“Oh, no! I’ll wait for you and the lunch. I’ll send one of the servants out to tell Jan we’ve been detained.”
“No, Anna, it’s decided. You and Jan go ahead, I insist.”
“But Aunt Stella,” Anna breathed, “and your father, when they find out—”
“You are a worrywart, I swear. I’ll take care of them, dearest.”
Zofia took hold of Anna’s hands and pulled her close, the dark eyes assessing her. “Janek is harmless, Ania, a tamed bear. I know. Moody sometimes, perhaps, but nothing to worry about. Now run along. Oh, and let my appearance at the pond be a surprise, all right?”
“Oh, Zofia,” Anna whispered, realizing now that she was trembling. “I could not possibly—”
“Oh, yes, you can. And you will! Don’t be a ninny, Anna. How can you ever hope to be cosmopolitan if you won’t forget your country naiveté? Do you think a French girl would shy away from a handsome man? Never!”
Her heart racing, Anna hurried down the servants’ stairs and through the house, praying that no one would catch sight of her. She was pondering something, too. Zofia had used Jan’s diminutive, Janek. Why? Was she on such familiar terms with Jan? Then she realized that Zofia and Jan must have been friends since childhood, and so such familiarity was only natural.
Outside, she pinned her riding hat to her head, and hastened through the damp morning air to the stable.
Her mind was a whirlwind. She knew that their going into the forest unchaperoned would be judged scandalous by most, but her pulse quickened at the thought of being alone with Jan for the first time since her mourning was put off. She was at once happy and fearful.
Zofia had been right: before meeting Jan, Anna had had no experience with men. And during the meetings with him in the meadow, her mourning had served as a kind of shield; without that, she was apprehensive about what she should say, how she should act. She wished that she had had the worldly-wise Zofia coach her in such things. There was never a lull in a conversation when her ebullient cousin was present. How will Jan act now? she wondered. What will he say? Might he say that he loves me?
Jan stood just inside the stable, smiling. His riding outfit was of deep blue, one that intensified the blue of his eyes. His shirt, open at the neck to reveal a matting of reddish-blond chest hair, was very white against his tanned skin. He held the reins of his own black steed, as well as those of another horse, slightly smaller.
He nodded toward the snow-white mare. “This one is yours, Anna,” he said, “if you want her.”
“You don’t mean . . . ”
“I surely do.” The smile widened.
Anna stood there fighting back a fountainhead of tears. Everything in her background suggested that she must refuse such a magnificent gift, but she could not bring herself to do it. Perhaps later, after she had a chance to consult her cousin. She had no wish to start off the day by hurting or even insulting Jan by refusing the gift.
The old stable master entered now.
“Look, Stanisław! Lord Stelnicki has given me my own horse. Isn’t it a lovely creature?”
“’Tis a beauty, milady.”
“Do you think you can board another, Stanisław?” Jan asked.
“One more will be no bother, milord.”
“Thank you, Jan,” Anna said, “though it’s too great a gift.”
“Nonsense.” The piercing eyes held Anna’s for a moment.
Outside, Jan helped Anna to mount her horse. He then joked with the stable master, slipping some coins into his gnarled hand.
Anna yielded now to an impulse, thinking that she would show off her newly acquired riding skills. Without waiting for Jan to mount his horse, she slapped the riding crop against the milky flank.
Like a bolt of lightning, the highly-muscled mare took off.
Only the day before and on days previous, Anna had thoroughly relished her horseback outings with Zofia. As they made the progression from a tame canter to a lively gallop, new feelings of power and exhilaration surged within her. Her blood pulsed with a joy of life.
How very different were Anna’s feelings today! Her animal ran so fast that Anna gasped for air and held on for dear life. She was too frightened to call out.
Somewhere behind her, she thought—prayed!—were the sounds of Jan’s horse’s hooves. She thought, too, that she could hear him calling to her.
The neatly tilled furrows of the farmland flew beneath her in a blinding fury as the wind cut into her face. The landscape about her was nothing more than a flashing blur of color.
Anna had learned to ride on a much smaller and more docile horse so that her efforts to slow the galloping mare were futile. She feared now that the horse would stumble and send her tumbling headlong to the hard ground, and she could not catch enough of a breath even to call out.
At last, Jan caught up to Anna, the powerful shoulder of the stallion pressing into that of the mare. Reaching over, Jan took Anna’s reins, and very near to where the furrowed acreage ended and the forest began, managed to bring her horse to a halt.
Anna panted for breath. She felt faint.
“Are you all right, Anna?” There was concern in Jan’s voice, but Anna suspected an amusement, too.
“I think so. Only winded. And a bit humiliated. I dare say Angel is a more tranquil creature.”
