Sweet Annie Part 32

What was spread upon the ground was indeed a Brussels carpet in greens, blues, tan and wine with a border and ta.s.sel 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 b.u.t.t against her shoulder and fire. She tried a few practice shots, scaring birds from the underbrush.

"You were right, Annie," he said from behind her.

She lowered the barrel and turned.

"What you said in your note. I was hiding. I expected you to be so brave and overcome your fears, but at my first mistake I turned and ran."

She looked at the weapon in her hands. "Well, this is definitely the most unusual-and practical-birthday gift I've ever received." She handed him the rifle.

He unloaded it and laid it down.

"You didn't make any mistakes, Luke."

He gestured with an outstretched hand. "There are wolves out here. Bears, too. I knew that. I should have prepared you. Taught you what to do. That was my mistake."

"It's not your fault. I blamed myself for being clumsy, too. What good does blaming ourselves do? I'm the one who left you, remember?"

"You needed your family."

"You're my family," she said firmly. "I needed you. But I ran, because I thought I failed you."

"You could never fail me," he a.s.sured her with his eyes as well as his words.

"What about afterward?" she asked, allowing her anguish to push the feelings out into the open. "What about me letting you take care of the baby alone-grieve alone? That was wrong. I'm so sorry."

"Annie, I had to do it. You were too weak, and I didn't mind. You had the whole-physical thing to deal with. I couldn't help with that. I don't even know what you went through really."

"I should have shared it with you. We should have done our crying together."

"I don't think it's too late," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "I know I have tears left."

"Oh, Luke," she said, rushing forward to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him tightly. "Luke, I'm so sorry."

He held her tightly, his heart beating comfortingly beneath her cheek.

"Luke, can you forgive me?"

"Annie, if we say we forgive each other, then that means there was blame somewhere, and there's no blame. Let's just start over."

"All right," she whispered.

"I have one more present for you."

She released him, and he stepped away, peeled back a blanket to reveal a mahogany box with a horn attached.

Annie had seen one similar on a trip East. "A graphophone! How extravagant!"

"We can dance anytime we like," he said and wound the crank on the side.

Tinny music rang from the horn. Wrangler raised his head and shook it. Annie laughed.

"May I have this dance?" her husband asked, bowing before her like a proper gentleman.

She gave him her hand. He extended one foot. She stepped on it and he guided her across the carpet in time to the music. The music slowed and Annie placed her head against his chest.

"We lost our child together," he said, his voice low against her ear. "We can't let it be something that drives us apart."

She raised her head to look at him. "That day at the livery you said you pushed me too hard. That's not so. You encouraged me to become who I wanted to be all along. Loving you is what gave me the courage to try."

"We'll have more babies," he promised. "They won't replace the one we lost, but they'll help us get over the sadness."

"Was he very beautiful, our John?" she asked.

The music had stopped, and Luke brought their movements to a halt. "Like a beautiful little man. Perfect in all ways, but too tiny."

"Did he have black hair?"

"Yes. Let me take you to his grave."

He lifted her to Wrangler's back and walked, leading the horse. They made their way down the hill, below the timberline, around knee-high p.r.i.c.kly plants and bright patches of b.u.t.tercups and fireweed. Several feet from the last patch of aspens, with a view of the house below and the horses in the corral lay a small mound of smooth rocks.

Luke helped her down, and they made their way in silence to the tiny grave.

"This is a beautiful spot," she told him after a few minutes of silence.

"I chose it because you can see our house from here."

"Well, it's perfect." She looked at the stones so lovingly selected and placed, and her arms ached for the child she would never hold. She reached for Luke's hand and lowered herself to the ground. "I never thanked you for thinking of the blanket for him."

"Seemed only right. I put him in a pretty box-one I'd saved and stained."

A tear made its way down her cheek. "Didn't have to be very big, I'd guess."

He gripped her fingers hard. "No. He was tiny."

Annie looked up and saw his throat working, his mouth clamped in a hard line. She pulled him down beside her and they wept in each other's arms. Tears of grief and sorrow, but also reviving, cleansing tears. Annie kissed his beautiful face, the scar on his lip, his damp lashes. "I love you...more than ever."

