A pale and subdued Pam caught the first train home to Avonlea the next day. Angela accompanied her, to which Pam was profoundly thankful. Angela was so steady and calm that she made an ideal travel companion for a flustered and emotionally drained Pam.

Pam was fervently glad that Angela didn't pry; Pam sketched out in words the larger details, and Angela merely nodded. "If it isn't right, then it isn't right, Pam," she said. "You shouldn't do anything your heart doesn't tell you to."

Pam appreciated the sentiment; coming from staid, sensible Angela, this carried extra weight. She didn't speak much on the train, and even dozed for a few moments; her previous night's sleep had been fitful.  

She was utterly relieved when they arrived at the Avonlea depot and Dwighde Schrude was there with his pony and his buggy to take them home. Pam hadn't thought to cable ahead to Phyllis and Bob, and now Dwighde would render that unnecessary. Through the fatigue that had beset her, she smiled wanly at the fact that this was the first time she had ever been excited to see Dwighde Schrude.  

The smiles of reunion that Angela and Dwighde exchanged made Pam think of Roy's easy grin; guilt bubbled up inside her, and a few tears escaped. She knew now that she mourned what she had done to him, how she had utterly hurt him. She knew she didn't love him as he deserved to be loved, and that he was a good man, just not her man.  

Dwighde solemnly produced a handkerchief and passed it to her, and the trio drove along the roads in silence, which Pam appreciated. She mopped her face and straightened her hat as they approached the Green Gables gate.

Phyllis rushed out of the house, wiping her hands on her calico apron, and Pam jumped from the buggy to hug her. Immediately, she began to cry again, and she sobbed the story out, her guilt and sorrow at hurting Roy pouring from her.  

Dwighde and Angela simply unloaded Pam's trunk and left quietly, and soon Pam was ensconced in her gabled bedroom. She talked out the ordeal with Phyllis, and was gratified that Phyllis heartily agreed with her choice. "I wouldn't want you to settle for less than you feel," she said, and Pam was so relieved, having thought for a wild instant that Phyllis might scold her for toying with Roy's heart.  

She spent the rest of the day in bed, resting, and found that when she awoke, she felt happier and calmer. Just being back in Avonlea had reminded her that life was moving on, and that breaking poor Roy's heart was not going to be the end of her existence. She still felt a pang of guilt, but she was relieved that she could see things more clearly now.

He would do well; he would find a girl who adored him as he deserved to be adored, and Pam would teach. The teacher at the neighboring Lowbridge district was retiring, and she thought she'd apply for that school.  She could live at Green Gables, and she was happy with the thought.  

The next day, Kelly rushed up to Pam's bedroom and enveloped her in a hug. When Pam spotted the modest circle of gold on Kelly's finger, she cried out in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said, flushed with happiness. "It just happened, and I wanted to tell you in person, not through a letter," said Kelly happily.  

Pam watched her friend's face as Kelly described the magical moment and thought that that truly was love, the look that was on Kelly's face. She seemed lit up from within, and her pure joy seemed to exude from her eyes and smile. With each passing moment, Pam saw what she had felt for Roy wasn't true love. He had been a dear friend, but he had never made her feel what Kelly felt for Ryan Wright.  

She found it quite easy to tell Kelly what had happened, and Kelly was the perfect friend. "Of course you couldn't marry him, he wasn't right for you," she said, slipping an arm around Pam's shoulder. It made Pam feel much better to know that the folks most dear to her felt that she had done the right thing.   

"Promise me you'll save your spare bedroom for Old Aunt Pam, the charming spinster," joked Pam, and Kelly laughed.  "Silly goose, your tall dark stranger is out there somewhere," she said, squeezing Pam affectionately, and the two went down for tea with Phyllis and Mrs. Marjorie Lynde. The latter made Pam feel better by stating, "It's well enough you didn't marry that boy, Pam. An Avonlea boy would suit you much better; you never know what you'll get with city boys."

Pam smiled a little sadly. "Roy was a lovely young man, Mrs. Lynde, he just wasn't the right person for me," she explained, and Phyllis smiled indulgently. "There's precious few who are good enough for our Pam," she said proudly.   

