Sorry for the couple of week hiatus when I was just getting in a good groove of posting and finishing this up. I was without any internet in my house for a week and data was extremely limited so up until yesterday I was not able to access FF at all. The outage was because my city was one of those affected by the recent tornadoes. My family and house are fine, which is a huge blessing considering there are parts of town that look like a bomb went off. There was a ton of wind damage and the path of the tornado was only about a five minute drive from me.

It has been amazing how people have pulled together and are helping their neighbors. I've donated several boxes of diapers and wipes, and volunteered sorting clothing donations after work, but this seems like not much when there are people out there with chainsaws working hard every day for free to help clear out downed trees, or just hauling debris by hand.

If anyone is looking to donate to help tornado victims and wanting to find a group other than the traditional big entities, an excellent nonprofit organization that will get help out to school children and their families is Stuff the Bus KY (capitalization not needed, take out the spaces and put the dot and the traditional ending for a business at the end). It began with funding school supplies for poor children but now does so much more. Stuff the Bus will direct funds where needed locally in my area. Even five dollars will help. Okay, now I will get off my soapbox and on with the story.

Chapter 19

On Friday night, Anne and Caroline stayed awake until nearly midnight, but Anne still woke up sometime during the middle of the night, needing to use the bathroom. Afterwards, it was hard to go back to sleep. While Georgiana's gentle inhale and exhale would be help anyone settle back down, Caroline's snoring was more disruptive. Most of it was regular snoring, but every few minutes there would be one of more times when it changed cadence to something that rather resembled a train thundering down the track. Too, Anne's thoughts kept circling around her, like a train on a circular track that just kept increasing in speed. She was worried about her mother and what things would be like when she went back home after the end of the weekend.

Eventually, Anne went back in closet (as she had the night before) with one of the blankets from the inflatable bed (she figured that Caroline did not need it, as it had been kicked off that bed) and her phone. After getting her phone back from Caroline after returning during the storm, Anne had quickly skimmed the messages before turning it off, and now she had to wait for it to start up so she could play more Candy Crush, and perhaps some card games.

Once her home screen came up, Anne saw the number "32" next to her messages. When she clicked, she saw that she had heard from her mother (again!) and Mr. Collins.

Anne was already pretty sure about what kinds of messages she would get from her mother from skimming the diatribes the night before. Getting these messages were why Anne had shut off her phone. She assumed that these were more of the same. Anne skimmed the first few, noticing how her mother's sentences, which likely consisted of spell corrected words (which were undoubtedly the wrong words), got increasingly more incoherent, with certain words that were just too off to even be spell corrected.

Anne gave an audible groan. She had understood from what Jane had heard from Mrs. Bennet that her mother had been drinking (had suspected she had been drinking at least a little on her way up to Indiana, too), but seeing the evidence before her own eyes, worried Anne further. The last couple of text messages made absolutely no sense whatsoever:

Angela what tyfh not why?

Anwar you do jnfuyv pansy mmm bake stop wetksyhs stop beating mean nod.

Next, Anne decided to read Mr. Collins's messages, though she certainly was not looking forward to them. Anne did not particularly like or respect Mr. Collins. She found his sermons boring and the way he was always sucking up to her and her mother annoying.

Anne had appreciated his efforts in anointing her with holy oil each time her death had seem eminent, mostly because it seemed to provide comfort to her mother, but Anne did not like it when Mr. Collins then asked to talk to her privately and proceeded to lecture her on the importance of faith and belief. He went on and on before trying to get her (weak and tired as she was each time) to discuss with him whether she was "right with God" when she barely had the energy to give single word answers to anything.

Anne had the feeling that a death bed confession of faith was likely not to be genuine at all, merely a hedging of bets in case there was a hell, and she was certain that God would know the difference between that and someone who genuinely tried to love God above all else and treat everyone as a neighbor. She did not understand why Mr. Collins was so anxious to get a death-bed conversion out of her, but never asked how she was with God the rest of the time.

The terrific irony of it all had been that Anne considered herself a Christian. She had listened to Charlton Heston Presents the Bible many times. He was so much nicer to listen to than Mr. Collins and Anne didn't get much more from attending church as it was not as if she had any close friends there, she was easily the youngest person there by twenty years and though some of the women were friendly, being flanked as she always was by her mother and Jenny, she only had "proper" discussions.

Anne had done what she could to serve God and her fellow man, but was severely hampered by her mother's efforts to keep her safe at home. Anne still recalled when she had set up a recurring gift to a charity that bought people nanny goats, chickens and other livestock which would give them ongoing income. It had made her feel good to be doing something for someone else, to imagine children having eggs to eat. But then her mother, when she saw the credit card bill, got it cancelled.

Anne remembered her mother saying "Anne, I am surprised at you, doing something so foolish and impulsive. We help God plenty by funding a hefty percentage of the church's budget; it is all in His books." Anne could not help but think, although she never dared voice it to her mother, that her mother kept that church going to make herself happy, and that the money would be much better spent going to a reputable charity.

