Sweet Annie (34 page)

She sighed. "I know. I'm just being a silly
woman."

He kissed her. "I need
a bath, you silly woman. How about helping me heat some water?''

She did, pouring warm water over him as he sat in
the copper tub in the kitchen. She took the soap and cloth and caressed him
with the premise of getting him clean. She ended up without her clothes on,
shivering as he dried her in front of the fire, his touch creating an internal
blaze.

"You're beautiful,
Annie," he said, and kissed her round belly, her tender breasts, caressed
her with his hands and his tongue and loved her well and splendidly until she
had no doubts about his thoughts of her beauty.

She
made a simple supper of sliced beef and bread and cheese, and they ate it
before the fire, her in her chair, Luke at her feet. He surprised her with
oranges a customer had given him that day. No dessert had ever tasted as sweet
or as good.

They
slept wrapped in each other's arms, the world at bay outside their home.

Spring rains came, pelting
the already green and muddy land, and one afternoon the sky grew so dark that
Annie lit lanterns and stoked the fire. She had a cookbook open on the table,
and worked at rolling noodles as thin as the directions instructed. On some
level of consciousness, she noticed that the horses in the corral had been
restless for a time. Luke always left the sliding door open so that they could
get in out of the weather during the day, so she didn't give the disturbance
much thought.

An
earsplitting cracking noise startled her so badly she dropped the rolling pin
and grabbed the back of a chair for support. Horses whinnied in high-pitched
shrieks.

Grabbing
a jacket from a peg, Annie opened the door to peer out through the gray rain.
One corner of the corral smoldered, dark smoke curling into the heavy air. The
horses milled and reared in fright.

Lightning
struck again, an enormous jagged arc that hit a tree on the hillside with a
crack and disappeared into the heavens in a split second. Annie's heart raced
painfully. The terrified horses shied and knocked together, and one of the
colts fell and struggled to its feet, covered with mud.

Annie
sloshed toward the corral, trying to hurry, but needing to watch her balance in
the mud. She reached the gate and let herself in, closing it securely behind
her and inching her way along the fence toward the building. If she rolled the
door open wider, maybe they'd ran into the building instead of trampling each
other.

The
mud inside the corral was slicker, churned by the animal's hooves and it took
all the strength in her legs to pull her feet out with each step. She reached
the doorway and balanced herself on the door, then strained against the wood to
roll it open wider.

She stood panting, staring
at the horses, that still reared and whinnied in panic. From the comer of her
eye, Annie caught movement at the edge of the woods, and she squinted at the
skinny doglike creatures slinking back and forth in a predatory fashion.
Wolves!

If
she could get one of the horses inside, perhaps the others would follow.
Clinging to the fence for support as well as safety, she slowly edged her way,
knowing she should be hurrying. "Here, boy," she said to Wrangler,
reaching a hand toward him. His ears pricked back, but he remained where he
stood, his flanks trembling.

Wrangler
was used to her, and she knew he was docile and would easily follow her lead if
she reached him.

Annie
released the fence and slogged through the mud across the corral to reach the
animal. She grabbed his halter and led him toward the barn. He followed as she
knew he would. "Good boy, easy now. Let's get the others inside where it's
safe, all right?"

As
she neared the doorway, she heard the sucking sounds as the other animals'
hooves moved in the mud behind her. A horse shot ahead into the barn. Relieved,

Annie
hoped the others would follow now. She would get them into stalls and stay in
the barn until she was sure the wolves were gone. She had no idea what kind of
a threat they were to humans, but she wasn't taking any chances.

A
crack of lightning split the air, her surroundings flashed blindingly white,
and Annie's ears popped. Horses screamed and bolted. Wrangler sidestepped, and
she lost her hold on his halter. In a split second she was smashed painfully
against the doorway, and instinctively rolled into a ball.

Hooves
flashed and mud flew. Annie covered her head and endured the whirlwind of legs
and hooves. Dimly, she noted that the corral was empty, and dragged herself up
to roll the heavy door closed, shutting the horses safely inside, closing out
the dim light of day. How long would it be before Luke came home?

Pain
wracked her abdomen and she bent over with a cry, falling to her knees on the
wet straw-covered earth in the darkness. The smell of horse and straw and blood
was strong. She closed her eyes and succumbed to darkness.

Luke
would never be sure if he'd done the right thing. Perhaps if he'd carried her
to the house and warmed her first, the baby would have made it. But when he'd
found her there inside the barn in a brackish puddle of blood, his first
thought had been to get her to help—to get her to town and to the doctor. He'd
hitched a horse to the buggy, laid her gently on a pile of horse blankets on
the floor and driven like the devil was on his backside.

"I'm sorry," Dr.
Martin said, his glasses on his head, his sleeves rolled back and his face
drawn. “The baby didn't make it."

"Annie?"
Luke asked first, ignoring his breaking heart to find out about his wife.
"How's Annie?"

"She's
fine. The bleeding has stopped. She's pretty bruised, but nothing is
broken."

"Should
I have not moved her?" he asked. "Maybe I should have taken her to
the house and tried to stop the bleedin' myself." He jammed his fingers
into his scalp painfully.

"We
can't know what would've made a difference," the doctor replied.
"You saved her life by bringing her here. That much I know. Whatever happened
to her, I don't think the baby had much of a chance."

