ANNIE AND THE OUTLAW

by Sharon Sala

  Gabe went weak. Last phases of her illness. He felt himself sliding down the wall with the receiver still held against his ear. Only a matter of time.

  He knew he must have been saying all the right things, because he vaguely remembered hearing Dr. Barnes telling him to call if he needed advice, then hanging up. But the memory of what he'd said was gone. All he could hear was the echo of Dr. Barnes's statement… "It's only a matter of time … only a matter of time."

  "Oh, damn … oh, Annie. Not my Annie."

  But there was no one around to refute the horror of what he'd learned. Only an overwhelming sickness that kept threatening to engulf him.

  The edge of the chair rubbed the back of his legs, just at the bend of his knees. Luckily for Gabe, it stopped his fall. He found himself sitting in it rather than sliding all the way to the floor, and was oddly thankful for its unexpected presence. It was a less-compromising position in which to be as Annie walked back into the house, calling his name.

  "Gabe, where did you…?"

  Whatever she'd been about to ask was lost as she walked into the room and saw him sitting in the chair with the telephone receiver lying on his lap. His long, jeans-clad legs were stretched out in front of him, as if bracing him against sliding out of the chair. As usual, he'd rolled up the sleeves of his long-sleeved gray shirt and had only buttoned it halfway, revealing more o the taut muscles across his chest and belly than would have been considered polite out in public.

  Annie smiled. She knew Gabe. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look that Gabriel Donner cared little for society's demands. And because she knew him so well, she saw past the obvious to the shock on his face and felt an unnamed fear.

  "What is it? Is something wrong?"

  Gabe couldn't answer. All he could do was look at her and remember the doctor's words. It's only a matter of time. It's only a matter of…

  He loved that dress she was wearing. The skirt was softly flared and moved with her body as she walked. The sleeve-less bodice showed off her narrow waist and slender, tanned arms to perfection. The narrow red-and-white stripes that ran throughout the fabric reminded him of peppermint sticks, one of the few Christmas presents that he'd ever received as a child back in the Territory. Her hair was loose and full around her face, and bounced when she walked like the coils of a spring. Her eyes were sparkling with joy, full of … life?

  "When the hell were you going to tell me?"

  The question was harsh, the words guttural, torn from deep inside in short, jerky clumps.

  Annie took a step backward in defense against the unexpected anger of his attack.

  "What are you talking about?" she asked. "I already told you why Davie comes to the house … and why you have to leave. I thought you understood."

  Gabe tried to smile. But the smile was lost as he was forced to grit his teeth to keep from shouting at her. Rage and an ungovernable sense of injustice swept over him.

  He picked up the phone and held it out to her in a taunting gesture. "You missed your call," he said harshly.

  Annie felt sick. She didn't know what had happened, but whatever it was, she knew it had made Gabriel as angry as she'd ever seen a man.

  "Did they leave a number?" she asked.

  Gabe laughed harshly, but the joke was on himself. "No. You already have the number." He stood up jerkily. "In fact, you have everybody's number, as well as all the answers … don't you? The only problem is, you just weren't of a mind to share."

  She was afraid. What terrible thing had happened that had changed Gabe from the tender lover of last night to the cold, angry man standing before her now?

  "What are you talking about?" Annie asked. "And stop shouting at me, damn it! You're scaring me."

  Her chin trembled, but she held her ground. And as her words hit home, she watched Gabe's defenses crumble.

  "Well, excuse the hell out of me, darlin'," he whispered sarcastically, and wiped a shaky hand across his eyes, as if trying to remove the traces of what he'd learned from his mind. It was no use. He knew that the horror of the last few minutes would stay with him forever.

  "Who called?" Annie asked.

  His hands trembled, and he shook his head, as if in denial of her question. His arms dropped limply to his sides as he stared at her.

  Annie watched his eyes turn cold, boring into her until she couldn't look away. Finally he answered.

  "It was your doctor."

  She turned pale. "Dr. Pope?"

  "No, Annie. Dr. Barnes. Dr. Peter Barnes from Oklahoma City. You missed your last two appointments."

  Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Understanding began to invade her mind. In sudden terror she started to shake.

  "When were you going to tell him that you'd moved, Annie? Or were you planning to give him a dose of the same medicine you've been giving me and just wait? Were you going to let us find out the hard way? Were you going to wait until you died in my arms and he read it in a paper somewhere?"

  "Oh … my … God."

  Her worst fears had been realized. He knew! The room began to spin around her.

  Gabe grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her toward him, pressing her intimately against him in fierce denial of what he'd learned.

  "Annie." Her name was torn from his lips. "Please! Tell me it isn't so!"

  Gabe winced as she buried her face in her hands. He knew then that every harsh word, every cruel accusation he'd uttered, was true. He heard her struggling to breathe past the overwhelming shock and realized that he'd gone too far.

  "Dear God, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it … not like this. But have mercy, Annie…" His lips moved across her cheeks as he shoved her hands away from her face and made her look at him. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

  "No."

  He groaned. The pain of her admission nearly doubled him over.

  "Why?" he begged as his thumbs traced the tracks of her tears.

