Mittman, Stephanie (38 page)

She
and the children would bake a special cake. One with burnt sugar icing all
around it like a nest, a sweet nest where they could all be safe. It wasn't
much, but it was all she could do.

***

In
a lot of ways Annie was sorry that she had found out about Wylene Eastman.
Keeping a secret was not something she did with ease. And, after confiding in
her, Noah kept his distance, making himself scarce and, when they were
together, hardly talking to her at all.

By
the end of the week she wondered if they would ever get over this new
awkwardness. Friday had been a wonderful day with the girls. Knowing they had
been deprived of the love that they deserved, she had begun to hold nothing
back from them. They hugged and kissed and played and sang and baked, and Annie
watched them blossom like flowers in the sun. Even Julia's potty training was
successful.

She
had been so busy with the girls that she had paid little attention to what
Ethan and Noah were doing. There was banging and clanking from behind the house
much of the day, but until she saw Noah and Ethan come in the door Friday evening
as she was getting ready to leave, she hadn't even wondered what the two of
them were up to.

"Do
you think it'll work?" Ethan asked.

Noah
shot him a look that piqued Annie's curiosity. Besides, she was eager to make
normal conversation with him.

"What
will work?" she asked.

"You'll
know soon enough," Noah said. On his face was the first genuine smile she
had seen since their talk in the barn.

"I
see," she said, allowing them their secret if it brought him such
happiness.

"That's
all?" Ethan demanded. "Not even curious?"

"Oh,
I'll get it out of you at Sunday dinner," she said with a smile.
"Turkey. Care to come, Mr. Eastman?"

He
shook his head, but she didn't see any regret there. Instead, he exchanged a
sly glance with Ethan, both of them having difficulty keeping their surprise to
themselves. "Can't. Neither can Eth. We've got some work to do that can't
wait."

"But,
Noah," her brother whined. "Turkey!"

"I
could bring you over some," she offered, hoping she'd get an inkling of
what they had up their sleeves.

Noah
shook his head, his eyes twinkling merrily all the while. "Best if you
don't show your face before Monday."

"Apple-quince
pie." She dangled the imaginary treat before their eyes.

Ethan
groaned.

"Maybe
we'll be over for some pie toward evening," Noah said. "If that's all
right."

Four
pairs of eyes begged Annie's permission.

"Of
course it's all right," she said. "Miller will be sorry he missed
you."

Ethan
snorted. She was going to have to talk to him about his conversational skills.

"Yes,"
Noah said, not looking at all sorry that he and the minister would not cross
paths. "Right."

***

The
smell of turkey roasting filled the Morrow house, overwhelming the earlier
smells of quince pie and rutabaga relish. When she opened the oven door, a
burst of mouthwatering steam billowed toward her. Splatterings of fat hit the
walls of the oven and sizzled. Carefully, Annie pulled out the big roasting
pan, the cover already removed to allow the bird's skin to turn brown and
crisp, and basted the bird one last time.

As
she worked, she listened to the sounds of her family filtering through the
kitchen door. Della was showing off her new dress to Willa and promising to
write down the address of the store in New York—Bloomingdale's—for her. As if
Bart could afford to send for a new dress for Willa, especially in her
condition! Charlie was complaining to Miller about the new Sabbath school
teacher and how she had refused to allow Cara to attend classes because she was
too young, despite her good behavior.

Peter
was making a fuss over his wine, and the boys were playing cowboys and Indians.
She counted her guests in her head: the Gibbses, four: Charlie's family, three;
Willa and Bart and Miller, another three. Ten people in the house including
her, nine of them family. So how could she be lonely?

She'd
busied herself from the moment she returned from church, where Noah and Ethan,
in fine spirits, had barely said hello and good-bye before hightailing it back
to their farm. Well, they had given her enough time to kiss each girl, Noah
lifting them to her face, his hands brushing her arm in one case, the edge of
her breast in the other.

Her
cheeks flamed again, just as they had in front of the church.
"Sorry," he'd said, jostling Julia's squirming body to get a better
hold on her.

But
his eyes had been locked with hers, and though she knew he hadn't intended to
touch her intimately, the contact had caused his breath to quicken as surely as
it had made her blush. If he was sorry, she was Benjamin Harrison.

"Need
any help?" Charlie asked, his head and shoulders peeking through the door.
The look on his face said he had made as much conversation with Miller as he
could and was hoping to be rescued.

"You
could take this out of the oven for me," she said, pointing to the twenty
pound turkey in the cast-iron pan.

From
the main room they could hear the running of small feet and the effort of
adults to be heard over the shouts of children.

"Peter,"
Della was saying, "check Samuel's mouth, dear."

Charlie
and Annie exchanged a look of disgust. They had both long ago agreed that their
sister had spent so much time on the line for good looks before she was born
that she'd had to forgo the mothering skills department. To make matters worse,
God had played the trick of blessing her with twins to handle.

"Spit
it out!" Della's shrill voice sliced through the room with an urgency that
made Annie and Charlie stop what they were doing and look toward the door.

"Smack
him on the back," Bart said. "Turn him upside down and smack his
back!"

Charlie
set down the scalding pan and they both hurried out to the living room, to join
the men who were in a close circle surrounding Samuel. Risa and Willa stood
with their backs to the cluster around the boy, their faces pale and their
thumbs tucked superstitiously into the waistbands of their skirts. Della was
screaming and Miller was trying to pull her away from the crowd of men.

"Squeeze
his chest," Bart suggested.

"Pound
on it."

"Shake
him."

"Can
you reach it? Can you see it?"

