by Sweet Annie
Annie nodded, and Mildred set down the tray and poured a cup full, handing it to Annie.
Annie accepted it. Both of them behaved as though Luke wasn’t there. With an ache in his heart and his throat, he backed away from the scene, leaving Mildred to tend to her daughter’s comfort, leaving the Sweetwaters to care for his wife.
Mounting the horse he’d left at the gate, he rode away, once again the outsider.
No longer would he have a wife to come home to at night. There would be no son to teach to ride, no children to inherit all he was working for. But work he did, because it was all he had left.
“Do you want to hold her, Annie?” Diana asked. Her sister-in-law approached her with the pink flannel-wrapped bundle. Annie’d been told of Elizabeth’s birth the month before, and had asked about Diana’s health and recovery. Since Annie hadn’t been out of the house for weeks, she hadn’t been to Burdell’s home or to church for the baby’s christening. This was the first time she’d seen their new daughter.
Her niece had wispy dark hair and a delicately round face. She held her tiny hands right up by her face, and squinted her eyes open. Annie wondered what color her baby’s hair had been, whether his eyes would have been blue or green. She could have asked Luke about his hair. “No, I don’t want to hold her,” she said, her heart pounding too fast at the thought.
Diana held Elizabeth right down beside Annie, where she could smell the infant’s milky essence. She felt a painful twinge in her breasts. The child was a miracle, a miniature person, perfect in every way, fair lashes, translucent fingernails, wrinkly knuckles and shell-like ears.
Annie looked up and met Diana’s compassionate gaze. Tears of sympathy swam in her sister-in-law’s dark eyes. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “We took flowers to your little John’s grave. It’s in a beautiful spot. Someone had planted forget-me-nots.”
Luke, Annie thought. She hadn’t even been brave enough to go see the grave.
“You can have more babies,” Diana said.
Annie shook her head and looked away, out the parlor window where Burdell played with Will on the lawn. “No.”
Two months hadn’t been enough time to allow herself to think of that. Two years or two decades wouldn’t be enough time.
Charmaine, too, tried to talk to her, tried to pull her from her protective cocoon, but Annie remained withdrawn and silent. She watched through the windowpanes as the family gathered in the newly green side yard and set up the croquet set for the first time that year. Life just went on, she thought dismally. Without her.
After dinner, Burdell ignored her protests and pushed her out onto the porch. He sat on a wicker chair across from her.
“How long are you going to feel sorry for yourself?” he asked.
She ignored his taunt and stared at the hazy mountain peaks.
“The only happy person around here is Mother, because she has her invalid daughter back,” he said. “What does that tell you?”
Annie glared at him. “I should have listened to her from the beginning and this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You think nobody ever lost a baby before?” he asked.
She shook her head against his words.
“You think only helpless crippled people have accidents?”
She shrugged, avoided his face.
“What happened to you could have happened to anybody.”
“No. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t strong enough. I was slow and clumsy and I let him down. He deserves someone with two good legs.” She glanced across the yard and caught sight of her cousin running after a wooden ball. “He deserves someone who can be a real help and not a burden—someone like Charmaine.”
Burdy was silent for a moment. “He loves you.”
“Well, I lost his baby, didn’t I? How sad for him that he loves me! He deserves better. He gave me everything, love, kindness, hope…he’s so good and so pure and wonderful that it hurts.” She brought her fist to her heart in proof. “And the first thing he ever trusted me with I lost for him.”
“Not the first thing,” Burdell denied.
“What do you mean?”
“First, he trusted you with his heart.”
Tears blurred her vision. Luke had given her his heart. Completely. Unreservedly. He’d loved her more than she had ever dreamed of being loved. “I just can’t bear to face him,” she whispered, tears thick in her throat. “I’m so ashamed that I let him down.”
“We’re to blame for this,” her brother said angrily. “Me as much as anyone. I treated you like Mother did for so long that I convinced myself you were helpless. I know I have a hard head, but I saw how happy he made you, how happy and self-confident you were doing things for yourself. I’ve been wrong. Now I’m sure. This isn’t you—not sitting here like an invalid. You are a capable, talented woman. What happened to you and your baby could have happened to anyone—could have happened to Diana in the same situation.”
“But it didn’t. She wasn’t out trying to be a farrier’s wife.”
“But if she loved a farrier, you can bet she would have. She’s just trying to be a banker’s wife.”
Annie thought long and hard about that statement. If Diana had loved a rancher or a miner or a logger, she undoubtedly would have thrown her whole self into that kind of life—just as Annie had. “Do you believe that Burdy? Do you believe it was an accident that could have happened to anyone?”
“I do. And I think Luke’s blaming himself as much as you blame yourself right now. He told our father he accepted the responsibility for taking you away from your safe environment and letting this happen.”
“Oh, pooh!” Annie said. “Isn’t that just like him to take the blame himself in order to spare me?”
“He’s hurting, too, Annie. Think about that.”
“I have. And I’ve decided he’s better off without me.”
