A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! This chapter's pretty long, if it's any comfort! There's Faith and Jem, Una and Walter, and of course, Nan and Jerry!

Faith Meredith gave a sigh and impatiently tossed the book she was reading onto the seat beside her, lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Jem Blythe looked up from the medical journal he was perusing and grinned. "What did the poor book ever do to you?"

Faith laughed, her bad mood dissolving in an instant. "No it's just—I don't think Charlotte Bronte did Bertha Mason justice," she replied seriously. "She's so one-dimensional. She's just Rochester's crazy wife but I'm sure there is so much more to her than that. It's unfair really, how she's portrayed."

Jem eyed the book, its cover worn and frayed as only a book well read and scrutinized can be, and said, "I have never read Jane Eyre but Nan once scandalized Susan when she said she couldn't imagine how Jane could have resisted Mr. Rochester even when he was married."

Faith rolled her eyes. "That's only one part of it, Jem," she said. "If anything, it shows Jane's moral character, choosing morality over passion. But Bertha is different. She was passionate and so, she was immoral. In the end, Jane chose to stick to Victorian tradition and so, had a happy ending. Bertha, on the other hand, was unconventional, different, was called crazy, and so, ended her own life."

Jem smiled at her fondly. "You may be passionate, Faith, but I don't think you'll end up crazy. Or if you will," he added, with a shy half-glance, "I don't think anyone would ever dream of locking you up in a tower."

Faith met his eye and laughed. "You better not, Jem Blythe," she said teasingly. "I'll be counting on you to save me from my Mr. Rochester."

Jem grinned again, his hazel eyes twinkling. "There better not be a Rochester or I'll be forced to do something desperate!"

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," she replied, half-smiling, looking out the window and not meeting his eyes.

Jem chanced a glance at Faith, who made an attractive picture with her golden brown eyes watching the landscape rush by as the train's momentum moved her golden brown curls.

She was prettier than ever, he thought. But just as blunt, as roguish and as impulsive as she ever was before, he added as an affectionate afterthought.

"Have you heard about the dance Nan's throwing for us?" asked Faith after a companionable silence, abandoning the view and turning to look at him.

Jem broke out of his reverie and decided to take action. "Rather than risk you meeting Mr. Rochester," he said. "I think I should take you to the dance, as…my date."

Faith blushed and laughed. "I do hate the thought of being locked up," she said musingly.

Jem leaned towards her and took her hand. "Is that a yes, then?" he asked, looking at her with eager eyes.

"A Canadian doctor is probably a much better choice than a dark, brooding, violent Englishman," she said with a grin. "I suppose I should pick the lesser of two evils."

"And I thought you were starting to actually like me!" said Jem in pretended despair.

Faith scoffed. "Like you really had to think about it," she said rolling her eyes.

Jem looked at her seriously, his hazel eyes full of mirth. "I didn't."

Faith raised her eyebrow teasingly. "Is that so?" she said taking her hand back. "Well, I take it back. I'd rather go with the Englishman."

Jem laughed and held both her hands. "Oh no, you don't, Faith Meredith!" he said smiling. "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

Faith laughed again. "James Matthew Blythe, you are incorrigible."

Jem ran his hand through his reddish curls and grinned. "But you still like me nonetheless."

"Only if you promise to never lock me up in a tower no matter how crazy I turn out to be," Faith replied archly.

"Never."

Faith smiled. "I suppose I can bear you for one night."

"Just one?" asked Jem slyly.

"We'll see how it goes," Faith replied coyly, her golden brown eyes laughing. "You never know what miracle may happen."

"Oh isn't it a lovely day, Susan!" said Nan gaily, dancing into Ingleside's homey kitchen to dig through the cookie jar.

"I'll go as far as to say that it is tolerable," said Susan as she handed Nan a ready plate of her famous monkey-face cookies. "There's a strawberry pie fresh out of the oven too," she added as Nan began to pack a picnic basket.

Nan sighed dreamily. "Strawberry pies in June are so poetic, aren't they? They're like eating sunshine and flowers, they taste like summer."

Susan smiled, as she was wont to at Nan's romantic fancies. "Will you be tasting summer all by yourself?"

Nan laughed. "I'm planning on getting Walter to come too, he looks like he needs it!"

"That he does, my pet. Cheer him up and make forget his poetic nonsense," Susan answered as she put in a few more cookies.

"Thank you, Susan dear," said Nan, packing up the last of the goodies. "I can't wait to see Di and Jem!"

Susan smiled to herself as she watched Nan leave the kitchen. Nan's blithe nature was infectious, she thought to herself as she began to prepare the doctor's lunch. She would do Walter good.

Picnic basket in hand, Nan began to walk to Rainbow Valley. Walter was there, she knew, because she had seen him slip away after lunch. Though Walter was closer to her twin, Di wasn't there, and so, Nan planned to make it her personal mission to get to the bottom of his melancholy air.

As she neared however, she could hear voices as clear as the chimes that blew through the pipes. Curious, she approached quietly and peeked.

She gasped. It was Walter and Una in deep conversation, their black heads almost touching. She smiled. She was not expecting this!

