Taken In
 

Autumn, 1879

Maggie Sheridan took a deep breath as she stepped out of the stagecoach, the first breath of air in this new place that would be her home, at least for a while. It was Drake, Ohio, a small farming town just in its growth phase. Three generations ago there were no white people here. Then there had been pioneers. Now the town was settling in and multiplying. It would be a good place to teach. Plenty of farmers’ children needing an education, not too much history in the place or too many rules about how a teacher should live. The former teacher had been an old spinster, and had died. Maggie mused that she herself would be considered a spinster, still unmarried at 24. Whether it was in this town or some other, one day her destiny would be to die like her predecessor did, old and alone. She shuddered at the thought but quickly reminded herself that this was the life she wanted. No man, no children. Independence. It was not something easy for a woman to come by, and she thanked God for her opportunities.

She watched as the men carried her things inside the tiny cottage house that came with the position. It wasn’t much, but it was a place she could call her own, which was more than some teaching jobs offered. She shuttered to think of the offer she had barely turned down before this one had turned up – she would have had to “board around”, spending a week at most with her students’ families, one after the other. The idea of staying in someone else’s home had never greatly appealed to her, reminding her too much of the long years she spent living with distant relatives so that she could study, always an outsider alone in the middle of their togetherness. But even more tragic to her was the idea that she could not have her greatest treasure with her, her books. She eyed the crate that contained them, gleefully looking forward to lifting them out, touching the soft leather bindings with her palms and fingers, arranging them slowly, one by one, rereading a favorite passage here and there. Ah, there is nothing like a new beginning.

Maggie spent a week setting up the classroom to her satisfaction, and by the time the first day of school came, she felt ready and excited. The autumn air had turned crisp, and the sensation of excitement that this time of year always brought her was especially dramatic. She spent some time getting to know her students. Thirty-seven had shown up the first day. It was a healthy-sized group, even if you considered the fact that a portion of them, especially the older ones would stop coming soon enough. There were a number of little ones who would be working on the alphabet and numerals. Their sweet, terrified excitement charmed Maggie. She went through the middle children, learning what their competencies were, grouping them together, and giving out readers. Then she found her way to the older children. These were the ones that couldn’t be counted on. It was wonderful to work with them, once they had learned to read and write. But just when it seemed they ready to try some interesting subject matter, something beyond the three “R’s” and the smattering of history that was the standard curriculum, they would disappear to the fields or the hearth. Maggie had learned this lesson before. She tried to keep herself from hoping too much, but as those first weeks went by, there was one student who wormed her way right through Maggie’s defenses and made her really care.

What was really surprisingly wonderful was that this particular student was a girl. Her name was Anna Hoskins, a little tow-headed tomboy, about twelve years old, who was head-and-shoulders smarter than any of the other children. What’s more was that she was always working hard, and always seemed really happy to be doing so. Maggie saw early on that she always completed her work in less than half the time that her age-mates did. Sometimes she would fake taking longer, probably not wanting to be punished for idleness. But Maggie let the girl have her space, and eventually she started reading ahead and pushing herself. Then she’d suddenly stop, perhaps unsure of herself, and she’d go to help the younger children. Of course, the one-room schoolhouse made a necessity out of the older children helping with the younger ones, but in Anna’s case she was a true natural teacher. She had a way of seeing what the stumbling blocks were. Mostly Maggie was so busy she didn’t have time to pay all that much attention to Anna, but every once in a while something would catch her attention. Like the day Maggie noticed that somehow Anna had managed to get little Willie Patterson to start saying his “S’s” correctly. It was certainly no small achievement, as Maggie knew from many frustrated attempts at speech correction.

At first Anna was wary of Maggie. It probably had something to do with how the previous teacher had behaved towards her. Once Anna saw that she was not likely to be punished or made to feel strange due to her brightness, she became more interactive. When Maggie brought her new material to work on independently, she knew she had won herself a friend. Anna worked diligently and blushed deeply every time Maggie praised her. She stayed late after school to help clean the blackboards, and Maggie noticed Anna’s eyes on her often. Ah, isn’t that always the way, Maggie thought. The smartest young girls always seemed to get crushes on her. She had been no different at that age. She smiled at the sweetness of the emotion. Maggie wasn’t sure why it was exactly, but she had a theory that it had something to do both with the inherent attraction towards the strong, independent female as a potential role-model and the desire for an existence that centralized learning.

Early on in the year, Anna’s family invited her over for dinner. She was happy to have the opportunity to speak to them about their daughter, but wary also of what she would find. Farming families tended to be very closed-minded about education in general, especially for girls. But apples didn’t usually fall to far from trees, so Maggie hoped that they would prove agreeable enough that she might speak to them about the idea of Anna going on for further education. Opportunities for women were beginning to open up. The number of real academic academies and seminaries was rising, and the new colleges that were opening were accepting women. It was an exciting time, and she wished for Anna that she could be a part of it.

To her great pleasure, Maggie found Anna’s family warm and inviting. Her father was gracious and unassuming, and her mother’s eyes held a sparkle of intelligence. They seemed to greatly respect each other. There was only one other child, an older son, about eighteen. Harry appeared to be at that age when his body had outgrown him somehow, and he seemed sullen and shy. He barely made any eye contact all night long. Maggie wasn’t sure what to make of that exactly, but she chalked it up to adolescence. Anna barely spoke throughout dinner, which seemed normal enough to Maggie, as Anna was a quiet student, but afterwards, as Maggie helped Mrs. Hoskins with the dishes, she saw her tease Anna about her silence. She told Maggie how normally Anna could barely contain all the things she had to say about school and what she had learned.

“Isn’t that right, cherub?” Mrs. Hoskins said, but Anna only looked down shyly at her feet. “Well, this is certainly something new,” she said. Maggie reflected on the other side of Anna, how it seemed that she felt very free and accepted in her home. That was a good sign. She also liked how Mrs. Hoskins called her “cherub.” Maggie’s thoughts took a sudden, momentary shift from this cool analysis of the prospects for Anna’s education when she caught a glimpse of the smile on Mr. Hoskins' face as he watched his daughter, who was entirely unaffected by his prideful expression. Such pride. Memories of her own childhood overcame her. Maggie had been the 6th of eleven children, a tightly packed group of noisy and needy children whom Maggie’s mother managed in a business-like manner. With Maggie’s quiet, bookish ways, by the time she was able to care for herself she faded into the periphery of her family. Only her father’s occasional suspicious glances let her know she was noticed at all. She could not remember ever being looked at with pride. For a moment, she felt really envious of Anna.

After dessert, Anna went to her room and Maggie sat down with her parents to seriously discuss the future. They explained that they wanted her to have every opportunity to find fulfillment. Maggie knew that children were an asset to a farm, and the fact that they had only two probably made life a lot more difficult for the Hoskins. Allowing Anna to devote her time to study, and then allowing her to leave to pursue an education was a sacrifice just in terms of labor. And then there was the matter of tuition. Maggie suggested that they should consider preparing Anna to apply to Mount Holyoke, which would cost them only minimal tuition. The entrance exams were very difficult, and Anna would not be able to apply until she was sixteen years old. The intervening time would be filled with study.

“Do you really think that Anna could be accepted?” Mr. Hoskins asked. Maggie assured them that she was entirely confident that Anna had the intelligence necessary to succeed, and that the only question was whether she would be allowed the time to devote to the prospect. Again, Maggie saw Mr. Hoskins' prideful smile, but this time somehow the experience of being recruited as a valuable part of Anna’s future made Maggie herself be blessed. They agreed immediately to keep Anna in school and to allow her to spend extra time with Maggie in private lessons.

Maggie expended great effort organizing a curriculum for Anna. She would have to know advanced mathematics, at least algebra and geometry, Greek and Latin, European history, classic philosophy. All things Maggie had not been able to share with any student in some time. They fell in to the routine of their work together easily. Anna divided her days between independent study and helping with the younger children. In the hour after the school day, they went over her work together, Anna always very serious. Maggie was spare with praise, since she wanted Anna to stay motivated and to be prepared to be as good as she could be. But even between Anna’s seriousness and Maggie’s sternness, there were some joyous moments shared. Maggie felt almost guilty for taking such pleasure in her work with Anna.

But that guilt did nothing to impede the tide of fate that was to come crashing down on Anna. When returning from a trip to the city, Anna’s parents had been in a wagon that was attacked by thieves and crashed into a ravine, killing them both.

Nearly the entire town was present at the funeral. People thought very highly of the Hoskins, and many adults were hovering around Anna and her brother. Maggie watched Anna for a long time. Her face never showed a sign of emotion of any kind. Most of the time, her gaze seemed fixed somewhere in the distance. When someone spoke to her she answered, but Maggie knew that Anna was elsewhere. Her instincts pushed her to reach out to the girl, to comfort her, but it was a selfish wish. Maggie had no comfort to offer her. She wanted only to feel as if she had some way to help her.

But Maggie’s days of helping Anna were over. Without their parents, Harry and Anna were left to manage the farm on their own. Anna never came back to school. Maggie finished the year out in a daze, but by the time fall came, she had let go of her sadness and returned to the energy-consuming work of giving the town’s children their educations. When she wasn’t teaching, Maggie stayed in her cottage as much as she could without the town people thinking she was a hermit. She went to a different church than Anna’s family did, so she didn’t see much of Anna as time went on. Here and there, she would hear someone speak of her. It was always with sadness, as if they considered her a living tragedy. Maggie couldn’t bare to think of her and turned her thoughts away whenever she was reminded of her. Eventually, she even stopped thinking of her at all. Life went on. It always did. Later, Maggie would marvel at the ridiculousness of how such a person as Anna could so completely have erased herself from Maggie’s awareness when they lived in the same small town. But at the time it didn’t seem odd. Anna’s invisibility itself was completely invisible to Maggie until she suddenly reappeared.

Fall, 1884

It was two weeks before the start of the school year, and Maggie was still grieving the end of summer. She had enjoyed her free time spent working, and the long days and blue skies had pleased her. Maggie knew herself well enough to know that it wouldn’t be until that first scent of fall hit her that she would feel excited about the coming year. In the mean time, there were things that had to be done. She’d put her foot through one of her front steps and needed to fix it somehow. She had explained the problem to Mrs. Brown, the shopkeeper, who had advised her on lumber to purchase, but she really had no idea how to fix the step. She tried to pry some piece of knowledge from Mrs. Brown about how she should set about the task, but the older woman seemed to have little to offer.

“Maybe you should have Jake Pruitt come out to take care of it for you,” Mrs. Brown said, with a little condescending tone that let Maggie know that she was well aware that Maggie didn’t have money to be spending on handymen’s services. Maggie had been through her share of such conversations with Mrs. Brown, her disapproval of Maggie’s manless status always seething through passively.

Maggie was just about to let her prideful anger get the best of her when she heard a voice speaking to her from behind.

“I’d be happy to take care of that for you, Miss Sheridan.”

Maggie turned quickly, surprised, to find a man standing only an arm’s length behind her. She looked up at the face peaking out from beneath the hat and saw that it wasn’t a man at all. It was Anna Hoskins. When did she get so tall, Maggie wondered, speechless. When did she . . . Words failed Maggie then. The Anna in her memory was a little scrap of a girl, small for her age, skinny, and somewhat scruffy. The Anna before her now was a good three inches taller than her, who was herself considered taller than average. She was lean now too, but certainly not skinny. Her shoulders were broad, her face dramatic. Where often the pudgy roundness of children’s faces fell away to reveal chiseled adults, with Anna it seemed the opposite. The high cheekbones and jutting chin, present in her childhood form, had taken on a gentle roundness, giving her a striking underlying femininity, subtle against her masculine clothing.

“That will be eight dollars and twelve cents.” In her shock, Maggie couldn’t put together a response to Anna, but she didn’t want to be without words in front of Mrs. Brown, so she immediately dug out her purse, struggling with the packages of items she had purchased as well as the lumber. Anna immediately moved in and relieved her of her burdens while she paid Mrs. Brown. The act of this little real life movement somehow restored Maggie’s sense of reality. She temporarily ignored the strangeness of the situation and reacted to Anna as if this were not an entirely unusual situation. Maggie thanked her and they walked out together, but once they were outside Maggie explained to Anna that she couldn’t afford to pay anyone to help her.

“Well, money is for strangers anyway. A trade is always better.”

Maggie looked away, embarrassed. “Anna, you know I’m just a school teacher. I have nothing of value to offer you.”

Anna said nothing, waiting until Maggie’s eyes returned to her. Then, with all seriousness, she said slowly, “That is not true.”

Maggie was confused, but she saw Anna’s glance turn down to the book she held in her hand still. Maggie had ordered it in the spring, when her income was good, before the long summer, before the broken step. It was a treat she had looked forward to. Now it felt like a ridiculous indulgence. But when she found Anna’s eyes again, she remembered the young girl with the insatiable desire to learn, and she remembered how at one time she had felt that she had something to offer her. Maybe there was some truth left in that, after all this time. She agreed to Anna’s offer, and left the store feeling a strangely pleasant sense of disorientation.

