Laurey

She ran across the field as quickly and quietly as she could. Aunt Eller had said it so casually, made it sound so easy. Veterinary in Claremore said to feed this to the hogs. Run on to the barn and give it to Jud, should still be there. As though it were an easy thing to walk all the way down to the barn in the dying light. She fought back tears at the thought that just a few days ago, it would have been easy, enjoyable even, to stroll around the farm at sunset. A few days ago, Jud Fry would have been the thing she was scared of, not the darkness itself and everything that it could be hiding.

She made it to the barn, her breathing ragged from her unshed tears.

"You all right, Miss Laurey?" Jud asked, looking up at her.

"Aunt Eller told me to give you this" she held out the bag of food "to give the hogs."

He mumbled a thank you and turned back to his work.

She rubbed at her wrist, where a purple bruise from that night still remained. "Is there anythin' I can help you with?" She hated the hysterical tinge in her voice, but she would have done anything to avoid going back outside alone, even if it meant dirtying her hands working in the barn.

"No, but I like havin' you around. Stay 'till dinner, if you want, then I'll walk you back to the house. Shouldn't have had to walk out here on your own. Must've been frightenin' for you."

She stood in the doorway, lit by the soft light of sunset. "Thought it'd get easier every day, but it don't. It's always there, and when it's nighttime…sometimes it's like rememberin' it is even worse than when it happened. Aunt Eller keeps actin' like I shouldn't be so scared. Keeps sayin' that terrible things happen and you gotta take the good with the bad and be tough. Says it's okay if I can't forget about it, but…I don't know if I can live if I'll have to remember it always." Her voice quavered. "I just ain't strong that way."

"Bein' tough like that" he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "that's fine for some folks, probably. Maybe it makes life easier for them. But folks like you and me, we feel things more. 'F somethin' happens to us, we hold onto it, don't matter if it's good or bad."

She smiled faintly. Before, she would have hated any comparison between the two of them, but now she appreciated his understanding, felt comforted by sharing a bond with him. It made her want to talk to him, to share things she'd never shared before. "Saw a farm house burnin' up one time. When me and my parents was comin' here from Missouri. Cried and cried over that for months. Still think about it sometimes, and it still makes me so sad and scared, I can't help myself. Most terrible thing I've ever seen. Once I cut off all my hair for no reason at all, I just felt so much that I didn't know what else to do." She leaned her head back against the door frame. He was quiet and still, like he was concentrating on every word. "Cry just thinkin' about all the things I want. Wanna live in California. Wanna have diamonds in my shoes. Wanna have an education. But I'll cry if I see somethin' that's real beautiful, too. Cry and remember it always"

"I remember" he walked towards her, his voice solemn like he took her seriously even when she was talking about her most ridiculous dreams "the time you brought me that soup when I was sick. You put your hand on my forehead, and I think about it all the time. It was so nice the way you did that that's when I knew…I dunno, I just knew we were…"

"I remember that, too" she reassured him when his voice died down. "'Course I remember. I should've done more for you. Should've stayed with you like you stayed with me the other night, I—"

A wolf howled from somewhere in the plains, and Laurey's hand flew to her mouth as a strangled little cry escaped her lips. The tears that constantly hovered in the corners of her eyes spilled down her cheeks before she could stop herself.

"Hey, it's all right." Jud put his hand on her arm, anchoring her. "You know you're always safe when I'm around, don't you, darlin'?"

She nodded, gasping for air. "Y-you won't ever leave me alone, will you, Jud?"

"No. I'm always gonna be here." She smiled again at how straightforward he was, at how he didn't make a joke out of her feelings or try to reason them away. Smiled because she believed him.

"I just—I don't understand why those men thought they had the right to take all that away from me."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, like, the things I used to want, I don't want them anymore. Or don't want them in the same way. What happened, it's got me jumpin' at shadows all the time, and I just-I just don't know-I don't know why they thought they had the right to do that to me. They didn't even know me, but they came in and they tried to...what if I'd had a baby?" She knew she wasn't making sense, that her words were all jumbled, but she knew that Jud still understood her, understood her better than anyone else, probably. "Could've ruined my life and they didn't even know me. I can't be happy now. I used to be happy, but they took that away, and I don't know why. I don't understand why someone would do that. I don't know how someone could hate me so much if they didn't even know me Don't know why they saw me and thought I didn't deserve to be happy. I thought I deserved to be happy. As much as anyone does, I guess…" her voice faced out, with the exertion of trying to get everything out, all the emotions and jumbled thoughts she wasn't comfortable sharing with Aunt Eller.

"I don't think they hated you, I reckon they just weren't thinkin'. Just figured on takin' what they wanted, didn't stop and wonder how you'd feel."

"You're probably right. Men do things like that all the time. It just—"

At that moment, the dinner bell rang out, harsh and comfortingly ordinary at the same time.

"S'pose we ought to…" she sighed.

"Yeah, s'pose so." Neither of them moved, though.

"Jud?"

"Yeah?"

"I, um" she had to say it, or else she'd fall apart with the need to feel something else. "I don't want him to be the last person who kissed me."

He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her. She could tell he was trying to be slow, to be gentle with her, but that wasn't what she needed. She needed to feel something other than constant nerves and tearfulness and white-hot anger. Gentle pecks on her lips were nice, but not enough for her to forget. So, she pushed her lips against his, pushed her whole body against his. He responded by returning the gesture, gripping her waist as he deepened the kiss even more, thrusting his tongue in her mouth. It wasn't particularly comfortable, up against the barn door, his heavy body pressed right up against her, almost crushing her, but it was as though her mind was a slate he had wiped clean, as though the only thing that existed–that had ever existed–were the feel of his mouth, his tongue, his strong hands wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her waist, his warm body.

After an eternity, the bell rang again. He disentangled himself from her and grabbed the lamp that he'd put on one of the milking stools. He held out his hand and she took it unhesitatingly, her lips still buzzing from the way he bit down on them and sucked at them. They didn't speak on the way back to the farmhouse, both content to give the moment the respect it deserved.

Laurey almost let go of Jud's hand when the door to the farmhouse opened, but instead, she tightened her grip. She couldn't be brave in the ways Aunt Eller wanted, but she could certainly be loyal to the man who had rescued her.

"Almost had me worried, there. Never known you to be so pokey on your way to din–" Eller's words died on her lips as she saw the two of them standing so close to each other, hand in hand like they were courting.

"Sorry, ma'am" Jud inclined his head but gave no explanation. He let go of Laurey's hand to let her through the narrow doorway, and Laurey pointedly avoided her aunt's glare. She certainly wasn't tough enough to take on Aunt Eller.