Mittman, Stephanie (43 page)

"I
wouldn't hurt you for the world," Annie said. "If you—"

"Don't
say it," Noah warned her.

"There's
no need," Francie said, her chin raised proudly. "There are men in
New York who have been promising me the moon, and they have a lot more to offer."

"Don't
settle for less than love, Francie," Noah said gently, his eyes on Annie.
"And don't ask for more."

"Have
your tea," Risa said, handing Annie a cup. "Francie and I will wait
for you downstairs."

At
least that was what Annie thought she said. She wasn't hearing anything too
clearly, what with Noah's words of love ringing in her ears. She only knew that
the women were gone, or at least she thought so. She didn't sense anyone else's
presence, but her eyes were only on Noah, drinking him in, the tea in her hands
forgotten.

"Are
you ready to go to Della and Peter's now?" he asked. "They'll be
wondering where we are."

"I'm
ready," Annie said. "But I think I'd better make a stop at Miller's
house."

"I'll
go with you," he offered.

"No,"
she said. "It would be better if I went alone." It was a sobering
thought, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth
as he put out his hand to help her from the bed.

***

"Being
sick is nothing to be ashamed of," Miller told Tessie, as she sat teary-eyed
across the table from him. "How could you let people make assumptions
about you?"

"The
first few times it happened I thought it was my imagination. That it only
sounded funny to my ears. I was so dizzy I just didn't realize. The double
vision is the worst part. It makes me fall down a lot. By the time I saw a
doctor, the rumors had already started."

"What
did you say it was called? Cirrhosis?"

"Sclerosis.
Multiple sclerosis."

"It
must be very hard for you," he said sympathetically. Living with embarrassment
was something he was grateful he'd never had to do, though he had felt the pain
of it for his wife and would willingly do it for another.

"So
I suppose congratulations are in order," Tessie said, obviously hoping to
change the subject. "I think Sissy Morrow is a wonderful woman. I remember
when she was too little to get on the swing at the schoolhouse by herself and I
had to lift her up."

"Everyone
thinks of her as older than she is because she had to grow up awfully fast when
Zena died."

Tessie
smiled. "I remember Mrs. Morrow too, though only a little. She was such a
happy woman. I imagine she wouldn't know how to feel today, happy for one
daughter, sad for another."

"Life
plays tricks on us all, doesn't it?" he said. There was no one he knew who
hadn't lost someone or something precious to them. Tessie had lost her
reputation, Sissy her mother, Della her son, and he had lost his wife. Well,
life was hard. It was man's job to try to make it easier for someone else while
he muddled through himself.

The
knock at the door, as always, startled him. No doubt it was some parishioner on
the way to the Gibbs home and stopping to ask for the right words to offer.

"I'll
get it," Tessie said.

He
nodded and sat in his gent's chair. It had been a hard few days, but he had
come to grips with his life and was doing what he thought best.

"It's
Miss Morrow," Tessie announced. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need
me." Efficient and considerate. If he had to write a recommendation for
Tessie Willis, those were the two words that would come to mind.

When
Sissy didn't appear, he pushed himself up using the arms of the chair and went
to find her in the front hall. She stood nervously waiting, her gloves and coat
still in place.

"I
had planned to come out to your place tonight," he said, reaching to take
her coat and realizing it was still fastened. "Are you on your way to
Della's then?"

"Mr.
Winestock," she began.

He
didn't like the sound of that. She had been calling him Miller for months. But
the distance between them had been his fault, and he could rectify it. Really,
Elvira had only been gone a short while. He couldn't have been expected to jump
with both feet into a new relationship.

"Sissy,
take your coat off and sit down with me awhile. Tessie can make us some tea. I'd
like to get some things straight between us."

She
seemed torn, as if she thought she should stay, but then again perhaps she
shouldn't.

"Come
now," he said by way of encouragement. "You look like you could use
some tea."

She
looked past him toward the parlor and licked her lips. "I need to speak
with you alone," she said, almost under her breath.

"Certainly,"
he agreed. Her nervousness was contagious. "I'll send Tessie home."

She
nodded but said nothing. The juices in his stomach rumbled, a sure sign that
his nerves were acting up.

Tessie
left quickly by the back door without raising an eyebrow. He added
"discreet" to her list of attributes.

"How
would New Year's Day suit you?" he asked when he returned and found Sissy
seated, her coat off, fumbling with the gloves in her hand.

"What?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I
thought perhaps a new year, a new beginning, resolutions—" It was close to
babbling. He felt himself floundering but couldn't understand why.

"Mr.
Winestock," she began, but he interrupted her.

"That's
twice now you've called me that. What happened to 'Miller'?" He wasn't
sure he wanted to know.

She
looked frantically around the room. Finally her eyes settled on his shoes. They
needed polishing. He wished he were wearing his sermon shoes if she was going
to stare so intently at his feet.

"I
don't know how to say this," she began.

"Has
something happened?"

"No,"
she said quickly. "That is, yes. Oh!"

"Did
you hear about the lights? Did you know that it'll be any time now? The next
day or two and
poof!
—electricity."

"What?"

"The
lights. As soon as they get the power from some main station." He had no
idea what he was talking about. Electricity, like so many new devices, was a
mystery to him. But he knew he didn't want to hear whatever it was Sissy had
come to tell him, knew deep in his stomach where he felt a burning, knew deep
in his soul where he felt a chill.