Somehow, by the time Maggie found herself at home, looking around her tiny, cold, broken-down cottage, the idea of having someone over at all, much less this young woman, seemed entirely insane. The place was absolutely a wreck, and everywhere she looked she saw more things that were wrong. This was no place to have a houseguest. She made sure things were as spotless as she could get them, and even as she worked she silently laughed at her futile attempts to exert control over her environment.

But when Anna arrived, her thoughts turned from embarrassment over her home to the raw experience of interacting with the strange, sad girl. She remembered now why she had not paid much attention to Anna’s development over the years. Her own sadness over loosing the hope of Anna’s future had been acutely painful to her, and she had not wanted to imagine the sadness that Anna’s life had become. She had turned away from her for fear of seeing the joy in her dying. Now greeting her, inviting her into her home, she was aware of both their shared loss and the mystery that Anna had become. She had never seen a woman dressed the way Anna was, and she wondered what Anna’s life had been like. She watched as Anna took off her hat and smiled shyly, and she could see now that Anna was uncertain about how to act, what to say.

Something about her masculine exterior made it difficult to reach for the “polite” course of action. But then, maybe, standing here looking at each other, after all this time, was too important an occasion to be taken up with mimicked social conventions. Anna’s eyes traveled the room, which encompassed pretty much all of the small house other than the bedroom. Maggie caught her eyes widening occasionally and remembered her embarrassment over its sad state of affairs.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure you are horrified by the condition of the place. I can assure you, however, that it really doesn’t bother me. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed those loose bricks over there until just today when I was anticipating your arrival.” Maggie felt a little flutter as she made that last comment, and she forced herself to remember that this was still Anna Hoskins, the girl to whom she had once spoken with easy authority.

Anna could see that Miss Sheridan was embarrassed and somewhat flustered. She had no wish to make her uncomfortable in any way, and she sensed that her instinct to immediately throw herself into cataloguing and fixing every last imperfection would accomplish just that. “I understand. Bricks are not what’s important to you.” Anna spoke the words easily, as the truth of them had been apparent to her, but Maggie was taken aback by the young woman’s insight. Neither men nor women could typically understand her lack of interest in attending to the comforts of home. No one seemed to glimpse that it was the life of the mind that captivated her attention. “I’ll just start on that step now, while the light is still good.”

Anna had spotted the wood for the new step and picked it up effortlessly, her tool bag swinging over her shoulder comfortably. Maggie watched her work, the movements of her hands quick and efficient. Her hands had long fingers, which might have been exquisitely elegant if they were soft and pale and idle. But they were tanned and calloused, the hands of a person accustomed to work. Her hair was darker now too, from what she could see of it, tied back in a braid at her neck. It was not the shiny blonde it had been, but a duller shade. Her shoulders were broad and her arms strong. At first Maggie watched her openly, making eye contact when Anna looked up at the window, but eventually she moved to a different spot out of Anna’s line of vision, and she heard Anna start to hum. It was a happy little melody, nothing she recognized. The sound of her voice was an unexpected pleasure. Unexpected, too, was the simple joy it seemed to display.

Anna allowed the work on the step to quiet her fiercely beating heart. In the store, she had seen the way the shopkeeper was treating Maggie and had been somewhat incensed, offering her services as some way of introducing decency into the scene. When Maggie had claimed that she had nothing valuable, Anna immediately latched on to what she saw as her wealth. But it wasn’t until she was on her way to pay her visit that Anna began to remember her childish fantasies of somehow coming to the older woman’s rescue. Granted, she had never seen herself fixing a step. She had usually been battling terrible villains on Miss Sheridan’s behalf, but, if the thought had occurred to her at the time, waging war on the discomforts of this little cottage would have seemed just as satisfying. She kept trying to remind herself that she was not a child any more, and that she did not need to prove herself to anyone. She was competent and smart and kind. She would merely finish this step and go have a simple adult conversation with Miss Sheridan. They would discuss her “trade.” In truth, Anna would have fixed the step for no payment at all, but in that moment in the store she had come to realize that asking to borrow a book, asking to have a discussion of an idea, would be not only a payment, but another kind of gift she could offer.

When Anna finished with the step, she reentered the house to find her host sitting at the table, an elbow on the table to support her forehead, reading as she hastily wrote some notes on a sheet of paper. Her hair was beginning to loosen from the bun she kept it scooped up in. Anna stood watching her for a moment, noticing the way she reached up to scratch her neck with the end of the pen. She had seen that hand hold a pen many times, watched it write, demonstrating penmanship to students. But here she was, in her home, writing what she wanted to write, her scratchy scrawl penning her own thoughts. Again, Anna attempted to shake off her adolescent admiration. “Miss Sheridan, I’ve finished with the step.” Anna admonished herself for the shy, quiet tone she heard herself use.

Maggie turned immediately and smiled at her, “please, Anna, it’s Maggie to you now. And thank you so much.” Maggie got up and moved into the kitchen. “May I offer you some cake while we discuss the terms of our trade?”

Anna accepted, understanding that Miss Sheridan- Maggie, was casually offering an opening for her to express what it was she wanted from her. She took a moment to look over Maggie’s wall of books while she sliced the cake. There were no shelves. Maggie had placed the books directly against the wall, one row on top of another. Anna traced the categorization scheme: mathematics, natural science, philosophy, history, literature and criticism, poetry. It was a veritable playground of ideas.

Maggie returned with the cake and they sat down at the rough table. “I see your love of learning has not left you. What is it that you are craving now, Anna?”

The question overwhelmed her. It seemed so long ago when she had spent her time studying, pouring over ideas. She had developed enough skill in mathematics to suit her tastes. She remembered working hard at her Greek and Latin and loving the understanding of language she had been piecing together. But undertaking that again was too much for her now. History was an endless wealth of possibility. But where to begin? It was science, though, that had been her truest love. Most of all, right now, as she thought it over, she wanted something that she could talk to Maggie about. Something to interpret. Literature or philosophy would be best. “I do not know exactly. The thought was poorly formed in my mind. However, I would like to read something that will make me think again... think about something bigger than my world. Then I would like to come back here and talk with you about it.” Finally, she had said something with confidence.

To Maggie, it was as if she had been given the key to a door into a dark room, into which she could pour the light of day. She immediately began to think of what she should choose. Something bigger than her world.

Anna watched Maggie eating her cake, clearly lost in thought. Then she looked at Anna appraisingly and finally stood, walking to her books and pulling something off the shelf. There was an excited sparkle in her eye that Anna couldn’t remember ever seeing before. The book was Des Cartes' Meditations. “Can you come back in a week and tell me what you think about it?”

Anna’s heart beat faster. She wanted to say “anything you want,” but squeaked out an “I’d like that,” instead. She looked down at her cake, eating it slowly, subtly hoping to send the signal that she did not want to leave, that she was enjoying being here.

Maggie seemed to take her queue and engaged her in conversation. Anna would have talked to Maggie about anything she wanted, but starting in those first moments, Maggie asked, strangely, about the song Anna had been humming as she worked.

A little embarrassed, Anna looked to the left of Maggie’s head as she answered. “It was something my mother used to sing. I don’t know where it comes from, really. The words are about a fairy king who falls in love with a flower. It’s silly, really.”

“Interesting. I wonder where she learned it.” Maggie was a little surprised to find herself speaking of Anna’s parents. Normally she avoided subjects that could be distressful. But there didn’t seem to be any distress behind Anna’s words.

“Yes, it’s not exactly a church hymn,” Anna reflected on her parents and their relative difference, a difference that her instincts told her to hide. But those instincts didn’t grab her now. “I never really knew much about my parents’ childhoods. I know that they were both adopted, and that neither was close with their families. I imagined, when I was very young and my mother sang that song, that they were really secretly fairy-people, and one day they would confess this to me as my true heritage.”

Maggie smiled at Anna’s story. In it she glimpsed the joyful young girl she had known. With the ease of Anna’s words, and the pleasure she seemed to take in speaking her thoughts, Maggie began to realize that Anna was happy. In these years of keeping Anna largely outside her attention, she had been insulating herself from a tragedy that wasn’t there. What she had missed was only how that smart, young girl had metamorphed into this enigmatic woman. And a woman she was; a strong, competent woman. She was sitting before her now, quietly asking to retake the knowledge that had been almost within her grasp. Yet the soft voice and the shy eyes hid something the strength and competence could not. Maggie would not make the mistake of ignoring her again.

The next week, when Anna came back, she brought with her a piece of glass. It was a new window pain to replace the one with a hole that Maggie had plugged with an old piece of cloth. They had not discussed anything about the window, and Maggie argued with Anna, telling her she did not have the money for the glass. Anna made up some story about just happening to have an extra, knowing as she was saying it that it was entirely unbelievable. But Maggie saw the pleading in her eyes, and knew that Anna wanted very much for her to accept it. "You see, I would like to come here on a regular basis for a while. I feared that after the step was finished there would no reason for me to return. But as long as I have a way to help you..." there was a raw, honest need in Anna’s voice, and Maggie responded instinctually.

“Alright. You will keep coming back. You’ll help me. I’ll help you. We won’t argue over terms or details.” Maggie hated the feeling of being dependent on any one, and normally the idea of having someone like Anna come and fix up her home would have made her skin crawl. But Anna somehow managed to make it seem as if allowing her to do such things was itself a kindness.

As before, Maggie enjoyed watching Anna work, musing over her existence. She was so very different from what Maggie herself was. Beyond her intellectual work, she was skilled only at doing that which she needed to do in order to survive. Anna had the ability and interest to be everything Maggie was, but she had become something different. She had become someone who used her body to work, who knew how to do things. Most impossible for Maggie to fathom was that her life seemed to be full.

When they talked over Des Cartes, Maggie pushed and prodded at Anna’s analysis, playing devil’s advocate, in order to discern the shape of her ideas. It was pure pleasure, and often she had to force herself to slow down or calm down. They talked over many traditional aspects of the work, the logic of his arguments, possible interpretations of his words. However, the thing that struck Maggie most about what Anna said was towards the end of the conversation, where they were no longer arguing but were casually musing through ideas.

“If I were going to endeavor to find the truth of my existence, I don’t think I would go seek out solitude the way Des Cartes did. If there were anything I believed truly fundamental to my nature, it would be something about being with others. Being alone offers a certain wonderful kind of communion with existence, but it is only with others that existence has meaning.”

“Perhaps meaning is reducible. Perhaps the illusion of meaning was what Des Cartes was trying to strip away.” Maggie’s words sounded empty to her. She was stuck in the pattern of arguing the counterpoint. But Anna’s words hadn’t been spoken as a thesis from which she should generate an antithesis. They were a representation of her truth.

“Perhaps,” was the only response Anna offered.

Maggie went over and over Anna’s words after she had gone. The thought was simple and sweet. But something was bothering her. Eventually, she reflected on what she would do in Des Cartes' shoes. The only thing she had ever thought about his retreat into solitude was what a luxury it would be to be able to go away for that long and just think, not to have to work, not to have to handle problems of sustenance. It had seemed attractive. Indeed, the interactions that her needs forced her into were not typically very fulfilling. Granted, teaching was not without its moments of satisfaction, no matter how trying it could be. But her life’s dream of study was something she had long conceived of as solitary. Suddenly, a memory flashed of a discussion among a group of young women, her classmates at the seminary. It was a moment in which they had gotten into a heated argument. It happened rather rarely, as they were all well-trained young women, not given to heats of passion or losses of decorum. She couldn’t remember what it was they had been arguing about, only the feeling of being caught up in the moment, knowing the others felt the same way. For the first time, she glimpsed the idea that there might be something missing from her life.

As the weeks went on and Anna returned for evening after evening, Maggie’s feelings of curiosity about the inner workings of Anna’s mind continued, and her passion over their discussions grew. Often, they would end up arguing. Maggie was never sure quite how it happened at the time, but afterwards she would trace back the conversation and would see how she had lead towards it. She would resolve that next time she wouldn’t do it, but then it would happen again. God, how she loved it when Anna’s eyes would widen and she would take a breath to go on some kind of tirade. Her words were always so well chosen. And then she loved the feeling of finding the flaw in her logic, bringing up the point Anna hadn’t thought of yet. Even more, she loved those moments in which Anna would point out the flaw in her own logic, describe the perspective Maggie had never seen. She was learning with someone again. It was as if she had gotten herself lost in a desert and hadn’t known she was thirsty until someone offered her a tiny sip of water. Now, she wanted to take the water jug in her hands and drown herself.

Maggie reflected that it might be time to leave this small town and return to the world in which she could find a community to really work in. She let the thought simmer in the back of her mind, but for now she was content to continue with how things were. She was still enjoying the process of getting to know Anna. For instance, she was intrigued by Anna’s perspectives on the other members of their community. There seemed to be no one she spoke of without respect. She was full of forgiveness for misdeeds, and often had a sense of causality that left blame off human shoulders altogether. Sometimes Anna would tell her something about some aspect of her work, something she had learned about how exactly a job was to be done. It was always something that communicated the pleasure she took in refining her skills. Maggie marveled at Anna’s ability to find goodness.

