Annie's Song Part 2

"h.e.l.lo, there."

h.e.l.lo, there? After what he had done to her, Annie could scarcely believe he was greeting her as if nothing had happened. Remembering how quickly he could move and the punishing grip of his hands, she was terrified that he might grab her again. She made fists in the dirt and dug in with her heels to crab-walk sideways. The silence that pressed against her ears became a soundless drumbeat as he reached to part the branches that formed a bower around her.

No, no, no. Annie could almost feel his weight crushing the breath from her. The bruises he'd left on her body throbbed as her pulse picked up and sent a rush of blood to the surface of her skin. She shook her head in denial as the claw of his huge hand reached toward her.

Scrambling madly along the brick foundation of the house, she ignored the tearing of her flesh where the holly pierced her nightgown. Twisting onto her hands and knees, she b.u.t.ted her way through a section of rose bushes, not caring that the thorns grabbed her by the hair. She had to get away before he caught her and hurt her again.

Two.

Searching th e shrubbery for another glimpse of the girl, Alex remained frozen, one foot resting on the bottom step of the Trimbles' porch. The thickness of the greenery foiled him.

A soft panting sound drifted to him, and the bushes swayed.

Leaning his weight backward, he saw a flash of white. The next second, she burst from the foliage, her slender shape seemingly afloat on a cloud of zephyr.

"I won't hurt you, Annie! Don't be afraid." Before his words could die away, she had disappeared into a thick stand of trees that bordered the yard. "d.a.m.n."

Convinced that it wasn't safe for her to be alone out in the woods at night, Alex nearly went after her. Then he thought better of it. She clearly believed him to be Douglas, and her terror of him would lend her speed. Even if he could catch her, he doubted he could make her understand that he meant her no harm. Poor little thing. Her lot in life had been cross enough to bear without Douglas adding to her woes. Alex didn't want to compound her troubles by scaring her half to death. She probably couldn't comprehend what had happened to her today or understand that it was unlikely to occur again.

He shook his head and continued up the steps. Dear G.o.d.

Just the thought that the poor little creature believed he was her rapist made Alex want to rush back home and give Douglas the beating of his young life. The unleashed anger made him rap his fist against the Trimbles' door with more force than he might have otherwise. Blood was thicker than water, and for that reason Alex didn't want to see his brother dancing at the end of a rope. But, on the other hand, if Douglas was caught, he had whatever he got coming to him, in spades.

Edie Trimble, the judge's wife, answered Alex's knock. He was mildly surprised not to be let in by a servant, but then he realized tonight was extraordinary for this family, a time for discretion and hushed whispers. Having a mentally r.e.t.a.r.ded child was undoubtedly difficult enough. If word got out that the girl had been raped, the gossips would never let the Trimbles hear the end of it. The staff had undoubtedly been given the evening off to make sure that didn't occur.

Alex thought it was a pity that the Trimbles had to be concerned with such matters at a time like this. But he couldn't really blame them, either. As accepting as the majority of people were of handicaps, there were always those few narrow-minded individuals. Even though Annie was never taken to town and her parents reputedly kept her out of sight when they had callers, Alex had heard that Edie had still been snubbed more than once by other ladies of her station because of her daughter. Rumor also had it that the Trimbles' other three daughters visited home infrequently, not because of the distance, as the Trimbles maintained, but because their husbands felt uncomfortable being around Annie.

Though impeccably turned out in a green alpaca shirtwaist, her graying sable hair swept up and twisted into a tidy knot atop her head, Edie looked exhausted. Her blue eyes were puffy from weeping, and her delicately sculpted face was pale, the skin drawn tautly across her high cheekbones, her finely drawn mouth pursed and bracketed by deep crevices. She was startled to see him but managed to hide it fairly well, the only telltale sign a nervous plucking of her fingers at her skirt.

"Mr. Montgomery." She inclined her head as she addressed him, her manner stiff and formal. "To what do we owe this ...

honor?''

That last word sounded as though it nearly gagged her to utter it. Not that he blamed her. The Montgomerys couldn't be at the top of her list right now. He imagined it was her fondest wish to claw his eyes out. If Annie were his daughter, that was how he'd feel. Enraged. Violent. Wanting his pound of flesh.

"I came to speak with your husband," Alex managed. "I trust he's at home?"

She nodded and opened the door more widely, beckoning him into the foyer, albeit with obvious reluctance. Feeling like a weevil in the flour sack, Alex turned his hat in his hands, wishing to G.o.d he were anywhere but there. What did one say to the parents of a girl his brother had violated? I've come to make amends? As if he could. An apology wouldn't begin to undo the damage that had been wrought. He'd felt ashamed a few times in his life, but this took the prize.

