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All these years later, Petra occasionally pondered why she’d chosen Canada of all places to begin her adult life.
As she was finishing her baccalauréate with near perfect scores, her grandparents heavily encouraged her to go to university abroad, and between her grades, language skills, and her family’s wealth she had the ability to go almost anywhere.
Her grandparents had probably assumed she’d go to Paris: Tahiti and French Polynesia were obviously part of France and would have made things simple, and she had greatly enjoyed France the couple of times she’d been there, from the wonders of Paris to the Mediterranean splendor of Nice.
But when a teenage her had been laying on the beach of her family home, letting the warm waters tickle her feet, she cast her mind to her bookshelf, and one well-worn book in particular.
When her parents were tragically killed and left 10 year old her with grieving grandparents and two siblings who could barely walk and talk, she had never felt more alone in her life, nor ever desired so greatly to be alone from those who wanted to give her unwanted pity. Her books had become her sanctuary, and while she tore through them all in the months after her parent’s funeral, none had enthralled her than her English copy of Anne of Green Gables, which her parents had gotten her a few months before to help with her english but she hadn’t started reading.
Reflecting back, it was probably the perfect timing to start reading a famous book about an orphan just after she became one, especially one who she could see so much of herself in: her zeal for life and the joy she got in sharing it with others, her love of learning, and the beautiful landscapes Anne got to live in.
Petra was well aware that growing up in a South Pacific archipelago would make her the envy of many from around the world who considered it a paradise and had no knowledge of the challenges that came with it. And while she truly loved her home, there was a fascinating pull about the picture painted of Prince Edward Island, with climates and vegetation that were as alien to her as Mars. Even as her brain knew it was as probably as accurate as a tourist brochure of Tahiti, she found her heart pulled to it regardless.
So when it came time to decide university, she’d stunned her grandparents by choosing McGill. There were several practical benefits to it: in addition to being a world-class university, Canada was a francophone country, and McGill offered the option to do her exams and other lesson plans in french, while its default being English sounded like a good way to challenge the weakest language in her tool box. And while the flights took nearly the same amount of time, Montréal was also only six hours difference from Papeete and the video calls with her siblings, while the thought of Paris being 12 hours away made her feel like she’d be completely cut off from her home. But she’d admit to herself that the thought of a fictional girl who’d given her comfort at the lowest point of her life was probably the clincher.
Her first couple years at McGill were hard: she’d bought the warmest clothing she’d could, but nothing could have prepared her skin for the freezing weather, and the snow that blanketed everything to the horizon and beyond was simultaneously fascinating and horrifying. But worse was that while she natively spoke french in a french speaking area, there were always the polite but cautious looks that reminded her she was different, whether it was the color of her skin, the tattoos she proudly bore on it, or the fact that the average Canadian was far less appreciative of their dual language heritage than she’d have thought.
Then she’d met Ashe.
She’d seen him in a couple classes, but they truly got acquainted when he’d bailed her out of an awkward misunderstanding with a vendor during a visit to the Jean-Talon market, swooping in to save her dignity like a knight in shining armor. They’d quickly become friends, with him acting as a desperately needed guide to Canada’s everyday culture: everything from helping her learn how to ice skate, introducing her to the fiendishly wonderful dish that was poutine, to taking her to the student-run gardens and helping her understand the local plants.
They hung out more and more, aided by him being fully fluent in French and actually interested in learning a bit of Tahitian from her while he helped her with the local anglo slang. Many people, upon learning of her place of birth, quickly proved to be more interested in imagining some idyllic tropical life filled with Tiki aesthetics, but he seemed genuinely curious to know what things were really like. Which actually made her feel like the one with annoying misconceptions, because when she learned he grew up on Prince Edward Island, was orphaned, and ended up on a big estate as a young pre-teen her mind could think of nothing but L. M. Montgomery’s book.
When she’d finally brought up her history with the book she worried that he might take offense, but he laughed it off and said multiple friends already called him ‘Ashe of Green Gables’, and that his younger sister had even suggested he die his hair red to complete the parallels. And most of all, he was glad a book from his tiny island in the Atlantic had been able to provide comfort to her on her tiny island in the Pacific.
Petra had never been one to waste time or let something good slip through her fingers through inaction, so shortly after realizing her feelings for him asked him out. The first few dates after that actually hadn’t been much different from what they already did together, but getting to hold his hand filled her with a warmth greater than any coat she’d tried.
It was only a few dates in, when she’d decided to repay him for cooking for her a few times before they’d started dating by cooking something from her home, that she realized this was something she may want to last for life. He’d pointed her to the right stores to get as many ingredients from home—or the closest substitute—as they could, immensely enjoyed her cooking even though she knew it wasn’t as good as his, and with no prompting started washing the dishes.