Through all this, Maggie felt rather secure about her relationship with Anna. She truly liked the girl, and she knew that the affection was returned. Maggie knew that Anna liked her for who she truly was. She felt connected, in a healthy sort of way. Nothing about Anna felt dangerous.

But then one night, a flash rainstorm blew through when Anna was on her way over and she arrived drenched to the bone. Maggie laughed with her and helped her out of her soaked-through outer layers. When she got down to her white shirt, drenched and sticking to her skin, she could really see the curves of Anna’s body for the first time. Her eyes wandered over the soft curve of Anna’s broad shoulders, the way the muscles intersected each other, the surprising generous swell of her breasts, the material clinging to her cold-hardened nipples. It took her a moment to snap herself out of her mesmerized state. Anna said something. She wasn’t sure what, but she realized she had to offer the young woman something to change into so that they could dry her clothes over the stove. She looked for something big enough to fit that wouldn’t compromise Anna’s masculine sensibilities and settled for a loose nightshirt and stockings to keep her feet warm. She offered them to Anna quickly, averting her eyes, and motioned for her to go into the bedroom to change.

When Anna emerged, her form was hidden beneath the gown, but it was too late. The image was burned into Maggie’s mind, and she could still see the lines of soft curves beneath the material.

“I hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your hair brush.” Indeed, Anna had taken her hair out of its braid and had brushed the tangles out of it. It laid close to her head, smooth and shining in the lamplight. Where it was tucked behind her ears, Maggie could see the tips of them reddened by the change in temperature. Indeed, her cheeks and lips were flushed with color. She’d never really noticed how full Anna’s lips were. She tried to resume normal behavior, taking Anna’s wet clothes from her and moving to arrange them on the rack over the stove. She could feel Anna’s presence edging closer to her from behind. She was terrified that Anna had seen her hopeless desire, but when she turned, Anna was smiling at the warmth of the fire, clearly taking a pure physical pleasure in the feeling, stretching her fingers out as she held her hands close to it. Maggie looked down at Anna’s feet, and she could see her toes wiggling in the stockings. She followed the curve of her calves, the pale, downy hair raised and pimply from the chill. She brought their chairs over to the stove, so that they could sit up next to it until the heat worked it’s way through Anna. Ridiculous to feel this way, Maggie thought. Anna was so innocent and pure. It would not do to be having lustful thoughts about her.

But it had been such a long time since she had felt desire. And something about the aliveness it made her feel captured her and refused to let go. They did not argue that night. They talked softly. Maggie enjoyed that, perhaps even more than she had enjoyed the arguments. She listened to the way Anna spoke, and she realized that much of the shyness that had marked her behavior was gone. She was still quiet in general, speaking only when she really had something to say, and her tone was often gentle and unassuming. But there was something of a confidence about her. Anna no longer spoke to her as if she were a teacher but rather as an equal, as a friend.

It was all the more reason not to indulge this sudden desire. She would simply let things go back to normal. Anna would never know the difference. The evening came and went, but Maggie could not make things go back to normal. Now, she could no longer see Anna without noticing her beauty, without being captured by the contradictions between her rough exterior and her soft interior. She could not keep the sparkle from her eyes when she looked at her.

Anna expected that as she grew more comfortable with Maggie, as she learned to speak to her with confidence, as they shared ideas as equals, that she would lose some of the anxious feeling she got whenever she was in Maggie’s presence. She imagined herself becoming relaxed around her the way she was with Harry and his wife, Emma. But as the weeks turned into months and the months began to pass by, she never once crossed Maggie’s threshold without feeling her heart trying to jump out of her throat. Not ever did an evening go by that she didn’t in some moment marvel at her good fortune to be near this amazing person. She was used to being intrigued by people, used to watching them closely, but never had someone seemed so richly vibrant, so detailed and perfect, so very real as to be almost unreal.

At first she chastised herself for idolizing Maggie. She associated the feeling of adoration towards the woman with her youth, and she considered it childish to retain such feelings. If she had ever stopped to examine the nature of what she felt for Maggie now and compare it with what she had felt then, she would have immediately seen the fallacy of the association, but she never did stop to think about it. Gradually, she accepted the pattern and stopped chastising herself. It was not in her nature to devote great energy to feeling ill of herself.

Of course, Anna noticed the change, the night of the storm. The moment she entered Maggie’s house, the familiar feeling of anxiety was with her, but she was engrossed by the more novel physical sensations of being so thoroughly wet. Not since she was a child had she been accidentally caught in such a downpour from which she could not readily escape. Peeling off her wet clothes in the warm house was feeling good, and she felt the warmth both with her body and with her heart as Maggie neared her and reached out to her. She didn’t see the way Maggie’s eyes lingered over her body, but she did notice the way she seemed to turn away as she handed her dry clothes. That entire evening, Maggie seemed somehow distant. Anna was a little bothered, but not much, and in the weeks following she noticed a more quiet kind of connection settling between them. Their heated arguments ceased. Maggie stopped asking the piercing sort of questions that she had in the past. Now Anna found herself volunteering pieces of information about herself. She could feel the deepening of their connection to each other, and it pleased her greatly.

It was in fall that Anna had first come to repair the step. Anna had mentioned to her brother about her arrangement with Maggie after their second meeting. He hadn’t said much about it, but he smiled at her and seemed pleased about it. The farm was easier to manage in the winter, so Anna did not feel that her one evening a week made much difference. Anna imagined that Harry and Emma were able to put the private time to good use. The walls in the old farmhouse were thick enough, but Emma did have a tendency to be loud when she and Harry made love. It was a tendency she made good effort to control, which Anna appreciated. She was truly happy for their happiness together, but enough was enough.

The winter was a quiet, reflective time. Long hours spent deep in thought, cold days with little light were punctuated by beautiful, fire-warmed evenings spent talking with Maggie. Anna thought everything was just about perfect with the world, but when the hints of spring began to appear, she could feel a new joy building within her. Anna felt alive, bursting with an energy that she wasn’t sure what to do with. She began to feel a sensation of wanting something more, but it was so vague that she couldn’t even identify it as a desire.

When Maggie’s attraction to Anna did not fade as she had originally hoped, she spent a lot of time thinking about what it meant. It was obvious it was not purely lust. Often, the feelings she had when she was with Anna didn’t stir any physical arousal at all. But there was never a time that went by when Maggie did not feel that familiar glowing feeling at just being near her. She marveled at the color of her eyes, catalogued every expression, longed to touch her, even fleetingly. It wasn’t hard to read the signs. She was completely in love. Sometimes it bothered her to realize how young Anna was, remembering the distance in their ages. It troubled her to think of herself as being in love with a person who would in some corner of her heart always be twelve years old. But Anna was not twelve anymore. In this world, you were an adult when you bore the responsibilities of an adult. If anyone was an adult, it was Anna. The eternal youth Anna would have always in Maggie’s heart was a tender illusion, nothing more.

She began to wonder how her feelings would affect the course of her relationship with Anna. At first there was the terrible fear that her love was unrequited. It was true that as a child, Anna had had a bit of a crush on her. But that was common enough for a girl. It was not common at all for a grown woman such as Anna had become to fall in love with a woman. As she watched Anna for signs of her feelings, the fear began to leave her. She wasn’t sure what Anna thought about her feelings, but she could tell from her behaviors that they were deep and true.

Was that really better though? Perhaps it would have been safer to stay in love with Anna, and have her be completely unable to return her feelings. There would be no fear of discovery, no longings for a life together that they could not have. When she thought of what loving Anna could do to her life, her mind churned with guilt. More than once she thought of leaving the town, leaving Anna behind her. But the thought caused her such pain that she knew she couldn’t do it. In the end, she decided to just wait and see what happened. When spring was on its way, Maggie began to feel a change in Anna. Nothing about her behavior was discernibly different, but she seemed to be some how bound up with an energy that wasn’t there before. It was almost contagious, and anticipation began to grow within her.

One day as she was cleaning her classroom, getting ready to go home for the evening, Harry Hoskins knocked on the door and asked to speak with her. She immediately panicked. She had all along held a fear that Anna’s brother would resent her visits to Maggie, would not approve of the time and effort she put in to helping Maggie, or, God forbid, he would have sensed the attraction between them and would want to put an end to their visits. She thought of the sullen teenager she had met years ago and reflected that she wasn’t sure at all what sort of man he was. Her heart pounded as she invited him in, but she saw from his smile that his business with her was nothing negative.

“Miss Sheridan, I hope I haven’t disturbed you, but I wanted to let you know that next Friday is Anna’s eighteenth birthday, and I thought it might be nice to have a couple of people she esteems come over to celebrate with us. I know how much she has come to enjoy your company.”

Maggie was a little surprised. This wasn’t at all what she expected. First, she felt herself warm at Mr. Hoskins’ statement about Anna’s feelings towards her. Then she thought about the fact that Anna’s birthday was coming, which she hadn’t realized. She chastised herself for not having discovered that on her own. Luckily, she had a gift ready and waiting, something she miraculously found when a peddler had come to town. She knew it was for Anna as soon as she saw it, but had been waiting for an occasion for which she could present it to her. Then, she thought about the idea of going to Anna’s home and being with her family. The prospect of observing them and watching how Anna was with them was absolutely enthralling. Finally, she managed to put together a response. “Why certainly, Mr. Hoskins. I would be honored to attend.”

He laughed and said, “Please, Miss Sheridan, call me Harry. Any friend of Anna’s is a friend of mine.”

Maggie was not quite as willing to accept Harry so easily, but she was charmed by the way his words implied a respect for Anna’s preferences in people. “Alright then, Harry, but you must call me Maggie.”

“Wonderful. Doc Ferris is coming too, and your place is on the way, so I’ll have him stop by to pick you up around five o’clock?”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Harry bid his farewells and went on his way. There was a lightness in his step that Maggie liked. She smiled, watching him go, and thought about her gift for Anna.

When Friday evening arrived, the town doctor, known to everyone as Doc Ferris, indeed came to pick her up right on time, and she enjoyed the ride over, talking with him about his relationship with Anna and her family. He had been a good friend of her parents and had been closely involved in watching over them after the accident. Maggie liked his sense of humor, and he made her laugh enough on the way over that she had nearly forgotten her nervousness. Emma answered the door and invited them in, and she immediately searched the room for Anna.

Maggie was absolutely unprepared for what she found. Anna was across the room, her back to the entering guests, lighting a lamp. Her hair had been pulled into a loose twist bound by a comb, from which her hair fell, and she was wearing a dress. She turned as soon as she heard them enter, smiling her greeting as she walked towards them. She kissed Doc Ferris casually on the cheek and reached out her hand towards Maggie to take the paper-wrapped present in her hand. Maggie tried desperately to react in some way, but she was entirely frozen.

“Anna, you –“ Maggie wanted to say she was beautiful, but she was afraid of how the words would sound coming from her awe-stricken self. And then perhaps it would imply she wasn’t beautiful otherwise, which was wholly not the case. “I-"

Anna smiled shyly and turned her eyes to the floor for a moment before Doc Ferris saved the moment by laughing and saying, “Oh my, I suppose you haven’t seen Anna out of her work clothes in some time. She does clean up nice, doesn’t she?”

It was the understatement of a lifetime. She was a goddess! The dress was simple, made of a coarse material, but the deep salmon color highlighted the natural blush of her cheeks and lips. Most jarring of all was the way Anna carried herself, shoulders straight, moving gracefully. She had no put-on feminine mannerisms, but there was something naturally womanly about her. She was not play-acting the part.

Eventually Maggie managed to smile at Anna and apologize for being so shocked. Anna made light of it, though, and the tension of the moment passed. Harry entered from the kitchen and greeted everyone. Maggie liked the way Anna smiled at him. Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of the last time she had been in this house. How she had marveled at the warmth of Anna’s family. She could see her parents as if they were there in the room. The sadness must have shown in Maggie’s features because Anna asked her what was wrong.

“Nothing, really. I was just remembering very strongly the last time I was here.” Maggie paused, not sure how to characterize the memory. “I wish that I had had more opportunity to spend time with your parents. I saw in that one evening a glimpse of what fine people they were.” There was sadness in her voice, and a little anxiety, as she disliked making reference to their loss on this happy occasion.

Harry seemed to know exactly what was bothering her and lightly said, “Don’t feel bad about speaking of them. They’ve already been very much here with us today, which is as it should be.” Maggie saw that Harry reached to squeeze Anna’s hand fleetingly as he said this. It warmed her heart, and she felt a sense of deja vue as she marveled at the tenderness between them. Right then and there, she made up her mind that Harry was a good fellow.

When they sat down to dinner, she was pleased to note that, though the table was the same one she had sat down at years ago, everyone sat in different places. The head, where Mr. Hoskins had been was Harry’s place now, with Emma at the other head. Anna was where Harry had been, and across from Anna where, where she herself had sat was Doc Ferris. This time Maggie sat next to Anna, and she liked the feeling that brought her. She wasn’t the teacher anymore. She was the friend.