Usually self-a.s.sured and oblivious to what others might think of him, Alex regarded the fine cut of Edie Trimble's gown and found himself wishing he had taken the time to dress a bit more formally. Bad enough to be the brother of a rapist without appearing tasteless, to boot.

Ah, well. It was too late now. Though blessed with substantial amounts of money and a home that could encompa.s.s this one on its first floor, Alex spent most of his time with the hired hands, working his horses or the fields.

When he socialized, which was rarely, he preferred the company of common people who eked their livings from the soil. Unless he planned a trip to town, he usually dressed in blue denims and a sensible shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled back to the elbows. Before coming here, he had washed up, shaved, thrown on knee breeches, and a suit jacket, and called himself presentable. With all else that had been on his mind, he'd forgotten that Trimble was a man who placed a lot of importance on appearances. After having been a judge for over thirty years, he didn't even keep livestock on his place, let alone stoop to getting his hands dirty.

"The judge is in his study," Mrs. Trimble informed him, her manner faultlessly gracious but frosty.

Acutely aware that she hadn't offered to take his hat, Alex followed her from the foyer into a long, door-lined hallway.

Halfway down the corridor, she paused and tapped lightly on gleaming oak. "Judge? You have a caller."

An indiscernible grumble came from within. Mrs. Trimble opened the door and moved back to let Alex enter. As he stepped into the room, some of his tension eased. It was a study very like his own, with large, comfortably stuffed chairs positioned strategically around colorful tapestry rugs. A room where a man could relax and feel at home. Leather-bound books lined gleaming oak shelves along three walls, the fourth boasting a river-rock fireplace. Firelight flickered cheerily in the grate, the only other illumination that of two gas jets above the mantel.

The judge sat behind his desk, his white court shirt rumpled, the collar open, his crimson tie loosened. A tendril of smoke drifted up from an ashtray near his elbow, the smell of it sharp.

Alex settled his gaze on the cigar. Even after fourteen years, just the sight of one made him think of his father and filled him with sadness.

"Alex," Trimble said wearily. "I take it you've spoken with your brother?"

It didn't take clairvoyance to realize the judge expected him to launch into a tirade, denying Douglas's involvement in the attack on his daughter. Alex only wished that were the case.

"Yes." Gazing at the books along one wall, he tried to make out the t.i.tles. The gold lettering blurred and danced in his vision, as jumbled as his thoughts. He didn't know where to start, or what to say. "I, um..." He swallowed and scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he slapped his pant leg with his hat. "Douglas did it," he finally blurted. "I've come to offer my abject apologies for the injury he has done your daughter and make amends in any way I possibly can."

In response to that, the judge said nothing.

Alex rushed on. "If you intend to prosecute, I won't stand in your way. But you'd better be quick about notifying the sheriff.

I've kicked my brother out of the house, and he's probably hightailing it for parts unknown about now."

Resting both elbows on his desk blotter, the judge rubbed at his temples. "Prosecute?" He gave a bitter laugh. "Ah, yes, one would think so. It seems the natural thing to do, doesn't it?

But in situations like this, matters of right and wrong become blurred." At that admission, he laughed again, but there was no humor in the sound. "A judge for over half my life, and for the first time in my memory, there seems to be a very wide area of gray between the black and white."

The pain in the judge's voice made Alex fix his gaze on the floor. Safe territory, that. No accusing eyes stared back at him.

He could think of nothing he might say, so he took refuge in silence.

Finally, the judge resumed speaking. "I appreciate your offer not to interfere. He is your brother, after all. But I'm not sure restraint on your part will prove necessary."

Forcing himself to look up, Alex said, "I'm afraid I don't follow you."

Trimble lowered his hands and met Alex's gaze. "I know it may sound heartless, but there is far more to be considered here than the injury done to Annie." The judge shoved back his chair and came to his feet. For a man of small stature, he had a large presence, his eyes a piercing sapphire-blue, his features a striking blend of character and strength. Alex had always admired him and applauded the fairness of his decisions on the bench. He was a hard man, but just, a person people instinctively trusted.

"Scandal, Alex, a politician's nightmare," he said softly. "If what happened today gets out, the backlash could be extreme."

Looking a little shamefaced, he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and studied the toes of his highly polished black shoes. "Not just to Annie, but to me and the rest of my family."

Alex was still confused but refrained from saying so.

With a sigh, the older man took a turn before the crackling fire, his gaze fixed on the stone hearth, his manner dejected.