* 

Over the next several weeks, Pam slipped comfortably back into the small world of Green Gables. Since arriving there years before, she had not appreciated the small pleasures of domestic life as much as she did now. She helped Phyllis in the kitchen and took it upon herself to prepare many meals on her own, letting Phyllis have a rest. She worked in the barns and fields with Bob, reveling in the satisfaction of hard, manual work 

On the afternoon that her exam results were due to arrive in the post nearly a month after she had arrived home, Pam decided to walk into town. She had so far avoided it, not really wishing to see Katy Pye or any of the others from school, wondering what Roy must have told people. Her urge to get the mail won out, and she headed down the muddy road, stopping by the Barry house only to find that Kelly was already in town. 

Pam hurried her way to the post office and emerged triumphantly with two letters addressed to herself, one from her art teacher and the other, an official looking one from the college. She clattered down the wooden steps as she opened the envelope from Queens.

She scurried over to the general store where Kelly was standing in a motley collection comprising of Kelly, Mrs. Lynde, the Widow Gould and Mr. Scott. She walked over to them, beaming as she pulled out the paper within. She held it up as they turned to her, and said, "I passed! I'm a teacher!"  

The Widow Gould and Mrs. Lynde congratulated her warmly and Kelly jumped up and down, squealing and clapping her hands. "I just knew you would!" she cried, and Mr. Scott made a mock-indignant face. "I'd better watch out for the competition, she'll steal the job out from under me!" he said, and Pam didn't even mind one bit.  

"I hope everyone else did well," she said, hoping Angela had gotten her certificate, too, knowing that she had her heart set on getting the Markdale school in the fall.  "I'm sure they did," said the optimistic Kelly, and Pam smiled.   

"Say, Pam, did you hear that Jim Blythe is dying?" said Mr. Scott, and in an instant, Pam's world drained of color, sound and everything else. Her heart thudded in her chest, her stomach dropped, and she couldn't move or speak.

"Michael Scott, hold your tongue!" scolded the Widow Gould, but Pam hardly heard her.  "Pam, don't look like that!" said Mrs. Lynde, a note of anguish in her voice. "We didn't want to tell you this way," said Kelly timidly, and it was the sadness in her friend's voice that brought her back to thought and reality. She looked at Kelly blankly.

"He came down with the scarlet fever," said Mrs. Lynde gently. "The doctor said he's pretty bad off,” said Mr. Scott, and Pam couldn't listen to another word.

She turned and fled back toward Green Gables, down the muddy roads, splattering herself with muck and not caring, ignoring Kelly's calls, for her mind was whirling around only one thought.   

She was dimly aware of reaching Green Gables; her feet took her up the stairs and into her bedroom where she sat numbly on the bed. The only sound was her own heavy, unsteady breathing and the house, which creaked almost sorrowfully around her. And Jim was dying!  

There are moments of unyielding clarity that color every person's life, and Pam read her Book of Revelations at that moment. She loved Jim, had loved him from the very moment he had winked at her at the Sunday School picnic. She had been too foolish or perhaps too afraid to find it within herself to realize that, and the grief she felt over the very real possibility of losing him forever tore at her heart. She now knew that she had never loved Roy; she had been flattered by his attentions but had never felt a fraction of what she was feeling right now. Jim had loved her not just for who she was, but for who she wanted to be, and she had broken his heart.

The thought that he might leave this earth without ever knowing the truth of her feelings was too much to bear, and she sobbed herself into a troubled, restless sleep.  

She was partially conscious of the fact that Phyllis came in several times to bathe her face with a cool cloth, and when Pam tried to speak through her tears, Phyllis merely soothed her, saying "I know, dearest, you don't have to tell me. Just rest, now."  The fact that she would not need to put into words what she felt was minutely comforting, and her mind was allowed to drift into sleep.   

The next morning, she awoke feeling as though she hadn't slept at all. Her body felt beaten, bruised, and her grief was so raw and terrifying that she found she could not cry another tear.

She felt dazed; she glanced around her room as though seeing it for the first time. Phyllis had left a tray of food, but Pam couldn't fathom eating. It would choke her like sawdust, she thought. For the first time in her young life, she thought that dying might not be so bad, for she could be with Jim and her parents. 

This thought horrified her; she stood on unsteady legs, not knowing where she should go. She saw that Phyllis had set on her desk her hat and the letter from her art teacher, which she had no recollection of dropping. She picked up the mud-flecked envelope, not really caring what was within but needing something to occupy her mind for a moment, feeling that she teetered on the brink of madness.  

She slit the envelope, breaking the wax seal, and drew out a letter. A newspaper fell out onto the floor, and Pam picked it up.  She read and reread the letter, and heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she couldn't find it in herself to be joyful. Instead, the tears fell hard and fast as though unblocked, and she cried for the one person with whom she wanted to share this news.  