Harry said grace. It was something different than anything Maggie had heard before. “We ask you, Lord to accept our thanks for our home, our food, our good company, and most of all for all the great blessings that are too numerous and unfathomable for us to speak. Tonight we especially thank you for eighteen years blessed by Anna in our lives.” There was a moment of silence and they all murmured “amen.”

She looked up to see Harry smile as he continued to speak. “Now that we have thanked the Lord, let us honor him by celebrating the blessings of our Anna.” Harry looked around the room.

Anna turned to Maggie to explain. “This is my family’s tradition. At every birthday everyone shares stories about the person and offers blessings. There has to be one spoken for every year the person has lived.”

“That is so sweet. What a wonderful tradition,” Maggie responded, meaning it thoroughly.

“Well, in practice it can get boring. Most of the major stories get retold every year.”

Harry cut in, “Now, now, baby girl, don’t pretend you don’t love it.” Harry turned to Maggie and added, “When I was a teenager I tried to convince my parents that it was really too much, too embarrassing and far too boring. But Anna wouldn’t have any of that. She always adored it.”

Anna glared at him. “I loved it on everyone else’s birthday. You, as I recall, were the one who loved it on your own birthday,” Anna retorted, and kicked him under the table.

Harry just grinned and said, “It’s true.”

Doc Ferris cleared his throat and everyone gave him their attention. “If you don’t mind, I would like to start by reminding you about how Anna came into the world.” Everyone smiled, and Maggie could tell that this was one of the stories that was retold every year. “It was a long winter the year Anna was born, and we were all weary with the cold and dark in that way that happens when everyone seems to have forgotten what it was like to see the sun. The day Anna was born was the first warm day that the sun shined in a blue sky. Everyone felt the lightness in the air, and there were smiles on faces everywhere. Sarah felt her first pains just as the sun was rising. Anna spent all day making her way into the world, and arrived an hour or so before the sun set. The sky was a beautiful orange with pink and purple clouds on the horizon. I never knew for sure if it was the sun that called Anna into the world or if it was Anna who brought the sun. What I do know is that the warmth of that day has always been in her, and it warms all of us who touch her.” The doctor paused and raised his glass, “To Anna, may she warm us with her light always.”

As Maggie listened to the doctor’s words, the truth of them permeated her. She could feel the way Anna had poured light into her own dark world. She had a sudden desperate urge to cling to that warmth. She wanted to hear that story over and over every year, to be reminded of what it was to bask in Anna’s light. She turned to Anna and smiled. She could feel a tear in her eye, and she had to fight desperately to keep it from spilling onto her cheek.

Emma took the next turn and spoke about the time in which she and Harry were first married. This time, Maggie got the impression that a new story was being told. “I knew it was my responsibility to take over the household duties, and I had really felt myself prepared for the task. After all, my mother made sure I had developed all the necessary skills to take care of a home. But when I got here, I was so desperate to please Harry that I ended up burning one of the first dinners I made. It wasn’t too bad. I mean it was at least edible, but I was mortified. The next night Anna offered to cook. I thought she was making a statement about my inadequacy, and I thought her very rude. But then she made this absolutely HORRIBLE meal. “ Anna and Harry immediately started to laugh, and Emma had to catch her breath from laughing before she continued. “I mean it wasn’t burned or anything, but it was horrifyingly bland while somehow being much too salty at the same time. It made my burned dinner look like a sumptuous pleasure.” Anna smiled fondly at both of them. “Harry and Anna both ate a huge helping. It was entirely obvious what she had done, but she never said a word about it. It didn’t make me feel like less of a failure as a wife, but what it did make me feel was something even better. It made me feel like a part of the family, and that nothing I failed at would change that.” Raising her glass, Emma said, “To Anna, may her kindnesses take root in us all.”

The stories went on and on like that. Some of them made Anna look like the hero, but many were a bit on the embarrassing side. Maggie was overwhelmed by the way the family knit the stories together, building a picture of their love for her. She had never dreamed of experiencing anything like this. Finally, the attention turned to her, and Maggie surprised herself by effortlessly bringing to mind a memory from when Anna was in school. “It was recess, and Eliza and Nora Grinley started fighting over a doll that belonged to one of them, but it wasn’t clear which one was the rightful owner. I didn’t really want to get involved, as I like the children to learn how to find resolutions to their own conflict. However, their fighting was really getting to be too much and Nora had started an amazingly high-pitched screeching sound. I was just about to go tear them apart and take the doll away when I saw Anna borrow Zeb Smith’s knife and walk over to the girls. I recall her exact words. ‘I have devised an equitable solution to your conflict. Will you accept the terms?’ I’m not even sure the girls understood what an equitable solution meant, but they nodded their heads, and Anna explained to them that the only right thing to do was to cut the doll in half so that each of them could have half. Their little eyes got wide, and they watched as she brought the knife to the doll’s head, and finally the younger one, Eliza cried out that Nora should take the doll. It was only her terror that kept her from going on and on hysterically. Then Anna picked up the doll and handed it to Eliza, proclaiming that it was rightfully hers because she was the one who loved it most. Of course, the battle ended, but what’s more is that those two girls never fought over anything at school again. The thing that really amazed was that when I went to congratulate Anna on her successful application of Solomon’s method, she had no idea what I was talking about. She had never heard the story of Solomon and the mothers. She came up with the solution all on her own.”

Anna smiled and whispered, “I had forgotten about that.” Maggie continued, “To Anna, may she continue to bring truth and peace.”

When they got up from dinner, Anna and Maggie moved to help Emma in the kitchen but Harry got in Anna’s way and said, “No you don’t, baby girl. Today is your birthday. You go entertain your guests. I’ll help Emma.” Maggie couldn’t help but laugh at this. For a split second she actually thought she had left reality altogether and had created some kind of freakish alternative dimension out of her own mind. Harry and Anna looked at her a little strangely, and Maggie said, with the greatest respect she could express, “Harry Hoskins, you are one hell of a man.” At this, she actually saw Harry blush and look down at his shoes. Anna led Maggie and Doc Ferris to the sitting room where they made themselves comfortable. “Why does Harry call you baby girl, Anna?”

“That was the first name he learned for me. My parents had this idea that a child should not be named before it’s been born. You heard Doc Ferris explain about the circumstances of my birth. Well, my father took that to be a sign that they should name me Solaris. But my mother thought I should have a more traditional name. They fought about it for some time, so for the first few weeks of my life, I was just “baby girl”. It stuck with Harry.”

“I take it your mother won the argument?”

“Well, actually, they compromised. My mother eventually convinced my father that a first name was for the world, and that a second name was for the child. So they named me Anna Solaris Hoskins.”

Maggie and Anna talked with Doc Ferris for a while, and then Harry and Emma came out and the group reformed around the piano and everyone sang songs while Harry played. It was practically a vision of the perfect happy family. This image had always seemed so false and pretentious to her. She had really never entertained the idea that a group of people could really care for each other so deeply. She was trained enough in the social graces that she could fit in with people engaged in these kinds of activities, but never did she imagine she’d be standing, leaning with her arm against a relative stranger, laughing and singing with such pleasure. Mostly, she loved listening to the sound of Anna’s voice, its lightness, still with the flat tones of a youthful voice, just beginning to gain an edge of vibrato. After only a few songs, Doc Ferris said he would have to excuse himself, and Maggie was almost angry with him for wanting to go, since she very much wanted to stay. But she smiled graciously and got up to accompany him. Harry cut in. “Oh, no, Maggie, you can’t leave. Anna hasn’t opened your present yet.”

Emma added, “Why don’t you stay overnight? Harry’s old room is empty. We’d be happy to have you.” Maggie’s first thought was that she couldn’t possibly assent. But then her shear desire to be here with Anna overtook her. If there was any uncertainty in her, it vanished when she saw the shy, pleading look in Anna’s eyes as she said, “I’d very much like you to stay.”

So Maggie assented, and they bid their farewells to Doc Ferris and gathered around Anna while she opened her presents. Harry had already given Anna his present in the morning, so Emma’s was the only other one. Anna opened it cautiously. It was an ornately carved frame enclosing a charcoal drawing of some sort. As Maggie looked closer, she saw that the drawing was Anna and her father, him asleep in a chair and her asleep against him, with her arm against his chest and her head on his shoulder. Anna’s breath caught. “Oh, Emma. Thank you so much. It is truly beautiful.”

Anna turned to Maggie and explained that her mother had liked to draw her family members, but that she had only been able to do it when people were still for some time, so there were only a few complete drawings, all of slumbering bodies. This one was Anna’s favorite, and Emma had carved the frame for it so that she could keep it out. Anna rose to put it on the mantle, and returned to unwrap Maggie’s gift. Her heart fluttered as she watched Anna’s fingers remove the paper and examine the book contained within. It was an antique collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets, hand penned with miniature paintings at the beginning of each.

“Oh, Maggie,” Anna said, nearly breathless as she carefully turned the pages. “How could you possibly...” Anna didn’t finish the sentence, not wanting to embarrass her, but Maggie understood the meaning.

“Call it a turn of good fortune.”

They had not read any poetry together in their time, mainly because it was not something that Maggie particularly liked to discuss. She loved to read it, and she loved to hear it read, but it was not something to be analyzed. She knew, though, that anyone who loved words and thoughts like Anna did would cherish it as she did. This was the extent of her thinking about it at the time she purchased the book from the peddler. However, now that she saw Anna’s fingers turning the pages, she realized that she had held a secret hope that one day she might hear Anna’s voice reciting such words to her. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.

“Well, if you ladies will excuse us, Emma and I have an early morning tomorrow. Anna, you stay up as late as you like. Sleep in tomorrow.” Harry said it with command in his voice, and Anna scowled at him briefly but didn’t argue. Maggie got the impression she had lost this argument before.

Anna and Maggie relaxed themselves against the sofa and let the warmth of the fire penetrate them, fatigue beginning to set in. It was a fatigue that made neither of them want to go to bed. Their conversation started out light, Anna teasing her about having to hear some embarrassing stories about her to even the score after tonight. Maggie spoke wistfully of how she would love to have lived in such a home when she was a child. Anna asked her more questions about her young life and her family, and she told her about being the 6th of 11 children, feeling like her parents were some sort of abstract entity, not feeling a sense of connection or belonging, feeling different because of her love for school. She told of how she fought for the opportunity to go away to school. In the end, she thought her parents gave in so as to have one less person to pay attention to. She spoke of feeling on the outside of the families of relatives she stayed with.

Anna responded with a sad wonder, “Was there never...anyone who...loved you?”

Maggie thought about the answer to that. It was a dangerous question. “There was. Once. Someone who loved me.” Anna paused and turned away from Anna, “But not enough.”

Anna didn’t answer, and when Maggie looked at her again, she saw that she was waiting for a more detailed description. Maggie smiled and said, “ask me again some time and I’ll tell you a story.”

Anna was silent for a while, looking ahead into the fire. “Maggie,” she started. But she seemed not to know what she intended to say. “I very much appreciate you being here tonight.”

“Of course. I very much enjoyed being here. I really can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not quite what I meant to say.” Anna seemed to still be struggling, and Maggie’s heart started to beat faster in anticipation of what it was Anna was trying to express. Clearly, the moment was thick with emotion.

"I–" "You-" Anna stopped and started again. “I feel that you belong here with me somehow. You feel like family to me. Do you understand what I mean?”

Absolutely, of course, perfectly, Maggie wanted to say. Indeed, before tonight, Maggie wouldn’t have understood what Anna even meant by feeling like family. But now it was all perfectly clear to her. Anna was a part of something beautiful, and it was her love for Maggie that wanted to pull her into that beauty. “Yes,” was all Maggie said. She knew exactly the sensation of belonging together Anna was verbalizing. Maggie knew what that sensation was. But did Anna understand?

She waited for a sign, waited for Anna to make some kind of move. Her heart was beating like it had never beaten before.

But there was nothing. Finally Anna reached out to take her hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Good,” she said, still with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Maggie held Anna’s hand passively, understanding now that Anna most certainly was in love with her, but was almost as certainly unaware that she was in love. For a moment, Maggie thought about kissing her. But she was still terrified that the realization of their feelings would overwhelm Anna. It might take some time for her to deal with what was happening between them. Eventually, Maggie knew she’d have to face that fear. But here, in Anna’s home, with her family so close, on this unique evening, was not the time or the place.

The following week, when Anna came to visit Maggie, they went through their usual ritual of Anna’s work in much the same way they always had. Anna had finished fixing nearly everything she could tell was wrong with the place, plus a number of things she didn’t know enough or care enough to notice. Moreover, Anna had managed a number of touches that served to make the place a more comfortable place to be. She was just now finishing up what had been a somewhat long term project replacing the molding of the main room. When Anna had undertaken it Maggie had the impression she had chosen it specifically because it would take a long time. But it was almost done. Watching Anna work, today, Maggie felt overwhelmed with guilt. Anna gave of herself so easily, and the more time they spent together, the more she felt Anna had given her. After the birthday celebration, this sensation became acute.

When Anna came inside she brought up some ideas for her next project, expecting Maggie to help her decide what should have the highest priority. But Maggie just said, “No, Anna. No more.”

