by Verna Clay
"Hello, Ma and Ty." Shifting his eyes to the small cross closer to the tree, he grinned. "And hello, Wally, old pooch. It's been a long time since I was here. I was waiting to visit during the yearly tradition, but I felt the need today. I've married a woman to help her out. I'm escorting her to San Francisco, but she's staying at my place for awhile. I've never met anyone like Angel. She's been hurt real bad and I don't think she's told me everything. I hate seeing her hurting, but I don't know how to help her. Maybe I should bring her here on the yearly visit with the family. Pa won't be able to come because he's had an accident, but I don't think that will stop Abby and the boys. Yeah, Ma and Ty and Wally, I think I'll bring Angel so you can meet her."
Two days later, on his mother's birthday, Luke pulled the buckboard to the front of his family's cabin. James and Rusty rushed through the door to greet them with Abby right behind. "Hello son; hello daughter. Your pa is feeling the best since the accident and keeps telling me how bored he is. I know he'll be thrilled to see you and hear about what's happening on your ranch. He's unhappy about missing Molly's birthday and told me he's going to tell you what to say. The boys and I will be ready in a minute."
Angel gave Luke a questioning look. He responded to Abby, "Ma, give me a minute to explain to Angel and then we'll come in the house." Pointedly, he looked at his brothers.
James said, "Hey, Rusty. I think we best make sure the horses got enough hay this morning."
"I know they did, 'cause I–"
"Come on Rusty, can't you take a hint." James reached for his brother's arm and dragged him toward the barn.
When Abby walked back into the house, Luke turned to Angel. They were still sitting on the wagon. "My family has a tradition every year on my birth mother's birthday. We walk to her and my baby brother's graves and just talk a little bit about what's happening in our lives."
Luke watched Angel's eyes round and hastened to continue. "I know it sounds strange and probably ridiculous, but it's helped all of us in dealing with our grief. I can't explain why it helps, but it does."
"I can't intrude on your family's tradition!"
"Honey, you're not intruding. How could you even think that?"
"I'm not part of this family."
"You are as long as you're married to me. I want you to come." Luke didn't add that he thought it might help her deal with her own grief. Before she could voice another protest, he jumped off the buckboard and circled it to help her down. Staring into her emerald eyes, he said, "Trust me, Angel."
Abby stepped back through the door. "Luke, your father is getting impatient. Said he wants to talk to you before we go."
Holding Angel's hand, he guided her toward the door and into the cabin. Going to his father's bedside, he said, "Are you being ornery, Pa?"
"Who? Me?" His father glanced at Abby and she rolled her eyes.
Luke laughed.
His pa reached his good hand out to Angel. "Hello, daughter, it's good to see you again. I'm happy you're joining us in our tradition."
Angel grasped his hand and smiled. Luke was thankful she didn't protest in front of his father.
His father glanced at Abby. "Did you get the letter Jenny sent for you to read?"
"Honey, I've got it."
Brant turned back to Luke. "Son, here's what I want you to say."
Angel interrupted, "Would you like me to leave?"
Brant looked at Angel. "Nope. You can relay anything that Luke forgets." He turned his attention back to Luke. "Of course, tell Molly and Ty how much I love them and then tell them that for a minute I thought I was joining them." He laughed and looked at Abby.
She squinted. "That's not funny, Brant."
"Sorry, darlin'. Anyway, tell them I'm right proud of my children—Angel included. Tell them about Rusty's and James' maturity after my accident, Jennie's tenacity in her artwork, and your ranch's completion. Tell them I'm over-the-moon about your marriage to this sweet young gal." He smiled at Angel.
Luke glanced at his wife, not knowing what to expect in her expression. He was relieved when she only radiated warmth toward his father.
His father finished with, "Guess that's about it." He sniffed and his eyes glistened.
Luke said softly, "You'll be there next year, Pa."
His father nodded and Abby bent to kiss him, whispering something private in his ear.
Luke suggested, "Let's go round up my brothers, Angel."
