The idea of going into the great green wild is something that, for sure, would never have crossed Mr. Phillips' mind... Today's lesson is yet another example oh how different Miss Stacy is in comparison to their former teacher and not one students is heard to be complaining. While being forced to mind all the rocks lying around and the roots sticking out of the ground is an unavoidable part of it, having the class taken outside is actually pretty enjoyable. Fresh air certainly plays a part in helping the young minds work and, what matters more perhaps, it's a welcome distraction, with the Queens entrance exams approaching.
Besides, it's rather pretty, too. Marianne knows she should be paying more attention to Miss Stacy's words, but she cannot help raising her head every couple of steps, gazing up at the lovely nature around them, sun rays shining through the leaves up above. She's busy admiring the dream like atmosphere they create, but she finds herself waiting to hear Anne's voice whisper something about pixies hiding under the ferns or trolls that can turn their body into stone.
"Are you even watching where you're going?"
"Not really."
Marianne's honest answer pulls a warm chuckle from Gilbert's lips. He's walking right beside her, one hand buried in his pocket and the other gripping the strap of his bag. When she casts a glance at him, her smile as an answer to the sound, Marianne finds herself amazed by the rather nonchalant manner of his movements. Honestly, it's like he doesn't even need to pay attention... and even if he did not, she is sure, the boy would look just as pleasing to the eye when stumbling.
The famous smug look appears on his face when he catches her staring. And, while it causes warmth to erupt in her stomach before creeping up the back of her neck, Marianne actually likes to see sparkles in his dark eyes, his lips stretched in a grin.
"Admiring the view, I see?" Oh, and that teasing note in his voice.
"I certainly hope you mean the forest."
"Of course. What else?"
Raising her eyebrows with her features changing into a knowing look, Marianne wonders whether he's aware of how smooth he actually is. He must, she thinks sometimes. He must know, and he shows every sign of a willingness to use it. Usually, that is.
"...you wish to see the true genius and efficiency of Mother Nature, just look up at the trees above you," Miss Stacy says, leading the group further into the forest. "See the channels of space between the canopy? The mysterious phenomenon is known as 'crown shyness'. Each tree is aware of its boundaries..."
A few steps behind their back, Tillie 'trips', seizing the opportunity to seek support in the two boys walking beside her. Marianne thinks nothing about the obvious attempt, yet it is somehow puzzling that everyone seems so sensitive to the matter of touching... And it certainly is another thing for Miss Stacy to worry about - it's not easy to keep an eye on all the students, and she would most definitely be the one their parents choose to blame should something occur.
It's no wonder she stops her lecture mid sentence, reminding Tillie and the boys of the no touching rule, causing the others to laugh. Marianne truly wouldn't want to be in the teacher's shoes right now.
As the woman goes on talking about the trees, there is a gentle brush over Marianne's fingers. Barely a touch, really. Looking down, she can see Gilbert's hand moving away, back to its previous place around the strap of his bag. Allowing her eyes to travel up the boy's arm, she cannot help being surprised. Of course, having her hand held in his, or the other way around, has basically become an inherent element of the time they spend together - but now it's an obvious answer to Miss Stacy's words. Or their blatant disregard, rather.
"What are you doing?" she asks in a quiet voice, not even trying to hide her smile.
"Definitely not touching."
"I see the... general atmosphere is getting to you at last." The moment she chooses to speak is the same one their classmates laugh at the mention of some bird's name; at which Gilbert rolls his eyes playfully, the expression on his face so exaggerated it pulls a chuckle from her lips. "And here I was, thinking you far too mature. Can you imagine a doctor giggling at the mention of-"
"I'm not yet one, however. I believe I should like to have my fair share of acting all giddy-"
As if on cue, in the topic of doctors and treatment, a piercing cry cuts through their conversation. Gilbert rushes to Moody's side in an instant, kneeling beside the boy, and Marianne takes a hold of his bag, which he carelessly throws to the ground. And thank God his back is blocking the view, because she may be still not entirely aware of what's happened, but seeing the wound would surely cause her to feel faint. Marianne is not a fan of blood, and the only one she can be expected to deal with is the one connected to her monthly cycle (and even that is far from pleasant).