At first Anna appeared surprised, and there was a hint of fear in her expression that Maggie endeavored to eradicate with her next clarification. “No more work, Anna. Just come. Understand?” There was a seriousness, almost a sadness in Maggie’s tone.

Anna looked at her, seeming to evaluate her words, perhaps to speculate at her motivation. She smiled a little and said, “Alright. If that is what you want.”

“It is.”

They sat down to their discussion of the day, which seemed to Maggie to be rather cold and dry. Her mind kept wandering to thoughts of Anna’s home. She had thought in the beginning, assumed really, that she was offering Anna something wonderful that she otherwise would have had to suffer through life without. But when she looked around her dark, lonely, cold world, she suddenly couldn’t imagine what Anna could possibly get from being with her. Certainly Anna loved her, but what cruel turn of fait was it that had made it so? Anna should love someone who had something real to give her. Someone who could offer her a home, care for her the way she so naturally cared for Maggie. Anna deserved her own Anna.

“Is there something wrong?” Anna asked when Maggie didn’t respond to one of her statements.

“Hmmm?” Maggie answered, startled from her musings. “I guess I was far away for a moment.”

Instead of repeating herself, Anna just waited for her to clarify. She thought if she was quiet long enough that Anna would give up, but she continued silently looking at her until finally she asked, “why do you come here, Anna?” Anna looked at her, seeming not to understand the question. “I like to come here.” She appeared confused, as if trying to form an idea that had too many parts. When Maggie continued to gaze at her silently, she continued. “I want to learn. I want to think. I thought you understood that.”

Maggie’s mind was rolling around, a capsule tossed on a sea churned by an emotional storm. "I do. I do. I just–" she started, not sure what it was she needed to say. “I guess my world is feeling rather empty to me all of the sudden, and I’m wondering why you would want to enter it, even for a moment.”

Anna was silent for a while, and appeared to be thinking about that. “I see. When I came here I told you that I understood that the world of ideas was what mattered to you. I do understand that. It matters to me too. But other things matter as well. You’ve let me glimpse your world, and I wanted to enter it. Now I’ve let you glimpse mine and you want to enter it.”

Maggie looked down, embarrassed at the truth of Anna’s assessment, embarrassed to have been wrong about needing no one.

But Anna’s smile grew. “I’ll come here and study with you. You’ll come to the farm and eat with me. And in the summer when school is out of session, you can come and help Emma.”

Maggie laughed. “Me, help Emma? You know I’m not much use to anyone.”

Anna just smiled. “You like to pretend that’s so, but I know you keep a beautiful garden and can your fruits and vegetables, and you knit and mend. You bake a delicious cake and brew the finest coffee I’ve ever had.”

Maggie had never had it laid out to herself that way, but it was true. The garden and the canning kept her in food to eat all year, so she didn’t have to dine with the local families. The knitting and mending were necessary for survival on little money. The cake and the coffee were the two things she had learned to do well for the shear pleasure. The fact that Anna noticed all these things touched Maggie. It made her feel that her life was not an austere dungeon, in Anna’s mind, at least.

Maggie assented to Anna’s plan, and in a few months, when school was out, she did indeed find herself spending a lot of time at the Hoskins’ farm. It turned out that Emma was very glad to have the help, as she was expecting a baby and was suffering a great deal of fatigue and illness.

Maggie found that she liked Emma very much. She remembered her a little from interactions in years prior. She was one of the older siblings in a family with a great gaggle of children and had taken on some of the parenting responsibility for the younger ones whom Maggie had in school, so they had interacted a bit before Emma had married Harry. Never having thought much of the quiet girl who had seemed to be playing the role of the dutiful daughter, Maggie now found that she was a person given to relishing in the sensory pleasures life offered. She loved good food. She seemed to think every day was in some way beautiful. Fabrics for the clothing and linen she made were selected wholly for their softness. Moreover, she relished in sharing these pleasures with others. Being around her made Maggie reawaken parts of awareness she thought were dead.

It was only the beginning of summer when Maggie began to bemoan the thought of returning to life as it had been. Oddly, she still found plenty of time to do her own work, and the time she spent on it was so much more productive than it had been in summers past. Best of all about these days on the farm were catching glimpses of Anna working in the fields or the barn and mealtimes when they would eat together. What’s more was that Maggie was certain she wasn’t the only one enjoying these shared glimpses. She felt Anna’s eyes on her often. At first she worried that their attention to each other was noticeable, but Harry and Emma treated them quite matter-of-factly.

Then one day there was an accident. Anna and one of the farmhands were working in the loft above the barn. Somehow, though Maggie never learned the details, Anna fell, hitting her head against a beam and piercing her shoulder with some object that had been in the barn. Harry and a ranch hand carried her inside while another hand rode off to fetch the doctor. There was confusion everywhere as people were trying to explain what had happened and assess the damage, but Maggie’s world was entirely silent. All she knew was that Anna was unconscious and bleeding. For a moment she just stood and watched before she moved to be close to Anna.

Anna drifted in and out of consciousness. When her eyes first opened, Maggie was relieved and grateful, but her disoriented look seemed even more troubling than the unconsciousness had. She seemed to be unaware of her state. When the doctor arrived he first evaluated the head injury and said that it was likely a bad concussion and that they would have to watch her state of consciousness carefully. Then he asked Maggie to help him take off her clothing so he could examine the wound on her shoulder. She moved quickly, following his orders, turning her eyes away from Anna’s naked flesh. As they turned her, she caught Anna’s eyes and continued whispering words of comfort and encouragement to her. The doctor cleaned the wound as best he could and bandaged it, but in those first hours he was nearly exclusively concerned with the head injury. Maggie stayed with her constantly, and eventually she stopped regaining consciousness. Terrified, she assumed the worst and began to prepare herself for the idea of losing Anna. But Doc Ferris said it was better, that she was responsive to external stimuli and her breathing was regular but variable, which meant she was sleeping. He asked her to watch for any bizarre behavior, and Maggie stayed with her the entire night.

Just before sunrise, Anna woke. As soon as Maggie saw her eyes focus, she knew that Anna had returned to them, and immediately after welcoming Anna back she went to get the others who all hovered around her until Doc Ferris convinced them to let her rest. Maggie was overwhelmed with relief, but the extreme emotions she had been through had left her at wit’s end. She could feel that only a shred of self control kept her from throwing her arms around Anna and breaking down in tears. That would not do at all, so she focused on the others and let herself fade into the background. Anna’s eyes sought her out, but she would simply smile at her and look away. Maggie stayed at the farm that first day and the next night, but when Anna was up on her feet again, she went home. She continued her regular visitation schedule until Anna was functioning normally, though of course it would be some time before she was fully recovered. It wasn’t until Anna returned to visit Maggie at her home that she began to put the traumatic incident behind her.

This had not been the worst injury Anna had sustained. It was not even her only near-death experience. Naturally, she horribly disliked the feeling of her body not being her own, but she knew the injury would heal itself in time. What bothered Anna now was not something about the fact of being injured, but the feelings she had been having since the event. It wasn’t as though anything were wrong, exactly, but she felt herself being easily irritated, though she tried hard to hide it from her family, who was trying to care for her needs as best they could. She reviewed the experience of the injury to try to find some clue as to the nature of her malaise.

The event itself held no memory for her. She remembered only going up to the loft and nothing about how she had fallen. Doc Ferris said that was normal for a head injury such as hers. The first thing she remembered afterwards was Doc Ferris. She remembered seeing his face and knowing she was in trouble. She remembered Maggie there too, holding her. She tried to remember the feeling of being in her arms but could not. She remembered Maggie taking her clothes off her and turning away from her. A shiver went down her spine as she thought of it. Something about Maggie, she mused. The next thing she remembered was Maggie welcoming her back and rushing away. She had wanted Maggie to stay but hadn’t said anything. Then everyone was present and she was just so tired. She thought of Maggie over the next few days, how she had been then, present but also somehow distant. Maybe the accident had frightened her. But if that was the case, why had she not taken Anna in her arms and welcomed her back? Each of the others had. Anna resolved to think about it more, and if it felt right, to talk to Maggie about it.

Anna arrived at Maggie’s the following week, and Maggie seemed like her usual self. Yet Anna could not keep herself from being quiet and withdrawn. Maggie asked her about how she was feeling, and Anna imagined she expected to hear her say she was still in pain.

“The headache is gone and the shoulder is only painful when I move it in certain ways.”

Maggie waited for Anna to continue, and when she did not, she asked, “Are you troubled by the accident?” There was true concern in her words, and Anna glimpsed for a moment that Maggie had been herself hurt by watching Anna’s pain.

“No. Well, yes. I’m really not certain,” Anna said, wanting to explain to Maggie how she had been feeling. She wanted to ask Maggie why she had not held her. She wanted to ask Maggie to hold her now. But what came out of her mouth was, “Why did you turn away from me when you helped Doc Ferris undress me?” Anna was surprised that she spoke the words, but she could see she was not nearly as surprised as Maggie was to hear them. For a moment Maggie was quiet, then she opened her mouth as if to say something. “I-” She started again. “I wanted to respect your privacy, of course.”

Anna had the distinct sensation Maggie was not being entirely truthful. She found evidence to support her feeling. “That is not logical. I was seriously injured. You know that privacy was not of any importance to me at the time.” Maggie didn’t respond.

“And even if that were not so, I am a woman.”

Maggie got up swiftly and put her hand to her forehead as she answered quickly, “Yes, you are.”

Anna heard Maggie’s strong emphasis and heard that there was some kind of serious emotion behind her words. Something bothered her. Trying to place the discomfort, she thought about her own womanhood, and then she remembered the way Maggie had been so shocked the night of her birthday when she saw her wear a dress. Then suddenly the night of the rainstorm flashed in her mind and she remembered how Maggie’s eyes avoided her that night as well. A sudden fear sprang in Anna, and she spat out, “Do you forget that fact and fancy me a man?”

Maggie turned on her heel and looked Anna in they eye. “No, no, Anna. Never. That’s not it at all.”

Anna sighed with relief. Maggie had admitted that there was something. Anna continued with her logical analysis. “Women do not usually avoid seeing each other’s bodies.”

Maggie turned away again. “It’s not that way with us, Anna. We are different.” Anna’s heart beat. She knew she was on the verge of something. Thinking over Maggie’s words, she felt confused. “You include me in this. But I would not turn away from your body.” Anna said the words passionately, still feeling confused about Maggie’s retreat from her, still longing for her embrace. Maggie turned quickly and held her eyes again. Anna suddenly realized that Maggie was flushed with emotion. Her eyes threatened to spill tears. Anna caught her breath as Maggie spoke to her.

“Oh, really, Anna? Are you so very sure about that?” Maggie stood before her and raised her hands, beginning to unbutton her dress. “If I were just laid bare before you all of the sudden?” She unbuttoned her shift underneath and began to pull the material apart. Anna instinctually turned her head to the ground at the side of her, her heart beating like wild.

When Maggie made no more sound for a while, Anna looked up and saw that she had buttoned her dress again, but her eyes still held all the emotion.

Confused, Anna caught Maggie’s eyes for a moment before she looked away again and spoke. “Why? Why is it so? Is there something wrong with us?” Anna didn’t know why, but she felt terrified, as if she was about to learn something that could change her life.

“No, Anna, no.” Maggie said, with sudden warmth in her words. She moved to take her seat next to Anna again, turning towards her and covering Anna’s hand with her own. At the touch, Anna felt a sense of safety. “There is nothing wrong with us.” Anna felt Maggie squeeze her hand as she continued, “It’s just that we’re in love.”

Anna looked at Maggie, surprised and confused. She held Maggie’s eyes, half expecting her to explain away what she had said. “And to a person in love, her beloved’s body is a special gift, to be given when the time is right.”

At Maggie’s words she felt a tremor of something pass through her. A vision flashed in her mind of touching Maggie, and terror sliced her through. She chased the image from her mind, pulling her hand away from Maggie’s and standing. She needed to understand the meaning of Maggie’s words. “Do you mean that we love each other as a man and a woman love each other?”

Anna listened to Maggie’s secure, certain answer. “Yes.”

Where is this certainty coming from, Anna wondered. She asked Maggie, “How do you know that?”

At this, Maggie smiled. “I know that because of the way I feel that every moment I spend with you is better than every moment I have ever spent without you. I know that because of the fact that every time I see you my heart skips a beat. I know it because you completely and utterly captivate me in every way.”

Anna could not believe what she was hearing. Her heart swelled within her as she imagined Maggie feeling those things for her. It was almost impossible to believe. She thought of how she felt about Maggie. Anna asked her question in a soft, low voice, inviting Maggie into her heart with her words. “How are you sure that I am in love with you?”

Maggie’s breath was audible. “I know because I see the smile you get when I first enter the room. I know by the way you watch me, when you think I’m not looking. I know by the fact that you feel instinctually that I belong in your world.”

Anna wanted to say, Yes, you belong in my world. You belong to me. But there was one more thing she needed to ask.

It took her a moment to think of the right words. “And how may we express this love for each other? What is there for us?”