A sound broke the silence that weighed upon her, and she glanced out the window to see the Blythes' hired hand walking down the road, coming from the direction of the Blythes' farm.

Pam thought that this must certainly be a sign from above, and there was no other thought in her mind as she broke from her stupor to race down the stairs and out of the house.  

"Jerry!" she cried, clutching the newspaper and running up to him. Jerry Buote stopped and waited for her. "Is- How is Jim?" she asked tremulously, and the sight of Jerry's smile was something Pam would never forget.

"He got the turn last night, doctor says. He may just pull through."  

Pam's breath caught as hope curled itself around her heart and she could scarcely breathe steadily as she held out the newspaper. "Could you give this to him?" she asked, and Jerry's smile widened. "Why don't you give it to him yourself, miss. He isn't contagious anymore, and it might do him good to have a visitor." 

Pam nodded and turned to dash back down the road. "Thank you!" she called over his shoulder, and Jerry Buote smiled and shook his head, reflecting on the fact that it was her name, and not anyone else's that young Mr. Blythe had been moaning in his unconscious stupor of the previous days and weeks.  

At the Blythe home, Pam wondered nervously if Mrs. Blythe knew what kind of torment Pam had put Jim through; she was relieved when a tired but peaceful Mrs. Blythe opened the door, smiling at her.  She led Pam upstairs and left her in front of Jim's bedroom door. Pam hesitated and entered.  

Jim was lying in bed, looking dreadfully pale and thin, and Pam moved slowly to his side. He seemed to be asleep, but his eyelids fluttered when she sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Hello, Jim," she whispered, and his lips moved in a silent version of her name.

"I've come to see if you wanted to go on one of our rambles,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Perhaps we could perform a work of Sir Scarn or maybe you could rescue me from my sinking boat."

A cough of laughter rumbled from Jim, and he seemed to smile. "I just- I wanted to show you this, too," said Pam, and she held up her newspaper.

"My art teacher sent me a letter saying that he gave one of my drawings to the editor of the Children's Corner, and they used it for a story. It's just a quick sketch I did of Meredith, Kelly, and Angela down by the pond, but Jim, they printed it and the editor wants me to illustrate a story each week."  

"Jim, it's all because of you. You pushed me to do what I was too afraid to do, and I can't even begin to thank you for that. You'll never know how much you did for me." She hesitated.  

"I turned down Roy's engagement ring. I couldn't do it. There were so many reasons not to, but the biggest reason was you. You were my best friend before we left for college, and this year has been horrible. I- I miss you, Jim. I never knew what a guiding light you were until I didn't have you, and I know I've been terribly wrong about some things. Jim, I-" 

She broke off, catching the words in her throat. "I shouldn't even be saying all of this, you're Karen Stuart's beau and I shouldn't be saying such things. I just needed you to know how much I miss you and to thank you for seeing things in me that no one else could see." 

She was silent for a moment, and then Jim's voice rasped from his pillow. "No Karen."

Pam inched closer. "What?" she asked, not letting herself understand and fervently hoping she had heard him correctly.  

He cleared his throat and his words came a little clearer. "Broke it off with Karen. Not fair to her." He took a shaking breath. "There could never be anyone for me but you, Pam." 

Pam's eyes filled with tears as she took his warm hand and pressed it to her lips. Jim's eyes were closed, but the corners of his mouth pulled into a slow, sad smile, and he drifted back to sleep, breathing quietly and steadily.

"You must get well soon, please, Jim," she whispered into his ear before letting go of his hand, not knowing if he could hear her in sleep.  

She left the newspaper on his bedside table and crept down the stairs. She thanked Mrs. Blythe and left hastily.

She walked back towards Green Gables with a purpose. She felt unburdened, light almost.  Calmness pervaded her, and she thought that no matter what happened, she had done the right thing. She was certain Jim would pull through, an optimism she had so far refused to let herself feel. 

Back in her room, she sat at her easel and skimmed the newspaper story she was to illustrate. She smiled. It was a fairy story, and pencil in hand, her mind traveled back several years. Little Sasha Sloane's face appeared as the little fairy. A princess who looked like Kelly gazed rapturously out at her, and then a solitary tear fell as she drew a tall, lanky handsome prince with tousled hair and a wide, delighted smile.  

Yes, it was the right thing indeed.