Anne felt like she could have slept for days. Just a few very short hours later, though, Mary came stomping in the door, shouting.
"Anne!" she called. "There's a letter from Iain." She waved the white paper around, clearly excited, but the movement started Anne's had spinning.
Dizzy, Anne pulled herself off the floor, careful not to wake the still- sleeping Maria. Her back ached, oddly, and she slowly made her way down the ladder. On the last wooden rung, she fell. It was only about eight inches, but it felt as though she'd fallen five feet.
Mary caught and steadied her, a worried look in her cloud- grey eyes, and handed her the letter.
"I can't read it," Anne said after a minute. "My head's spinnin' too fast."
"Do you need a doct-"
"No, I do not need a doctor." Anne almost yelled, panicking, memories flooding her exhausted brain. "I'm fine. I just need to sit down." She felt her way across the room to the chair by the fire, Mary's concerned gaze still following her. "Now, read," she directed. Mary came and sat on the other chair, her eyes still worried as they dropped to the letter and her hands unfolded it.
"Girls," she began to read.
"Because of an experience I don't want to talk about in a letter, Katherine and I decided to marry earlier than was planned. It wasn't a big affair, and though I wish you could have been there, it would have been a long way far you to come for such a small event. I won't be coming home this holiday-"
"That's right, It's Saint Patrick's Day!" began Anne, but Mary put a finger to her lips and hushed her.
"-this holiday, but will see ye in two weeks time. I shall tell ye all about what I've been doing. Best wishes."
Mary harrumphed. "Well, that was very brief. And nothing about, well, anything!" She folded the letter back up as Emma came walking in.
Her eyes caught sight of the letter that Mary held. "Is there anything for me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"There's another letter addressed to you here," replied Mary mischievously, pulling out another letter that had slipped Anne's weary gaze. Mary's eyes twinkled as Emma took the letter. "Who's Charles Petersen?"
Emma sighed. "Have Anne tell you," she said, flouncing outside to read the letter.
"Apparently, he's a friend." said Anne. Mary didn't seem convinced a single whit.
I know this chapter was super small. Remember to vote and comment, I love knowing how to improve my writing!