by Lisa Kleypas
"Just stay away from him, please."
"Shhh. I won't go near him. Don't fret." Addie waited until Leah fell into a troubled sleep. Then she stood up and walked over to the window staring outside. She remembered a leathery face the color of tobacco, and startling emerald eyes. Had that old man stared at her like that because she resembled Adeline Warner? She wondered how close the likeness might be. Never having seen any pictures of her, Addie had only Leah's assurances that she looked like Adeline. There were no photographs, no keepsakes, nothing to prove that Adeline Warner had ever existed, save a carefully inscribed name in the family Bible.
Disappeared. How could someone disappear without a trace? Every time she'd heard mention of the missing Adeline, the mystery of it had fascinated her. Today was the first time she'd ever heard about Ben Hunter having something to do with it. Unable to contain her curiosity, she pressed Leah about it when she brought in her dinner tray that night.
"Just how much am I like Adeline?"
"I've always said you're the living image of her."
"No, I don't mean looks. I mean the way she was. Do I ever act like she did, or talk the way she did? Do I like some of the same things?"
"What strange questions to be asking, Addie. What does it matter how much like her you are?"
Addie stretched out at the foot of the bed, smiling lazily. "I don't really know. Just curious."
"I guess I can tell you a few things. You're very different from Adeline Warner, honey. There was something a little wild about her, something exciting, and it didn't sit well on a girl her age. She was spoiled by everybody. " Leah paused and her eyes became soft and distant. "Adeline was sweet as sugar when she got her own way, and that was pretty often. But there were things about her that made me uneasy. I was fascinated by Aunt Adeline, thought she was the most beautiful woman alive, even more beautiful than my mother. But she was a schemer. And people never seemed to mean as much to her as money."
"Did people like her?"
"Goodness, yes. All the Warners doted on her. Her father was just wild about her. She was Grampa Warner's favorite child, even though Cade was his only son. And every man in the county fell in love with her sooner or later. The men went crazy for her. And 0l' Man Johnson-when he was young, he lost his head over her, never did recover from her disappearing like that. She had him in her spell, just like she had everyone else."
"Definitely not like me," Addie said ruefully, and chuckled. "Now, if only I looked like Mary Pickford, no man around here would stand a chance."
"You don't give yourself the chance, honey. The only men you see are the ones in the hospital. Veterans of the war. Crippled and tired men-it's not good that you spend all your spare time nursing and taking care of them. You should be visiting with young men your own age. Going to dances and parties instead of hiding here with me."
"Hiding?" Addie repeated the word indignantly. "I am not hiding from anything. I like to spend my time with you."
"But there are times when you could call one of the neighbors to come and stay with me a few hours. You don't have to be here all the time."
"You're talking like it's a terrible chore to be here with you. But you're the only family I have. I owe you everything. "
"I wish you wouldn't say that." Leah turned her attention to the dinner tray and salted everything on the plate with a heavy hand. "I wish I could know I've done right by you. I don't want you to wind up an old maid, Addie. You should be married and have children."
"If the Lord intends that, he'll send the right man along-"
"Yes, but you'll be so busy taking care of me, someone else'll get him."
Addie laughed. "One thing's for sure. If I do end up married, it won't be to anyone I've met so far. There's no one in Sunrise I'd have as a husband. And the only new man in town is Ben Hunter."
"Don't tease about him. He worries me. Even if you hadn't told me he was here, I'd still know something was wrong. It's like a shadow's fallen over the town."
"Isn't that strange? I feel like something's different in the air too. Like something's waiting to happen. Now that Ben Hunter's returned, wouldn't it be funny if the old Adeline suddenly appeared after fifty years of being missing?"
"She'll never come back," Leah said with utter certainty.
"Why not? Do you think he killed her?"
Leah was quiet for a long time, her gaze becoming distant. "I've thought about it for years. I think her disappearing like that bothered me more than anyone except her daddy. I never stopped wondering what happened on that day she vanished. It's haunted me all my life. I think something strange happened to her, something different from being killed or kidnapped, or running away, like most folks said. People just don't disappear like that, not without some clue about what became of them."
