Becoming Anne Again

Chapter Thirteen

A/N So here's a short chapter for you guys. Remember to comment, like and follow if you're enjoying the story :)

The day had turned dreary by the time three o clock rolled around, with dark storm clouds promising a healthy dose of rain in the already water filled coastal town. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered Samantha Cuthbert, except that she knew it would quicken the time that the house could go without a fresh coat of paint—but today, as it was Anne's first day of school, Samantha couldn't help but feel disheartened.

She had never been able to get Anne to say what it was that made her so on edge, as if being raped wasn't enough. Samantha felt like she wanted to throw up. Whatever had happened to Anne could have been no less than the crime of the century. And the violent dreams she had were so much different than for those of the unknown victim, so much more personal. Because it was no longer Jane Doe, it was her Anne, a term that she had grown to favor when she thought about her foster daughter.

She hoped to God every single one of the bastards who had hurt Anne drowned in their own blood.

Today was supposed to be a fresh start. And she supposed that the weather may not have as much as an effect as she was crediting it with, but it just seemed like a bad omen that no one in that house needed. But, on the plus side, Samantha had made sure to stock up on ice cream. Maybe the day called for two spoons and a pint instead of separate bowls.

She heard the sound of her husband's car pull up into the driveway, and she ran to the front door, her heart suddenly caught in her throat. She didn't wholly know why it was that way, but she remembered Rachel Lynde once talk about how mothers just know things And she knew that really, she wasn't a mother—but she was at the same time. She was Kaylee's mother, and ever since that night on the jetty she had unwittingly made herself the mother of Anne too.

And maybe Rachel Lynde was right about this one thing, because as the skinny figure hopped out of the truck, she was hunched over, staring at the ground. Matthew quickly circled around the truck to hug the little girl—because she was so little!—and whisper something in her ear.

When Anne stepped into the house, Samantha wasn't in the living room, and Matthew took her backpack off her and set it down by the door. "It's going to work out in the end, Anne." It was the only thing he could think of to say, and the words seemed to mock him even as they left his mouth.

It was then that Samantha appeared, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in her hand and three spoons. "Hey, want some ice cream?"

"Yeah," Anne said, even as she nervously looked between her two foster parents. "That sounds good."

"Well," Matthew said, his hands stuck in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as his own nervous gesture, "I think I'm going to go and try and fix up the old generator. I hear there's going to be a storm. Don't want to be stuck without power."

Anne nodded her head as acknowledgement, even as her eyes were fixed on Samantha. "Anne?"

"Yeah?"

"How was your day?"

"Fine."

Samantha cleared her throat, trying desperately to think of what it was she was supposed to say. She opted instead to gesture to Anne to sit down as she popped open the cardboard cover and handed Anne a spoon before scooping a bit herself. "You know, you couldn't pay me to go back to junior high."

"Yeah?" Anne took a bite out of her ice cream, somewhat taken aback by the genuineness of her words.

"Oh gosh, no. I remember all I wanted to do was play sports. I had this one teacher, Mr. Mozzy. Oh gosh, he was awful. Kind of like Mr. Philipps," Samantha's heart heaping as she heard Anne's giggle. "And I know I wasn't the greatest student back then, so I do pity him just a little bit," she added, her forefinger and her thumb mere centimeters apart to demonstrate her point. "I would get in trouble all the time though. All I'm saying is I'm really glad corporal punishment wasn't used in my school." This earned an outright laugh from Anne, and Samantha grinned.

"In sixth grade, I had a teacher who thought he was just the greatest thing to happen to middle school," Anne confided. "It was the worst. He thought I was a 'lost cause' and all that, so he made his personal mission to save me. I hated it," she laughed. She paused, suddenly looking hard at Samantha. Samantha put her spoon down, her head cocked to one side, equal parts nervous and excited at this interest Anne was showing. "Mrs. Cuthbert?"

"Yeah?"

"In school, we were in English, and—one of the vocabulary words was enigma. And I knew that word before, because I had some people..." her voice trailed off, and she shoved her spoon into the ice cream to take a big, delicious bite. "Am I an enigma?"

"Do you want to be?"

"I don't know." Anne pursed her lips, her spoon laying limp in her hand as she contemplated this new and complex issue. "It does seem awfully romantic. But it's not so romantic when you're on my side of things, you know? I can't be an enigma to myself, and sometimes that really sucks."

"Anne," Samantha said, laying a hand on Anne's knee, "if you need anything—like, you know, counseling, for instance, we'll get that for you. I really do want you to feel at home here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I know what home is," Anne said, suddenly getting up and kicking off her shoes. "Hey, listen, Diana and Charlie and a few other kids are going to have a night out on the beach on Friday. Can I go?"

"Are there going to be parents?"

"We'll be basically in Ruby Gillis's backyard." It was funny, Anne had never had to justify her actions, nor had she ever felt the need to ask. She didn't ask to go on her nightly ocean retreats. But this was different.

And it was different for Samantha too, because as much as she wanted to immediately dive in and think of all the safety reasons that she should say no, she also felt as though she couldn't. Because Anne was right, to Samantha, she was an enigma, and an enigma couldn't be controlled, nor could she belong to anyone. "Okay. Just be safe, okay? And if you feel uncomfortable, or anything, just call. You can take my cell phone. Text me every little bit, okay?"

"Okay."