When Anne read Mr. Collins's first of four text messages, she skimmed past his words of concern, his lecture about what she was doing to her mother. From the timing of that text, it was likely sent while he had stopped for gas in Kentucky.

In the second, Anne read more carefully when Mr. Collins wrote "I am worried about your mother. She is really throwing back now."

But the third message really held her attention and Anne carefully read it twice:

Maybe you heard from my Cousin Jane that your mother hit my car when she drove off from the Bennets'. I am sure it was simply an unfortunate accident, for she is horribly upset about you being gone (she is a very devoted mother, after all, the best mother you could have). As we were driving back home, Mrs. de Bourgh's fears about your safety became ever magnified. First she was worried that you might have gotten wet in the rain, next she worried that you might have met up with some hippies and been talked into trying drugs. Then she worried you might have met a smooth-talking man and given him your virtue. The last fear she voiced to me was that you have been sex trafficked and even now might be chained up some place.

Anne snorted to herself. How incompetent does my mom think I am? I'm not some stupid kid. She scrolled the message and read the next bit.

As your mother kept worrying, she became even more determined that we ought to turn around, but as much as I wanted to please her, I did not want her to get in trouble with the Indiana police. It was for her own good that I kept driving and did not stop until we were in Henderson, Kentucky. I tried to get her some food then, got burgers, fries and shakes for the both of us, but as I was getting them, she was buying wine coolers and Jim Beam. Mrs. de Bourgh dumped her dinner out the window while we were driving, dumped my dinner out as well, and kept insisting that I ought to turn around. When I wouldn't, she actually started hitting me with her purse as I drove. It was hard to hold the wheel steady, but finally she got worn out and concentrated on quenching her thirst instead.

I would have kept driving all the way to Nashville, but she insisted n talking to the Bennets about their daughters. After we arrived, she got the notion that she ought to return and get you. I'm sure it was an accident, but in the process of leaving, your mother damaged my car. I know she did not mean to do it, but a holiday weekend is a bad time to get something like that fixed, so I will be staying with the Bennets for now. I will not be giving a sermon on Sunday, but I have let the elders know and hopefully they can arrange something else, such as just reading some scriptures.

I am worried about Mrs. de Bourgh. She really should not be driving. I will be praying earnestly for her safety and the safety of those around her. Please call her. If she hears that you are well, maybe she can be convinced to get a hotel room for the night.

Anne proceeded on to his fourth message, which was from "3:27 am."

I hate to be the bearer of bad new. There is no easy way to say this, but your mother was arrested.

Anne felt her hands shaking and her heart thundering in her chest. It was all right there in black words on her white screen, but still she had trouble believing it. She read on.

Mrs. de Bourgh called after she was booked. She couldn't reach her attorney, so she called me. Her speech was pretty garbled, but from what I understand she was pulled over somewhere in Kentucky near the Indiana border, or maybe wrecked and then they got her. She refused a breath test so they took her to the hospital for a blood draw. She tried to fight it, likely cussed them out, so finally she had to be restrained. She was . . . well she is a mean drunk. It pains me to say anything bad about your mother; she just wasn't acting herself today. She loves you too much to be completely rational about it all. It is understandable.

Your mother wanted me to drive up there and bail her out. I tried to explain that my car is not drivable, but she seemed to think I could just take one of my cousins' cars. She was complaining about the commode being out in public, that she was in with the common drunkards.

A single tear made a track down Anne's right cheek. It was all right there. Her mother might think she was above the common drunkards, but in fact she was a common drunkard. Anne had to swallow several times before her eyes cleared enough to read on.

Of course I wanted to help her, but Mrs. de Bourgh had no idea how much her bail would be or even which jail she was in. She said they took her purse and credit cards or she would have already paid. It took a while for me to figure out that she hasn't seen a judge yet, so of course no bail could be set and there isn't anything to do. She became hysterical when she understood that she'd have to spend at least the night in jail. I am not very smart about such things, but I think it may be two nights, that she may not be arraigned until Monday, but of course I did not tell her that. I've left a voicemail with her attorney, which is all I could think to do.

Still, at least my prayers were answered. As far as I know, she is not injured and no one else is, either. Being in jail is really better than her still being on the road driving at interstate speeds while inebriated. Of course, I would have rather that she had just gotten a room someplace and slept it off. But the Lord's ways are mysterious.

Anne read through that last message again and again, as if the words would somehow magically change upon the next reading. She read it so many times she practically had it memorized. Now Anne wanted to cry, felt that she might feel better if she cried, but she could do none of that even though it had seemed as if she was on the verge of a good cry before. Her stomach just hurt and she felt empty inside.

Anne fell into a sort of reverie where she considered what might have happened if she had not gone out the window. She imagined going how with her mother and Mr. Collins. They would have leisurely driven all the way to Nashville, would have been home by bedtime.

Then Anne imagined if she had seen Mr. Collins's text and called her mother. Could she have convinced her mother to go and sleep it off if she said she would go home with her mother the next day?

