One Came Home Guilt and Blame Quotes

Agatha smiled. She patted the bed. I knew what that meant, even though she hadn't done it since I was eight or so. I jumped into the center and arranged myself cross-legged. She climbed up and kneeled behind me. She undid my braids. Then she rested one hand on the crown of my head and used the other to drag a brush through my hair. Tingling ran through my body. I closed my eyes. It was going to be all right now. She'd forgiven me. I knew it. (3.23)

"But let me describe my particular state: I saw the two of you kiss. I told Mr. Olmstead. Mr. Olmstead threw over Agatha. Then Agatha ran off. There's a direct correlation between my telling and Agatha's leaving. If my sister is dead, I bear responsibility. If you think I'm going to accept a piecemeal body as evidence of my sister's death, you do not know me at all. Now, I've got money for a horse." (4.52)

The worst part (and the part I never wanted to admit) was that a moment before I spoke to Mr. Olmstead, I knew I shouldn't say a word. But up until that moment, I possessed absolute certainty of the rightness of my cause. I would have said, with confidence, that my sister was seeing Mr. Olmstead for his library. (Beware of such convictions, for they are fraught with peril.) (10.49)

Anyway, what did it matter what the kiss meant? If I hadn't told Mr. Olmstead, my sister would still be in Placid, her funeral would not have been held, and I would not be out here searching for her. (10.79)

I heard a half-strangled sound and then Billy began to sob.

I fidgeted for a moment. People don't come to me for comfort and consolation. I don't know why. They don't, is all. But it had led me to conclude that I had no talent for it. Right then, though? I was it. Buck up, I said to myself. I went over, sat down next to him, and laid my hand on his shoulder (like I'd seen others do).

"I can't get her back," he said into his knees. (15.34-36)

But this time it would be the blood of a man, and not a pigeon.

He deserved it—he killed Agatha, I thought.

My index finger wrapped around the trigger.

How can you be so sure? It was Agatha's voice singing in my head as clear as any spring cardinal's. (17.87-90)

"You manipulated me?" I said.

He did not answer.

"Used me? Answer me, Billy. If it's the last thing you do, you tell me."

Billy opened his mouth. "Yes..."

I stood up and looked down at him prone on the ground, so weak—nearly dead, as far as I could tell.

"So, so sorry… why I came here. To make up."

I stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Finally, I said: "You did not show love to my sister. You never cared for me. You talk to your maker about it." And I walked off. (18.49-55)

I looked into those blue eyes. "I shouldn't have told you."

"No. I should have listened to Agatha when she explained. I was jealous of her relationship with Billy. If I'm honest." (19.47-48)

Awkwardness abounded. You can read my face like a book, and Billy did. "I'm not here to cause grief. I've done enough. I know it." (21.27)

"Heedless girl," said Aunt Cleo.

"She doesn't know the half of it," said Ma.

I stood slack-jawed. Then I rammed my knee hard into the counter. "I hate her. She deceived us," I said. (23.23-25)