She's determined to keep her eyes everywhere but on Moody's leg, her grip on Gilbert's bag tightening. And yet she's far from becoming hysterical, which seems to be the case with Ruby, the blonde girl letting out a scream the moment her sights falls on the cut flesh.
And then another voice screams, too.
Miss Stacy's class looks up from the hurt boy to see a child's face in between the bushes. The boy seems just as surprised and terrified about the whole situation as they do... Yet everyone starts yelling all of a sudden, the previously peaceful forest turning into a space filled with noise.
"Indians!"
"We are surrounded by savages!"
For a second, Marianne thinks of how strange it is that no one seems to be wary of the Mi'kmaq people when they need a woven basket or a hockey stick made, but erupt into chaos at the sight of a child...
But then a thud is heard somewhere next to her. Marianne turns her head just in time to see all the girl rushing to Ruby's side, the blonde girl lying on the ground with her eyes closed and unresponsive, obviously unconscious.
"Good God," she groans to herself.
She really is trying her best to keep calm somehow, but how can she be expected not to faint, too, now?
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"And the bees, it's genius! How they produce a substance that can actually heal wounds."
Marianne watches Gilbert as he casts a glance over the recipe written by Anne before he reaches for some spice. She's in the middle of darning Delphine's little sock - or trying to do so, rather, because so far she's only managed to ensure herself in the observation that she's not made for all those chores requiring the use of a needle. Honestly, it's no wonder Marilla's hever even asked her to sew on a single button...
"Why is that not in any of the medical textbooks that I read? And the medicine woman used willow bark for pain!"
"I do understand your excitement, truly," she smiles at the boy. It's actually nice to see him so worked up about something he's passionate about, especially after those events not so long ago that made him doubt whether medicine is the right choice. And he's not bad looking, either, with his eyes shining in the dim candlelight and a blush over his cheeks... "But at least try to keep your voice down a little, alright? Just enough not to wake Bash or Delly up, because I honestly doubt the baby would be so forgiving."
He nods, but there's still something different in his steps. Gilbert practically floats over to the stove, unable to keep his new found exhilaration.
He's been that way for hours, basically. In the morning, before Marianne and Anne left for school, Marilla gave the older girl a permission to visit the Blythe-Lacroix household in the evening - herself and Mrs. Lynde have been taking turns looking over Delphine for days now, so having someone else do it from time to time is more than welcome. She only wanted to make sure that Gilbert would walk Marianne back to Green Gables once the baby and the house will have been seen to. And the boy, of course, had nothing against such a requirement. In fact, Gilbert shall fulfill it with pleasure.
Though, truth be told, as the two reached the house after the class had ended, it turned out that Marianne wasn't really needed at all today. With Bash being unusually exhausted after a whole day of hard work, the man retired to bed soon after. Delphine was pretty quick to follow in his footsteps, falling asleep in the kitchen shortly after being fed her dinner. Worried about waking the baby up with their conversation, Gilbert carried the little girl to the crib beside her father's bed.
That left the two alone in the kitchen, with nothing in particular to do. Perhaps Marianne should have returned back home then, but why should she give up on an opportunity to spend time with Gilbert? Especially as he's suggested making supper for them, something that no one could worry about now that the boy has an actual recipe to follow.
"It's just," the boy continues, his voice more quiet, "that tree's been right underneath my nose this whole time. It's... incredible! There's so much out there. Why can't we use nature to be in the winning side of medicine? Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What else is there that we don't know."
"Ouch."
Right away, the boy turns to face her. "What is it?"
Apparently, the thing that Marianne doesn't know is how to use that damned needle properly. Instinctively, she sets everything on the table and, in a rather child-like manner, pushes one of her fingers into her mouth, sucking on the sore spot. "Nothing, I've just picked my finger. So much for avoid any more blood after Moody's accident, it seems," she mumbles, the words coming out so altered it's a wonder Gilbert manages to understand anything at all.
"Want me to take a look?"
"Come now, I'm not that pathetic."
