Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Three

The dinner laid before Anne was, while not being exquisite to most people, was exactly that in Anne terms. Ham with a honey glaze, mashed potatoes and homemade, thick gravy, green beans laden with butter and salt, and fresh baked bread adorned the table. But Anne also couldn't help noticing the little details—the rose stitching on the table, the pink blossoms that had been hand painted on the border of the walls, and the magnificent cherry oak that made up every furniture piece in the room. It was marvelous—but the O'Keafe's were marvelous too. Not quite so nice, but nice all the same, nice enough to trick social workers, neighbors, teachers, and pastors.

But that was a dangerous line of thinking. Anne liked to think that she had the ability to lock that part up, like so many heroines were able to. Novels who's culmination resulted in the protagonist being forced to remember to save the day once again. Anne didn't know how she would save the day, but she did know she was never given a chance to forget. She had stopped talking about the nightmares that woke her up in a cold sweat, mostly because she was tired of being bullied for "seeing a shrink." But they were still there, and she still had yet to sleep through the night.

If Samantha had known all that, she would have undoubtedly taken the girl into her arms. But her own heart was hardened, and Anne's abrasive attitude was not aiding any possible transition that may have occurred. Matthew may have been soft hearted, but Elizabeth felt firm in her resolve. They had wanted a son. Not a daughter.

Never a daughter.

"Pass the mashed potatoes, please?" Most found Matthew's voice slightly jarring, simply because he always spoke a little louder than necessary for most people. Anne found it a bit unsettling, but at the moment he was the only friendly face in the house, and if it didn't comfort her, it did make her a less tense. Just a little. So, while she didn't fake a full smile, she acknowledged him with a slight upturn of the right side of her lips, and passed the deliciously warm ceramic dish, which had lovely mint leaves painted on the side.

"Well," Samantha cleared her throat, swirling a glass of white wine in a long stemmed glass. "I suppose the state will have to pick Anne up soon."

"Well, I don't know," Matthew said, seeming unsure of himself.

"What do you mean you don't know? We asked for a boy. We could—we could sue or something."

"No, I'm just saying maybe Anne shouldn't leave just yet."

Most would be flattered, but Anne had lived just long enough to know that some people did good things so they could feel good about themselves, so she sniffed loudly and took a long swig of water, to the obvious disapproval of Elizabeth. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that one."

"Matthew, this is clearly just a horrible situation. She doesn't even want to be here!" Samantha said, resorting to almost begging. Anne had to roll her eyes at this, mostly because it was either that or she screamed until her throat was raw. "Yeah, I'm still over here."

Matthew blushed a bit more, his eyes dropping to his plate as he began to shuffle around his food with his fork. "Samantha," He whispered, stealing a glance at Anne, who had given up eating and folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't hungry anyway. "Maybe we should—talk?" Damn, he's pathetic, Anne swore, hating that expression of innocence still on his face.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Samantha..."

The woman conceded, only because every time she looked at Anne, she felt like her heart was being stabbed. She didn't want a girl, but Anne didn't ask for any of this. She was, after all, not heartless. She stood up, smiling tightly at Anne and putting down her napkin. Anne barely looked her in the eye, giving her only a passing glance, full of disdain, and if Samantha was honest, not even Anne could hide that little bit of fear.