Book: Anne Of Windy Poplars (IV)

Summary: Sometimes it comes just when he needs it most.

Prompt: Refresh

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"We pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won, but exact their dues of work and self denial, anxiety and discouragement."

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The tired medical student closed his textbook with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. The silence of the afternoon, however, was broken by a loud banging on his door, and jumping from his seat he called, "Yes?"

"Ahoy, Blythe!" His fellow boarder yelled through the door. "Letter for you." And the letter in question was slid under the door before Jim retreated, his steps seeming the shake the house.

Gilbert knelt to retrieve the letter and noticed the handwriting with a leap of his heart. The girlish script with all the neatness of a "country schoolma'am" he had grown acquainted to, with the "G" in "Gilbert" curling ever so slightly.

Anne.

The lines on his forehead disappeared, replaced by a grin that more suited the boyish face. Consulting the clock on the mantle-piece, he noted with a pleased smile that there was one hour yet till six-thirty. He wouldn't waste another moment except to snatch his letter-opener and coat.

Taking the necessary steps to throw his friends off the scent, Gilbert escaped to the nearby field, where he slit the envelope carefully and read it while facing the white rice lilies - her favourite flowers, so like herself in every way.

That half-hour alone in the transformation of afternoon to evening, he drank of her milk and honey. She refreshed his soul with her telling of the world she occupied - sometimes stories and misadventures of her students, sometimes the peculiarities of her landladies and housekeeper, sometimes, even, thoughts of him and how she had leaned out one night to send a kiss his way. But what he liked most of her letters was the story of Little Elizabeth and her loneliness, numbed for the moment by Anne's own light and life.

That was his Anne, Gilbert thought with a thrill unusual to his nature. She was "the messenger from afar, bearing good news." She refreshed the souls of those around her, lifting their chins, restoring the joy and vivacity to faces and characters.

Touching the white narcissus, he thought of how she refreshed him even when the distance between them was so far apart. Indeed, Anne was the very reason why he worked himself to death - he needed to know that he was worthy of her, to be her protector and her provider just as he had been charged by the Great Book.

There were times - yes, there were times when he felt almost too tired to study any longer, but another dear letter arrived and reminded him that when all was said and done, Anne made everything so much easier, so much more worth living for, and so much more worth fighting for.

And with that, he kissed the white blooms and betook himself home, bathed in golden sunlight.