  Her voice shook as her hands wrapped around the edges of his vest, holding on to the only stable thing in her world. Holding on to Gabe.

  "I only wanted your love, Gabriel. Not your pity. If I'd told you … I couldn't have had the one without the other. It was my choice to make. I made it. You don't have to approve … but you have to understand." And then her voice broke as she clutched at him. "Tell me you understand."

  Blind to everything but the pain in her voice and the touch of her hands, Gabe wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her.

  "I can't believe Dr. Barnes told you," Annie whispered, as Gabe's hands stroked across the width of her back in a gentling motion. "He shouldn't have. He wasn't supposed to tell."

  He drew back. The guilt on his face was impossible to miss.

  "He didn't actually come right out and say it. Mostly I tricked him into believing I already knew what was wrong. What he said was too simple to miss. What he didn't say was impossible to ignore."

  "Damn you," she said, and struggled to pull away from his touch. "I needed to do this by myself."

  Gabe shook. "Why, Annie? Why cheat the people who care for you most?"

  She shrugged and looked away.

  "Because … ultimately, Gabe, no one can help me do this. It's a trip I'll have to make alone."

  His eyes closed in sudden shame. The truth of her statement was too close for comfort. And then the need to know more—to know everything about this woman—drove him on.

  "Exactly what is wrong with you?" Gabe asked.

  "What did the doctor say?" she countered.

  "That it was only a matter of time."

  The words hung heavily between them. Annie struggled through the anger and injustice of the moment to find the right way to say what was in her heart. Finally she decided there was no easy way to say what had to be said and just started talking.

  "There is something growing inside my head that doesn't belong there. A tumor. Ultimately, it will kill me."

  Gabe groaned softly and threaded his hands through the thick ta
ngles of her hair, feeling the silky strands bounce against his fingers and wondering, as he did, how something this beautiful could hide something so unwanted and ugly.

  Annie closed her eyes, relishing the touch of Gabe's hands as she continued, letting everything spill out in a rush before she lost her nerve.

  "It will only get worse, and, in time, one of the episodes will be my last."

  At the moment the words were uttered, Gabe saw her wilt. It was then that he knew what strength of character, what strength of will, it had taken her to hide the fears she'd been living with.

  He had a sudden flashback to the Sunday morning weeks ago when they'd gone to church. He remembered how quiet and uptight she'd been on the way. And then how she'd focused on the pastor's every word, and the intense way she'd had of fastening to every nuance of his voice. He remembered the books that he'd seen and the way she'd reacted to his discovery of them. The way she hid her pain and denied the reasons for its existence. Suddenly it all became clear.

  Annie was afraid to die! He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. And in that moment, he also knew why God had sent him back to her. If there was anyone on earth who could show Annie O'Brien how to die, it would be him. After all, he'd been where no living man had gone before and returned to tell the tale. He alone knew the beauty and the peace of what awaited Annie.

  He slid his arms around her waist and held her close as she tried to regain her composure.

  "It'll be all right, darlin'," he whispered. "I promise. It'll be all right."

  "I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want you to feel sorry for me. If you couldn't stay with me when I was well, then you shouldn't stay with me just because I am… Just because I will…"

  "I came back, didn't I?"

  She grew quiet, then finally nodded.

  "I came back before I knew the truth, too, didn't I, lady?"

  She nodded again.

  "Then you can't tell me … you can't accuse me … of staying out of pity. I came back because I had to, Annie. I came back because leaving you behind became impossible to bear."

  Annie began to sob.

  "Life isn't fair," she said, and felt his arms as they enfolded her.

  Gabe closed his eyes and buried his lips in the crown of her hair. Together they stood, rocking back and forth within each other's embrace, and knew the full measure of troth in Annie's words.

  Life was anything but fair. But it was for the living. And if ft was the last thing he did, he would make damn sure that Annie O'Brien's last days on earth were full and perfect.

  * * *

  "Gabe, this is crazy."

  Annie's hissed complaint was coupled with a soft giggle as she bumped into his backside when he stopped unexpectedly on the path in front of her.

  "Slow down, woman," he teased, and then peered carefully through the inky darkness of the trees before them, searching for the path that had been highlighted only moments earlier by moonlight. "That damn cloud came out of nowhere," he muttered, wishing again that he'd thought to bring a flashlight.

  But when they'd left the security of Annie's house for their nighttime excursion to the hilltop behind her home, there hadn't been a cloud in the sky. Only the bright, beaming face of a three-quarter moon shining down to light the way.

  Annie smiled to herself and hooked her fingers over the waistband of his jeans. "Whither thou goest and all that stuff," she said.

  At that moment the cloud slid away, and the moonlight illuminated Annie's face. She seemed rejuvenated by the short respite.

  Finally," Gabe muttered, and started back up the path through the trees, hurrying now that the light had returned, anxious to get where they were going before it disappeared altogether.

  The safe thing to do would have been to return to the house, retrieve the flashlight he'd left behind and ventured back through the trees with light in hand. But safe wasn't necessarily the wisest move. Not anymore. A man—or a woman, as the case might be—could waste precious hours practicing safety. When there were no hours left to waste, safety could go begging.

