In the Woods When First We Met

18. Truth

Anne sat down by herself in the corner, facing away from Gilbert, because she'd have to turn her skirt upward to sew her petticoat.

She cut a length of thread from the spool, then held the thread in one hand and the needle in the other. It hurt her wrist to grasp the thin needle, so she worked as quickly as she could.

But every time she pushed the needle through the fabric, she winced in pain.

Finally she decided to use her other hand instead.

It took longer to use her non-dominant hand, but she was determined to do it.

Eventually though, her wrist began to hurt even from just having to grasp the fabric while her other hand pushed the needle through.

She had only made nine stitches when she felt two fat tears in the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away, frustrated at the slow pace of her work and the pain it was causing.

She started pushing the needle through again. As she pressed, her hand shook. The needle finally popped through but fell on the floor.

"Ugh," she breathed, upset.

Gilbert had been sitting in the door of the little house, facing the woods to give her privacy.

When he heard her, he turned slightly and looked at her.

"You need help?"

"No," Anne said.

Anne leaned over to get it, but didn't see it. The end of her thread hung loose. She'd have to find the needle in the leaves on the floor and thread the needle all over again. A small task, but her wrist ached from the constant squeezing.

"What happened?"

"I dropped the needle." She stated, trying not to let her voice show how close to tears she was. She scolded herself in her mind for getting so upset.

Gilbert stood up and came back in. "Where'd you drop it?"

"I don't know," Anne said, her voice shaking. "Right here. But I don't see it."

They both crouched close to the ground and looked, moving dry leaves out of the way. Finally Anne found it.

She tried to thread the needle, but her hand was shaking.

"Hey. Here," Gilbert breathed, taking the needle from her and threading it himself.

He handed it back to her, threaded.

"Thank you," Anne said evenly.

Gilbert turned away from her so that she could pull up her skirt and work on her petticoat again.

It took her several minutes to make just four more stitches. She had to keep stopping to let her wrist rest. But resting it between stitches, while necessary, almost made it hurt worse when she had to move it again.

Anne couldn't keep a couple of tears from slipping out as she pushed the needle shakily through the fabric.

She stopped and wiped them away, choking on a sob.

Gilbert turned around again. "Anne, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Anne said, trying to hold it back, and pushing her skirt down since Gilbert was facing her direction again.

"Is it too much for your wrist?" He guessed.

"I can do it."

"How much do you still have to do?" Gilbert asked.