“Right,” he said. “Let him hurt alone. Let him grieve for both of you. Poor Annie,” he said, getting up. “Poor, helpless Annie.” And with that he walked down the stairs and strode across the yard.
His words of mocking pity stung. Annie considered all of Burdell’s words in the days that followed. Alone in her room one afternoon, she took a good clear look at her situation. She had been feeling sorry for herself, taking the blame for something that couldn’t have been prevented, and in doing so she was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to her. How could she have let herself fall into this river of self-centered despondency? Luke had lost a son, and she had walked out on him.
Let him hurt alone. Let him grieve for both of you. He had buried their child alone. Had reverently wrapped the tiny lifeless infant in a soft pretty blanket sewn by Annie’s hands, dug a grave, said a prayer and cried all by himself.
Annie slid from her chair to her knees beside the window seat and sobbed out her grief and shame and regret. When had she become this spineless traitor who let her husband bear their burdens alone?
Every day after that she got out of her chair and exercised her aching body, strengthening her legs and her resolve. When Charmaine came to call, Annie surprised her by asking her to drive her to the livery.
Charmaine clapped her gloved hands cheerfully. “Oh, you’ve come to your senses! Are you ready? Do you want your chair?”
“No. Just hold my hand.”
Charmaine assisted her into the wagon, climbed up beside her, and guided the horse through the streets. The ring of the hammer met their ears before they ever saw the building. Charmaine stopped the wagon in front of the open double doors. She jumped down and helped Annie to the ground. “Want me to walk with you?”
“No. Wait here, please.” Annie gathered her courage and her hem and limped into the shaded building, following the hammering back into the humid depths, toward the forge.
He stood silhouetted against the blaze of the fire, turned without seeing her and held long tongs which gripped a horseshoe into the flames. Reaching up, he pumped the bellows, the muscle
s across his bare shoulders rippling and shining.
Annie drank in the sight of him. He was leaner than he’d been before last winter, before she’d lost the baby and deserted him. He did everything alone now, with no one to cook for him—to do his laundry—to rub his shoulders at night.
Turning back, he placed the horseshoe against the anvil and pounded. Annie resisted covering her ears, instead let the punishing ring fill her senses. After several blows, Luke inspected his work, then plunged the shoe into a bucket of cold water.
Hissing steam rose around his torso.
Annie let her hand fall from her breast, and the movement must have caught his eye, because he looked up. He seemed startled to see her there, finally setting down the shoe and the tongs and coming forward. “Annie?”
Chapter Seventeen
He grabbed a rag and wiped his hands and face.
“Hello, Luke.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Now that she was here, she didn’t know quite what to say. He was covered with soot and perspiration, but he looked so good and familiar, she wanted to grab him and hold him. “How have you been?”
“All right.”
“And the house?” This felt silly. I’m sorry! I’ve been so wrong! “How are things there?”
“I haven’t been there for a while. Several weeks actually.”
She hadn’t known that. “You’ve been staying where—here?”
He wiped sweat from his hair, making it stand up in ebony spikes. “It’s easier for me.”
“Oh. Are you—do you want to live there again?” With me, was what she meant. Can we start over?
“I think things are probably better this way,” he said. “I was away too much. I can’t erase anything that happened before…but I can make sure you’re safe now. I want to help take care of you…send money.”
“I don’t need your money.” I need you!
He stiffened. “I’ll send it anyhow. You’re my responsibility.”
“Is that all I am now? A responsibility?” What about wife? What about lover?
“No.”
They stared at each other. The heat from the forge had begun to seep through her clothing.
“It’s because of me that you were hurt,” he said finally. “Because I was so determined to make things work my way, in my time. I was a fool. I pushed you too hard.”
Pushed her too hard? Or expected her to be someone she couldn’t be? Did he think he was a fool for ever wanting her in the first place? “So, you’re sorry,” she said. “Sorry you married me.”
She turned and limped from the room, wishing she could run gracefully, wishing she didn’t humiliate herself at every turn.
“Annie!”
She kept going, her heart aching with his rejection. Charmaine met her outside the doors. “What’s wrong? What did he say? What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, wanting to cry, but not wanting to do it here. “Just help me up and get me away from here.”
“Okay.” Her cousin obeyed as quickly as she could, assisting Annie and shaking the reins over the horses’ backs.
Annie didn’t look back.
Nothing was the same as it had been before Luke. No longer was she satisfied to be the doted-upon daughter. Nor was anything the same as it had been since Luke—or since they’d lost their hopes. She couldn’t go back to either life, so what was left?
Charmaine helped her down from the wagon and Annie made her own way into the house, through the doorway and to her room. Burdell had told her she was feeling sorry for herself, and she’d taken that to heart and tried to help herself. But now Luke seemed to think she was better off here than with him—how could he think that? Didn’t he know? Didn’t he care?
She sat abruptly on the window seat, glanced aside and observed the row of angelic-faced porcelain dolls. Here she was back in the bosom of her family, back in this room, back in her chair like a pretty, useless, lifeless doll!