* * *
Angel walked with Luke, Abby, Rusty, and James along a narrow path leading to the top of a hill. She wanted to turn and run away, but Luke's plea that she trust him had lodged in her heart. For some reason, she sensed this was important to him and after all he had done for her, she couldn't disappoint him. Of course, the idea of talking to dead people didn't make sense, so she decided to just stand off to the side while they carried on their tradition. A knot twisted her stomach and she clenched her hands. She could play along, couldn't she?
At the top of the rise, Abby led the way to a gnarled oak and two graves with stone markers and another with a simple wooden cross. One of the stones was engraved with, "Beloved Mother and Wife," the other with, "Beloved Baby Boy." The wooden cross had "Wally, Best Dog Ever" painted in neat printing. Angel lifted a hand to her mouth to quench a sob.
With everyone gathered around the graves, Abby glanced around and said, "Rusty, you go first."
Rusty shuffled his feet, kicked some dirt, and said, "Hello brother and Molly. Things are 'bout the same as last year. Except that I got a new horse. I named her Frizz 'cause she's got a frizzy mane. And Wally, you'll be happy to know we're gettin' a puppy from the MacGregors. She's still really young so we can't bring her home yet. She already had a name—Wanda—and it suits her. And she even looks a little like you. Oh, and we're all happy Luke got married to a really nice lady. She's outstanding pretty, too." He sent a quick glance at Angel, turned red, shuffled his feet again, and said, "I'm done, Ma."
Abby nodded. "James, your turn."
James said solemnly, "Miz Molly and Ty and Wally, like Rusty said, things are pretty much the same for me, too. But not for Pa. He got hurt real bad and we're all pitching in to help run the ranch. We was all surprised when Luke came back with a wife. And, like Rusty said, she's mighty pretty. But better'n that, she's nice and cooks great! Also, I can't wait to play with Wanda like we did with you, Wally." He looked at his mother.
Abby smiled. "I wholeheartedly agree."
James said, "I guess that's all, Ma."
Abby lifted a paper. "Molly and Ty and faithful Wally, this is a letter from Jenny."
Hello Ma. Hello Ty. Hello Wally.
I'm writing a letter because I'm in New York City. It's an amazing experience, but also scary. I've never seen so many people in one place. I'm attending Jake Ryder's Academy of Art. He's a famous Wild West painter with a sad story. His art hangs all over the world, but five years ago he was in an accident and lost his painting arm. One of my teachers said he's become pretty much of a recluse, so I'll probably never meet him. But I'm still honored to have been accepted into his academy. I'm learning so much about mixing colors and how the rendering of light distinguishes a mediocre painting from a great one.
Although it's exciting being here and meeting new folks, I miss my family and friends something fierce. I hope to be home next year for our yearly visit. I love you.
—Jenny
Abby folded the letter, tucked it in her pocket, and nodded toward Luke.
Drawing Angel away from the tree and next to his side, he said, "Ma and Ty and Wally, Pa wanted me to convey his love, but also frustration at not being able to come this year. He gave us all a scare when he got hurt, but he's on the mend and Ma Abby has her hands full trying to keep him down. He wanted me to tell you he's right proud of his children; Rusty and James for helping out so well after his accident, Jenny for her discipline in learning her craft, and me for getting my ranch going and…marrying." Luke squeezed Angel's shoulders. "As for me, I've had a
full year. Soon I'll be raising my own herd. Pa's getting me started with a few head and loaning me his prize bull. I hope to have the ranch in operation in another year." Glancing down at Angel, he said, "Like I said, I got married. And like Rusty and James said, she's beautiful and as sweet as the pies she bakes." After another squeeze of Angel's shoulders, he glanced at Abby. "I'm finished."
