The train was more crowded than normal that Friday. Emma, tired from last night's dinner party, hardly noticed.

She stared out the window, at the endless fields that rolled by on tree-topped hills, and thought about the quiet house that awaited her. Surely there would be no parties to attend, nor sheets to wash, old ladies to read to, or maids that scorned. Emma was ready for some peace.

As she looked out at the trees passing by, Emma decided that last night had simply been too boring to think about, just a room full of middle- aged people and a couple bachelors that talked far too much about politics for her liking. So, she concluded, it isn't worth my thought.

The train billowed into the station and came to a shuddering stop, just as it always did. Anne was waiting at the station with her blue bonnet, just as she always did. And Emma stepped out with her satchel in her hand, just as she always did.

"You look exhausted," said Anne in Irish as they stepped off of the platform together and set off for the farm.

"Yes, last night-" Emma stopped herself from talking about the dull dinner last night that lasted too long into the night.

"Last night what?" Anne looked concerned.

"Last night there was an awful disaster. Coffee was spilt on the tablecloth and all of the day maids had gone home. I had to clean it out and it took forever!" Emma crossed her gloved fingers around the handle of her bag.

Anne seemed like she didn't quite believe the story, but she nodded. "Well, we don't have any coffee at home, so you'll escape doing that again." They turned right at the fork and Anne looked at her sister. "I've got something to tell you."

"What?" Emma didn't want to let something about her new social life slip, so she was more than happy to have Anne talk for a while. 

"Charles wants to court me."

"Charles?" Emma racked her brain. There'd been a Mr. Charles at last night's dinner but that definitely wasn't who Anne was talking about.

Anne's eyes widened with incredulity. "Surely you remember Charles O'Flaherty- my very best friend in Galway?"

Emma remembered then the tall and dark- haired young man that had recently come to Denver by divine coincidence. "And what will you do?"

Anne sighed and stopped walking. "I feel we're too young. to take things so... seriously. I'd really rather just remain friends."

"So? If you don't accept him he may find someone else, or you will."

Anne's face crinkled in pain. "I couldn't, never in a thousand years. But you're right, Emma. He could."

Always ready to tease her sister, Emma grinned. "You couldn't? Oh, how lovely! You still love him! Anne is in lo-ove!" she cried to the empty hills, still in her native tongue. 

"Hush! The girls could hear you."

"They don't speak Irish, last I checked."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Hearing Mary and I speak it is rubbing off on them." She started again towards the door and Emma followed. "You'll see."

"Do they understand the language?"

Anne laughed. "Not a word. But they'll repeat the words like little mockingbirds. I walked in once to hear them talking about how purple the cow was." 

The door was opened to show Maria, seven years old, playing with her doll by the window. Emma hung up her coat and bonnet, and Anne walked immediately to the kitchen to stir whatever was in the pot on the stove.

Emma sat at the table then, fiddling with her bonnet strings.

"You're sure there's nothing bothering you?"

Anne had sat down across from Emma, and Emma had failed to notice. "absolutely."

"Go hiomlán, go hiomlán," repeated Maria absentmindedly.

"Oh, be quiet," replied Anne.

"bí ciúin, bí ciúin, bí ciúin." The little girl went on, and Anne giggled. 

"I love doing that. I could tell her anything and she'd repeat it."

Emma turned to look at Maria, happily moving her doll's arms around with little whizzing sounds. 

"She's flying," informed Maria at the two older girls' stares.

Anne nodded quizzically and turned away, looking out the window. "I think it'll rain soon," she guessed in English. "Help me put the chickens in?"

"Of course."

They walked outside without a word, but right before she opened the coop door, Anne sighed and cocked her head at her sister.

"Emma, what would you think of me courting?"

"Charles O'Flaherty or just in general?"

"Charles."

Emma took a handful of corn from the bag above the door and didn't speak. "It's your future. I don't really care."

"You don't care?"

"I've got my own problems, Anne. Make your own decisions." It came out more sharply than Emma intended, but she was groggy from lack of sleep and didn't really regret the harsh statement. She didn't realize what she'd said, either.

Anne's green eyes got a little misty then, as she weighed Emma's words. "But we've gone through everything together, Emma... how can you just not care?"

Emma folded her arms defensively across her chest. "How can you expect me to care about all of your little issues?"

"This isn't 'oh, there is a tear in my dress and now I'm so sad'." Tears bubbled up and choked her already quiet voice as she fought back sobs. "This is about the man I think I might marry. The one that I'd share my life with. If you have to listen to any of my problems, sister dearest, it should be this one." An edge appeared in her voice, but broke. "I thought you liked hearing me talk about what's been happening."

Emma was too tired and stressed too think about what was going on. "You isolated yourself out here with nobody to talk to. I felt bad for you."

She turned and walked out of the coop, leaving Anne with chickens pecking near her feet and tears on her pale cheeks. "We're sisters, Emma," she said pleadingly. "Sisters are supposed to be there for each other. And what's more is we were always best of friends. I don't know what Denver has done to you, but I hate it." Anne clenched her fists, angrier by the second. "And right now, I hate you!"

Emma stopped walking and turned back, ready to apologize, but Anne was already running towards the edge of the property and the old oak tree, with her shoulders shaking.

It would be no use trying to talk to her, thought Emma. Then what she'd said came rushing back, and her heart seized up. What have I done?

I'm really sorry that this took so long. There's been a lot of friendship difficulty and it was painful to write Emma for a little while. But hopefully I'm back for good :-)

I used a little Irish here- with the help of an online translator (NOT Google, I know better than that) but if something is wrong with it, don't hesitate to tell me! I have a very limited knowledge of the language.

Until next time!

Megan