Chapter 3

Laurey

"You rescued me," she repeated, wrapping her arms around herself. She took a shaky breath, tears pricking her eyes. "They could've...they almost...I mean, they tried to...but, but then you rescued me."

"Of course. I'd never let anything happen to you, Laurey. You know that, don't you?"

She stared at him, needing a familiar face to anchor her, no matter whose face it was. Minutes before, he was the most frightening thing in her life, but now that she had seen how terrible the world could be, knew the actual dangers that could befall a girl on her own, it was difficult to remember why she had been scared by Jud. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous she realized she had been.

Of course he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. All those nights she'd heard his footsteps under her window–she'd been so silly thinking he was trying to spy on her, trying to be close to her in some unseemly way. Because all that time, he'd been watching over her, making sure she was safe. She should have realized that all along, not been so hysterical.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak more than she had to.

"You want me to go after 'em? I didn't see where they went, but maybe I could still find 'em."

A part of her did want that, but then the terror of being alone overtook her. "No, please, I-I'd be too worried they'd come back while you was gone and…no, don't do that."

"Is there anything I can do?"

She knew exactly what she needed. She never thought she'd need it from Jud Fry, scowling and sullen Jud Fry. Jud Fry, who fought and kept disgusting pictures on his walls. But none of that mattered anymore, now that she really knew him.

"I–I don't" her throat clogged up with sobs, the tears finally flowing down her cheeks "wanna be alone. I can't be alone, I–can you stay with me?"

He smiled, a sight she'd only seen a handful of times. "Yeah, of course. D' you want me to spend the night in the house?"

She nodded, unable to bear the thought of his sleeping in the smokehouse, so far away from her.

"I guess Aunt Eller's room is free, so I can–"

"No!" Aunt Eller's room was all the way down the hall. Supposing someone came through the window, there wouldn't be time for him to reach her before they… "No, can you, um, could you stay in my room? I could" she added quickly, before he could say no "get a bedroll for you to sleep on the floor. Or you could sleep on the bed and I could take–"

"'M not letting you sleep on the floor," he put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll take the bedroll, okay?"

She nodded and then, overwhelmed by his kindness, cried louder and harder than she had in years, cried so hard that her sides ached, but once she started, she couldn't hold back, couldn't let the fear and the anger out any other way. Before she could stop herself or even tell herself how wrong or improper it was, she pitched forward, until her head was resting against his chest. He kept his hands on her shoulders, and held her against him, not seeming to care how disgusting she was. Disgusting for letting those men in the house in the first place. Disgusting for crying like that when she was a fully grown woman who should be able to pull herself together. Disgusting for leaning up against him when all she had around her shoulders was a blanket.

"You'll stay with me all night, you promise?"

She felt him nod his head, and the frantic tattoo of her heart slowed at the thought of his being near her, being able to protect her. His strong arms could keep her safe all night, could keep anything bad from happening from her.

"Thank you." Somewhat calmed, she pulled back and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. She thought about putting her shirt back on, but without buttons it would be almost as useless. Besides, she never wanted to see that shirt again.

"There's water in the kettle."

She furrowed her eyebrows at his non sequitur.

"Want me to heat it up? For your hot water bottle?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. It's in my room, I guess I'll…"

"Want me to come upstairs with you to get it?"

She nodded."'M sorry, I just can't even think of bein' alone, even for a second. But once Aunt Eller's back–"

"It's all right, Laurey. I like–I like bein' near you anyhow. So, ain't any kind of bother."

"Thank you, you really don't know how much—how it's nice to…" she stopped herself before she could have another outburst, but he smiled like he knew what she was going to say.

They went upstairs, and he even walked into her room first to make sure it was safe. She went to the wardrobe and turned towards him. "Can you turn around? Just for a second?"

"'Course," he obliged her, and she hurriedly put on a new shirt before grabbing her water bottle from under the covers.

They went back to the kitchen and waited for the water to heat up. She edged towards him, close as she dared without seeming forward, tried to think of something normal to say. "How'd you know I use a hot water bottle? Even in summer, I mean?"

He shrugged. "'Member when you bought it from the peddler last year. And every mornin' you walk around in them thick moccasins. Even that day when it a hundred-ten in the shade, you still wore 'em indoors. So, I just kinda figured your feet got cold, is all."

She nodded. "My fingers, too. I dunno why, but Cur–people always complain about it." She didn't want to say Curly's name in that moment. Didn't want to remind Jud of his existence. Didn't want to think of him herself and of how he hadn't been there to save her. For all his pretty words, he couldn't do the one thing that really mattered.

"Can I?" Jud held his hand out, slow and gentle.