Anne visualized her mother taking the nearest exit and finding one of those old fashioned brightly colored motels (perhaps a sort of minty green, perhaps a Flamingo pink), a rectangular single story building with the doors straight in from the parking lot, the sort of place that the de Bourghs would never frequent. Her mother would stare in disbelief when her card was imprinted on carbon paper, widen in surprize at the actual metal key she would be handed by a sleepy night clerk, wrinkle her nose when she saw the faded framed prints, the thin bedspread in room number 2. But still, she might be safe now.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, Anne was roused from her daze when she heard a faint "Anne, Anne?"

Anne recognized Caroline's voice, so she crept out of the closet, using her phone's flashlight app to help her light the way. "I'm here."

"Oh, okay." Caroline said quietly, trying not to disturb the still slumbering Gigi. "When I got up to use the powder room and did not see you there, I figured you had gone to get a cookie, but I didn't find you out there, either. I know it doesn't exactly make sense, but I thought that maybe you had snuck out again, or maybe you had left with your mother."

"No. But my mother, well I am really worried about her. You see, she was arrested."

"Come back to bed and we will talk about it," Caroline offered. When those words came out of her mouth, Caroline thought they sounded like something a member of a married couple might say to one another, but Anne did not seem to find anything odd in it at all.

"Okay," Anne said, and climbed back under the blanket. "But Caro, do you think you could pet my head? You know, kind of give me a scalp massage. It always makes me feel better. My dad used to do that. My mom tried to do it after he was gone, but it wasn't right. I know it is something for kids, but I don't feel like dealing with stuff as a responsible adult today."

"So you aren't up for 'adulting?' I can understand that. As for the head petting, I'm not usually good at things like that, but I'll try." Caroline tentatively started stroking her hand through Anne's hair, which was soft and silky. It was not too different from petting a cat and eventually she fell into a kind of rhythm.

"That's good Caro, but use more of your fingernails," Anne directed. Caroline modified her actions and Anne responded, "Oh, perfect."

Anne talked on and on, more than she ever had before. She explained about how her mother had begun drinking after her father died, "Mom just used to take a sip or two out of my father's Scotch bottles when she thought no one was looking, you see there was a whole display shelf, he collected them although he never drank them, but of course we saw how they got lower, and eventually ended up in the recycling, replaced by cheaper bottles. She drank more when I got sick, although she was never what I would call incapacitated. She used to put vodka in a clear water bottle and take it around with her. I figured that one out when my own water bottle was empty and I tried to take a sip of hers. But drinking and driving, that's something else."

Eventually, Anne grew quiet, soothed by Caroline's gentle touch. She felt asleep before Caroline, who in her half-asleep daze was occasionally still rubbing at Anne's head, until she too fell into a slumber. They were still sleeping when Gigi got up, still sleeping when Jane and Charles left to go see the Gardiners, still sleeping when the Hursts did some canoodling that was audible through the wall (although Gigi did not hear it as she was using her noise-canceling AirPods Pro and listening to music), still sleeping when Darcy woke up from his morning nap.

Finally, at about ten, Anne got up (leaving a still slumbering Caroline and a Gigi who was sitting up in the daybed and texting) and went to the living room just as Darcy and Elizabeth were discussing all the damage to Mr. Collins's car. Anne was just about to say "Good morning" when she heard Darcy comment that she might have her mother's car info.

Anne went ahead with her good morning, and then anxious to be helpful added, "I have an insurance card in my purse. Mom hardly ever lets me drive, but I am on the insurance just in case. I can snap a photo and send it to Mr. Collins." Anne then went back to the guest room and did just that.

Mr. Collins received the text while sitting in the Lucases' living room. He was there as he had been invited to eat brunch with them. When he arrived, Mrs. Lucas had said, "It is not quite ready, I still have to assemble the fruit salad and the quiches have about ten more minutes, but Charlotte will keep you company."

Mr. Collins had just been in the middle of complimenting Charlotte and her parents (although only Charlotte was there to hear it) on their fine manners in inviting him to their home after he had so rudely had to cancel their plans for the day before. He had been on quite a roll, engaging in a soliloquy for the ages in which he both castigated himself and elevated them, when the alert sounded.

Charlotte, anxious for his monologue to be at an end, said "Hadn't you better check that?"

"Oh, but that would be terribly rude of me."

"Oh, no it wouldn't. It might be about getting your car fixed or word about Mrs. de Bourgh. Please, go ahead." Then when he still hesitated, Charlotte added, "I insist."

"Oh, okay." Mr. Collins pulled out his phone and looked at Anne's text.

"I have a copy of Mrs. de Bourgh's insurance card now. I suppose I should call her insurance to report the accident, but I hate to add to her troubles, she has enough of them right now, what with being in jail and all. It will make her insurance rates go up for sure, and she has done so much for me with always making sure the church has what it needs. Oh, I just do not know what to do!"

Charlotte stepped into the breech. "What you are going to do is to call and report the accident. People have to be held responsible for their own actions. She purchased the insurance and now it will be used for its intended purposes."

"I suppose . . ."

"Call right now."

"If you think I should."

Charlotte then replied with what she believed were the magic words for Mr. Collins. "I insist."