As she began to withdraw however, she heard a voice behind her.

"A picnic basket! Who are you planning to go on a picnic with, Nan Blythe?"

Nan turned and shushed the newcomer. "Hush, Jerry! I meant to cheer Walter up but I think Una's doing a fine job of it already," she said pointing between the trees.

Jerry eyed the basket. "Is that a strawberry pie I smell?"

"Yes, but it's not for you!" said Nan laughing.

"But Nan," said Jerry, pulling a pout. "I spent so many months in a boarding house dreaming about Susan's pies and cookies. Have some pity for a poor fellow."

Nan however was still peering through the trees. "Oh it's so romantic! Wouldn't they make such a picturesque couple!"

Jerry frowned. "Nan, that's my sister you're matchmaking."

Nan looked at Jerry with a smile. "But it's with my brother," she countered. "I can't think of anyone better."

Jerry laughed in reply. "Nan Blythe, you are one hopeless romantic." He paused. "And since you're obviously so into romance, how about we put Susan's goodies to good use."

Nan's eyes sparkled. "Maybe we can leave the basket under the hollow in the oak tree," she said excitedly. "Or we can make it float to them in the brook! Or—"

Jerry looked at her in amusement. "Nan, I meant, we could use a picnic," he said. "You and I, a picnic, with the sunset…" he finished with an offhand shrug.

"Oh!" said Nan, lifting her eyebrows in comprehension. "Well, I would hate to think of Susan's goodies going to waste, so I suppose," she finished in a resigned tone, smiling.

Jerry grinned and took the basket. "How about we go to the Methodist graveyard for old time's sake?"

Nan shivered. "I can never picnic in a graveyard, especially after…"

Jerry frowned. "After what?"

Nan blushed. She knew she'd been foolish. "Promise not to laugh and I'll tell you," she said.

"At you? Never!" said Jerry sincerely.

"When mother was gravely ill about seven years ago, I made a deal with God," she paused and looked at him for some sign of laughter but couldn't detect any. Encouraged, she continued. "I said that if he made mother well, I would walk through the graveyard at midnight."

Jerry fought to control his smile. "And you did?"

"I tried! But I just couldn't. So I ran all the way home," Nan grinned suddenly. "I was such a silly goose. But mother explained it all and she even walked through the graveyard with me when she was quite well enough so I could still fulfill my promise."

"Ah well, we've all had our moments," said Jerry smiling at her and putting an arm around her shoulders chummily as they walked toward Ingleside. "I remember I once told my mother when she read us fairytales that I would never rescue some silly little princess and that the dragon could have her for all I cared."

Nan laughed. "Already the practical, unromantic, realist I know!"

"Think about it, Nan," said Jerry seriously. "What kind of prince would I be if I go off, leave my kingdom in the hands of some incompetent subject, in search of some princess that I don't even know exists, much less ever met! Who knows what will happen when and if I even come back?"

"Oh but you make it sound so prosaic when you put it that way," said Nan earnestly. "And yes, it is good to look at the unpoetic side, but you shouldn't let go of romance too! It's what gives color to our lives, however banal they may be. It's what makes us dream of possibilities, of bends in the roads, of courageously going forth on adventure no matter how difficult because of all the wonderful possibilities that may await on the other end."

"But people shouldn't exist merely on possibilities and dreams, Nan," said Jerry soberly. "They have to face real life, the real world, sometime, the sooner, the better. And it's better to face it without the illusions of dreams and beauty."

"Are they really illusions?" countered Nan. "Certainly people should face the real world but why does the real world have to sound so grim and dreary and dark? I think it's better to face the world full of hope for what may happen, with the belief that whatever happens will be good. I don't suppose that you think I live in the real world, do you, Jerry?" she asked, turning to him suddenly.

Taken aback, Jerry was quiet for a moment, thinking of his answer. "I think Nan that you've been far too sheltered. I've seen big cities full of suffering, I've read about horrific crimes, I—I plan to be a lawyer, Nan, and being a lawyer entails having to deal with the bleakest, most prosaic realities everyday."

"I probably sound like a naïve little country girl to you, Jerry," said Nan thoughtfully. "But sometimes, I think that no matter who they are or where they come from, people still need a bit of romance, of poetry, in their lives. Not all the time, but when they need it the most, to make them remember that the world is still good. So when you've become the greatest lawyer in Canada," she continued with a grin. "Remember that your old childhood friend told you to always make a little room for romance."

"I hope you'll be there to remind me everyday," he replied, looking at her, his dark eyes full of unspoken meaning.

Nan felt her heart flutter under Jerry's intense gaze but decided to answer lightly. She was, after all, not a naïve little country girl who would be swept away by some romantic sentiment. "I shall write 'romance' on the wall right above your head so you see it each time you wake," she said with a laugh.

Before Jerry could answer, they heard a familiar voice.

"Nan! Jerry!"

So there's chapter 4! Again, so sorry it took so long. If anyone's noticed, what I'm trying to do with Nan and Jerry is that Nan becomes less romantic and Jerry more so, whenever they interact, so that they each get what the other has. (Did that make sense?)