“I should have warned you that this one has spirit. Horses are like people, Anna, each with a different temperament. And as with people, you should get to know them before putting them to the test.”
“Thank you for the advice, belated as it is.” Anna managed a laugh, even if it were at her own expense. “Tell me, does this horse have a name?”
“We call her Pegasus.”
“How appropriate! I think she does have wings, indeed!”
Jan laughed.
Anna spied then what she thought was a sparkle of impetuousness in his eyes.
Before them spread the great forest of giant oaks, cloaked now in hues that could only hint at the multi-colored splendor to come. “Isn’t it beautiful here?” Anna said, trying to appear composed.
“Let me help you down.” His voice itself seemed a caress. “We’ll rest here awhile.”
“No,” Anna replied. “I’m fine, really. Let’s continue.”
“You must keep tighter reins,” he warned, handing them over to Anna. “She must be shown who is the master—or mistress.” His hand lingered over Anna’s for a few moments.
As their horses moved now, slowly, and the shadows of the high trees engulfed them, Anna’s mind raced with as many thoughts as there were leaves. Why did I listen to Zofia? Why did I put my reputation at risk? And might there be an even greater risk? She had little experience in the ways of courtship. How good of a judge of character can I be when I could not even anticipate a horse’s temperament?
They were soon deep into the forest and had to pick their way delicately, as the old trail was largely covered by a thick undergrowth of sweet briar and bracken. Here and there, angling shafts of light squeezed through the treetops and fell in brilliant beams to the forest floor. The morning air was made visible by the rising mist. Saplings of oak leaned and stretched away from their own rooted earth in a life struggle for their share of a limited sunlight. Few would survive. The forest was cool and pleasant, the ride relaxing, and the anxiety within Anna began to lessen.
“Did you bring any coins, Anna?”
“Coins?” Her puzzlement lasted only a moment; then she, too, heard the eerie sound. Somewhere, far into the interior of the forest a cuckoo intoned its strange lament. “No, I have not.”
“Nor I. Ah, well, what harm can befall us on such a magnificent day?”
Anna’s love and respect for legends—more than superstition—made her regret that Jan had given his coins to Stanisław.
Anna’s grandmother had told her the old folk tale: A lovely maiden had made fun of St. Anna, who was berry-picking in the woods; the offended saint transformed the girl into a cuckoo bird, desti
ned forever to haunt the countryside bemoaning its fate. If, according to the tale, one jingles a few coins when the sound of the cuckoo is heard, all would be well.
Anna had always thought it a morbid story of revenge, one unworthy of a saint. She wondered at the precaution, too: could following superstition buy protection? And yet, her first reaction at not having coins was regret. Of course, Jan was right. What harm could befall them on such a day? She tried to shake her fears.
Jan halted and dismounted. Anna stopped, too, watching as he stooped down near a fallen tree. Laughing, he sprang up with an immense mushroom. “Would you look at this, Anna!” As large as his fist, it looked like a speckled beige flower.
“It may be poisonous,” Anna said.
“No, it isn’t, but you’re right to be cautious. The forest does have its dangers, but it has its gifts, too.” Jan took a knife and cut into the stalk. “See, Anna, it’s pink as a baby’s bottom. If it were white and oozing, then we’d worry. It’s not especially good for eating, but fine for soups or stews. Lutisha will think it a fine gift.”
Quartering it, he placed it in his saddlebag.
He stooped again.
“If they are all that size,” Anna called, “we will not need many.”
He stood now and approached Anna, his hand hidden behind his back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“I do not presently have a taste for a mushroom,” she joked.
“Hold out your hand.”
Anna slowly put out her hand, and Jan placed in it a tiny red flower.
“Thank you, Jan.”
He bent forward in a mock bow.
“Tell me,” Anna asked, “does anyone ever call you Janek?”
“No, never. But you may do so if you wish.”
Anna felt the heat rising to her face. She didn’t know how to respond.
Jan was staring at her, his eyes narrowing, the smile deepening. At that moment, Anna felt that his mere glance could pierce through to her soul. Somehow, she was certain, he sensed what her feelings were and she dared to think she might know his. Today, he will ask me to marry him.
Anna made no effort to dismount, though she was certain that he wanted her to do so. In the cooling shadows, she watched appraisingly as he prepared to mount his horse. How manly he seemed; how handsome. Yet sensitive to others and to the fragile beauty of nature. The sweet wild vapors of the forest enraptured her, intoxicating her with what she knew was love for this man.
They rode leisurely through the lush woodland for nearly two hours. Anna’s fears—intuitive and unnamable—blew over her from time to time like whiffs of stale air, but passed quickly.