Angry at Luke, angry at life and at her helplessness, she lashed out and swept a doll from its resting place and smashed it against the floorboards. Another followed and another, until only two remained, staring at her as though they knew how crazy and helpless she really was. Turning, she kicked the lifeless broken bodies across the floor.
“Annie!” Her mother appeared in the doorway, Charmaine on her heels.
“Go away!” Annie flung herself on the bed and cried tears of frustration and anger. “Leave me alone!”
Charmaine backed out of the room, but Mildred came to stand beside her bed. “I’ll leave you alone after I’ve had a word with you.”
“Oh, Mother, please, what could you say that you haven’t said already?”
“Maybe that you need to pick yourself up and decide what you want out of life.” She stuffed a scented handkerchief into Annie’s fist. “You were happy before, Annie. Don’t let anything stop you from getting what you want. Even if it’s him.” Her lip curled a little at the pronoun.
Annie wiped her eyes and nose. “Are you telling me to go after my husband?”
Her back was straight and her eyes didn’t quite meet Annie’s, but Mildred spoke the words all the same. “I’m telling you to live your dream.”
The door closed behind her a moment later.
Annie curled on her side and thought about her dream.
After Charmaine had gone, after Annie heard the sound of the stove lids clanking in the kitchen, she pulled herself together and went to her writing desk. She pulled out a piece of paper and uncorked the ink. She hadn’t given up. Not by a long shot.
Dear Luke,
You taught me courage when I was afraid. You showed me I could do things I only dreamed of. You gave me confidence to stand up and walk in front of people without shame. Which one of us is the cripple now? Who was hiding behind their fear today? You are cordially invited to my birthday celebration. I think you know the day—and the place.
With love,
Annie
She found Glenda wiping the kitchen floor. “Glenda, will you please do me a favor?”
“Of course. Are you all right?”
“I am now. Will you please deliver this to my husband at the livery?”
Glenda took the letter with a smile.
“Oh, and these—” she extended the two remaining dolls “—are for Gwen and Gerta.”
“They’ll love them. Thank you.”
Five days later, on the day of Annie’s birthday, the sky was a vivid blue. Fleecy white clouds hung above the mountains in the distance, but the air here was clear and clean.
“You surprised me by wanting a birthday party,” her father said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her across the verdant lawn. “I’m glad you’re feeling up to it.”
“Actually, it was Mother who convinced me.”
“Your mother?” he asked in disbelief.
“Well, not in so many words, of course, but because she got me to thinking about the rest of my life.”
Friends and neighbors arrived, Burdell and Diana and their family, the Renlows, Lizzy and Guy, even Dr. Martin and Glenda’s family. Annie had invited Luke’s Uncle Gil, and he surprised her by showing up wearing the shirt she’d made him, with Mrs. Krenshaw, the librarian, on his arm.
Burdell set up the croquet hoops and Annie tried her hand at the game for the first time. She enjoyed herself, but underneath the surface was the underlying question of whether or not Luke would come. She was working on not worrying when the crowd grew quiet. Turning to observe the source of their attention, she saw the rider stop at the gate and dismount.
Tall and handsome, black hair shining in the sunlight, Luke opened the gate and walked forward. Annie’s heart hammered and welcoming joy spread through her like a healing balm. She took a few steps to meet him, then a few more.
She met him halfway, a giddy bubble expanding her chest.
“Happy Birthday, Annie,” he said.
“Thank you
.”
“I have presents for you.”
She glanced at his empty hands. “Where are they?”
“Want me to take you to them?”
Wrangler placidly munched grass along the fence. “Go for a ride, you mean?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All right.”
He took her hand and led her out the way he’d come, out the gate, then walked her all the way to the flower cart at the edge of the yard and helped her on the horse’s back. He climbed up behind her.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
Her heart leaped with joy at the words. She turned and waved at her family who were all watching. They returned the wave, even her mother.
Luke wrapped his strong arms around her and Annie leaned into him, feeling safe and protected within his embrace. The horse moved beneath them, nudging Luke’s chin against her hair. Could he forgive her? Could she make it up to him for allowing him to suffer their loss without her?
Their home came into view, a thin curl of smoke trailing from the rock chimney. Instead of leading the horse to the house, Luke led him to a grassy area on the hillside above, tethered him and lifted Annie down. Annie noted something colorful spread on the ground and several items hidden beneath blankets.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A private birthday party,” he replied. “Look, I bought you a rug.”
What was spread upon the ground was indeed a Brussels carpet in greens, blues, tan and wine with a border and tassel trim. “It’s lovely, but why is it out here?”
“Because your other present is definitely an outdoor present and I wanted you to enjoy both at once.”
She glanced around, noting the mysterious bundles. “Okay.”
He went to one and withdrew a long rifle.
“A gun?” she asked.
“A rifle. And I’m going to show you how to load it and use it. Next time a wolf comes around you won’t have to be afraid.” He gave her a quick lesson, showed her how to hold the butt against her shoulder and fire. She tried a few practice shots, scaring birds from the underbrush.