9
The next day Anne sat in the carriage parked outside of Van Dort's Fish, immersed in Little Women.
Everyone had slept quite late that morning. Catherine hadn't even left her room by the time Anne and the others had finished breakfast. Eager to get back to normalcy, Mary and Lydia had decided to go on their usual twice-weekly trip to the village. They'd insisted that Anne join them. To distract her, perhaps? Cheer her up? Anne had reluctantly agreed after several minutes of badgering, though she'd refused to walk as they usually did. After yesterday, walking seemed very unsafe. So they'd asked their all-around man Mr. Reed to hitch up Daisy and they'd all three crammed into the two-seater for the short ride. Now Liddie was in the cannery office while Mary visited the clockmaker's. He had a sideline in cameras and equipment. Mary was one of his best customers.
Anne wished she had stayed home. Being out in the open made her jittery, even though she was sitting in the carriage with the top folded up, further screened by her enormous summer hat. Mr. Reed was in the driver's seat, solid and silent and dependable. Daisy, a good horse, stood patiently and twitched her tail every now and then. The air was warm and the sun was out. The living were all around her, going about their business. And yet...
Everything had seemed safe and normal yesterday evening, too. And look what had happened. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up under a blanket in the study with her books. To never venture anywhere outside ever again. Maybe not even her house was safe, so close as it was to the churchyard and its graves. What could be trusted, now?
The bell on the shop door jangled as Lydia emerged. Gingerly she stepped up into the carriage, allowing Mr. Reed to help her. Anne noticed she put a hand to her middle and winced as she sat down, but quickly recovered.
"That's done," she said, smoothing down her trim purple walking suit and adjusting her boater importantly. Anne knew she was supposed to ask what "that" was, so that Liddie could go on for ages about cans and payroll and salmon farms, but she didn't have the energy today. So she didn't say anything. There was a beat during which Anne could feel her sister's disappointment. Then Liddie cleared her throat.
"Would you like to go to the bookshop?" she asked. "Or the dressmaker's? Those gowns Grandmamma ordered for us might be in."
Anne shook her head and turned a page. Liddie sighed. "Mr. Reed, could you please take us across to fetch Mary? And then home, I think. Thank you."
Lydia settled back as Mr. Reed clicked to Daisy and they started off. "Seems silly to take the carriage just across the square," she remarked.
Anne didn't have a reply, so she stayed silent. Lydia sighed again, but didn't say anything else. When they pulled up at the clock shop Mary was already outside, leaning against a pillar and holding a wooden box. The moment the carriage stopped she bounded over.
"Look! My film tank!" she said excitedly, holding the box aloft. "Here, hold it while I climb up."
Lydia took the box and set it in her lap as Mary clambered in, ignoring Mr. Reed's outstretched hand. She squeezed in on Lydia's other side and took the box back.
"Now I don't need to always go to the darkroom to develop!" she said happily as the carriage rolled out of the village gates and down the road toward home.
"Does Father know you bought that?" Lydia asked disapprovingly. "You're supposed to ask before you buy new equipment."
Mary ignored her, which was answer enough. Instead, she leaned past her and reached out a hand to Anne. Her fingers settled over the page that Anne wasn't really reading any longer.
"Are you still upset?" Mary asked. "You look upset."
Both of her sisters looked at her with sympathy, and maybe a little pity. The two of them were so tough. Smart and resourceful and tenacious. Catherine, too. Just because Catherine liked pretty and soft things didn't mean she herself was soft. Daisy's hooves clip-clopped over the bridge. They were nearing the cemetery. Anne took a deep breath. They'd be all right. Everything would be all right...
It wouldn't be all right.
"I'm not brave," Anne said at last. She closed her book and stared at Mr. Reed's back instead. "Mother called us brave. You three are. I'm not."
Her sisters said nothing. The silence said it all.
"Well," Mary said cheerily, tapping at the closed front cover of Little Women, "even if you're not, it's fine. Every family needs a Beth."
Anne blinked, then frowned. "I'm not Beth," she said, affronted. "I always...I always saw myself as Jo."
Liddie and Mary snorted with laughter, then said almost simultaneously, "No, I'm Jo." Then they looked at one another and laughed some more.
Anne frowned more deeply, feeling her face redden. She lowered her head, embarrassed. Liddie put an arm around her.
"Sorry," she said. "But Mary's right. You're you, and we like you how you are."
Still not quite what Anne wanted to hear. But all the same she leaned into the hug.
"Don't worry, we'll go home and put you to bed with all of your kittens and knitting and pretty pictures," Mary crooned, stroking her arm. Anne finally had to laugh, though it came out a bit choked.
"Oh, I am Beth, aren't I?" she said, burying her face in her hands, cheeks burning.
"Maybe just a little," Liddie said, patting her back.
"But we won't let you die," Mary added offhandedly, already fiddling with her new equipment.
Anne took a deep breath. "Let" her die. As though death were a matter of allowing. She sat back, letting Liddie's arm fall away. Daisy pulled them ever closer to home, the cemetery looming up on their left. Trying not to think, Anne buried her head in her book again, wanting nothing more than to lose and comfort herself in the story.
"It's Father and Mother," Lydia suddenly said. "And Catherine. What are they doing?"
"Where?" asked Mary.
"The graveyard, look," Lydia told her, pointing. Anne's heart skipped a beat. Slowly, reluctantly, she leaned forward to look where Liddie was pointing.
Indeed, there were Catherine and their parents, standing in a huddle near the back of the church. Right near where Anne and her sisters had eventually escaped the crypt last night. Anne shuddered at the memory of those narrow dark stairs, the broken wooden door covered in centuries of dust and cobwebs, how the handle had fallen off in Liddie's hand, the door was so rotted...
"Why?" Mary asked, standing up a little to look before Lydia pushed her back down. "What are they in the graveyard for?"
"No idea," Liddie replied, troubled.
"Shall I stop?" Mr. Reed asked, slowing the carriage. Lydia frowned. Anne dared another peek to see that Father and Mother were following Catherine down the woods path to the stream. They quickly disappeared into the foliage.
"No," Liddie slowly, glancing at her sisters. "No, thank you. They're obviously just...out for a walk. Home, please."
The carriage sped up again, Daisy taking them up the drive to the house, leaving the churchyard behind them.
0-0
Author's Note: Hi friends! I've struggled a lot lately with whether or not to continue this story. Or to continue writing at all, really. It seems so silly in light of the state of the world right now. But then I got a few new reviews on my work from some very kind readers, and they made me realize that these stories bring comfort to at least a few people. And they give me comfort to write. Comfort is also important right now. So I'm going to continue. One more chapter for this one, and maybe more Love Stories to come. Goodness knows we could use a bit more love right now. Thanks for reading. Take care of yourselves. -PlayerPiano