The Three of Us

133. Explosion

"Your mother is waiting. You should leave now," she said, her voice hardened.

"Oh, Anne-"

"I don't want your mother hearing about him! Why would you tell her anything at all?" Then Anne shook her head, not caring about the answer. "I'm not letting you see him anymore, Jane! Ever! Every time you do you'll just run home and tell your mother every little thing he does! ...Tell her to mind her own business, or our friendship is over!"

Jane looked wounded, but just meekly turned and left the house.

Anne was shaking with anger.

And then Walter took off.

"Aaah Jayyy," he wailed, toddling out the door in hot pursuit of her.

Mrs. Andrews stared at him, unable to breathe.

He was making his way down the porch when Anne came out, snatched him up, and, glaring at Jane, she stomped back into the house and slammed the door.

Mrs. Andrews looked at her daughter. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Jane said softly, shutting her eyes. "Nothing."

--

"Did you have a nice time with Jane?" Marilla asked when she returned from Rachel's.

Anne was still angry. "No," she said. "I didn't. And I don't ever want to see her again. If she comes over and you're here, tell her to go away!"

"I certainly won't tell her to go away," Marilla said, surprised. "What on earth is this all about? Jane's been such a friend to you!"

Anne's face was stony. "Not anymore."

Marilla came and sat down beside her. "Anne, what happened? Tell me."

Anne sighed. She'd been holding Walter on her lap for half an hour, ever since Jane left, and he was anxious to get down. He'd enjoyed being held for a little while, but his mama was holding him too tight and not letting him move. And she wasn't even talking to him or reading to him, she was just sitting curled up on the sofa, squeezing him. He was all done with being squeezed, and reached for Marilla to rescue him. Marilla pulled him from Anne's arms and set him on the floor. He toddled over to his picnic toy and began to play by himself.

"Jane's been telling her mother things," was Anne's harsh reply.

"What things?" Marilla asked, concerned.

"Things! Things about Walter!"

Walter looked up, hearing his name.

Marilla softened. "And you don't want her to. I understand, but what is she to do?"

"Tell her mother to mind her own business!" Anne said angrily. "That's what I told her she should have said! It's as simple as that!"

"Would you tell me to mind my own business?" Marilla asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Walter is your business!" Anne said, dismissing that. "But he is not Mrs. Andrews business!"

"You are missing my point," Marilla said firmly. "Would you tell me to mind my own business?"

"No," Anne said, calming down.

"I should hope not, because it would be terribly impertinent," Marilla said. "Do you think Jane could say such a thing to her mother, either?"

"Well, even if she doesn't say 'mind your own business', she could...she could say something like it, only less rude. She shouldn't be answering her mother's questions!"

Anne thought Marilla would be on her side- but she wasn't.

"I think Jane must be feeling rather stuck," Marilla pointed out. "Trying to be your friend, and trying to live with her family, too. ...She can't avoid her family, so it would be much easier for her if she just stopped being your friend. But she hasn't."

"No, she hasn't," Anne admitted.

"And now she must lie to her mother- or, at least, she must somehow avoid answering to her mother?" Marilla shook her head. "Exactly how do you expect a young girl living at home with her parents to announce that she will refuse to tell them something they're asking her?"

"I didn't think of it that way," Anne admitted.

"...If you figure out an acceptable way for Jane to tell her mother to 'mind her own business', I'm sure she'll be glad. Until then, don't expect her to defy her mother."

Anne was grumpy, but she felt bad, now, for getting so angry with Jane. Putting herself in Jane's position, she could imagine how awkward it would be to sit next to your mother on a buggy ride home trying to avoid answering direct questions, and wondering if you ought to lie to your mother instead.

Anne sighed. "I guess I was awfully hard on her."

Marilla stood up. "If she comes back, maybe you and she can work together- try to figure out some way to avoid your privacy being invaded, but without expecting her to make her home life any more stressful. ...Some sort of arrangement you can both live with."

"All right," Anne said quietly. "...I hope she'll come back."

---

Jane didn't come back for four days, and finally Anne asked Diana to deliver a message.

Jane read the message with trepidation:

Jane,

I'm sorry I got so angry with you. Marilla pointed out to me how terribly difficult it must be to be in your shoes. How can you avoid answering your own mother? I suppose I can't blame you. Could we talk? If you'll forgive me for being so hateful to you. I don't really want you to never see Walter again, even though I said it. Marilla told me we ought to try to come to some resolution.

All my love (truly)-

Anne

Jane was there the next day.