"So you don't think Ben Hunter killed her?"
"I don't think he knew anything about what happened to her."
Addie felt a little chill chase down her spine. "It's like a ghost story."
"There's someone I always wanted to talk to about it-one of the old cowpunchers at the Sunrise Ranch, a man by the name of Diaz. A superstitious old Mexican who had his own ideas about such things. Everyone used to love to hear his stories. He'd talk for hours about stars, magic spells, and ghosts, just about anything you could think of. Sometimes he could predict the future, and more often than not it'd come true. "
Addie grinned. "How? Did he look into a crystal ball or something?" -
"I don't know how. Diaz was just odd. He could make the craziest things seem natural, and since he believed in them, he could almost make you believe too. But he left the ranch for good before I could work up enough nerve to ask him what he thought about Aunt Adeline disappearing. "
"That's too bad," Addie said pensively. "It would be interesting to know what he would have said."
"It sure would."
Addie went out on Friday with Bernie Coleman to see the new all-talking feature at the movie house. Mr. Turner, the theater owner, had just installed sound equipment last year, and the whole town of Sunrise went enthusiastically to see the latest pictures. Coquette was Mary Pickford's first talkie, and Addie had been enchanted not only by the fine acting but also by Mary's new bobbed hairstyle.
"I think I'll get my hair cut short and curly," she mused as Bernie walked her home, and he laughed, leaning close and pretending to examine her straight honey-brown hair.
"You with her curls? That's the limit."
Addie smiled at him, wrinkling her nose. "I could get a permanent wave."
"Baby, compared to you, Mary Pickford's not so hot."
"You're sweet," she said, and laughed as she slipped her hand into his. On the outside, Bernie was slick and sophisticated. He tried to seem bored by everything, tried to view the world through jaded eyes, but Addie had long ago discovered the streak of kindness in him. No matter how well he hid it from others, Addie had seen on occasion that Bernie was tenderhearted, the kind of man that couldn't stand to see a hurt animal or an unhappy child. Because of his family's money and his blond good looks, he was considered to be a handsome catch, but Addie had no designs on him. That was, perhaps, why he was so interested in her. Men always seemed to want what they couldn't have.
Bernie's hand tightened around hers as they neared her house at the end of the street. Instead of leading her to the front doorstep, he took her into the shadows beyond the glow of the porch light. "Bernie, what are you doing?" Addie questioned, giggling. "This grass is wet, and my shoes-"
"Sign off for a minute, baby." He held a finger to her lips. "I want a few seconds alone with you."
Addie bit his finger playfully. "We could go in the house. Leah's upstairs, probably asleep."
"You're not the same in the house. You change into another girl as soon as you walk through the door." "I do?" She stared at him quizzically, more than a little surprised.
"Yes, you do. You get all dull and serious. I like you when you're dizzy and fun. You should be like this
all the time."
"I can't be dizzy and fun all the time," Addie said with an impish smile. "I've got to work sometimes. I've got to worry sometimes. It's part of being an adult. "
"You're the only girl I know who talks like that." She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his smooth cheek. "That's why you like me, slicker. I'm a novelty for you. "
"This is why I like you," he said, bending his head and kissing her. The feel of his mouth on hers was pleasant. To her, their kisses were friendly gestures, casual signs of affection. To Bernie, they were promises of better things to come.
Long ago Bernie had become aware that Addie didn't intend to let him go any further than this. But that didn't stop him from trying. In his mind there were two kinds of women, the ones he respected and the ones he didn't. In a way, he rather liked Addie the way she was. But if she ever did let him go as far as he wanted with her, it would be his dream-come-true to make her into the kind of woman he didn't respect.
"Addie," he said roughly, holding her tighter, "When are you going to say yes to me? When are you going to start living? Why don't you and I-"
"Because," she said, sighing ruefully. "Just because. Maybe I'm being a silly romantic, but I just think we should feel more for each other than this, if we were going to be closer."