"Douglas should be hanged for what he did to my little girl today. There's no question in my mind about that. But to what gain? Annie has been violated, and I can't undo that. For that reason, I'm inclined to do nothing. As I'm sure you know, I've retired from the bench to try my luck at local politics and possibly go on from there to serve in some capacity at a state level. A scandal of any sort could ruin me."

It seemed to Alex that the scandal would besmirch the Montgomery name, not Trimble's. "Your daughter has been raped. You can't be blamed for that or in any way held accountable. If anything, public sympathy will be aroused."

"Ordinarily, yes. But our Annie isn't normal. She's fetched, no question about it, an affliction brought on by a high fever in early childhood. Unfortunately, people being given to gossip as they are, there have been those who have speculated about her idiocy, hinting that it could be inherited." He pinned Alex with a direct, intense gaze. "How many mad politicians have you voted for recently?''

There was nothing Alex could say to that. No one could question the judge's sanity, but if gossips painted him as having madness in his family, the voters' faith in him might be shaken. All it would take to ruin his chances at the polls was a seed of doubt.

"We've kept Annie out of sight as much as possible so folks won't talk. If Douglas's attack on her is made public, all our efforts to keep her out of the limelight will have gone for naught."

Alex nodded. "So you intend to keep this hushed up, then?"

"I do."

Even though it was his brother's salvation, Alex felt it was a misguided decision, and he was disappointed in the judge for having made it. If Douglas would attack one girl, there was nothing to say he might not victimize another. The only way to ensure he didn't was to prosecute him to the full extent of the law.

When Alex pointed that out, the judge replied, "Douglas Montgomery's threat to society isn't my problem or my responsibility. I have to think of my family and myself, of our future. Going into politics has been my lifelong dream, and I've worked toward that end my entire career. Why should I let your brother's actions snuff that out? I can't afford the scandal, I tell you, and at best, there would be a nasty one. Even if Annie were normal, which she isn't, the gossip would spread like wildfire. In her case, the talk could be even more vicious. I can't take that risk. I won't. Out of sight, out of mind. That has been my motto in raising Annie, and it will continue to be.

"In addition to the damage to my reputation, I also have to think of the consequences for her. Until now, she's been left alone by the young men in this area. But once word of this gets out, who's to say? Soiled goods, and all of that."

Alex found that line of reasoning appalling, and his feelings must have shown, for the judge's gaze turned fiery.

"d.a.m.n it, just you think about it, Montgomery. My daughter is a moron. All her life, she's been a target for torment. Why do you think she skulks away to hide in the woods whenever she spies people? Children throw stones at her. At every opportunity, they play cruel tricks on her. Today your brother simply carried the abuse a step further. If it becomes public knowledge, another young man may figure it can't hurt to do the same. To protect her, we'd have to keep her locked up, and if it comes to that, we may as well inst.i.tutionalize her. My wife would be heartbroken if that happened."

Alex could think of nothing to say. Absolutely nothing except, "I'm sorry, Judge. I'm so very sorry."

The older man sighed again, the sound incredibly weary.

"Yes, I know you are. But sorry doesn't undo what happened today." As if he suddenly realized how harsh that sounded, he added, "Don't take it so personally, Alex. It's a sad fact, but true. A man can choose his friends, but not his relatives."

"No." Alex looked helplessly around the room, searching his mind for something, anything he might do to set things right. There was nothing. He had said what he had come to say.

'"If there is anything I can do, anything at all..."

The judge shook his head. "I wish to G.o.d there were, son.

As it is, we can only pray her dimwittedness gives her quick release from the memories."

Recalling the way Annie had clawed her way through the bushes to escape him a few minutes ago, Alex had reason to wonder if terror wasn't more reflexive than anything else, an instinctive emotion inherent in morons and geniuses alike. He wished she might forget quickly, but somehow he doubted she would.

His throat felt parchment-dry. The faint scent of wood smoke coming from the hearth blended with the acrid smell of the cigar. "If there should be complications, please feel free-"

"G.o.d forbid!"

Alex didn't blame the man for rejecting all thought of a pregnancy, but that being a natural consequence of what Douglas had done, it was a possibility neither of them could completely eliminate. "All the same, please contact me if problems of that nature should arise. I'll happily lend a.s.sistance in any way I can."

The judge gave a disheartened nod. Coming abreast of Alex, he reached up to pat his shoulder, his expression reflecting his utter dejection. "I appreciate your coming over. It took guts."

More than he could know. Alex felt heat crawl up his neck.

It wasn't in him to hang his head, but he wanted to. "You know how to reach me."

"Rest a.s.sured I'll be in touch if it should prove necessary."

There seemed nothing more to say. Alex exited the house, his mind swimming. Incredible though it seemed, Douglas had once again gotten off scot-free. Alex knew he should feel relieved. But he didn't. It wasn't fair that Annie should be the only one to pay for the wrongs that had been committed this day. Not fair at all.