"I didn't think I could love you more, but I do," he replied. "I was miserable without you, my sweet Annie."

"I'm home to stay." She turned in his arms and surveyed their land, the foothills, the brilliant sky, and the grave where they knelt. Her attention caught on the delicate blue flowers bordering the stones. "Diana told me about the forget-me-nots. Thank you for planting them."

"I didn't plant them, Annie."

She pulled away to look at him. "Who did then?"

His mouth inched up and those dashing dimples flashed her a smile. "I was curious about that myself," he replied. "Seems a certain woman bought seeds and a spade at the hardware store."

"What woman was that?"

"Your mother."

Her mother? "How did she get here?" she asked in amazement. "How did she find the grave?"

"Burdell and Diana asked about it so that they could come visit. Maybe she heard them talking." He shrugged. "I don't know."

She imagined her mother finding someone to give her a ride to their land-Annie's father?-then traipsing through the mud and undergrowth to find the mound of stones. Annie couldn't have been more shocked-or more pleased. To think that her mother cared enough to make such an extravagant gesture touched her deeply-and gave her hope for the years ahead.

She let the tears fall freely, for herself, for Luke and their baby, for her mother whose dreams had been lost somewhere along life's way but who had encouraged Annie not to lose hers.

When Luke turned her face up to his and kissed her, her tears turned to joy, because her dream was still very much alive. Loving him was what had given her the courage to try in the first place. Loving him would give her the courage to start over. She and Luke faced a bright future-together.

Epilogue.

The spring sky was a dazzling shade of blue that contrasted starkly with the fleecy white clouds, the dense pines on the foothills and the faded purple of the distant mountains. Annie studied the bright expanse, reminded as always of her husband's eyes, and filled with unspeakable joy. Once she had wanted to reach out and touch that distant glory. Now she held heaven in her heart, in her arms, in each day and every moment of her life with Luke.

Closing her eyes, she lowered her face to the warm bundle lying against her breast and breathed in life and love and happiness.

"He's a beautiful boy," her mother said softly from beside her.

Annie nodded. Conversation and laughter swelled around them.

"May I hold him for a while?"

Annie smiled and handed Mildred her chubby two-month-old son.

Her mother's face took on a soft adoring expression as she cradled the sleeping baby.

"Watch, Mama! Watch!" an elfin voice called gleefully.

At the call, Annie turned.

Her three-year-old daughter, Rebecca, ran toward a croquet ball, clumsily wielding a mallet, and managed only to soundly whack her father in the shin.

Wide-eyed, Luke grabbed his injured leg and dropped to the lawn carpet.

Annie rose from her comfortable spot in the shade and hurried toward them, holding back rising laughter.

"I sorry, Daddy," Rebecca said, her round blue eyes serious with concern. "I kiss it better." She leaned over Luke's pant leg.

"Kiss me here," he said, lying on his back and pointing to his lips.

The toddler tripped over her pinafore once, then crawled to lean against his chest and plant a kiss on his mouth. "All better?"

"I think Mama needs to kiss me, too." His gaze twinkling with mischief, he placed a hand beneath his head and casually crossed his ankles.

Annie knelt on the gra.s.s, glancing once at Burdy and Diana, who weren't doing a very good job of holding back their amus.e.m.e.nt.

Leaning forward, she kissed her husband's warm lips.

"Happy birthday, Annie," he said, caressing her face. "Are you happy?"

Tears blurred her vision momentarily, and she blinked until she could see clearly again. She glanced about at the gathering of friends and family on her parents' lawn. Luke's Uncle Gil and Mrs. Krenshaw were making a clover chain for Will. Charmaine was showing a young gentleman friend how to wind the graphophone. Annie's parents sat on the porch admiring their newest grandson.

Annie's precious daughter watched her expectantly. Annie pulled her close and hugged her, her heart full to bursting. Luke sat up. Annie plucked a blade of gra.s.s from his hair, then took his hand and placed his palm against her cheek. She gazed into his blue eyes and said with certainty, "This is the best day of my life."

ISBN: 978-1-4268-8745-1.

Available from Harlequin Historicals and CHERYL ST.JOHN.

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