  Annie's pulse quickened with excitement as well as apprehension. She could see only as far as Gabriel's ramrod straight back. She had to squint to see the slim, muscled curve of his buttocks, as well as the long, lean legs she knew were there. He was too big, and it was too dark to see more. But it was her opinion that there were a lot of worse things than having to look at his backside.

  She hooked her fingers a little tighter in the belt loop on the back of his jeans and let him lead her up the slow, sloping Missouri hillside toward the bald knob, framed by a ring of trees that shone silver in the moonlight.

  "We're here."

  This time, when he stopped, she was ready. She unhooked her fingers and then turned, looking for the first time down the hillside toward the shallow valley where night shadows hid everything but the highest treetops from view.

  She turned in place until she'd made a complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. And when she had, she found herself looking up into his face. From the shadowed expression he was wearing, Annie realized that he was anxiously awaiting her verdict. It wasn't long in coming.

  "Oh! Oh, Gabe! It's so beautiful!"

  His smile was a slice of silver in the moonlight as he grinned at her delight.

  "Then it was worth the climb?"

  She threw her arms around his neck. "It was worth everything," she said. "I've lived here all my life, and I never—absolutely never—knew that this place was so beautiful in the dark."

  Gabe slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, letting himself revel in the way she melted against him with no reservations.

  "I just wanted you to know you don't have to be afraid, Annie. The dark isn't something to fear. It's just another way of looking at the world in which we live."

  She sighed and smiled through her tears, unwilling for him to know how moved she was by his constant need to lessen her fears of her final destination.

  "You don't fool me," she said as she watched him move away from her and begin spreading a quilt that he'd brought with them on the ground. "You just can't wait to get me naked."

  Surprise came swiftly, followed by a desire so fierce that he nearly choked on the sound of his own laughter. He took a deep breath and hoped that she hadn't noticed. If he hadn't known himself better, he might have thought it sounded like a sob.

  But Gabe didn't cry. He hadn't cried in so long that he'd completely forgotten what it even felt like. He vaguely remembered that, as a child, he'd cried once for a beating he hadn't deserved. But that was long ago in the Kansas Territory. Long before he'd taken that wrong road and gotten himself into the mess that had started this whole cycle of regret. Long, long ago, before Annie.

  The quilt was a pattern of smoky shadows—pale, fuzzy blues, foggy whites and misty yellows—densely bordered with darker shadows of reds and browns that looked black in the moonlight. It made a perfect bed upon which to lie.

  Annie stepped out of her slippers and then walked into the center of the patchwork pattern, doing a quick little two-step of delight from the joy of it all. She turned and clapped her hands, smiling and laughing at Gabe as she did, and caught a look of regret and sadness on his face before he had time to hide it.

  "Don't," she begged, and held out her hand. "Not tonight. You've shown me something so special … so very, very wonderful. Don't let things get in the way."

  He grinned, ignoring the blinding pain in his chest as she smiled up at him, and pulled off his boots, joining her on the quilt before he had time to think.

  Her nightgown was soft and sheer, and the fabric felt slick against his fingers as he pulled it up and then over her head. She lifted her arms to help him. At the moment the gown fell away, it left her arms upraised toward the beckoning moon in a gesture of supplication.

  Gabe caught his breath and stared down at her slender beauty. She sighed and dropped to her knees. Seconds later Gabe shed what was left of his cl
othes and went to meet her.

  "Annie, I…"

  Her fingertips moved across his face and caught the words before he'd finished.

  "No vows or promises. Just love me."

  Gabe groaned as he moved across her body, pinning her to the quilt with gentle finesse.

  Love her?

  That was the easy part.

  Telling her that he loved her?

  Knowing what he did about his own fate … that was improbable.

  Letting go when it was time?

  Impossible to face.

  A swift and sudden wind gusted across the hillside, fanning the edges of the quilt and Annie's hair. It tugged haphazardly at the curls around her face, blowing them gently across Gabe's lips and hands, flirting like a wayward lover as it made impossible tangles in the silky length of them.

  Gabe buried his face in their heavy depths, savoring the lingering aroma of lilac-scented shampoo, and knew that for the rest of his life, no matter how far he rode, whenever he saw lilacs he would remember Annie … and the hillside … and their love.

  Annie laughed aloud into the night from the simple joy of being one with this man. Of knowing that with nothing more than a nudge from her body or the touch of her hands, he would come undone. That she could bring him to an aching hardness with only a look, or make him lose complete control with nothing more than a whispered word.

  She arched her body up to meet the forceful demand of his mouth, clasping his head against her breast as she stared up and over his shoulder to the inky depths of the starlit sky above them.

  Gabe had given her something truly wonderful by showing her this night. It was up to her to give something special back.

  She was fire and rain, sweeping across his senses in a maelstrom of emotions too fierce to contain. Consuming him by degrees, she burned for him far into the night. Then, raining kisses upon his weary body, she washed away the might-have-beens that hovered in the nighttime, beyond the quilted square upon which they lay.

  Sometime during the early morning hours, when the dew was gathering on the grass and soaking persistently into the patchwork of their quilted dreams, they gathered themselves and they belongings, and made their way along the path that led down the hillside.