Epilogue
Boston, July 1873
“Anja.”
She awoke to the sound of her name on his lips, felt Caleb’s warm breath tease her ear, and tried to ignore his summons, nearly an impossible feat, since she was lying with her head on his shoulder. The shrill complaint from the nursery continued, as did Caleb’s insistent nudges. Analisa groaned and lifted her head, only to move away from him and seek her own pillow. Its surface was crisp and cool, and she nestled down into it with a sigh. She soon felt the mattress rise as Caleb left it, and heard him pad across the carpet toward the nursery door. She smiled to herself and relished the few moments’ reprieve. Her actions were not entirely fair, for she knew that Caleb would eventually give in to his daughter’s demands for attention. He spoiled Annika Storm outrageously.
Dragging herself to a sitting position, she pulled the sheet over her breasts and tried to finger-comb her wild hair into some semblance of order. She tossed it back over her shoulder, so that it would be out of the way of the baby’s grasping fingers.
Naked, his daughter riding high against his shoulder, Caleb strode across the room. The baby squealed with delight when she saw her mother and smiled wide enough to show off all four of her teeth. Analisa reached up to take the kicking, laughing child from Caleb before he slipped back into bed beside them.
Annika Marieke Storm, or Annemeke, as they all called her, was now ten months old and possessed her parents’ deep blue eyes, her mother’s honey-colored curls, a lighter shade of her father’s warm-toned skin, and her step-brother’s ready smile. Above all, she possessed all of their hearts.
Conceived in the Dakotas, Annika had been born in Boston here in the Storm mansion. At Caleb’s insistence, Analisa was attended by the best doctor money could provide. The baby was born on October 7, 1872, exactly nine months to the day of her conception. Her “Granny Ruth,” as Ruth Storm insisted she be called from that day forward, announced that Annika was a Libra, and told Analisa that her daughter had been born with the ruling planet of Venus, to which Analisa shrugged, knowing it was useless to try and understand.
Now Annika bounced happily from Caleb to Analisa as he contorted his mouth into various comic expressions with the aid of his index fingers. Soon Analisa was laughing as well, more at her daughter’s shrieking cries than at Caleb’s antics.
Finally the teasing ended, and Annika found a soft spot between them and settled down quietly again, to sleep for another hour or so. Analisa played with the baby’s fine-textured curls and watched as they looped about her fingers.
“Anja?” Caleb hesitated as if he sought a way to put his thoughts into words, “are you happy here?”
She looked around the massive room they had shared for a year now and wondered how anyone could ever admit to not being happy here. Theirs was the master suite, consisting of not one, but four rooms—a bedroom, sitting room, dressing room, and nursery—all of them appointed with furnishings fit for a palace. When they moved into the mansion, Caleb had told Analisa to decorate the rooms in any way she saw fit, but she doubted that she could improve on the tasteful royal blues and greens that Ruth had chosen before her.
Beyond their suite was a wide hallway. Kase was ensconced in Caleb’s old room, which was still filled with the collection of Sioux implements and beadwork items. Ruth’s sitting room and bedroom were at the opposite end of the hall; three guest rooms completed the second floor.
The night they had arrived in Boston, Analisa had wandered from room to room, unable to believe the size, elegance, and grandeur of her new home.
“I told you it was big ...” Caleb had shrugged and reminded her.
“You did not say it was a castle, Caleb!”
For weeks she had roamed about, lost in the various twists and turns of the hallways and stairways, searching for something to occupy her time.
Abbie’s domain was the huge kitchen on the first floor with its massive brick fireplace. The room was larger than the entire soddie had been, but here Analisa found a ready companion in Abbie and so spent as much time in the kitchen as any place else while Caleb was at work. When Abbie finally agreed to allow Analisa to bake, she showed the old woman her gratitude by teaching her all her Dutch favorites. Abbie reciprocated by showing Analisa how to make Caleb’s favorite pies and Cornish pasties.
The library had offered her solace, especially during the last weeks before Analisa delivered Annika. Often she would curl up in Clinton Storm’s huge leather armchair and read for hours while Ruth sat across the room and muttered over her own work. Analisa had neither the talent nor the desire to learn the complicated method by which Ruth plotted the astrology charts.
“Anja? You haven’t answered my question.” Caleb prodded her back to the issue at hand.
Was she happy? She wasn’t unhappy, she thought with a heavy sigh, but if she were to tell him the absolute truth, she would have to admit that, for her, life here was almost too placid, too orderly, too—boring.
He heard the sigh and smiled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.
“I’ve been offered a job,” he began and felt her staring at him with rapt attention, “but I told them that it would be up to my wife.”
“What kind of a job?”
With that he rolled to his side to face her and pulled the sheet up to cover the sleeping child between them.