Those dishes didn’t get done until the next morning when she dragged him into her bedroom with a mad need she’d never experienced before, where she was delighted to learn that her expectations that he would be a generous lover who cared about his partner’s pleasure were met and then some.
They became closer than she could have ever imagined being with someone, and when they graduated McGill together it took little convincing to move to Toronto together to continue their studies there, and also become acquainted with Ashe’s broader friend group that lived there. These “Blue Lions” were an interesting bunch, and included some very well connected people who were worth knowing, and she enjoyed watching their antics. Especially when she’d got to tease Felix over falling head over heels for a Québécoise and wildly misinterpreting the French she used in the bedroom.
But now something that she had been hoping would happen for a long time had finally come true: visiting Prince Edward Island with him. They’d wanted to do it before but schedules hadn’t worked out in the large time block they wanted, but now she was finally getting to see the land she’d only seen through photographs, her imagination, and the stories he’d told her.
They’d taken a long and scenic drive, stopping to visit old haunts in Montréal, experience the wonders of Québec City, and enjoy the forests of New Brunswick before crossing the Confederation Bridge to the island in question. It was just near the end of summer before their classes started, and as they drove along the trans highway for a brief stop in Charlottetown towards Cavendish and the Gaspard estate she couldn’t help but feel like little Anne in the early chapters as she was taken from the train station to Green Gables, enraptured by the natural wonder that passed them, holding her arm out the open car window to feel the wind and catch the random leaf that had been pulled off and was caught on the breeze.
There were a lot more open farms than she’d expected, even though she knew from the old book and her own research that much of the land here was the patchwork of farms, but there were still many forests, and while the fact that many of them were on private land didn’t sit right with her, for now the fact that they were had this serene patch of forest all to themselves was wonderful.
Petra swung the picnic basket in the crook of her arm, holding Ashe’s hand with the other as they made their way up a hill towards what he said was the highest point on the estate grounds. Walking through these temperate forests was always a serene experience: even with the birds and squirrels and other animals making noise it always felt quieter than the rain forests that dotted her home, and right now that was exactly what she wanted. “Did you spend much time exploring these woods, Ashe?”
Ashe briefly started at her breaking their content silence, then look at he with a smile, his hand rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand. “Yeah, I’d run through them with my siblings all the time, we could leave the house at sunrise and completely lose ourselves until sunset. Or…at least my siblings could, my mind was always…”
“Burdened with responsibilities?” Petra finished for him, and he nodded. It was another thing that helped them become so close, having to step up for the younger siblings with their parents gone, and the shared pain of knowing that their siblings had no direct memory of just how much their parents loved them, relying on their older sibling’s assurances and photographs they had no memory of. It always made Petra feel like she was selfishly withholding something from her brother and sister, never truly able to relay just what it felt like to run to them scared in the middle of the night and to cuddle between them as their soft assurances lulled her back to sleep. Ashe was the first person who’d truly understood the guilt that could come with having those memories.
“I’m glad I was able to give them that, though,” Ashe said, the hand that wasn’t holding hers idly brushing the trunk of a tree as they walked past it. “A bit of magic to remember their childhoods fondly. Though breaking and entering into a rich guy’s house and getting adopted by him probably isn’t the best way to do it.”
Petra laughed as she also brushed a passing tree with her free hand. “Are there being any brooks on these grounds?”
“See for yourself,” Ashe said with a smile as they made their way into a small clearing.
Petra moved forward, hearing before seeing moving water. As she reached the other side of the clearing she noted the brook before being distracted by the view from the other side: the descent was far steeper for a time, leaving it mostly bereft of trees until they started up again below. In the distance she could see the ocean, not as colorful or inviting as the shining waters of her home but still a comforting sight, and an estuary leading into it. She could just make out a small village among the landscape that almost randomly seemed to switch between woods and the patchwork of farm fields.
She jogged back to Ashe, placing the picnic basket down partway. “The view is being incredible, Ashe! And with the forest and brook it is like the having of your own Idlewild.”
He nodded happily. “Not many places you get steep hills here. And you can the Southwest River. You know,” he added with a small smirk, “if we had a telescope or really powerful binoculars you could probably find the Anne of Green Gables Museum.”
“You are being the tease, Ashe,” she said playfully. “There is being more to your island than the old book, wonderful a tale as it is.”
Ashe shrugged as he moved past her towards the picnic basket, pulling the blanket on top out and neatly laying it out before moving the basket on top of it. “True, I hope I get to show it to you while we’re here. Though I’ll admit as a native I focus more on the things that need improving.”
“The curse of the islander life,” Petra said as she accepted the sandwich from the basket he handed her. “It is not being the paradise those outside are imagining.”
Ashe laughed a little. “I’d settle for Charlottetown getting a CostCo after years of teasing. And Health PEI to stop driving off the doctors. Maybe the Greens will win next time and make it happen.”
“Would you not be a good candidate for the provincial parliament?” Petra asked, though part of her regretted saying it.