Abby stepped to Molly's grave. "Molly, although Brant's accident alarmed us all, it served to reaffirm how precious our time together is and draw us closer. Like Luke said, he's on the road to recovery. I love him more than words can convey and I want us to grow old together." Bending over, she touched the stone. "Often, I see him glancing at your picture on our mantle and smiling. I smile, too, knowing the happiness you gave him. As I always say, 'I will do everything in my power to make him as happy as you did.' As for Jenny, like her letter stated, she's studying art in New York City. Her paintings are the most beautiful I have ever seen. We're all convinced that someday she will be a famous artist. Before she left, she told me she has no intention of marrying because her art is more important. But perhaps the right man just hasn't come along. She's grown into a beautiful young woman who knows her own mind. We're very proud of her, as we are of all our children and our new daughter, Angel. We love her and welcome her into our family."
Angel wanted to cry out in guilt. I'm not who you think I am! I don't deserve your love. Instead, she kept her eyes riveted on Abby's back as she straightened and walked the few steps to kneel beside Ty's grave.
Abby said, "Ty, my sweet baby, you would be thirteen now. I often envision you. It's not difficult because you looked so much like your father. In my mind, I see you playing in the yard with your brothers or riding a horse or collecting eggs with me." Abby stopped talking and bowed her head. Angel watched her shoulders shake and heard her sob, "Oh, my baby, I miss you so much."
Unable to bear Abby's words or sorrow, Angel jerked away from Luke and turned to run from the finality of death. Wrenching cries escaped as she ran.
"Angel, wait!" She heard footsteps behind her as she turned toward a thick patch of trees. Without regard for her person, she increased her speed, but Luke caught up with her and grasped her shoulders.
"Angel, sweetheart! Stop running before you get hurt!"
Sobbing, she cried, "Why did you do this to me? Why did you make me witness Abby's sorrow?"
"Honey, yes, there's sorrow, but there's also healing. By Abby expressing herself, she heals. It's the same for all of us."
"No! It's not. You don't understand."
"What don't I understand my sweet angel?"
With a heart wrenching cry, she said, "Both my babies died and I don't want to remember. I want to forget. You've made me remember and I hate you for that!" Jerking her arm out of Luke's grasp, she tried to turn and run again, but her feet wouldn't move. Tears streamed and then she did something by instinct. She threw herself against Luke, grabbed his shirt, and buried her face in his chest. Guttural sounds escaped, but she couldn't stop them. Strong arms encircled her and pulled her close. Clutching his shirt, she sought to step into his skin. She craved his strength, his closeness, his compassion. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her mouth to his, kissing him and sobbing at the same time. He could make her forget. Circling his neck with her arms, overwhelming desire filled her with a passion she had never experienced. Suddenly, Luke lifted her into his arms and carried her further into the woods before gently lowering her onto soft grass beneath a tree. She heard him whisper, "Angel, Angel, Angel." Placing her mouth on his, his unique taste was her undoing, and she grabbed fistfuls of his hair, exploring his sweet mouth and allowing him to explore hers. Their kisses knew no limits and when she gasped for breath, she cried, "Make me forget them, Luke."
* * *
Luke thought he might drown in the love and tenderness he felt for Angel and wanted to kiss her forever, but when she begged him to make her forget the past, he broke away and placed his forehead against hers. "Angel, sweetheart, listen to me. Forgetting will not make things better. I know that for a fact. Talk to me. Remember so you can heal."
Angel pushed against his chest, tears flooding her eyes. "I don't want to remember!" She jumped to her feet and turned to flee, but Luke was fast and caught her, holding her against him, imprisoning her arms.
"Tell me," he repeated gently against her ear.
In a last burst of energy she tried to break free, but he held her strong. She collapsed against him and sobbed. "My little girl died because my husband wouldn't go for the doctor. She was only three," she wailed. "When I tried to stab the evil man after her death, he only laughed and hit me. I was pregnant with another child. The beating caused a miscarriage."
Great wails erupted from Angel and Luke died a million deaths at the pitiful sound. When Angel's legs collapsed, he lowered her to the ground and held her against him. After a time, her wails quieted and she said softly, "But the wicked man died in the end. He caught the same disease, and when he begged me to go for the doctor, I refused. I watched him die and I was glad."
Luke closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against his wife's hair. She whispered, "I'm no better than him. I watched him suffer and refused to help. I buried them all and wished I'd died with them."