"Oh, 'course," she lightly touched his hand and he wrapped his warm, strong fingers around hers.

"Yeah, they're real cold," he smiled. She smiled back, glad he didn't make that cold hands, warm heart crack that Curly invariably made every single time they held hands. There were so many pat phrases he used constantly and never seemed to tire of, so many times she wished he would just quit talking and just kiss her or at least tell her how much he cared for her.

"Jud, I really, I wanna thank you again for…"

The whistle of the kettle made her jump, and they let go of each other's hand so he could fill her hot water bottle.

"Do you wanna stay here longer, or go upstairs? You could read a while if that'd make you feel better. I'd stay here, you could read to me."

She shook her head. They didn't have that many books and she didn't want to hate one of them, to always associate it with that night. "Let's go upstairs"

They got the bedroll out from the linen closet, and laid it out next to her bed, incongruent with her pretty bedspread and few feminine articles. That almost made it easier, not having to go to bed in her room the way it usually was, as though everything were normal.

She hurriedly changed into a shift while he turned away from her again, and he seemed content to sleep in his clothes. She wanted to tell him it was fine if he wanted to take his shirt off, but that wasn't the type of thing a girl could say to a man. She also wanted to tell him that she'd be more than happy to wash his clothes for him, since his seemed so dirty, but she wasn't sure of the right way to say that either. She rarely knew what to say to boys under normal circumstances, so effectively saying to Jud 'I'll wash your filthy clothes because you saved me from being raped' was far out of her depth. So, she settled for, "Uh, well, I guess I'll get into bed"

"Me too"

"Goodnight then."

"You wake me if you need to, okay?"

"Yeah."

She knew the moment she lay down that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night, despite the exhaustion she felt in every bone, every muscle. She wanted to sleep, wanted to sleep so long it would be winter and what had happened would seem far away, not something she'd never have to think about ever again. But she knew that even if she could sleep that long, she'd never forget. Something had happened to her that could never be undone. Her life would now be in two segments, Before and After, and there was no way of going back to Before, no way of knowing what After would entail each day.

If the men were caught, there would be a trial. She'd be forced to testify, to relive what had happened in salacious detail, she'd be the subject of gossip, because what kind of woman would open her door to strange Indians in the middle of the night? And if they didn't get caught, would she spend the rest of her life peering around doorways and jumping at sounds? That still seemed preferable, having to relive it only as often as he mind forced her to, not every time a lawyer or a judge told her she had to. But still, she didn't always trust her mind, hated the places it took her to sometimes, and she knew that it would relive that moment countless times. Countless times for the rest of her life, so she'd never forget, not if she lived to be an old woman.

She hadn't realized she was crying audibly until Jud spoke.

"Laurey, you all right?"

"I don't know," she whimpered, sitting up to look at him by the light of the lamp they'd wordlessly agreed to keep burning. "I'm sorry, it ain't fair keepin' you up with my cryin'. I just, I can't stop thinkin' about it, and I feel so frightened, I just…I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep."

"I got a bottle of whiskey in the smokehouse. I can—we can go get it together unless Aunt Eller keeps somethin' here I don't know about. That might help."

Laurey shook her head. "No, I-I've never really had a drink before. I dunno what it'd do to me. Don't wanna take chances if it makes me sadder or somethin'." She took a deep breath. She thought she knew what would make her feel better, and she hated herself for asking for it. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but do you think maybe you could…I guess just…" he was sitting up and looking at her by that point, the concern in his face the only thing that allowed her to continue "lie in bed with me and maybe hold me? Till I fall asleep or stop cryin'? I know" she interrupted before he could voice any concerns "I shouldn't ask for that, it's wrong to want—"

"No, I can do that." He sat on her bed "just lie next to you and hold you?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry" she repeated. "Is that a terrible thing to want? After what happened?"

"Laurey," he put his hand on her shoulder again. "There's nothin' wrong with that. It's like…you know when you're sick, and sometimes your body knows just the right thing to do to get better? Like if you need to sleep or if you need food."

She nodded, grateful he could be so understanding, despite how depraved she was acting.

"Well, this is just the same. I'll do it to make you feel better, and we just won't tell anyone, okay?"

She nodded and lay down. He lay beside her, slipping one arm under her pillow and the other around her waist until he was embracing her. He felt solid against her, but his grip wasn't too tight. It was just enough to anchor her, to make her feel safe.

"Is that good? That what you wanted?"

"Yeah, that's…that's perfect" she sniffled again, then burst into tears. She cried for what seemed like an eternity, cried for lost girlhood, her uncertain future, for every woman before her and after her who weren't as lucky as she, until eventually, exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep in his arms.