5 September

How miserable, my journal dearest! The rain of the last week has been so ruinous that Evie and myself have been nearly confined to my humble house in desperation. Only yesterday was my friend able to escape the damp of the rooms to run home, an attempt made possible only by the briefest of reprieves from the flood. As she threw on her boots and hopped to the front door, Evie invited me to travel back with her, albeit at the risk of catching a cold or something worse. My original response was to decline politely. Who would I be to impose myself on a worried family and the assured illness of a mother? When I voiced these concerns, Evie threw her head back and laughed, hair shaking with each heave of her breast.

"You shan't be in the way! Not only would your company be a blessing of which my siblings would no doubt love to exploit for better entertainment, but who have you to keep you warm and fed? I neither trust you to keep yourself adequately fed," she added, reaching for my coat by the door and throwing it over my shoulder. "No, I refuse to let you stay by yourself in this! For Heaven's sake, you haven't even a roof, Ms. Peterson!" Properly admonished and feeling rather like a scolded child with the use of my surname, I obediently collected my journal and pens and the bundle of letters we'd discovered the week before, previously forgotten in our agony of waiting for the rain to subside. While I felt poorly dressed for the muddy mess we would no doubt be thrusting ourselves into, Evie appeared to care not in the slightest for the lack of wear she had donned. Only her trouser overalls and her boots kept her from the muck! Ignoring my insistence on her borrowing one of my hats, she instead took my hand, look around for the safest path, and led us into the gray mess.

The walk wasn't so bad, though I did soak my dress nearly a foot high in mud, despite gripping it up to an indecent level. The air was cold and refreshing compared to the musty heat we'd been forced into for days, and the cries of several birds reminded me that we were indeed alive and not lost to some fevered dreaming.

After some time, we came to town, where every house had been painted in dark gray streaks. The architecture in Philadelphia was mostly brick, and rain on the study surface dampened the colours and ran off with no issue, but whatever the homes here had been constructed from, between the eaves and the layers from roof to wall, produced an effect not unlike running blood, if only a more realistic colour. I was terribly startled, but Evie held my hand a little tighter and encouraged me through the path of houses that this was perfectly normal. "Our paint is a peculiar thing in Dorset," she explained, "especially when the rain thunders down this long. Worry not about it! It always fades eventually."

Before long, we were out of the horror of the open air and at the family home. Greeted by three small faces and the burly shape of her father, everyone was filled with a sense of warmth and success for having escaped the downpour. As for myself, I managed to slip unnoticed into the original dining room I had first found myself in, and I took the liberty of removing my filthy shoes by the nearby fireplace. If I hadn't been worried about tracking mud into the house, I would have undressed in Evie's room, but that would have to wait. Only once my shoes were off and I was as close to the flames as I could get without injury did anyone notice me in their familial exultations for Evie's safety. The person in question who saw my shivering countenance was Mrs. Thomas, who had made her way as slowly as she could downstairs to greet her eldest daughter. "Winnifred!" she'd exclaimed, coming closer and opening the gate of the fireplace for my benefit. "Goodness, child, whatever are you here for!"

"It was necessary I accompany your daughter safely home," I had replied, my teeth bared in a permanent chatter.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Thomas scoffed and pinched my ear as affectionately as she could. "You're like to grow ill, my dear!" Taking off, she soon returned with a kettle of fresh tea and biscuits on a tin. "Eat, and please, keep warm." Shaking her head as a mother is wont to do, she made her way towards the mess of children who had been climbing on their sister's lap, despite the damp nature of the rain-soaked clothes. I let them screech in excitement upon seeing their mother return from her exile in bed, as the tea was exactly the right kind of hot to secure my attentions for some time. Eventually, Evie came to me with an exhausted smile.

"I am indebted to you for seeing me home," she said with a wink.

"Eavesdropper," I gasped over a long drink.

"Guilty! Jesting aside, I am really quite grateful for you coming over to stay with us! Now Mother can dote on another, and Jack and Peter have someone to pick on besides poor Lily." Brows lowering suddenly, Evie grew serious. "You must stay as long as you can - Father has made clear the severity of Mother's illness, and the weather will not allow us to leave again without endangering her." I felt a keen sense of having been trapped into coming and thus staying, but I felt no ill-will towards my being moved about. It was frightfully cold, and Evie had been right - It was doubtful I could continue to feed myself, especially in the ruinous state of my house.