Luke smoothed his hand over his wife's hair and stroked her back over and over. "No, Angel. If you had died I wouldn't be holding you now. I lo–"
Angel pushed away from him and covered his mouth with her hand. "No, don't say anything more." Lying back against his chest, she seemed to relax, and Luke thought she had fallen asleep until she began reminiscing. He listened and encouraged her to continue whenever she faltered. He laughed when she laughed and he cried when she cried. Finally, his angel slept in his arms. Laying her down, he stretched out beside her and watched her sleep until his own eyes closed in emotional exhaustion.
* * *
Angel snuggled closer to radiating warmth. She felt languid and almost happy. She hadn't known happiness for years and she jerked her eyes open. Her face was mashed against a firm chest and her arms encircled a man's waist. His arms were wrapped just as tightly around her and she could hear his even breathing in sleep. In a rush, visions of gravestones popped into her mind, followed by her flight into the woods. She inhaled sharply when she remembered passionate kisses with Luke. Then she heard herself revealing the death of her daughter, her miscarriage, and finally the confession of her sin in doing nothing to help her dying husband.
Luke shifted and lifted his body above hers and studied her face. After their initial eye contact, she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze again.
He reached to brush hair out of her eyes. "Thank you for confiding in me."
She turned her head aside. "So now you know me for the uncaring person that I am."
Gently, Luke lifted her chin and turned her face back to his. "Look at me, Angel."
Unable to resist his command, she lifted her lashes until she met his blue gaze.
He said, "You are an amazing woman that I admire more than any woman I have ever met."
Angel's eyes rounded, "How can you say that after what I just told you?"
"What you shared was a young woman, barely more than a child herself, thrust into hellish circumstances no woman should have to live through. You showed me a woman who survived in spite of that."
"But I didn't help him."
"Angel, you had just lost two children. How could you even think under those circumstances? The fact that you still feel guilt after what was done to you shows me the caring person that you are. Honey, your husband chose his path and its time for you to release him from your heart and mind. You cannot change the past, but you can choose your future." He paused to dip his head and lightly kiss her. "And I want you to choose a future with me."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean I want to stay married to you. I want us to become a real family. I want–"
"No!" Angel pushed away from him.
"Angel, I kno
w how much your bakery in San Francisco means to you, but I'll build you one here. The folks in Two Rivers would love a bakery."
Angel jumped to her feet. "No! There's no way I'll ever stay married to you. I-I want to leave in a week for San Francisco like you promised!"
Luke stood. "Okay, Angel. I can see your mind is made up. I think you're making a mistake. I think we could be very happy and I could give you more children."
"No! Don't say anything more. I don't want a family."
"I think you do, but you've convinced yourself you don't deserve happiness."
"You don't know me. You don't know the things I've done. You've only heard a few years of my life. I'm not a good person and I don't deserve happiness. But I will find contentment in my bakery."
Slowly, Luke released a breath. "The trail back to the house is this way."
By the time they reached Luke's parents' house, dusk was edging out the light. Because Angel refused to enter the house, Luke lifted her onto the buckboard and then stepped into the cabin to bid his family goodbye. Angel didn't know what he said to explain her strange behavior, but Abby and the boys stepped onto the porch and watched them pull away from the house, waving goodbye and wearing sad faces.
Chapter Thirteen: Identity Crisis
Over the next few days, Angel remained mostly in her bedroom. To pass the time, she borrowed books from Luke's library when he wasn't around. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about their encounter and often closed her eyes, reliving his sweet kisses. She even found herself occasionally allowing fond memories of her daughter to surface.
A week after the grave incident, there was a knock on her bedroom door and Angel expected it to be Luke. She was shocked to see Abby and it must have shown in her expression.
Abby said, "Goodness, I hope its okay that I stopped by to see you."
"Of course it is. Please come in and sit down." Angel motioned to the desk chair.
Abby ignored the chair and went to sit on the side of the bed, patting the spot next to her. "You sit, too, so we can chat."