“If you’re against it, Anja, just say the word and I’ll tell them no.
“What kind of a job?” she repeated.
“Francis Walker is the new head of the BIA. Naturally I thought he wouldn’t want any of Parker’s men around once he took over, but he called me in to see if I’d agree to go back out to the Indian territories again—this time out near the Black Hills.” She heard his excitement mount as he explained, “Settlers are encroaching on the lands that have always been sacred to the Sioux. He wants someone out there who can work with both sides, maybe help ease the pressure. After Hardy was prosecuted so swiftly, thanks to our evidence, and after the successful negotiations with Red Dog’s band, well ...” He shrugged, modestly proud of his accomplishments. “Who else would they ask?”
She could not keep her eyes from straying to the jagged scar that marred the otherwise flawless skin on his chest. He would carry it forever, a memento of his assignment for Ely Parker. She looked up into his eyes and saw what she knew she would find. They were alight with excitement as he spoke of the challenge he would face working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs again.
“Fine. When do we go?” What else could she say?
Caleb went on as if he hadn’t heard. “He thought that maybe if ... What did you say?”
“I said fine. When do we go?”
He propped his head on his hand and rested on his elbow. “Are you sure? I know I’m asking you to give up a lot.”
“I’m sure.” She reached out to smooth his hair away from his forehead and trace the outline of his jaw with her fingertips. “I think you already knew what I would say, Caleb.”
He nodded and turned his head in order to kiss the palm of her hand.
“I’ve seen that look in your eyes, Anja. You miss it, too, don’t you?”
“Ja. I miss it.” Her eyes took on a faraway look, and she glanced toward the open window. Fresh July sunlight poured in and splashed across the shining border of hardwood floor then crept along the carpet. Traffic noise drifted up from the street below along with the early morning cries of the vendors who peddled their wares to the housekeepers in the big homes along the avenue.
“I miss the open sky and the peace of the prairie, Caleb. I didn’t know how much I loved it until we left. It is too crowded here, so many people and carriages, trains and buildings. I long for the earth and sky that stretch out far and away, so far until they come together.”
As she put her thoughts into words she could almost feel the never-ending breeze and smell the tall waving grasses after a summer storm. She looked forward to seeing Sophie and
Jon once more and caring for her own home again. She wanted to till the soil, to struggle and work and fall into bed exhausted and pleased with her accomplishments.
Analisa knew that Ruth would not be opposed to moving west with them. Not only was she attached to the children, but over the past year, she had continued to receive numerous letters from Frank Williamson.
“What about your business?” she asked Caleb after a time.
“I’ll transfer my clients to another firm.” He shrugged and voiced the truth. “There aren’t that many to lose. Let’s face it, there isn’t much demand around Boston for a lawyer who’s half Indian, even if his last name is Storm.”
“Caleb”—she suddenly straightened—“why can’t you practice law out West? Isn’t there a need for someone like you? You can be an Indian lawyer.”
“I am an Indian lawyer.”
She sighed with exasperation. “I mean a lawyer for the Indians.”
“I’ve thought about it,” he assured her.
“Tell them yes.” Analisa was up and moving. Her pale backside flashed in the shaft of sunlight as she hurried toward the dressing room.
Caleb was having a hard time keeping up with her train of thought.
“Tell who yes?” he called out in a hushed tone, trying not to awaken Annika, who slept on oblivious to their discussion.
Analisa’s head appeared around the open doorway as she shrugged on her dressing gown and belted it tight around her trim waist.
“Tell the BIA yes.”
She moved around the end of the massive cherry wood bed and sat on the edge nearest him and soon found herself trapped in the circle of his arms.
“I didn’t realize you hated all of this luxury so much,” he teased as he nibbled on her earlobe.
“I do not hate it. It is just very ... orderly ... and boring.”
She found it hard to talk while his tongue did delicious things to her ear. His lips soon found their way down the slender column of her throat and then played at the edge of her gaping robe.
“Next time you’re bored, ma’am, please let me know.” His hand strayed before it slid lower.
“Ja.” Analisa untied the sash and let her gown slip off her shoulders. “I will do that.” Before he could stop her, she twisted out of his grasp and, in a graceful movement, seductively reclined on the thick Persian carpet beside the bed. She lifted her arms in a tempting invitation for him to join her there.
“Don’t be boring, Mr. Storm. Or is it Señtor de la Vega? Or Raven’s Shadow? Come down here so that you will not awaken the baby.”
“I always aim to please, ma’am.” He smiled and moved to join her.
SUNFLOWER
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1988 by Jill Marie Landis.
Cover Design By: Stephanie Chang Design, Ink. Honolulu
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Sunflower Page 43