Maggie took as much time with her answer. “There are ways that we can touch each other, to share each other’s pleasure.” Anna felt another shock permeate her body, and this time she felt a direct heat and tingling between her legs. And when she moved she felt an amazing wetness there. Maggie stood and took a step to be next to Anna. She placed her hand on Anna’s wrist, and Anna felt herself flinch away involuntarily. It was only because her skin was so incredibly sensitive right now that she felt the faint touch resonate through her like lightning. She found Maggie’s eyes and spoke to them.

“I...I know in my heart that what you say is true. But I feel – I feel frightened.”

This time Maggie held Anna’s eyes and reached out slowly for her hand, grasping it firmly. She felt the touch like a lifeline in a great deep sea. Holding hands, she listened to Maggie’s reassuring words.

“It’s alright. Everything you feel is totally natural. We will do what feels right, and our instincts will lead the way.” Maggie squeezed her hands tighter and then drew her closer. When they faced each other with only a few inches between them, Maggie continued, “and a great deal of what feels like fear or anxiety, isn’t really. It’s something you should want to feel.”

Maggie let her hands fall to Anna’s waist. Anna’s heart raced as she let her now trembling hands come to rest on Maggie’s shoulders. She laughed a little at her own lack of control of her limbs. Then Maggie smiled. What could be said about Maggie’s smile? It was as if Anna had seen it a million times and yet never before. Anna could not remember a time she hadn’t felt pierced by that smile, and only now could she see it and really let herself look, feeling the depths of her heart’s passion. Maggie returned her gaze, and eventually Anna’s hands calmed their shaking. She pulled Anna’s hips closer and waited for her lips to follow, reaching up to meet them.

The first touch of lips was gentle, strange, and scary. Then Maggie kissed her again, this time letting her lips move back and forth against Anna’s as she kissed them. Anna began to kiss her in return. Maggie allowed Anna’s kiss, passively, for a few moments before resuming her own. Soon, Anna felt her tongue touch soft wetness. Her body went slack from the sensation, but Maggie’s hands tightened around her waist to steady her. Maggie smiled at Anna, their lips still together, silently lowering them too the couch. Her hands went to Anna’s face, and Anna saw a tear pool in the corner of Maggie’s eye before it cascaded down her cheek.

Anna reached to touch it. Looking at Maggie, she finally saw the woman she had loved for so long, not a vision in her mind, not someone just out of reach. Anna wanted to speak to Maggie, to tell her what it was like being here with her in this moment. What came out was only, “I love you, Maggie.” Then she said it over and over again three times before returning to kissing her. She could feel the smile on Maggie’s face as she kissed her cheeks and nose and mouth again.

Maggie’s fingertips ran down Anna’s neck ever so lightly. “Will you come to bed with me now, Anna?”

Anna thought for a second that she might die of sheer aliveness, if that were possible.

“Yes,” she said, and rose with Maggie to follow her wherever she would lead.

Anna woke in the predawn hours, convinced that if she just concentrated hard enough she could feel Maggie’s arms around her just as they had been last night. She allowed herself only a moment’s dalliance with the thought, knowing that she had to get up and begin her day as if it were any other day. As if she were the same person she always had been. No one could know that everything was different, that she would never be the same again. Putting on her clothes, she thought of how Maggie had watched her get dressed after they had made love. Anna had always been a little shy about her body, even around her mother. But last night she had stood before Maggie, walked across the room naked to find her clothes. She didn’t need to see Maggie’s eyes. She could feel them on her, admiring her, loving her. Even now, in the morning, she felt that sensual pride in her body. She felt what it was to be loved and to be desired.

Anna went down stairs, determined to chase these thoughts from her mind. But all her determination did her no good. The thoughts came to her at their own time, by their own will. Eating her porridge, she flashed on the way Maggie’s voice had sounded when they entered her bedroom, telling Anna to take off her boots as she carried the oil lamp to the dresser and turned down the light until the room was just barely aglow.

But then Harry was engaging her in conversation about the coming day, what she could do under her current state of health, still needing to avoid strenuous upper-body work. Anna watched him carefully, listening for anything unusual in his words. She could feel the heat in her face. Did he see anything different in her now? How could he not? Would he look at her face and see that her lips had been kissed– tenderly, passionately, ruthlessly? Would he know what she had done with those lips? Anna felt herself flush again. Harry was sure to see that something was wrong. But he made no comment.

All day long, the moments came back to her. Finally, she submitted to them and let them have their way. There was no use in fighting. The feel of Maggie’s hands as they journeyed hesitantly to her breasts, gentle as they unfurled the material that bound them. The sound of Maggie’s breath quickening, raging, quieting. The tear that gathered in the corner of her eye as her own hands brought Maggie to climax. The feel of the pulse beating under her lips as she kissed Maggie's throat slowly. The sound of their quiet cries, mixing together. The weight of Maggie’s body on her own. My lover’s body, Anna thought, saying the words to herself over and over again in her mind. Suddenly she was overcome with emotion and felt there was nothing left for her to do except sing. So she sang the day away as she worked. Every beautiful song she knew. By the time it was supper, the thoughts seemed to be under control, and the only thing left to worry about was the ridiculousness of her overwhelming, beaming happiness.

Once again, Harry seemed completely uninterested in the source of her new mood, and was only happy that it had changed for the better. As the light faded from the day and night set in, Anna found herself restless and angry. She wanted to be with Maggie so badly. She wanted to watch her expressions, wanted to see love in her eyes again. She didn’t sleep that night, tossed on the crests of her thoughts of Maggie that came in rapid bursts, too fast for her to savor. Her mind was awash in images, in voices laced over each other so that she couldn’t hear the words. The morning came and she rose with the restlessness still in her, a raw sort of passion – not spent, not abated, but tired. Anna faced the next day longing for Maggie. Yesterday’s nearness gave way to today’s distance. Cherished moment’s ceased to feel as if they were close enough to touch. She began to forget pieces. When she closed her eyes to imagine Maggie’s face, the way it had looked, it was as if some of the details were not quite right. She felt that if she did not see Maggie soon she would crawl out of her skin.

Finally, on the third day, Maggie came to help Emma again. Anna knew she would come, and she spent most of the night anticipating seeing her again. She managed to get some sleep now, though, because her body was exhausted from not sleeping and working so hard. Anna spent every moment up until Maggie’s arrival thinking of it, but when she actually came and they greeted each other, a sudden panic took hold of Anna. She didn’t know how to act or what to do, and terrible thoughts overtook her mind. What if it had been nothing to Maggie, or she wanted to forget it all now, bury it in the past and never speak of it again? For a brief moment Anna let her initial joy show to Maggie, but immediately she closed off and tried only to act as normal as possible. She made a quick exit to her work and threw herself into it with devotion, as if the activity could still her mind’s workings. But when she returned for lunch, she sat across from Maggie at the table, and Maggie flashed her a sweet smile – only momentary, but it was enough to make everything right for Anna again. It was a smile that said, “I’m happy about the way things are.” Then, to Anna’s shock, Maggie’s foot reached under the table and hooked around her own, giving it a gentle tug before returning to it’s place. The gesture sent Anna’s heart racing. It communicated that Maggie felt the pull, too. That she wanted to touch Anna again.

The week wore on slowly, but eventually their night together came again, and Anna returned to Maggie’s house. The journey seemed to take forever, and by the time Anna crossed Maggie’s threshold she felt she would burst with anticipation. Maggie invited her in and greeted her, pausing to look in her eyes for a few eternally long moments. Anna tried to call up her restraint, but she could see the fire in Maggie’s eyes. They fell towards each other like magnets, kissing, caressing, and whispering phrases of how they had missed each other, how unbearable their separation was, and how they could think little else.

Anna memorized every moment this time, knowing she would have to live on this night for a week. But the following week was easier. The days together were easier, knowing that Maggie felt the same thing she felt. The days spent apart felt like good work done to pay for the pleasure of Maggie’s company.

Time passed like this in a haze for them both. Life dissolved into the precious moments they spent together, islands of time in a sea of existence. The summer died. The days grew shorter. School began again. But for all intents and purposes things continued as they had been. Maggie spent many of her evenings at the Hoskins’ place. Anna still visited Maggie’s once a week. The cold of the winter felt distant in the heat of their love.

But time did not leave them unchanged. Anna’s passion for Maggie grew with its newfound freedom, growing towards its boundaries with the relentless intent of life itself. For Maggie, every moment of happiness seemed to accelerate her fear, a fear that somehow this would not or could not last.

At first it wasn’t even a real thought, just a gentle sensation. A desire to hold Anna just one moment longer. A fear that she wouldn’t be able to come to one of their meetings. She didn’t let herself dwell on it, didn’t dare to ask herself where the root of these feelings lay. One day, though, when Anna stole a kiss in the orchard, and they heard the approach of Harry as he called to Anna, the fear of discovery manifested itself. Only then did Maggie stop to realize the terrible gravity of their situation. If they were ever discovered, it would be unspeakably horrible for both of them. Maggie had, in her past, experienced how ugly people could be about such matters, but she was free. She could leave this town and start somewhere new. But for Anna…This was Anna’s home. Her family. For a while, Maggie, merely tried to control Anna’s passions, to mention to her the need to be careful, which of course Anna understood. But there was something more to Maggie’s fear. It lingered and festered until the day that the baby was born.

Doc Ferris had been regularly checking in on Emma during her pregnancy. He always had good things to report, and from the time he had said it would be “any day now,” all four of them had been resonating with an excited optimism. Even the beginning of Emma’s labor had been this way. The contractions were bearable. Things were all right. But eventually, Emma really began to suffer. Thankfully her mother, who had been through many births, came to assist and was a comfort to them all. Harry she sent away, saying men were nothing but trouble at these times, and that his work was long done. Soon Maggie wished that she had been similarly dismissed. But they were women and somehow, even though childless and unmarried, Mrs. Jackson seemed to think it was part of their role to be present. So they tried their very best to do whatever was needed, and to offer supportive phrases where they could. Maggie could see that Anna was experiencing every bit as much emotion as she herself was, in her concern for Emma’s suffering, and she was determined to be as brave in facing that suffering as Anna was. But in her heart she wanted to run.

What the hell was she, Maggie Sheridan, doing here, in this sweaty, smelly room, wishing so desperately to take away the suffering of this girl? She didn’t want to be bound up with this pain, didn’t want to be attached to this struggle. But then Maggie would catch Anna’s eyes and she’d know that what she thought she wanted didn’t mean anything anymore. There was no safety left for her in her solitude.

Just when Emma was approaching her peak of suffering, Doc Ferris made his way in, his normal, cheerful, jovial self, a surrealistic intrusion to the shrine of pain and love in the room. But it was good he was there, because even Emma’s mother had been showing the wear, and it eased them all to hear that everything was all right. And soon Emma was making her final efforts, giving all her strength for her baby’s life.

A life it was. Emma gave birth to a tiny, wiggly, shrieking baby boy. The relief of his cries had everyone in tears. Maggie wanted to enfold Emma in her arms, so proud and grateful, but she just squeezed her hand as they waited for the baby to be brought to her. Anna took the baby from Doc Ferris, and walked towards them. Watching Anna with that tiny life, it was as if Maggie had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The moment seemed to last forever as her love for Anna melted into terror. In this room were women who lived as women. Natural, loving women who gave their lives for others, who brought life into the world in suffering, who worked for the good of their families. All her life Maggie had felt that she was somehow above the life lived by other women. But in this room, in this moment, she felt herself an unnatural caricature of a woman. She was a coward who had spent her whole life running, hiding behind her mind, fooling herself into thinking her books were enough. As Anna walked with the baby, she saw in Anna the same naturalness she saw in the others. Anna was young, but she was like the others¾ a true woman, brave and strong and loving. Her destiny would always be that. The half-life she was offering Anna would not be enough for her. Not for long.

Soon after Anna handed the baby to Emma, Doc Ferris asked to speak to Maggie privately. He had to repeat himself a number of times, so lost was Maggie.

“I’m very sorry to have chosen this time to speak to you of this matter, but I thought it would be better if you learned the news from me. The town council has decided to give the school teacher’s job, your job, to Andrew Wilkins’ cousin. I don’t understand exactly why Mr. Wilkins is so motivated to help his cousin, but he has offered to donate the materials and labor to build not only a new schoolhouse but the desperately needed new courthouse.”

Maggie only half understood him. When she continued to look at him blankly he continued, “I know this must come as a terrible shock to you. Believe me, I tried to argue in your favor. But you understand how these things go. People just don’t see the importance of a good school teacher as well as they see the importance of money and power. I’m very sorry. If you like, I can ask around the out of town folk I know to see if anyone is in need of a teacher. And of course, I would give you my highest recommendation.”

Maggie managed to pull herself together. “Yes, Doctor. Of course. That would be much appreciated.”

She was in shock. A few days ago she might have rushed to tell Anna, shared the news with the family. Perhaps she might have hoped that they would let her stay there regardless. She had, after all, learned to make herself somewhat useful. Not a lot. But they were good people. They would want to help her. And of course, Anna would not want her to leave. The thought of Anna intervening on her behalf, of pleading with her brother to allow Maggie to stay would have been difficult even then. Now the thought turned her stomach.

