Anne felt nauseos with the thought. "Well you shouldn't 'ave! Lory! I'd rather 'ave been poorer than 'ave ye... do that." She took a step forward, trying to grab her cousins arm. "Ye're worth more than that!"

“We wouldn’t have made it without that,” Lory bit out.

She brought her hand to cup Anne’s. If anything, she was relieved she wasn’t too dirty to touch.

“Alice cried, last I saw her. I cry when I think of how ashamed you all must be, but … what about Mary Magdalene?”

Those words stung more than any so far. Not a day went by without thinking of how miserable and lonely and scared her sister was, and it would trample what little joy there was in her own day and leave it void and gloomy. Alice cried. It brought a fresh lump to her throat.

She placed her own hand on Lory's. "I'm not ashamed of 'er, Lory. And I'm not ashamed of ye. I feel sorry and I don't want to see ye hurt."

It had been easier to be angry when Anne was repeating lines. Her lip quivered, and she crossed her arms.

“Been hurt a long time, Anne,” she admitted. “Not by you.”

Not until now, she plucked out from the words that left her mouth.

“Alice has been hurt, too. You don’t get mixed up with some Longbottom unless you been hurting a long time.”

Her eyes were hot with fresh tears. She squeezed her tongue between her teeth to keep them from falling. Aye, Lory was hurting. Alice was. They all were. Anne too had been hurting for a long time, and perhaps it was that which brought the tears so easily in response to Lory’s words. Her own pain however was mostly that of seeing her loved ones hurt, and the pain of missing those that hadn’t made it: Mother, Tom, Simon,… Alice.

Did Lory not understand that Anne did not want to see her added to that list?

All jealousy was now forgotten. She stepped closer, drew her hand away and instead put her arms around her cousin carefully in a hug. “I know. We’re all hurtin’.” And she wished she could do something to take it away. But she couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to save Simon. She couldn’t help Alice. And she wasn’t even supposed to talk to Lory. “I’m sorry.”

For what? She didn’t know exactly. For the whole weight of it and for being unable to lift it.

Careful, sensitive Anne. She wished she’d turned out more like her. Could the world not use more Annes than Lorys? Than Alices? … Had Simon died because God needed him less? Then why was Uncle Ben still around?

Enough about him and his meddling. Lory threw her arms about her, wholeheartedly.

“I’m sorry too, Anne. I never meant to hurt you.”

… Or Uncle Ben, even, but she was having second thoughts about that.

If Lory wanted to hurt Ben, well, here he was, his bulky body casting a dark shadow over the yard.

"Lory..." said his deep voice.

Anne jumped. She pulled back from the hug and stepped away, though it was already too late. Father had seen her disobey his command to stay away from Lory. There was no point in running and her brain had instantly stopped working so that she couldn't think of an excuse. She did the next best thing: she froze and stared at her father.

There was no point in Anne running.

Lory, however, took one look up at the source of that ghastly voice, clutched Anne’s arms with an alarmed look, hacked up a “take care!” … and fled in a wave of bright ruffles.

"Lory!" Ben called out as she ran. "Please. Wait!" he tried to grab her arm to stop her.