"There
is only one way to do this," she said sharply. "I've never beaten the
devil around the stump before, and I don't think this is the time to start. I
can't marry you, Mr. Winestock. I thank you for the offer. I'm
flattered—honored, really. But I have to say no."

He
had lost his tongue. Well, it was there, in his open mouth, but he couldn't use
it.

She
continued. "As you know, I've been working for Mr. Eastman."

He
nodded. Eastman! The man managed to be at the bottom of everything.

"I
didn't plan for this to happen. Really I didn't. In fact, I didn't want it to
happen."

He
gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

"I'm
in love with him. And he says he loves me, hard as that is to believe. Only, I
do believe him, because he had the chance to have Francie."

"Have
Francie?"

"Marry
her. But he wants me and, God help me, I want him. I want the girls and I even
want the cows and the chickens, though you can keep the mud."

He
couldn't be hearing her clearly. He put his fingers in his ears and wiggled
them, trying to dislodge any wax that could account for the strange things she
appeared to be saying.

"Again?"
he asked as though he hadn't heard her right.

"I'm
marrying Noah Eastman, Reverend Winestock. Just as soon as you can perform the
ceremony."

He
shook his head. It was impossible. It was as simple as that. Relief flooded
through him. Noah Eastman couldn't marry her, couldn't marry anyone. Sissy was
still his.

"You
won't perform the ceremony?" she asked in response to the shaking of his
head. "Really? I suppose the new minister at the First Presby—"

"My
dear, sweet Sissy," he said, taking her hand and clutching it to his chest.
Someone must have moved the chairs farther apart since Elvira's death. The
movement pulled her clear out of her seat.

"Miller,
I'm marrying Noah."

"But
Sissy, Noah is already married."

"Well,
yes, he was, but his wife died in the flood—" her voice drifted off as the
shake of his head denied what she said.

"Wylene
Eastman ran off to New York shortly after the younger girl—what's her
name?"

"Julia."
Her voice was flat. Dead.

"Julia
was born. She abandoned the whole family, but that doesn't make him free to
marry you."

She
didn't move a muscle. As far as he could tell, she wasn't so much as breathing
or blinking.

"It
will be all right," he assured her. "I too have come to love you, in
my way. We will go ahead with our plans as if this conversation never took
place. There is no reason for us not to marry. Look around you, Sissy. You'll
be very happy here."

She
lifted her head, and as she did the room brightened. Shouts came from outside
as people in the streets cheered.

"Look,"
he said, pointing toward the new electric fixture that hung above them.
"They've done it!"

The
three electric bulbs he had purchased all glistened in her damp eyes and shone
on the tears that fell silently down her cheeks.

"Sissy?"

She
shook her head as if she were incapable of speech. With a sniff and a hard
swallow she walked toward the door, reaching for her coat but not putting it
on.

"How
soon will be soon enough?" he asked. "Thanksgiving? We can have your
whole family here, under the lights. Would you like that?"

She
shook her head again and turned to give him one last look. Tears streaked her
face but there was no sound of her crying, no sobs, no heaving of her breast.

"No,"
she said, fighting to keep control of herself. "I guess I was meant to be
a spinster after all."

She
said it with a finality he couldn't broach.

"At
least let me see you home safely," he said, hurrying to the door.

She
shook her head yet again. "The worst has already happened to me," she
said, with the saddest smile he had ever seen. "I'm very sorry,
Miller," she added before she turned the knob.

"As
am I," he said after the door had closed behind her.

***

Married.
He was married. Somewhere out there in New York City, if that was where she
was, Wylene Eastman still existed. Noah's wife.

The
farm was empty when she returned home, all of her brothers and sisters were at
Della and Peter's. Poor Della. Poor Peter. Poor little James, the twinless
twin. And poor, poor Aunt Sissy, everybody's spinster aunt. Greedy Aunt Sissy,
who wished for love. Well, if wishes were horses ... she'd be trampled to
death. She'd never expected love. Never counted on it. How had it come to mean
everything in just two short months? She could have had everything she'd ever
wanted. If only she hadn't met Noah Eastman and started wanting things she
never knew existed. Like love.

She'd
been born on this farm and she would die on this farm. Alone.

She
was nearly out of self-pity when she heard voices from downstairs.

"Sissy?
You upstairs?" It was Risa, and she wasn't alone. "I'll go
check," she heard Risa say to someone, then heard the footfalls on the
steps.

"What
in the world?" Risa said when she saw her sister-in-law huddled on the bed
in her chemise, covers wrapped around her, in the dark. "Sissy? What's
wrong?"

"Nothing,"
she lied. "I was tired and came home to lie down."

"Safe
to come up?" Noah yelled from the living room.

Her
breath caught in her throat. She jumped from the bed and scurried around the
room like a trapped animal. "No! Don't let him come up! I can't see
him!"

Risa
stared wide-eyed as if she were watching a madwoman.

"Make
him go away!" Annie insisted.

"What
in the—" Risa began.

Annie
heard her voice quiver unnaturally. Her hands twitched and her breathing became
so rapid she thought that for the first time in her life she might truly faint.

"All
right," Risa said as calmly as she could. "It's all right. I'll tell
him to leave. Is that what you want?"

"Yes!"
she said rapidly. "Yes. Tell him to leave. Tell him never to come
back."

Risa
nodded her head slowly and put out her hands to calm Annie down. "All
right," she kept repeating. "It's all right."