In
agony, Luke dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
"Can I see her now?"

The doctor nodded.
"I've given her something for pain, so she's not too alert. That's for the
best, right now."

Luke
entered the small room where his wife lay against white sheets, her hair loose
and tangled, her face as pale as death. His heart ached at the sight.
"Annie," he said, sitting beside her and taking her hand.

Her
eyelids fluttered open. She recognized him and a ghost of a smile touched her
lips. "Luke," she whispered.

"I'm
here." He brought her hand to his mouth, pressed his tear-streaked cheek
to the back while regret and heartache seeped through his bones. He wanted to
scream and rage aloud at the injustice. His throat ached with unshed tears. He
imagined Annie's fear, her pain, and he wondered repeatedly what had happened.
He'd seen the singed corral and knew the horses must have been terrified of the
storm.

He'd
ridden home to check on them, thank goodness, for that's when he'd seen the
corral and the closed door and found her inside on the floor.

Annie
slept and he thanked God for that small mercy. At least she didn't have to face
their loss while her body was weak and bruised.

Annie
awoke and stared at the ceiling, unwilling to move because of the pain that
shot through her body. Something was different. Something was wrong. She moved
her hand to her belly and found only soft flesh beneath the blanket. She knew
immediately. Her physical pain was only a degree of the torturous agony
slicing through the inside of her—like someone had taken a rusty knife and cut
out her heart.

"O-oh!"
she wailed aloud, and Luke leaped from a chair beside her to kneel at her side
and take her hand away from her belly. He pressed the back against his lips.

Tears
coursed down his cheeks and everything inside her went numb in
self-preservation. She couldn't look into his red-rimmed eyes. She couldn't
endure his pain and hers, too. She couldn't bear to know she'd failed him and
brought such suffering and anguish to a man who deserved better.

"Annie, I'm so
sorry," he said, his voice ravaged.

She sobbed until her chest
hurt and her tears were exhausted. Dr. Martin came and forced her to drink a
powder he'd dissolved in tepid water. She slept again and when she awoke, Luke
hadn't moved from her side.

"I saw the corral
where lightning struck," he said.

"There were
wolves," she told him, her voice oddly calm.

"Wolves, too?"

"I got Wrangler almost
inside, but lightning struck again and spooked the herd. I think one of them
must have pushed him into me."

"I'm sorry,
Annie," he said, his voice raw. "Sorry I wasn't there for you."

"What day is this?"

"The same day,"
he answered. "You've only slept a few hours."

She wanted to tell him she
was sorry, but she was a bigger coward than he was. Admitting her failure was
too difficult right now. "What was our baby, Luke?" she had to ask.
"Did you see him?"

He nodded. Swallowed. "A boy."

"Where is he?"

"I buried him on our
land while you were resting. I wrapped him in one of the blankets you made. I
called him John when I said a prayer, is that okay?''

Tears rolled from her eyes
and fell back into her hair. "Yes."

"I love you,
Annie."

She closed her eyes and heard him breathe.

After what seemed like
hours later, voices sounded outside the room. Luke raised his head from the bed
and listened.

The door opened and Annie's
mother and father entered the room. Her mother covered her mouth with a
handkerchief and wept when she saw her. They rushed forward and Luke stood and
backed away. Her father took her hand. "Annie," he said hoarsely.
"I'm so sorry."

"We're here,
darling," her mother said, and stroked her forehead with a soft cool hand.

From
the corner of her eye, Annie noticed when Luke left the room. Her gaze went to
her mother, found her eyes. "You were right, Mother. I did disappoint
him."

After
their visit, Annie instructed the doctor that she didn't want to see her
husband.

"But he wants to be
with you," the man said.

"I don't want to see him."

"He
needs you," he told her. "Shutting people out won't do you any
good."

"I
don't want to see him!" she said, more emphatically.

He
studied her for a moment. "All right." He turned and left the room.

She rested listlessly for
days, showing no interest in the books her mother brought, only eating because
she didn't have the strength to resist. She had never been worthy of Luke's
lofty expectations and his idea of her. Losing his baby had proven it.

It
was easy to fall back into the familiar routine of being an invalid, of not
having to make decisions and letting her mother direct her days. Mildred was
kinder and more attentive than ever, seemingly glad to have Annie in her
charge, but occasionally Annie caught her looking at her with a sad strange expression.

She didn't want to face
Luke. Didn't want to see his disappointment in her or the regret she knew he
must feel.

When
she was able to be moved, she said to her mother, "I want to go home with
you."

Her
father came for them in one of Luke's buggies, and Burdell left work to assist
him.

Burdell
carried her into the Sweetwater house, to her old bedroom and placed her in the
bed her mother had prepared. "What are you doing, Annie?" he asked.

"I'm grieving."

"What about Luke?"

"What about him?"

"He needs you. You
have us to comfort you, but he has no one."

"Fine thing for you to
be thinking about Luke Carpenter's feelings all of a sudden," she stated
flatly. "He'll do just fine without me. He's better off without me. I've
been a burden to him since the day we met. Just look at him if you don't think
so. He's thin and tired and worked half to death because I never carried my
share. And now he's lost his son because of me."