In this way, Tomasine Humble, Eighteen and Elizabeth Denny were obscurely
united across a number of divides.
For Anne Young, the question was how to start a conversation neither she nor her
niece wanted to have.
     After the accident, the rumours about Jane Richardson's relationship with Robbie became more frank. The worst things were said as if
they were true. For instance, that Jane and Robbie had been fondling each other
while driving, that Jane had not been looking where she should have been, that
Robbie and Jane, with their motor-car sex, were a bad example for younger kids,
that the Richardsons and the Myers were (had always been) bad parents. Didn't Fletcher Richardson know his daughter was screwing a man with a fiancée? No one actually
said
âscrewing,' but that's only because the word was superfluous, it being perfectly obvious that that's exactly what the two were doing; perhaps even doing it in the car
as
 they hit Bigland's sheep. And didn't Dinah Myers know her son was putting his money in the wrong bank? What a state
we'd reached when parents couldn't control their children. And what about poor Elizabeth Denny in all this? Wasn't there a kind soul out there to tell her what was going on between her fiancé and the town floozy? (Well, Jane Richardson wasn't the town floozy per se. There was competition for the title. None of the
Greenwood girls, the ones who lived off Tenth Line, could darn a sock or cross
a street without fucking. And Melanie Beauchamp was a known nymphomaniac,
having done her own brother. But still, young Jane was certainly headed in that
direction.) Not that everyone was against Jane. A sizable faction felt sympathy
for her. If Liz Denny couldn't keep her man, why should that be held against Jane Richardson or even against
Robbie himself? True love is a mysterious thing. And God works in mysterious
ways. So, let Liz Denny move on. There was bound to be someone else for her
around the corner.
     No one related the gossip to Anne Young directly. That would have been unkind.
Even those who disliked her had, at this point, to be circumspect. But shades
of meaning were conveyed in the secret language of spite: a too kind look, a
hypocritical touch on the arm, a pointed chattiness that was as prickly as the
leaf of a thistle. Anne could feel in others the raw urge to ask if she'd heard about Jane and Robbie, if she knew about them, if Elizabeth had heard,
if Elizabeth minded, if the wedding was still on.
     The wedding. That was the big thing. Anne herself was dying to ask about it.
Rather than avoid the subject, as her husband advised, or wait until Elizabeth
brought the matter up on her own, Anne decided to ask her niece directly. She
waited until one Âafternoon when Elizabeth had just come back from work at the bakery. Her niece
had made herself a cup of tea and a piece of toast when Anne asked
     â Liz? Are you and Robbie still getting married?
     They were in the kitchen. The fridge's hum sounded almost aggressive. The afternoon sun was so bright Anne had had to
get up and pull the half drapes closed so there was enough shadow to make
sitting at the table bearable.
     â Yes we're getting married, Elizabeth answered. What makes you think we're not?
     â Well, I'm sure you heard about Robbie and Jane Richardson. Their accident?
     â Aunt Anne, what does that have to do with anything? He was in the car with Jane
and she drove into a sheep. You want me to cancel my wedding for that?
     â I don't
want
 you to cancel your wedding, sweetheart. I want you to do whatever feels right.
     Elizabeth had eaten her toast and gooseberry jam. The crumbs clustered on the
white plate looked vaguely like a face: eyes, nose, a small mouth. The knife
she had used for the butter and the one for the jam were crossed like an
elongated
X
 on the table, until she took them up and put them in the sink.
     â You know, Anne continued, there's a lot of talk about Robbie and Jane seeing each other. I don't think anybody knows anything for sure â¦
     â If nobody knows for sure, why do they all talk about it?
     â Barrow isn't the city, Liz. You know as well as I do that people around here can talk about
cow dung for hours. Talking about you and Robbie must be a relief, when you
think about it.
     Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed.
     â That's true, she said.
     This was just the thing she loved about her aunt: Auntie Anne could always find
the thing to make her laugh or bring her around. In this matter, though,
Elizabeth didn't want to be brought 'round. She did not want to talk about Robbie or Jane or marriage until she had
worked through her feelings on her own.
     â I've heard all the same rumours as you, Elizabeth said.
     She'd heard more of them and heard them directly, because even people she hadn't spoken to in years felt it was their duty to let her know what a shit-heel
Robbie was. Everything was said in the guise of friendly service. Some even
expected gratitude in return.
     â Robbie wouldn't do anything to hurt me. If he says there's nothing going on between him and Jane, I believe him.
     This was not quite a lie. If he had said such a thing, she would have believed
him. But, in fact, the night before, he had said the opposite. Not only had he
admitted to his relationship with Jane, but he'd insisted he would not give Jane up, though, inexplicably, he still wanted to
marry her, Elizabeth. It should have been a simple matter after that. Any
self-respecting woman would have slapped his face and left on the spot. Any
self-respecting woman would have refused to see him again. But, to her shame,
Elizabeth found it wasn't so simple. She knew one thing (that she should leave him) and felt another
(that she should stand by him, whatever he did). Â This is what she couldn't admit to her aunt, for fear she'd seem ridiculous or weak or irresolute, all of which she felt.
