Anna woke warmer than she had been in a long time. She was snuggled against John's back with her arm draped over his chest and her hand curled in his palm.
Just now she felt soft, softer than she had in a long, long time. And clearer. She also felt fragile, as if she was held together with string. Her mind was pacing back through the night before. For one moment she thought she had dreamed it all. Then she glanced at the shawl, still folded on the dresser. She could even make out the edge of the mend.
Anna thought through all that she had learned. It certainly wasn't straight from the New Testament, but she didn't care.
Now she had a map. She had ways. When she started to think she had brought the attack upon herself, when the terrible feelings started to overwhelm her, when she thought she would never be better again, she had ways. She knew what to do. And Sister Judith had understood. She had understood everything. Anna worried for her now. So tiny, so frail, so old. What had they meant, her last night, her last one? And another, darker question: what exactly was she?
John's breathing changed. He began to caress her fingers. She closed her arm around him. So much bliss, Sister Judith had said.
He rolled over.
"How are you?"
"A little better today,"
He looked at her soberly, tracing her cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Do know how many soldiers, and sometimes civilians, commit suicide after a war? Many, Anna,"
"I frightened you,"
"I followed you," he said. "It was a relief at first to see you with nuns, although a bit of a surprise. When I saw you come back out I took a short cut home,"
Anna gave a small laugh. "Well, of course you did, John Bates,"
His eyes were searching hers. This morning they were a jewel-clear dark green, like jade.
"What happened there last night? Why did you go there? And why that?" He jerked his head at the shawl on the dresser.
"I just wandered there. I didn't go with a purpose...And I need it to settle first, before I tell you about it. But...now I believe I will mend, even if it takes a long time, or..." she put her hand on his chest, over his heart. "I don't know what will come next. But I believe I can do it, now,"
"Do you mean we can mend?"
"Yes. But I don't know when or-"
"As long as you're here," he said. "We'll get through the rest,"
At the breakfast table Anna double checked her log book with a sharper mind. All was in order and would be ship shape after a few errands. She was buttering an extra piece of toast when James said, "Funny, these Catholic obituaries,"
"How can an obituary be cause for amusement, James?" said Mr. Carson, "That is highly inappropriate,"
"A lot of fuss for a nun," James said. "A vigil,"
Anna snatched the newspaper from his hands. The entire table paused to look at her.
"What-" said Thomas, "Have you converted, Anna?"
"Mrs. Bates to you," she said to him absently, "Mr. Barrow,"
The silence around the table thickened.
"No, I haven't converted," Anna said. She read hungrily. "One hundred and seven," she murmured.
"Twenty four hour vigil," James laughed, "Not much left to vigil at that point-"
"More than you might ever be," snapped Anna. "More than you'll ever understand, unless you make an effort. Elders have much to teach us. Your disrespect resembles ignorance. I don't think of you as ignorant, James,"
Mrs. Hughes' eyebrows had shot up. She was trying to swallow her tea.
"Indeed," said Mr. Carson.
Anna glanced sideways at her husband, who was looking at her as if she had just put on a new dress.
The snake had been gone this morning so far. Anna began to wonder if he was gone for good, or if this might be too much to hope for. She had a surge of creativity, searching out a good wooden box and some supplies, arranging them and then then taking it to Lady Mary's room after the upstairs breakfast.
"What's this?" said Lady Mary, opening it.
"It's a kind of - kit. Like a sewing kit, but just for the new garments. The thread that matches can go in this row and here are the new cleaning solvents, sealed up separate. Hooks and buttons go in here. I'll make one for your room and a bigger one for traveling,"
"Good, yes," said Lady Mary.
"I'll make sure and get the matching threads next week, with extra for the kits. It will save us time, in a pinch,"
"Quite. Thank you, Anna,"
"Will there be anything else, My Lady?"
"Just one thing,"
"Yes,"
"I'm sorry about yesterday. I think I embarrassed you,"
"Not at all, My Lady,"
"Stop talking to me like a lady's maid for minute, please Anna. I never meant to demean you. I was...trying to make things easier on you. But that was wrong,"
"No...it...not at all,"
"You seem to be stronger today," said Mary, "You even look a bit taller, truth be known,"
Anna laughed. "That's one hope I left behind long ago," she said, with genuine amusement. She smiled at Lady Mary.
The snake appeared in the hall as she left Lady Mary's room but he was faint, as if in a fog or through a frosted window. She had the sensation of being grabbed by her hair again in the hall, but only once. And the snake only showed his face one more time at the table.
These moments didn't bring on the same dread that they had, nor the same degree of sickening helplessness. The feelings were there, but watered down. Now Anna knew she would be stronger - but also now she began to have brief, fierce surges of anger.
She wanted to erase him entirely, to have an end of him in her brain, the end of everything that had happened. It was already over for everyone else and Anna was tired of carrying it. Now she wanted the life she'd had before the attack. She wanted it all back.
The day went long and was quite busy; by the time everyone had begun to go to bed Anna found herself, suddenly, alone in the kitchen. She deliberately walked to and stood near the spot where the snake had hit her. Her mouth went dry, her heart hammered. She jumped at John's voice.
"What are you doing? Why didn't you come upstairs to find me?" he said, entering the kitchen.
"It's alright," said Anna, trying to swallow her nausea. "I..." Then she had an idea. John was standing nearly where the snake had stood.
"Would you-"
"What?"
"Would...would you lean back against the table edge?"
"Why?"
"Just for a moment," Anna had to stop and breathe. John's face went to stone. He stepped away from the table.
"Is this...is this where-"
"No," Anna gulped. "It's just where he hit me,"
He stepped back further. "What are you doing?"
"I-I'm trying to erase him,"
"And am I the...eraser?" he said.
Anna took a breath. "Don't you want to be?"
He turned away from her, his face tilted up. He turned back and looked at her, his eyes blazing. "I want a...a warning, before you...do some-some scenario like this," he said.
"Well," Anna began, "I certainly didn't have-"
"This isn't just you!"
"What-"
"You're not the only one with nightmares. Every night I have the same one. I leave the concert and I come down here looking for you, like I should have done. I'm looking for you but it's pitch black and I can hear you screaming and crying for help, crying out for me to help you, and I can't find you. I can hear everything. Everything he's doing to you. And I'm powerless, I'm no good to you. He brutalizes you every time. I'm too late. Every night,"
She gulped. "I-"
"It didn't just happen to you, Anna!" He stood apart from her, his voice gone so low she almost couldn't hear him. "It happened to us."
She couldn't move as he threw on his coat and hat and was out the door. Then she saw two things very clearly.
First - he was right. Though John seemed to have the patience of Job she had drifted away lately, only to scare him one night and then to ambush him the next. That would have been a lot to throw at anyone. It was time for her to start thinking of herself and him. She was ready to do both now, or at least to begin.
And the second thing she now saw...she had just tried to mend a tear with one stitch.