She imagined how Harry must think of her. He had no great love of learning himself. He must think of her as a diversion of Anna’s. An indulgence for her, to be tolerated. Harry had always been respectful of Maggie, but distant and hesitant. Now she imagined him to be waiting for the moment to declare “enough is enough” and demand that Anna focus on finding a husband.

A husband. Maggie thought of Anna’s loving gaze falling on a man’s face. She knew in her heart that Anna would never love a man as she loved Maggie, but a man could give her a life. A real life. Love is an indulgence, Maggie thought. Nice if you can make it work. But it’s not what life is made of. Anna needed stability. A family. Eventually she would want that for herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of Anna looking wistfully over her shoulder towards the life she might have had.

And that was the best case scenario. That was if they were so lucky as to avoid discovery for a lifetime. In all reality, no matter how long they stayed together, the threat that any moment they could be torn from each other by discovery would always be with them. They would live lives of fear.

After the work of cleaning up after the birth and tending to Emma was done, Anna went to seek out Maggie. She found her in the parlor, standing by the window. Although she appeared to be gazing outside, Anna could tell that she was really lost in her thoughts. It had been a very emotional day. Part of her wanted to ask Maggie what was on her mind, but as she approached, her instincts changed and instead she just put her arms around Maggie and hugged her, whispered, “I love you,” and left Maggie to her thoughts.

During next few weeks, their lives were completely disrupted by the demands of the baby. Emma was initially exhausted from the birth, and then even as she regained her energy, she had all the hesitancy of a new mother. Anna found it quite amusing, as Emma seemed to be to the epitome of the natural caregiver. But babies were mysterious creatures. And all of the adults in the house were learning this together. Anna was kept very busy by trying to keep the household together, and she didn’t see nearly as much of Maggie as she had would have liked.

Maggie seemed a little distant, but Anna attributed it to the baby. She knew Maggie had engineered her life in such a way that motherhood was not part of it and imagined that this made her somewhat uncomfortable in the environment of a young baby. Time would cure that. Summer would be here soon, and school would be out again. Anna looked forward to the extra time with Maggie.

Then another disruption occurred. Harry got sick one night, and by morning he was running a pretty high fever. Doc Ferris came over and said that it would be best if Emma took the baby to her mother’s house, since it looked like an infectious fever. Maggie came over when she heard, and insisted on staying to care for Harry, since she had allegedly had “every infectious fever known to man” as a child. Doc encouraged Anna to leave once Maggie was there, but Anna could tell by his tone of voice that he knew she would hear of know such thing, though he did get her to agree to avoid getting close to Harry.

Anna was terrified for her brother. He had been a very healthy person, but the one time he had been ill in their childhood, he had come very close to death. She had almost forgotten the fear that she felt then, but now it came back to her as if no time had passed at all. Harry was her root. She tried to stay optimistic, but she couldn’t help but entertain the possibilities for what would happen if he did not survive the illness. Anna owned the land. Her parents had willed it to her alone, allowing Harry to keep it in trust for her until her maturity. She would, of course, allow Emma to stay in her home here, but she knew that eventually Emma would want to remarry. She was angry with herself for having these hopeless thoughts, but they were there with or without her anger. Anna already loved that little baby. Even though he didn’t talk or laugh or smile yet. He belonged to her just the way Harry did. She needed Harry to live to keep the baby in her world. But even if she lost them all, Harry, Emma and the baby, she’d be ok as long as she had Maggie. Maggie would see her through this.

Even now, Maggie was efficiently and optimistically caring for Harry. Anna was mystified by the strange moments Maggie’s magnificence seemed to shine the most. She was terrified for her brother, but it was as if Maggie’s leadership in his care made that terror seem irrelevant. Anna felt that whatever happened, she was safe.

Anna never felt the distancing in Maggie’s heart. It wasn’t that Maggie was trying to be dishonest. Every time Maggie thought of how much she loved Anna, she became evermore convinced that she must leave her. Anna was only eighteen years old. If she left soon, Anna could have a real chance for a normal life. She could have everything she deserved. At first she was terrified to be with Anna, terrified that she would see what was in her heart. But Anna’s sweet optimism kept her heart protected. And now that Harry was sick, she channeled all her love and hope and desperation into his care. He had to recover so that he could get Anna through the pain she would feel at their separation.

But things were not looking good for Harry. He was becoming increasingly delirious, and his moments of clarity between delirium were becoming fewer as time wore on. She tried to keep Anna away from him, but she had no desire to insulate Anna from the reality of his condition.

On the third night Maggie stayed in Harry’s room all night, sleeping in the chair near his bed. When she heard his voice speaking to her, at first she thought it was a dream. But when her eyes glimpsed his pail, sweaty face she knew it was real. His voice was weak and dry.

“Maggie.”

“Harry. Do you want me to go get Anna?” She was worried that this might be Harry’s last period of lucidity.

“No,” Harry croaked. “You.” He paused, “I want to talk to you.”

Maggie assumed he was confused, maybe drifting out of consciousness again. She brought him some water and helped him to drink it. If she could just get him to drink while he was conscious enough...

“It’s about Anna.”

Maggie’s heart raced.

“You have to take care of her.”

She panicked. He had no idea what he was asking. She didn’t even understand what he was asking. How could she take care of Anna? She didn’t even have a job.

“She owns the land. She doesn’t need me for the land.” Harry searched Maggie’s eyes, and she sensed in him a desperation that made her stomach turn. “She needs you.”

“Harry, you don’t...Anna doesn’t...” Maggie tried to say, “Anna doesn’t need me,” but the words wouldn’t come out. How could she explain to Harry what a danger she was to Anna? She sat in silence for a moment, willing the words to come. Finally, she just locked her eyes to his, and let herself feel all the desperate longing, the grief, the fear. Everything.

Harry held her eyes. “I understand how things are between you. I know that Anna loves you,” he paused, “like I love Emma.”

Maggie felt as if her heart would jump out of her ribcage. Harry continued, “Anna’s happiness in this world means everything to me. You are her happiness. And I believe that you are worthy of her. You can give her what she needs.”

Maggie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wondered for a moment if she had, after all, succumbed to the fever herself and was dreaming all of this now. But Harry’s eyes let her know that this was real. She wanted to tell Harry all of her fears, but when she tried to speak she just sobbed. Harry continued over her tears, the urgency of his dwindling strength spurring him on. “Things may get bad for you. If you need to, take Anna away from this place. Don’t look back. But never leave her side. Promise me this.”

Maggie said the only words that would come to her. “I promise.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Good. I must rest.” Harry’s last words were slurred as the sleep came over him.

Maggie let the tears flow from her eyes. When she could hold her head up no more, she slumped over Harry, resting her cheek on his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing tying her to the reality of the moment. Finally, for the first time in so long, Maggie rested.

When she awoke Doc Ferris was there, nudging her from Harry. “Ms. Sheridan. Wake up. I need to examine Harry.” Maggie was disoriented, looking around the room for Anna. When she got up to leave the room, the Doctor continued, “I know this is another strange time to discuss the matter, but as we discussed, I did send word to the other doctors I know, and I found word that there’s a town out in Kawashank County that’s in need of a teacher. I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Sheridan but I did take the opportunity to suggest you. It would be rough going, but it’s something.”

Maggie was confused, not knowing if what to tell the doctor, still half believing her conversation with Harry to be a dream. So she just thanked him and sat down in the chair while the doctor felt Harry’s skin and listened to his heart. She looked at Harry, imagining the night before, as wakefulness began to increase her faith. But she would like for him to wake up, to look her in the eye, just to be sure.

The longer she sat there, though, the more she knew that it didn’t matter if it had been a dream. Even if Harry’s words were only the workings of her imagination, they had been truth. And the truth worked its way in her mind, chipping away at all the falsehood and fear, leaving the love, hope, and bravery.

When Anna came in for her breakfast that day, she first checked in on Harry. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Maggie draped over his chest. Such a dramatic gesture...But as she stood frozen at the door, she saw that neither of them moved much – just the slight motion of breath. Maggie had somehow fallen asleep over Harry. It made quite a strange sight. Maggie and Harry had mostly skirted each other’s widest boundaries. Perhaps Harry’s illness had been impacting Maggie more than Anna realized. That’s good, she thought. Any guilt she might have felt at this pleasure was attenuated by her observation that Harry’s slumber was more peaceful than it had been. She looked forward to Doc Ferris’s visit. He might be able to tell them there was greater hope for Harry’s recovery.

But the Doctor wouldn’t come until near noontime. Anna, not wishing to disturb Maggie, who for once seemed to be actually sleeping peacefully herself, decided to go into town. Their dry goods were in need of replenishing. They couldn’t have Harry recovering to find empty cupboards.

It was good to get into town. Perhaps Anna had avoided it recently, knowing how the hum of living people can seem so alienating when your own life is disrupted by fear of loss. But there was hope in Anna today. When she got to the dry goods store, Mrs. Pearson was at the counter talking with Mrs. Brown. Anna liked Mrs. Pearson in a “small teaspoons” kind of way. She was kind, but given to gossip. Anna sighed, knowing that she’d be required to make conversation about Harry’s condition. But she smiled at the two women, and restrained her hopefulness and spoke only of the facts. Mrs. Pearson said she had Harry in her prayers, and Mrs. Brown agreed.

“And Miss Sheridan, how is she doing?”

Anna looked blankly at Mrs. Pearson, wondering what she meant. Did she know that Maggie had been caring for Harry and worry that she had contracted the fever?

“I just think it’s horrible what this town is doing to her. As if anyone related to Andrew Wilkins could possibly make half as decent a teacher as Miss Sheridan.”

Mrs. Brown grunted an affirmation.

“Tell me, I know that she’s been spending a lot of time with your family. Will she be staying on with you or leaving to find another teaching position?”

Suddenly Anna understood. They were saying that the town was taking Maggie’s job away. Did Maggie know? How could she not, if these women seemed to assume that Anna knew? She felt embarrassed, unsure how to respond. But luckily Mrs. Pearson was never one to abide silence.

“Well, I suppose it’s a big decision for her. I imagine teaching has been her life. If only she had been more social, maybe she would have gained the attentions of a man.” Mrs. Pearson sounded sad, and seemed to drift off into her own mind. But Mrs. Brown’s eyes focused on Anna.

“I expect Anna wants to take care of her business so she can return to her brother.”

Mrs. Pearson responded. “Oh of course. I’ll just be going.” She gathered her small parcels and left.

“I’m sorry about that, Anna,” Mrs. Brown said, with something that bordered on real compassion. “I know this is a difficult time for you.” Anna remembered how Mrs. Brown had been so judgmental towards Maggie the day that Maggie had re-entered her life. Mrs. Brown looked at her now, as if she were trying to find a way to say something. She had never been much for words, and her subtleties were mostly taken up with feelings of superiority. Finally, Mrs. Brown said, “It might not have been so lucky for the town if Ms. Sheridan had found herself a man.” Anna wondered where this was going, suspicious. “A man might have kept her at home, thinking her place was there, instead of that schoolhouse. All this town really needs is someone to make her want to stay a little while. It won’t be long before that idiot cousin of Wilkins’ gives up the job. They’ll see soon enough what a mistake they made. It would be nice if Miss Sheridan were still around when that happens.”

Anna, still in shock from this incident, could barely process what Mrs. Brown was saying. But she made a small response of agreement, paid her money, and gathered her things. Later, she would play the words over in her mind.

Now she was still trying to piece together the situation. Was it possible that Maggie knew the town had made this decision, but she hadn’t told Anna? How could that be? Why wouldn’t she tell Anna? Maybe she was embarrassed. Didn’t want to ask for anything. But she’d have to know that Anna would let her make her home with her family.

Anna made her way home, determined to ask Maggie what was happening. When she got there, she saw Doc Ferris’s carriage out front. She remembered her earlier enthusiasm and temporarily Harry replaced Maggie in her thoughts. When she entered the house, she heard the Doctor’s voice as she made her way to the stairs.

His words were directed at Anna. “I know this is another strange time to speak of this matter, but as we discussed, I did send word to the other doctors I know, and I found word that there’s a town out in Kawashank County that’s in need of a teacher. I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Sheridan but I did take the opportunity to suggest you. It would be rough going, but it’s something.”

And then there was Maggie’s voice, thanking him.

Anna stood frozen for a moment, in the realization that not only had Maggie known about loosing her job, she planned to leave. She had Doc Ferris looking for a place for her to go. Away. And she hadn’t told Anna. Instinctively, she backed away, as if retracing her own footsteps. Until she stood outside, looking in. She had to get away.

Anna turned her back on the house. How could Doc Ferris do that to her? How could he tear Maggie away? Did he convince her that she needed to go? Why would he do such a thing?

Anna ran, blindly, away. Let her feet carry her where they would, as if motion could stave off the thoughts that would find here if she slowed. But they couldn’t, and they didn’t. What if it was Maggie who wanted to leave? Had Maggie asked Doc Ferris to look for a job for her? Maybe that was what she wanted.

