilbert's fury was the day he discovered someone had written under the "Take Notice" on the porch wall of the schoolhouse Anne's and Charlie Sloane's names. When I showed her later that day, her anger nearly matched Gilbert's.
So many times he tried to make up with her. There was the time he offered to help her home when she was dared by Josie to walk the ridgepole of Moody's kitchen roof and fell off, spraining her ankle. Of course, she did not accept his offer. I heard later that Gilbert refused to speak to Josie for several days.
It was painful watching this game Anne played. She refused to forget what Gilbert had called her so long ago; but she did watch him. Slowly she really noticed him. But her pride would not allow her to forgive him and see what could become of their friendship.
I continued to be the go-between at times. I tried not to think about how I wished Gilbert and I could just once talk to each other about the other, and not about Anne. But his heart seemed set on her. And I saw and knew, but my secret longing for him would not die.
Only one final time did Gilbert really see me. At the Christmas ball at Carmody I dared Anne to ask Gilbert to dance. I followed along behind her and was stunned when he pretended not to notice her when she greeted him. Instead, he looked beyond her to me. His face lit up, and he stepped towards me, grinning.
"Diana! You look wonderful tonight." I know he was being sincere. And my heart fluttered. "Marry Christmas!" And then he hugged me and kissed my cheek.
"Merry Christmas to you too, Gilbert," I had said dreamily.
Anne was hurt by Gilbert turning his back on her at the ball, though she hid it well. She also pretended haughtiness when I claimed he had taken her dancing card. Her barriers were slowly breaking down.
The silly childishness between them began to melt when Anne accepted Gilbert's offer to go with him to the recital at White Sands Hotel over a year later, where she would recite The Highwayman. However, fate seemed determined to keep them apart when one afternoon Anne gave me a note to give Gilbert saying she could not go with him. I delivered it, though I felt she ought to have told him in person. Gilbert read it, and his face darkened with sadness and disappointment. I was embarrassed to witness his reaction, and my heart cried for him. He immediately penned a short note and requested I give it to Anne.
When I gave it to her the night of the recital at the hotel, she pleaded with me to tell Gilbert she would explain everything when she had a moment. But I was unable to, for Josie was at his elbow the whole time, and I dared not repeat Anne's message in front of her.
Gilbert left before he was able to speak to Anne. She decided it was best to leave the matter unresolved.
When she and several classmates went off to Queens Academy, her letters told me of her homesickness and how she avoided Gilbert, though she found a comfort in Ruby and Jane.
One day after she returned home, we walked arm in arm along the beach front, and I brought up the subject I had spent many days pondering. I asked if she ever explained to Gilbert why she had ended up refusing his offer.
"Some books are better left on the shelf. I wish him luck, though. He's a determined young man," Anne had replied nonchalantly.
"Then as far as you're concerned, he's fair game," I stated quietly, opening myself up to this one, long-held secret.
Anne had turned to me, bewildered. "Why, Diana Barry! If you were interested in Gilbert Blythe, why didn't you ever say so?"
I plunged on bravely, "Because I thought my bosom friend was in love with him."
"In love with Gilbert Blythe? Me?" Anne asked, almost laughing.
"Yes, you. Gilbert did say that being smart was better than being pretty," I answered seriously.
She smiled at me. She did not confirm or deny my assumptions. But her answer was in her eyes, even if she herself did not know it, and my heart at last broke.
"Goodnight, dear, sweet Diana," she whispered affectionately.
"Goodnight."
As I watched her leave, I at last resigned myself to the truth. I did not cry nor feel envy towards Anne. I could not. Diana Blythe will never be. But I was certain someday Anne and Gilbert will mend things between themselves and what I and others have foreseen will come to pass.
"Anne Blythe…" a bittersweet smile touched my face as the name danced in my ears and I hugged myself.
THE END