"Things could be so good between us. I wouldn't ever hurt you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he pressed soft kisses on her lips. "I want to be the one to make you a woman. I know you haven't ever trusted anyone enough. But it'll be right for you and me, so damn natural and good. Addie… "
She twisted out of his arms with a choked laugh.
"Bernie, stop. I'm not ready for that, not with anyone. I… " She looked around and chuckled nervously, lowering her voice. "I can't believe we're having this conversation on the front lawn. I'll bet all the neighbors are listening. “
But he didn't share her amusement. He stared at her solemnly. "All I know is that something's wrong with a girl who locks herself away from life the way you do."
The accusation hurt. "I don't," she protested, more bewildered than angry. "Bernie, what's wrong? Just a minute ago, we were laughing-"
"Are you holding out for marriage?" he asked bluntly. "Is that why you won't make love with me?"
'I don't want to marry anyone. And I don't want to be anyone's… you know. I don't feel that way with you. I like you, Bernie, but there has to be more. That doesn't mean I'm locking myself away from life."
"It does." His faced reflected his frustration. "The only people you care about in the world are your aunt and yourself, and the rest of us can go to hell."
"That's not true!"
"You don't connect with people," Bernie continued relentlessly. "You're in your own private world, and the only one you let in is Leah. But when she's gone, there won't be anyone for you. You've cut us all out. You won't give and you won't take."
"Stop it!" Suddenly the things he said were unbearable. She hated him for telling her, even if he was right. "I don't want to hear any more. And I don't want to see you again. "
"If this is all I'll ever get from you, the feeling is mutual, baby."
Addie backed away from him and fled up the steps, her eyes watering. In the morning, all she said to Leah about the date was that she and Bernie were finished. Leah was sensitive enough to keep from asking questions, seeming to understand what had happened without being told.
Over the next few days Addie didn't have time to think about Bernie. She was too busy taking care of Leah. There was no way to deny that time was catching up to Leah very quickly. It would not be held off much longer, not by medicine or prayers, not even by Leah's will to live. Daily the older woman 'was growing weaker and less interested in what was going on around her. Although this end was what Doc Haskin had led her to expect, Addie was moved by fear and helpless frustration to send for him.
The elderly doctor did nothing but sit by Leah's bed and talk to her quietly, his presence temporarily banishing her confusion and dullness of spirit. The sight of her aunt's feeble smile sent Addie's spirits soaring, which made it that much more difficult to bear what Doc Haskin said to her after he had left Leah's room.
"Not much more time, Addie."
"But… she's going to hold on a little longer. She's already looking better-"
"She's accepted what's going to happen," he said in his kindly way, his face as brown and wrinkled as a nutshell, creased with sympathy. A shock of silver hair fell over his brow as he looked down at her. "You'd better try to do the same. Help her go easy. Don't fight it. "
"Don't fight it? Don't… God in heaven, what are you saying? Don't you have anything that can help her? Some stronger medicine or-"
"I won't give you a lecture, my girl. I can't tell you anything about her you don't already know. All I can say is, it's going to be soon, and you should get ready for it."
Stricken, she turned away from him and tried to stifle the choking feeling that had risen in her throat. It was panic she was holding back, a primitive panic that would not be eased with any words of kindness. She felt Doc's frail hand on her shoulder, and heard his words as if he were standing far away from her.
"We've each got our time to live out on this earth, child. Some have more than others, but we all know when it's over. Leah's led the best life she could, and the Lord knows that. There's nothing for her to be afraid of, and nothing for you to do but follow her example. You've got the rest of your time to get through. "
Addie struggled to explain the terrible suspicion lurking in her heart. "Not without her. I'm afraid… "
"Afraid of her dying?"
"Y-yes. Oh, not about what'll happen to her… I know she's going to a better place, where there'll be no pain or… but without her, there's no reason for me to be here."
"Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. You're an important part of Sunrise. You belong here just as much as everyone else does."
"Yes," she whispered, biting back the burning words: I don't feel that way. I don't belong. She couldn't say it out loud. Ducking her head, she let herself cry, and Doc Haskin left her with a brief pat on the shoulder.