She had always known how Maggie valued her independence and how important her intellectual life was. But how could Maggie want that independence more than her? The thought pierced Anna. Maybe Maggie didn’t love her enough.

Suddenly, some of Maggie’s words to Anna came to her mind. A long time ago, she had asked Maggie if there had ever been someone who loved her, and Maggie said there had been, but “not enough.”

Maybe Maggie thought Anna was like that too, that she didn’t love Maggie enough. Maybe there was something she was supposed to be doing that she wasn’t doing. How could she know? Whatever she could do to show Maggie that she loved her, she would do in a heartbeat. Anything. But how could Maggie not know that? How could she not see that?

And then a deeper, colder thought took hold of her mind. What if it was Maggie who didn’t love her enough? Maybe that had been what Maggie meant about the person in her past. Maybe Maggie didn’t love her enough either. Maybe Maggie only loved her books enough.

Anger and dread mixed and deepened, as Anna dropped to the ground and cried. If this were the truth, there was nothing she could do. No way to make Maggie stay. Anna pictured her leaving. How had she planned to tell Anna? Did she plan to disappear in the night, leaving only a note? Would she tell Anna that she didn’t want to be with her?

Anna couldn’t stand the thought. Couldn’t bear the image of what Maggie’s face would look like when she told her. Even if she just left without a word, there would be the morning when Anna would wake and she’d be gone. And everyone would expect her to just carry on. Go on living.

Living. What was living? How could that word apply to what her life would be now?

She thought about death. There were so many ways to die. It came so easily. Anna thought of her parents. Then she thought of Harry. Suddenly, she remembered that Harry was still sick. She hadn’t stayed to hear the Doctor’s assessment. What if Harry was not healing? What if he died? She would lose everything. Everything. Everyone she had ever loved.

She had to go back. To be with Harry. To hold him. She would look Maggie in the eye, and know what there was to know.

Anna turned, walking now, not running. Resolute, tears giving way to a cold stare ahead of her.

To Maggie’s great relief, Doc Ferris confirmed her intuitions that Harry was out of danger.

“He’ll need to rest a good bit, of course. But he should wake soon. Make sure he drinks as much as possible, but don’t pressure him to eat until he’s hungry. And then start with a simple broth.”

Maggie found herself bursting in to tears and embracing the Doctor, who looked at her with a confused compassion.

“I’ll find Anna,” she said, suddenly desperate for her.

“It looked to me like she was away when I came in. I expect that if she’d come back she would have come straight upstairs.”

Maggie was disappointed, but she knew that Anna would be home soon. She walked Doc Ferris to the front porch, and found that the carriage was there.

“That’s strange. I wonder where she went off to.”

Maggie looked around. Anna hadn’t been in the house. She ran through places that Anna could be in her mind. But she couldn’t go look for her. Someone had to stay with Harry. Maggie looked at the Doctor.

“I would like to go look for Anna. I know she’ll want to know about Harry.” What she said was true, but only half the truth. She couldn’t wait to see Anna a moment longer.

“Ah, yes. I can stay with Harry for a bit. I’ll just go back inside.”

She thanked the Doctor and looked around. She thought about where Anna could be... the barn, the chicken coop, the orchard, the fields... Although she couldn’t think of a reason for Anna to be in any particular place, she felt she must try to find her, so she just picked a direction and started walking.

It was foolish. This could take hours. She was sure to miss Anna and waste the doctor’s time. But she couldn’t help herself. Maggie walked. Thinking of nothing but Anna.

As if her thoughts had conjured the person, a figure emerged in Maggie’s sight. And as they approached each other, she could see it was Anna. Walking resolutely toward her.

She couldn’t see the way Anna’s heart skipped a beat when she came into view. She couldn’t see Anna’s confused surprise. Couldn’t see the fear in Anna’s eyes.

As they neared each other enough to begin to glimpse facial expressions, she couldn’t restrain herself any longer and began to run towards Anna.

Anna was struck with fear as she saw Maggie run towards her, assuming it was an emergency regarding Harry. She quickened her own pace, but didn’t run. She would wait for that until she saw what was in Maggie’s eyes.

Maggie rushed to Anna, embracing her – an embrace Anna accepted only tentatively.

“Anna, I’m so glad I found you.”

Anna stiffened a little. She could hear in Maggie’s tone a relief that meant Harry was not in danger. But what should have been relief found no room in Anna’s feelings. The fear, sadness and anger of her feelings about Maggie rushed to fill the hole left by her fear for Harry’s well-being.

“The Doctor says that Harry is out of danger.” Maggie held on to Anna for a moment, before pulling away to look at her. She felt the smile slowly fade from her own face as she held Anna’s gaze. There was no relief, no pleasure there. Something was wrong.

“He’ll need to recover, of course. But he’ll be alright,” she reiterated, wondering if perhaps shock had prevented Anna from understanding.

“That’s good,” Anna managed to say, desperately trying to keep her voice from cracking.

Maggie paused, still looking at Anna, who had turned her eyes downward. “Yes, it is good,” she affirmed, hoping that her emphasis would provoke some form of response. When it didn’t, she asked, “What’s wrong, Anna? Why aren’t you happy?”

Anna stared at the ground longer and Maggie began to feel real fear. The moment went on longer and longer until finally Anna spoke.

“Are you leaving?”

Maggie was confused. She had wanted so badly to see Anna, to affirm her intention to stay with her – but she hadn’t thought at all about how she would explain everything. How she would explain that she was staying without first explaining that she had been planning to leave. And somehow now Anna seemed to know.

“I...” Maggie started. Anna turned her eyes up to meet hers. There were no words for what she saw there, but she knew, in that moment, that she would never again let herself see it. “No. I’m not leaving.”

“I heard you talking to Doc Ferris this morning. It sounded a lot like you were planning to leave.” Maggie suddenly understood.

She tried to say that it wasn’t true. But it was. She had been planning to leave. Now, when she thought of saying that to Anna, it broke her heart. It felt so wrong. But at the time it had seemed right. Maggie stalled. “The town council is replacing me with another teacher.” God, I’m such a coward, she thought, as she realized she was avoiding saying it. She deserves more than this. “I was afraid. Afraid that I wouldn’t be able to offer you the life that you deserve. I thought it would be better to leave.”

Maggie could tell that Anna didn’t understand, and the fear entered her that she wouldn’t. Why should she understand? She wasn’t sure she understood herself. How could Anna ever trust her again?

Anna was quiet and Maggie could tell she was fighting back tears. “How long?”

The question was cryptic, but Maggie understood the meaning. Disgusted with her silence that now seemed like lies, she tried to find a way to hide it. But she couldn’t regain Anna’s trust that way. “Since the day Emma’s baby was born. That was when Doc Ferris told me about my job.” She thought of making it sound like she had only thought about the possibility of leaving. But that wasn’t true. “I decided soon after that that I should leave.” She paused, knowing she had to explain. “I’m sorry, Anna.” With this her tears started.

Maggie stared at Anna, willing her gaze to be returned, but Anna remained fixed on the horizon. When Anna spoke, it was with a cold resolve, a voice she had never heard Anna use. “And now I’ve disrupted your plan. You don’t have the courage to watch me watch you leave, and so now you’ve decided to stay after all?”

Anna turned to Maggie. “You should go.”

Maggie wanted to argue, to explain. But Anna’s pronouncement hung in her ears.

“You’re angry.” What a stupid thing to say, Maggie thought.

“Of course I’m angry. I trusted you. I believed you.”

Maggie was frightened. She had betrayed Anna’s trust by planning to leave and by keeping it from Anna.

“I loved you,” Anna choked.

Past tense, Maggie thought. Everything was unraveling before her eyes.

“You made me love you. You made everything in my life make sense. You let me see what I could be. You made me believe that you loved me. How could I not be angry?”

“I do love you, Anna,” Maggie’s instincts took over. Her heart began to grab the moment.

“Just not enough? Not as much as your independence. Not as much as your books.”

Maggie snapped out of her confusion. “No, you’re wrong, Anna. That’s not how it was,” Maggie paused. She could see she had Anna’s attention. Anna wanted to be wrong.

When Maggie spoke, she had no idea what she was going to say, but she knew it would be her truth, as full as words could make it. “I do love you, Anna. I can’t remember how it felt to live before I loved you. I only know that then, I didn’t know what love was. I thought I did. I thought I had felt it. You knew, though. You knew because you have always seen real love. You have loved and been loved. Love is when you’d give everything you have, everything you are, for the other. I know that you love me, Anna. And I thought that meant that you would give me too much. That you’d give up the things you deserve.”

Maggie could tell that Anna didn’t understand this last part. She wasn’t following. “Our life together could be dangerous. If we were discovered, we could be torn apart. You could be forced from this place. Forced from your home. I thought that we would always have to live in fear. I thought that loving you meant that I had to spare you from this fate, despite how much it would cost me personally. I thought that was right.”

“That was not your decision to make,” Anna said, forcefully. There was reproach in her words, but Maggie happily accepted it, because it meant that she understood Maggie’s explanation. She thought Maggie was wrong. That was alright.

“I know that now. I was wrong. I thought I was sparing you, but it was my own fear driving me. I knew that you would choose to take the risk for me, and I didn’t believe I was worth it.” Only now, as she spoke, did Maggie realize the truth of what she said. “I’ve spent my whole life building my independence, keeping other people at arm’s length. I didn’t care if I had anything to offer anyone but myself. And I suppose somehow I came to believe I couldn’t offer much. The pleasure of your company distracted me from the fact that with every moment I was with you, everything in my life was changing. Loving you became the center of everything to me, but I didn’t know how to do it. I was afraid to let you love me. Afraid to let you build your life around me. Afraid you would wake up one day and realize it hadn’t been worth all the sacrifices.”

Anna looked at Maggie. She was still distant. But less angry. “And now?”

Maggie questioned, herself, what had changed. It wasn’t just Harry’s acceptance. That was the trigger. But the real change was something else. “Now I know that love doesn’t mean deciding what’s best for you. It means having the faith in you, and in me, and in our love, to choose a life with you – not knowing what will come of it, not knowing whether I will be able to make you happy, but knowing that there’s nothing I want to strive for in life that’s more important than that.”

Anna didn’t smile, but there was peace in her expression.

“I don’t know if you can forgive me for my fears, and for the choice I made to hide them from you. But if you can, and if you’ll have me, I want nothing more than to make my life with you. Here.”

Maggie looked at Anna in seriousness, but not with pleading. She knew what she was offering Anna. And she knew that Anna could make her own decision.

“Thank you for telling me that. I think that I understand. It’s hard, though. You and I are different. It’s so easy to forget that when there’s so much that we share.” Anna seemed pensive. “You know, I think, that I want nothing more than for you to stay here with me.” She paused, and Maggie sensed there was some qualification to come. “I’d like you to promise me a something, though.”

Maggie was ready to promise Anna the moon at this point, but she stopped herself to listen carefully. She would offer Anna only the most serious, well-considered promises.

“If there’s ever something like this on your mind, ever something bothering you, I want you to tell me about it, or at least try to tell me about it. Will you do that?”

Maggie considered this, and assented.

“Then, yes, Maggie Sheridan, I will let you spend your life making me happy.” At this, Anna smiled, and for Maggie this set the world spinning again, returned the color to the landscape and sounds to the air.

She clasped Anna’s face in her hands and kissed her smiling mouth, their tears mingling as they held each other.

“Let’s go back to the house and wait for Harry to wake up. I can’t wait to tell him,” Maggie said, which drew a strange look from Anna.

“I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

As they drew close to the house, after Maggie had told Anna about Harry’s “blessing”, Anna was reminded of her conversation with Mrs. Brown.

“I can’t say this counts as much of a blessing, but Mrs. Brown of all people seemed to imply that it would be a good thing if somebody kept you around here long enough to rescue the town when Andrew Wilkins’ cousin quits or gets himself fowled up. She even implied it was a good thing you hadn’t found yourself a man.”

Maggie laughed. In time she would realize that this little measure of acceptance was just the beginning. Being “taken in” by the Hoskins made Maggie’s single lifestyle less of a threatening idea, and her strength as a teacher had been so firmly established that when, indeed, Andrew Wilkins did take off to discover the West, the town immediately offered her the schoolteacher’s job. While the towns’ people initially considered Anna and Maggie oddities, in time they became familiar and even cherished oddities. Harry and Emma bred a gaggle of children, which enlivened the household greatly. Eventually they had to expand the house. Even after the younger generation had grown to adulthood, children from other towns came to live as borders, in hopes of getting an education that would prepare them for university.

In addition to their intellectual studies, Maggie and Anna devoted themselves to learning what they could of agriculture, and Anna became quite knowledgeable about farming techniques. Maggie, though, developed the business savvy to put Anna’s knowledge to use. They were able to buy land during depressed times, increasing their security and productivity over the years, and left them well off for many years to come. As Maggie looked back at her life now, moving to Drake was the best thing she could have done. Though wary of her decision at first, she now knew in her heart that she would never be alone as long as Anna remained in her life.

The End