"What
did he swallow?" Annie mouthed at Risa. Tears fell down Risa's cheeks in
rivers that stained the front of her shirtwaist. She clung to Willa, keeping
the woman's back to the scene that was barreling toward a horrible conclusion.

"The
wine cork." Risa whispered it.

How
many times had Annie told Peter she didn't want alcohol in her house? How many
times had he told her it was harmless and convinced her to give in?

"No,"
she said, as if she could take back her permission and change the drama that
was playing out in her living room. "No."

Risa
looked back over her shoulder and swallowed convulsively. She searched the room
until she found Cara. The little girl stood pressed against the wall with wide
eyes fixed on her mother's face. At a signal from her, Cara threw herself at
Risa and pressed her little body into her mother's skirts. Risa's arm wrapped
quickly around her and held the child tightly against her.

James!
Where was James? Annie found him in the hallway. He lay curled in a ball, his
eyes squeezed shut, his breathing irregular. She bent and took him in her arms,
rocking him gently and crooning meaningless words.

She
was far enough away from the others to watch them like some actors on a stage
in a great tragedy. They beat their breasts, they clenched their fists, they
bit on the knuckles of their first fingers as though something awful were truly
taking place. She just couldn't believe it was.

In
her arms, James said nothing. He didn't cling, didn't nuzzle, didn't whimper.
His body was tensed, his muscles taut as if in readiness.

Miller
still held Della as she struggled to see Samuel over his shoulder. "Oh, my
God, My baby! He's blue!" Della shrieked. "He's dead!"

There
was silence in the room. No one corrected her. There were no words shouted in
annoyance that she was just being dramatic. No comforting noises about how
Samuel would be all right. There was just a heavy, stunned silence as the women
waited for Peter Gibbs to deny the truth that crept its way into each of their
hearts.

Samuel
Gibbs, age three, lay motionless in his father's arms, his skin a ghastly blue,
his eyes staring up at his father without seeing anything at all.

In
her own arms, James Gibbs, twin brother of Samuel, went limp.

There
was an unnatural quiet to the Morrow farmhouse when Noah and Ethan pulled up.
Hannah and Julia slept soundly under a blanket in the back of the wagon, so the
men decided to leave them there until they found out what the problem was.
Undoubtedly there was a problem, for while lights glowed in the window and
smoke billowed from the chimney, there were no sounds of laughter or
conversation.

On
the porch the quiet seemed to grow louder. Ethan shrugged at Noah and reached
for the doorknob.

Noah
stopped him. "Perhaps we should knock," he suggested.

Without
asking why, without arguing that it was still his home, Ethan raised his fist
and knocked gently on the door.

Miller
Winestock opened it, the light from the house setting him in silhouette and
making his gray hair look metallic. Beyond him, members of Ethan's family sat
on the chairs, the sofa, stood leaning against walls. Annie had one of the
twins in her arms. Noah didn't see the other boy, or Della and Peter.

"What's
happened?" Noah asked. Ethan pushed past the minister without waiting for
an answer and went straight to Annie. Even from this distance Noah could see
the tears on her face as they caught the light from the fireplace. To push past
Miller Winestock, to take her in his arms and soothe her—his own need was
almost overwhelming.

Instead,
he waited for the minister to ask him in and tell him what had happened.

Obviously
shaken, Winestock took two breaths to steady himself. Then, rather than upset
the family once again, he motioned for Noah to step back and joined him on the
porch, where he told him about Samuel and the wine cork. To his credit, he
seemed as much at a loss at God's mysterious ways as Noah himself felt.

"Mr.
and Mrs. Gibbs took their son back to town. He wanted her to stay here, but she
couldn't bear to think of the boy alone at the undertaker's." The breath
he took rattled in his chest. He shook his head. "One minute he was a
hellion, running around and making a nuisance of himself. And the next,
gone."

"How
are the others taking it?" Noah asked. His heart ached for all of them:
Annie, who thought they all belonged to her; Bart, whose heart exceeded his
size; Risa, who carried a new life within her. "Mrs. Morrow, is she all
right?"

The
minister nodded. "Yes, both Mrs. Morrows. They're a close family. We're a
close community. They'll take care of each other, and we'll take care of
them."

He'd
encountered this wall before. It had come down some since the fire at the
school, but it still existed. He wasn't one of them. "I'd like to
help," he said. "Please." He gestured toward the door, knowing
he wouldn't go in without Winestock's invitation. Annie was going through
enough. He would do nothing to make it harder for her.

The
minister nodded, and Noah removed his hat and entered the living room as
quietly as he could. Annie raised her eyes to him, but before he could even
respond, Ethan came barreling toward him and thrust himself into his chest,
sobbing. He comforted him as a father would comfort a son, patting the rough
wool of his jacket. Had Noah ever cried like Ethan was doing, his father
probably would have cuffed his ear and told him that men didn't give in to
sorrow.

Ethan
had obviously had a much healthier upbringing. He looked over the boy's head
toward the woman who had managed it when she was only a child herself. Next to
her, Miller bent and whispered something into her ear, to which she shook her
head and clutched the child in her arms more tightly. He asked her something
else, to which she again shook her head.

Noah's
stomach turned as Miller took Annie's chin in his hand and tilted her face up
to his. Reluctantly she nodded and handed the child up to him.

As
Winestock carried the sleeping child from the room, Noah extricated himself
from Ethan's embrace. "I want to make sure your sister's all right,"
he said in the boy's ear. "I'll be right back."

The
glow from the fireplace lit Annie's cheek and one side of her hair. She looked
miserable and tired and confused as he came toward her. Her lip trembled as he
watched her fight for control.