Addie could not fall asleep that night. Perhaps it was the pattering rain and claps of thunder, perhaps the gnawing worries about Leah, but she could barely keep her eyes closed. She jumped up and went to the next room to check on Leah every few minutes. There was an almost imperceptible shifting of her body, a restless twitching of her hands. Addie stared down at the white fingers plucking at the bedspread, and she put her hand over Leah's, hoping to calm it. So cold. Her skin feels cold.
Mechanically she straightened the covers and tucked them more tightly around Leah's shoulders. As she walked back to her room, Addie shivered. She felt strange tonight, light-headed, her heart beating rapidly, her very soul trembling with an unfamiliar emotion. She prayed feverishly, with words childlike in their simplicity. Please bless Leah. Please take her pain away. Help me to be brave. Help me to know what to do.
After minutes of kneeling by the bed with her hands clasped, Addie discovered the right side of her face was flattened against the mattress. She had nearly fallen asleep. One more check on Leah and she'd be able to nod off. Groggily she staggered up and went into the next room once more, standing by the bed. Leah was utterly still. The twitching had stopped.
"Leah? Are you all right?"
She touched Leah's hand. Waxen, still. Addie had seen that look before in the hospital. Her mind knew what it meant, but her heart denied it desperately. She needed Leah. Leah was her family, her responsibility, her comforter. With dreadful reluctance Addie circled her fingers around the boneless wrist, searching for a pulse. There was no throbbing there, nothing. She was dead.
"Oh, no. Oh, no." Slowly she backed away from the bed, unable to believe Leah was finally gone. The blow of it was worse than she had feared. Greater than the pain was the emptiness of knowing she would never talk to Leah again or be able to run to her for comfort.
The walls around her seemed to turn into the sides of a tomb. Panicking, Addie fled down the stairs and to the front door, fumbling with the knob and gulping back her sobs as it refused to turn. She tightened her grip on it and tried again, and then the door was opening and she was outside.
Holding on to one of the front porch columns, she was drenched by sheets of cold rain. Her nightgown was heavy as it clung to her body. Since the house sat just on the edge of Sunrise, Addie could see the town stretched out before her, the outlines of buildings and automobiles, the shine of wet pavement and the tiny distant figures of couples crossing the street. She leaned against the scratchy wooden post, feeling the coldness of the rain on her face. "Leah," she said, and her eyes brimmed with salty tears. "Oh, Leah."
Then slowly Addie became aware that someone was near, watching her. She had felt that gaze on her before, she recognized the chilling touch of it. She opened her eyes to look at him. Old Ben Hunter. He was standing in the street about ten feet away, his iron gray hair plastered to his head and dripping with water. In her shock, she didn't question how he had come to be there.
"Adeline. Adeline, where have you been?"
Addie shuddered. The dream, she thought. Standing with her arms wrapped around a post for support, she stared at the old man while the wind whipped against her face. The taste of grief was bitter in her mouth, the salt of tears fresh on her lips.
"There's no reason to come back." Her voice shook violently. "No Warners are left. What do you want?"
He seemed confused by her anger.
"Murderer," she whispered. "I hope you suffered for what you did to the Warners. I would've made you pay back then, if I'd been around fifty years ago."
It seemed that he tried to speak, but no words would escape. Suddenly Addie knew what he wanted to say, she could see the thought in his mind as if it were her thought too, and her face whitened with fear.
But you were around, Adeline. You were there. Paralyzed, she gripped the post and tried to say a prayer. Far down the street she could see people rushing through the storm from one building to another, dark shadow figures that became so blurred she couldn't tell how many there were. Addie was disoriented. The ground tilted and came up to meet her, and she could hear her own cry as she fell. The sound echoed through the darkness, a gentle darkness that swept over her in an inexorable tide. There was no fear or pain, only confusion. She could feel the world slipping away from her, leaving her in a dark void. Thoughts she didn't understand raced through her mind, thoughts that were not her own.