The day settled rapidly into nightfall as the sky once more filled with rain, and my fate was sealed. Mrs. Thomas was guided back to her bedroom to rest in silence; the children were put to an early bed by Evie, who read them stories for an hour or so at their request; and I was given approval to ascend the stairs into her room and forage for dry clothes. Evie, however, had no dresses other than the one I'd first seen her in. How such an occurrence was possible was a truth too horrid for me to contemplate, and I looked about in desperation until she came in, rolled her eyes at my plight, and disappeared into her mother's room for a solution. Setting the dress aside, she led me into the bathing room and proceeded to fill a bath with warm water, proving to my stunned self that there might have been something better than a hot cup of tea, after all! "I'm not going to join you," she laughed, "but shout if you need anything. I'll be next door getting warm by more productive methods!" Evie's bedroom was equipped with a small fireplace of her own, and these methods no doubt included reclining in the nude before its powerful heat. Leaving me to my own devices, she closed the door behind her and began singing, the sound of which accompanied me for the entire hour that I leeched the water of its fiery purposes.

"Evie!" I cried, once I had dried myself and found that the shivering was entirely gone. "Evie, where did you put those clothes?" The singing drew closer and wandered in, her eyes brightening when she saw my hair undone and loose across my back.

"Why, you've hair under those ribbons of yours, Winnifred!" Ignoring the protests of embarrassment I displayed, she set the dress before me and at once began to run her hands through the mess of curls that tumbled over my shoulders. "This is beautiful! Why don't you wear it down more often?" Answering was difficult, for even if Evie didn't notice my nudity, I assuredly did (she had been given the oppourtunity to dress since her approach to warming up, but I was trapped between the counter and the clothes) and found the effort of hiding myself required too much energy to otherwise devote towards replying. Only when I had squeaked out my displeasure did she relent a little and allow me to dress, at which point she begged to brush my hair on her bed.

So the evening passed, with Evie still singing softly, even as she worked her way gently through my coiled hair. Her touch was soft and strong at the same time, and I wondered how long she had brushed away the tangles and knots from her own sister's hair. Eventually, I slipped into the unconscious realm of comfort, where I suppose Evie laid me down without my waking, for when the dawn finally broke into the room from the windows, I was snuggly wrapped under the sheets, though she was nowhere to be found.

6 September

Upon my waking, I smoothed out the few wrinkles in the pretty dress given to me and made my way downstairs, blushing as I tied it back into its usual ribbon. Though I was sure of the friendship that tied Evie and myself together, I was terribly unused to the presence and company of others in my private times and spaces. The memory of her hands in my hair carried a burning weight that would prove my undoing anytime someone should talk to me (which, thankfully, was assumed to be a symptom of my foolishness in having ventured for so long outside in such abominable weather).

When I descended the steps, all thoughts of my own mortification and confused feelings were banished; the atmosphere was grim and quite unlike how it was the day before. Peter and Lilly were crying under the table, and poor Jack was staring into the empty fireplace with his hands shaking behind his back. Mr. Thomas was holding Evie close, whispering unheard instructions into her ear. Upon my entrance, they turned to look at me and I saw the confusion in Evie's eyes.

"Oh, Winn," she sighed, beckoning me over with a knit brow. "It's... it's horrible!"

"What is?" Had news of my house come, washed over the cliffs? Was someone mistakenly left outdoors and swept into an early grave? My own grave was fear - once caught in the mire of negative emotions, it was nearly impossible to pull me free, and already, I could tell that whatever was horrible would suppress any desires I had for happiness. 

"Mother!" Evie turned away to allow her father to explain while keeping her own tears from falling. 

"Mrs. Thomas was taken with a new sickness," Mr. Thomas said in as even a voice as he could have. I was impressed with his unwavering countenance, before I thought on how long his poor wife had been sick with one thing or another over the years. In all likelihood, he was used to the emotional weight of such occurrences, and sought only the most practical and speedy methods for her recovery. This one's solution, I learned, was to summon a doctor at once. He told me there were several in town, but one much farther away would be needed - a man known located in the depths of Cambridge. How far away, but how necessary, for the Thomases were convinced only this doctor could help their ailing lady of the house. The matter of delivering this letter was of utmost importance, and Evie once again volunteered to deliver post haste to the mailing office closer to the heart of town. With no other choice but to acquiesce, Mr. Thomas was bidding farewell to his eldest daughter with the hope their pleas would not go unheard for long. 

I saw Evie to the door, knowing my own uselessness in the matter, for I was far too likely to kill myself should I accompany her through the rain again. "You must be safe, and try not to slip and fall somewhere you can't be found." We embraced, feeling all of the gravity of not only her mother's situation, but Evie's own necessary involvement in the matter. 

"It's only a walk through town, don't be silly."

"You should have a horse."

"Alas." We pulled apart with red eyes. "Take care of the little ones, and I promise to you, Winnifred, I will return before tomorrow evening."

"That's a very long time in this weather." As if was waiting for these very words, lightning spun across the sky, and the ensuing crackle echoed over the town. "Oh, that you didn't have to go!" 

"I must," she said gently. Pulling her hat around her ears (she had been persuaded into wearing more than her gardening outfit for the journey), she nodded, giving me one last smile. "Stay warm!" And with that, Evie Thomas had turned around and run out, disappearing before long into the rain. 

Worriedly, 

Winn