Three.

FOUR MONTHS LATER.

AUGUST 16, 1890.

Sat.u.r.day. Pressing her forehead against her knees so her mother could scrub her back, Annie mouthed the word exactly as she had seen her mother say it and tried to think how it might sound. Some words were easy because she could remember hearing and saying them when she was a small girl.

But Sat.u.r.day was more difficult. In her recollection, she'd never heard the word spoken. Not that it mattered if she imagined the sounds wrong. Her mama slapped her mouth whenever she tried to talk. Annie wasn't sure why and had long since ceased to wonder. The rules were different for her than for other people, and she had come to accept there were lots of things she wasn't allowed to do.

She didn't really care. Not anymore. When she went up to her secret place in the attic to play, she could do anything she wanted. Except for her pet mice, no one was up there to see and tattle on her. In the attic, she could dress up like a lady in old clothes from the trunks. She could have tea parties just like her mama did and pretend she could talk. Sometimes she even danced. And when she grew bored with doing all of that, she could sketch with the pads and pencils she'd sneaked from Papa's study. The attic was a lot of fun, and being able to do forbidden things there made up for not being able to do them the rest of the time.

Sat.u.r.day. Annie mouthed the word against her knee again and promised herself that the very next time she went to the attic, she'd practice saying it in front of her mirror. In her younger years, before she had completely mastered lipreading, she had believed the word Sat.u.r.day meant "bath" because her mother always said it with great emphasis as she shoved her into the tub. Now Annie realized Sat.u.r.day was the day preceding church day, and in preparation, everybody in the family had to bathe.

Since Annie hadn't been allowed to attend church in a very long while, she didn't think it was fair that she had to take a bath right along with everyone else. In the morning, she wouldn't be allowed to put on a pretty dress like her mama and three sisters always did, and when it came time for everyone to leave for services, she would be left behind with the servants.

Who was going to notice if her ears were clean, let alone care?

Certainly not her.

As if guessing her thoughts, her mama grabbed her ear-lobe and gave it a hard pull. Like a turtle, Annie drew her head down close to her shoulders and squeezed her eyes closed. She hated this part. Hated it, hated it. To scrub her ears, her mother always wrapped a cloth around her fingertip then shoved the lot into her ear hole. Even when the ministrations didn't hurt, which was rarely, they were highly irritating. Annie wished she were allowed to scrub her ears by herself, but for some reason, her mother didn't believe her capable of doing a thorough job. Annie had learned long ago not to resist. It only earned her a cuffing, and in the end, her mother shoved the washcloth in her ear, regardless.

Thump, thump. The sharp rap of her mother's knuckles on the top of her head brought Annie's eyes open. Knowing what was expected of her, she raised her face and suffered through the suffocating experience of having it washed. Then, obeying the motion of her mother's hand, she rose, streaming water, so her torso and legs could be scrubbed. Annie knew the ritual by heart and turned this way and that.

Suddenly her mama stopped scrubbing. Annie peered through the wet strands of her dark hair, wondering what was the matter. Her mother's blue eyes were bugging, and her mouth hung open as if someone had knocked the breath out of her. Annie looked down at herself, half expecting to see something horrible. But as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong. She turned her gaze back on her mother, silently questioning.

As if in answer, her mother's lips formed the words, "Oh, dear G.o.d, you're increasing."

Increasing? It was a word Annie was unfamiliar with. As she struggled to sound it out inside her head and determine its possible meaning, she saw that her mama was staring at her stomach. Embarra.s.sed, Annie tried to suck in the slight bulge.

She had noticed the thickening of her waist a lot lately and had determined only that afternoon that she should cut back on her eating. Spending so much time wandering in the woods, she had oft observed the wild animals as they prepared for their winter sleep and had figured out by herself that too much food made creatures fat. Annie could only suppose that she'd been snitching too many cookies and sweetbreads from the kitchen.

Her bulging stomach seemed a small problem to Annie, one that she could easily cure. But her mother seemed to think the problem was much more serious. After staring at her for a moment, she dropped the wet washcloth to the floor and covered her face with her hands. By the jerk of her shoulders, Annie knew she was sobbing. She didn't know what to do, and before she could think of anything, her papa stormed into her room, the tails of his nightshirt flapping around his bare, hairy ankles.

Annie crossed her hands over the juncture of her thighs and sank back into the water. Her papa never entered her bedchamber while she was bathing.

"What the blazes is the matter?" he asked.

Annie fixed her gaze on her mother, hoping to watch her reply so she could learn the answer to that question herself.