     The memory of the previous night returned to Elizabeth as she stood at the
kitchen sink. The knives clicked on the white enamel and she remembered that
Robbie had not wanted to see her after the accident. He needed to rest, he'd said. He didn't want her to see him as he was: injured, depressed.
     â But that's when you should see the people you love, she'd answered.
     â Can I have a little time to myself, Liz? Please.
     Which was when all doubt vanished. There was something seriously wrong. Still,
it was not in her nature to be angry or resentful. She had not complained. She
wasn't the type to make a scene or cause pain. That may even be what he held against
her, that she could not love him the way he wanted. How unfair, because he made
her happy. Effortlessly, it seemed.
     In any case, she had said she'd wait for him to call or to meet her at the bakery. And a day after they'd spoken, he had come to the bakery. It had upset her to see him: two black
eyes, his neck in a brace, wincing as he walked. It had taken great
self-control to keep from crying at the sight of him, to keep from taking him
in her arms. Her touch would have caused him pain, he'd said. It was even painful, he'd said, to hold hands, but he had come to show her the state he was in, so she
could see he hadn't been lying about his need for rest and solitude. Also, there was something he
had to tell her, something important.
     â About the accident? she'd asked.
     â Yes, he'd answered.
     But he would not speak to her then, not in front of the bakery. He had not
wanted the whole big-eared town to know their business. So, they had arranged
to meet in âtheir' clearing in the woods behind her uncle's property.
     It was early evening when she got there. The sky, visible above the treetops,
was red-orange. The woods were quiet and smelled of pine, of mushrooms and of
rotten undergrowth. Robbie came some time after her. She heard him before she
saw him. He sounded like a large animal, a deer, say, crashing through the
woods. Then, there he was beside her, still wearing the brace that made him
look so vulnerable. He was alone. (For some reason, she'd been afraid he would bring Jane.)
     He wasted no time on kindness.
     â I've got something to tell you, he said. I should have told you sooner. I don't know how to say it, except to say it. So ⦠I'm in love with Jane Richardson too.
     It took a moment for Elizabeth to comprehend.
     â What do you mean âtoo'? she asked.
     â I mean I haven't stopped loving you, Liz, but there's Jane too, now.
     â You love us both? That's convenient. Are you screwing us both too?
     â Yes, I am. I'm sorry. I should have told you.
     Well, what could you say to that? And he had the nerve to look contrite, as if
he'd broken a plate and forgotten to mention it. She could think of nothing to say.
Instead, she wondered what would happen if she punched his neck. Would he die?
Or would the brace save him?
     â I know this is the worst thing to tell you before we get married, he said. But
I still want to marry you. I still love you, Liz.
     â How long have you been seeing her?
     â A while. Maybe a year.
     â You've been sleeping with the two of us for a year?
     â I know, and I'm sorry. It's not like there are rules for this, you know. I tried to do the right thing.
     â You proposed to me while you were sleeping with someone else. You
proposed
 to me.
     â I love you and I want to marry you. This doesn't change how I feel about you.
     â Why me? Why do I get to be the wife whose husband is screwing someone else and
everyone knows except me? Is that because you love me too?
     â I knew you'd be mad. I don't blame you. I really don't understand all this any better than you. But I think we should think this
through. You know how I feel about you. I swear I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, but I love Jane too. And I'm asking if you would marry me, despite everything.
     Up to that moment, all of her emotions had been in a kind of suspension; no
single one presided. Elizabeth was furious, humiliated, amused, unbelieving and
stunned that the one man she loved, the one man she thought would protect her
from shame, could do this to her. And as happened when there were too many
emotions to deal with at once, she shut down. Completely. Door after door
closed within her, until she was no more than a surface.
     â I have to go, she said.
     And she'd left him in the woods.
     After his words in that place,
their
 place, how could she be irresolute? There was no chance the two of them would
see each other again. So, why talk about marriage? Yet, when her aunt had asked
if the marriage was still on, she'd said yes and she'd said yes because she still had feelings for Robbie, whatever may have
happened.
     On the other hand, though she still loved Robbie, she wanted to get back at
both him and Jane for putting her through this misery. Jane she wanted to hurt
outright. But Robbie she wanted to hurt in a way that would leave the door open
for him. He would have to work to regain her trust, if he wanted it, if her
trust mattered to him. She was not certain she would ever forgive him, but she
would give him another chance. How this would happen, how she would deal with
Jane, she did not yet know. The first thing to do was to tell Robbie she had
thought things through, that she would marry him, if he still wanted her. That
would buy her time.
     So, again, she had not lied to her aunt. As far as she knew, there would be a
wedding.
     When she had finished washing her plate and knives and again told her aunt that
all was fine, she went up to her bedroom. As she often did these days, she took
out the prayer book her parents had left, curious to see if there were a prayer
for someone in her position.
     There were certainly a number of prayers related to love: a prayer to find
love, one to keep love and one to regain lost love. There were prayers for
those who had never been in love, who had been abused by love, who had been
betrayed by love. There were even more, but Elizabeth chose to read this last
one, the one for those who had been betrayed:
         Â
Lord, free me from the flame of this betrayal.
          Let this pain pass and with it the love I feel
          For my beloved. Though love is your greatest