“Oh, I don’t think I’d have a chance in politics,” Ashe said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Politics here are…very personal. People will remember the orphan boy who stole things. Besides, wouldn’t want that to get in the way of what I have right now.”
Petra gave a conspiratorial smile. “I could be helping you, by being your hit-woman against your opponents.”
“Oh dear, that might be a bit too personal even for here,” Ashe said with an embarrassed laugh before biting into his sandwich to try and hid the blush on his cheeks.
Petra pressed herself against him and rested her head against his shoulder, taking a big bite of her sandwich as she idly immersed herself in their surroundings. “How many times were you being a knight when you played here?” she asked.
“Oh, lots of times,” Ashe said. “My little sister would often want to be the princess I guarded. Once I grabbed a bunch of wildflowers and decorated her hat with them before Sunday school, she kept wanting me to make her a flower crown for every visit after that.”
Petra laughed. “Just as Anne’s first Sunday school visit.”
“Hmm, guess it was,” Ashe said, and she could feel him starting to shrug before stopping at remembering her head resting on his shoulder.
“You were saying before that your mind was being too burdened,” Petra said after finishing her sandwich. “I think you are not giving yourself enough of the credit for the joy you were having.”
“Maybe…” he mused, and Petra pulled away from him to lie down. She turned her head to the side to see several of the wildflowers he must have used for his sister. They weren’t as vivid as what she was use to back home, but their somewhat saturated colors had a beauty all their own. She heard him give a final swallow and then his legs appeared in her vision as he got up and moved over to a patch of them, crouching down and gently picking many pink and yellow flowers.
He carefully brought them back to their blanket and started assembling them, and she quietly watched him work with a smile on her face until they formed a flower crown. “Here,” he said, holding it up for her. She sat up and bowed her head slightly, allowing him to place it on her brow. “Wild roses and buttercups, just like Anne’s on her first Sunday School visit.”
Petra spent a few seconds staring at him before grabbing his shirt and lying down again, pulling him on top of her. He let out a small noise of surprise and one of his flailing hands accidentally settled on one of her breasts, but before he could remove she grabbed his wrist with her other hand and held it there.
“This is a wonderful place to be having the joy and laughter of children, no?” she said.
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed after a few seconds of looking down at her.
She gave him a warm smile. “Let us be bringing more to this place.”
“Oh!,” he exclaimed with a slight gasp. “Are…?” he trailed off, but his question was clear in both the worry and hope in his eyes.
Petra answered by taking the hand holding his shirt and moving it to the back of his head, gently running his hair between her fingers before pulling him down for a kiss.
It was comforting how even as things changed rapidly in her own life, the world stayed the same, or at least was changing slowly enough to pretend otherwise.
Petra took in the surroundings of the same hill she had climbed with Ashe just over a year ago, looking exactly as it had a year ago despite going through autumn and winter. In front of her Ashe carried the same picnic basket she had their last trip, looking back at her with an endearing smile that would flick downwards, which was where so many things had changed, with their infant strapped into the harness against her chest.
Despite their banter, actually having a child then and there hadn’t been the plan, but when they learned a couple months later back in Toronto that it had happened…Petra couldn’t help but feel the hand of fate had made a small and welcome intervention. Now they were parents, an ongoing journey that was every single emotion all at once for both of them as they celebrated a little girl who had a foot on two islands, with how much she’d craved poutine while she was pregnant there was certainly a lot of Canadian in her.
Ashe laid out the picnic blanket while Petra removed the harness and laid their daughter on it. “There you are, little Anne,” she said affectionately, “you are liking this place, yes?”
When they’d learned they were having a girl they’d agreed they didn’t want to name her after someone they’d lost, and Anne…it had just seemed appropriate. Someone would probably try and bully her at school it if they stayed here to raise her and her future siblings, but Petra would be happy to have her daughter smash a school object over said person’s head, though she had no plans to tell Ashe that.
Ashe leaned down and kissed Anne on the forehead, grabbing one of her tiny hands in his. “Soon enough you’ll be running around this place and we won’t be able to keep up.”
Anne made a happy noise and both of them laughed, Petra briefly taking her eyes off them to view the flowers. “Could you be making her a flower crown, my love?” she asked.
He nodded and moved away, Petra blowing raspberries into her daughter’s belly while speaking random things to her in Tahitian, French, and English and laughing at her squirming and giggling. A couple minutes later Ashe returned, a small number of wild roses and buttercups weaved into a tiny crown.
Petra sat Anne up, and Ashe, with a bit of flourish, gently placed the crown on Anne’s head. She laughed and flailed in happiness, reaching out to her father, who scooped her up in his arms and held her close.
Petra pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture. She’d send it to their family and friends later, right now she took in a deep breath and enjoyed the sight of the people she loved, and behind them the serenity of the small island on the other side of world from hers that had made them.