In the Woods When First We Met

139. The Only Two Left

"What do you mean she's not lying, of course she's lying!" Josie snapped, her hand laying on Billy's arm. "She did things she shouldn't have done, and now she wants to pretend that it wasn't her fault. Isn't that right?"

Billy nodded, holding Josie's handkerchief over his bloody nose.

"Anne," Jane cried, dropping to her feet in front of the privy door. "Oh, Anne, I'm so sorry!" She began to cry, her hands pressed against the privy door as if wishing she could hold Anne herself.

Just then the bell rang.

Everyone came out of a bit of a daze; all six people there had forgotten they were even at school in the first place.

Ruby and Tillie looked at each other, and with sort of a shrug, turned around, heading back to the schoolroom together at the beckoning of the bell.

"Come on," Josie said, dragging Billy away. Billy was still keeping the handkerchief over his nose. Billy thought his chances with Josie were over, but it seemed Josie might be willing to forgive him- even if it was a reluctant forgiveness- because she seemed to believe that he had been led astray by Anne's wicked ways and he wasn't completely at fault for how he'd been seduced by her.

Gilbert stared at Jane, leaning against the privy door, crying. He had mixed feelings- he felt upset that she knew what had been done and had never told her parents about it. But he also couldn't hate her because she, too, had been put in a bad position, and she clearly felt terrible. Finally he knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder, saying gently, "Jane, why don't you go on in? I'll help her."

Jane turned to him, her face streaked with tears.

"I'm sure she doesn't blame you," Gilbert said. "Everything will be all right."

They looked at each other a moment, and then Gilbert helped her up. She slowly made her way back to the school, wiping her eyes as she went.

Finally it was just the two of them. Gilbert could still hear Anne crying.

"If you won't come out, then can I come in?" He asked.

There was a brief pause, a whimper, and then a scraping sound that he knew was the wooden latch being lifted from the door.

He waited until she'd pushed open the door herself before he made any move to enter.

He was about to say, "Come on out, it can't possibly smell good in there." But he didn't. She was still crying too hard to say anything to her at all, so he just smushed himself into a space too tight for two people and sat down on the dirt floor with her. He was glad she was all right with him touching her now, because that was all he could do. He brought his arms around her. She was crying so hard he worried she wouldn't be able to breathe, but he kept his arms strong around her anyway, and she was glad, because the strength she felt in his arms could protect her from the world.

After several minutes, he looked down at her head, which was nestled against him. His flannel shirt was wet from her tears, but he felt her crying slowly dying down, until at last, he only felt his chest shake with her hiccups.

"I don't want to t-talk," she forced out, unsteady.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said softly, only holding her tighter.

There is, actually, he thought. But not to each other.

And so he began praying.