"I would never imply-"
"I know, of course I do." She takes a cautious look at her finger, praying internally that no drop blood will show. "I'm just sore about the fact that I have two hands, both of them left. It's embarrassing how helpless I am when it comes to working with a needle. What I mean is - could you imagine actually being worse at doing that than I am?"
There's something about that look on his face that makes her think he would rather not answer. Yet, gentlemanly as ever, Gilbert attempts to console her. "I, for one, think it is rather charming to watch you being so focused. The way you tend to bite the inside of your cheek is lovely."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better about myself." Although she truly does relish in the kind words he speaks with such honesty. "However appreciated, and I assure you it is, this helps me in no way at all."
Gilbert seems deep in thought for a moment, before the creases on his forehead smoothen. Abruptly, he turns to the stove to strir the stew, a proposal on his lips, "I could teach you how, if you would like."
"Teach me?"
"You seem to have forgot I grew up sewing my own buttons and patching holes in my trousers. Besides, I've watched Dr. Ward suture wounds multiple times and, although it is quite another case, there are some similarities."
"Oh, then why did I start doing it in the first place?" Marianne casts a long, resentful look at the needlework. "I've only managed to make myself feel miserable."
Gilbert makes his way to the table. He pulls over the nearest chair, taking caution about making as little noise as possible. Sitting down, his knees brush against her own.
"I told you you didn't have to. You just didn't listen," he jokes. "Here, let me try."
Marianne is more than happy to be rid of the thing, because, if she was to be honest, she would have to admit that she would rather set it on fire than spend another half a minute struggling. And, to Gilbert, the task appears to be unchallenging at all. It's obvious he's has quite a lot of practice in the past by the way how quick his fingers work, making no mistakes. Marianne knows she should be paying more attention to what he's doing - after all, he's doing it mainly for her - but then she catches herself staring at his hands and her exasperation is forgotten all of a sudden.
It's only when he speaksthat she realises he's finished. "See? I may be a little out of practice, but it doesn't look half that bad, if you ask me." His head still bent a little, he smiles up at her. "Why do it if you detest it so much?"
"I came to help around, after all. Sitting here doing nothing would be unfair, especially since you offered to cook. Besides, I don't mind it when it's for Delly. Or so I thought, at least." The correction causes Gilbert to chuckle. Meanwhile, Marianne's smile grows somewhat melancholic as she stares at the tiny sock he's just laid on the table. "Perhaps it's not a good time for such reflections, considering Delphine will never know Mary the way they both deserved to... I know," she starts quietly. "And yet, being around her so often, seeing her grow right in front of our eyes and learn new things, and smile with that toothless grin makes me wonder. I am well aware of the fact that it does not always look so, that there are many difficulties that come with being a parent, but it makes me think that I should like to have a child of my own some day. And it's-"
The boy cuts her off by placing his lips on hers. While Marianne is surprised by the sudden display of affection, she's definitely not opposed to the idea. Leaning in closer to him, she suddenly finds herself placing her hands on both Gilbert's thighs for support. The realisation of what's happening causes the funny (and embarrassingly strong, actually) feeling in her stomach to spread all over her body, the heat concentrating in her cheeks and at the back of her neck, where one of his own hands comes to rest.
It's when they pull apart for a breath that she takes notice of how intimate the position must be, her chest heaving in response. By the look of it, Gilbert's feelings on the matter do not differ at all from hers. He, too, is wide-eyed, his cheeks coloured a deep shade of pink and mouth still slightly open - they must be mirror images of each other.
"That was nice," she whispers, maybe even more to herself than to the boy. But then Marianne allows her eyes to meet his own, briefly stopping on his lips, and, despite feeling nervous and shy, she finds herself asking, "Could we do it again, please?"
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Later that night, as she lays underneath the covers in her own bedroom, Marianne recalls everything that transpired between her and Gilbert earlier. She can't deny that it felt nice to experience even such a small part of everyday life together; in fact, she's no intention of doing so.
If only she knew she's not the only one having such thoughts - only his are concerning a very particular question. Oh, and a ring.