She didn’t have time for this… stupid discussion. It seemed like no matter how she put it, she was going to be the villain and her sister was starting to put words in her mouth and accuse her of being mean like Alice. That was when she snarled out, “I am nothing like her! Just because I happen to give you the hard truth for once, does not mean that I am trying to hurt your feelings! You’re being selfish and mean right now yourself, talking my ear off about should have, would have, and could have with a man who, for all we know, has run off with the milkmaid… and Lord, help me if I should disagree with you!” She was starting to lose her voice.

Then came the question about what was wrong with her and Pearl choked for a moment as a fit of coughing hit, and then she said in all honesty, “I don’t feel well. You know I don’t feel well, yet we’re having this blasted conversation and you’re crying and… Oh, why bother? Neither you nor Alice cares when something is wrong with me. If you did, you wouldn’t ask me such a question.”

She did not have the energy to cry even if she wanted to, no tears came, only bitter words. “You’ve become a shell of yourself since… then… and Alice is a mean and petty creature always. I miss you and I miss that we could be allies against our tyrant of a sister and some of the boys when they are being rowdy.” She sank as deep as the hard back of the rocking chair would let her go, snuggling into that quilt that never would have made it passed mother’s nose because it wasn’t refined enough for her fancy tastes. In fact, it was the first time Olivia entered the home and she had not said one thing about the quilts and afghans, or the fact that there was color everywhere and the house was bright instead of dark and dreary like the manse. Olivia was so busy in her own head, she had never even once noticed things, whether it was with Pearl’s house or that she had been preoccupied herself ever since that terrible night where she’d been kidnapped.