They came to a tiny stream and paused to allow their horses to drink. Jan drew his horse very close to hers. “Anna,” he said, leaning toward her. His arm moved to her waist and he brought her but a hair’s breadth away from him.
Jan kissed Anna now for the first time, lightly. Anna did not return the pressure, but she did not pull away, either. She found his lips strangely supple and wonderful. The soft, yielding sigh that she heard now was her own. His grip at her waist tightened and her breasts pressed against his open coat while he kissed her mouth, then her neck. There was a kind of pain in his holding her so, but she was somehow numb to it. The horses moved restlessly beneath them, perhaps nervous at their own proximity. Jan was whispering something so low that she could not decipher it. When his mouth moved to her ear, she realized it was merely her name he was chanting, over and over.
“Let me help you down,” he murmured now.
Anna pretended not to hear. His nearness, his kiss, had set off an alarm that sounded through her like the clang of an abbey’s bell. She would not—could not—let this get out of hand. When he repeated himself in a voice too distinct for her to ignore, she withdrew from him.
“Jan, we have a long way to ride before we reach the pond I told you of.” Anna sent Pegasus splashing into the narrow stream. She had lied: she knew that the pond was reasonably close.
Her fears returned in number. She should never have ventured into the forest alone with Jan. What had possessed her? Her mother had taught her to avoid temptation and risk. She was afraid, too, of certain intangible feelings that stirred and moved within her when Jan kissed her, when he touched her. Had she made the mistake Icarus had? Was she even now flying too near the sun? She could only pray that Zofia would be waiting at the pond for them.
The two followed the stream’s course for some distance without speaking. Anna led the way and Jan followed, playing sweet music on his Jew’s harp. Occasionally, he would stop his music and mimic the song of a nearby bird. Anna would laugh and turn her head to watch him, but his face seemed inscrutable. Had she angered him?
As they moved along, Anna became fascinated by thousands of shimmering stones that lay in the shallow stream’s bed. The small stones resembled shining rough garnets, emeralds, and amber. Or was it merely the sparkling interplay of water and light that made them appear so? Anna suppressed the desire to ask if some of them might actually be precious stones. She wished not to appear naive.
The stream sloped sharply now as it led them into a denser part of the forest.
Suddenly, Anna saw something odd beneath the waters. It was white and the curved shape tapered to a jagged point at one end. She halted her horse. “Look, Jan!” she called. “There near to the shore!”
“What is it, Anna?”
“It looks like a tooth. Yes, it looks like a monstrous tooth!”
They approached the object. Jan dismounted at the very edge of the stream and stooped to pick it up with both hands.
“What do you suppose it is?” Anna asked.
“This is a kind of tooth, Anna, as big and heavy as it is!” He stared at the awesome object for a few moments, turning it over in his hands. “I would imagine that this is the tusk of a mastodon, an animal as tall and as long as that tree is high.”
Anna felt a flicker of fear ignite in her stomach, but she chose to laugh. “Imagine, indeed. Do you mean a dragon?”
Jan indulged her with a smile. “Mastodons were animals that once roamed these lands. People believe the ancients killed all of them.”
“Lucky for us,” Anna said, with a laugh. “If only we could take it with us. I should like Zofia to see the tooth of a real dragon.”
Agitation drew down the corners of Jan’s mouth. “I’m serious, Anna. This is from no dragon but from a great beast that once roamed the countryside. Why, my peasants have found the bones of a whole such gigantic creature in my farm soil.” When Anna’s eyes challenged him further, he became distracted. “It’s true!” he cried.
“I’ve heard of such beasts only in storybooks,” Anna said. “You’re teasing me.”
As if in anger, Jan hurled the object out into the deepest part of the stream. Silently, he mounted his horse.
Anna was stunned. Now he was angry with her. But why? Zofia was right: his moods are changeable.
They left the water now, picking their way through briar and brush, moving into the forest’s dense heart.
“You’re leading me through a maze of thicket!” he called from behind. “I trust you know the location of this hidden pond?”
“Oh, yes,” Anna sang out, but a doubt did invade her private thoughts. Zofia had taken Anna to the secret place several times since her arrival. Anna believed that they were the only ones who knew of its existence. One could bathe and swim there in complete safety and privacy, but the insects, fish, and water plants inhibited Anna. Zofia was less restrained and splashed happily in the cool waters while Anna sat on the bank, envying her cousin’s audacious spirit.
Now, as the horses led Anna and Jan through thick, overhanging willow branches, the pond came into view.
“Look there!” Anna said. She pointed to the small body of water that lay nestled in a circular corps of oaks and willows. Like a mighty sentry, one dead oak stood towering at the water’s edge, its great twisted roots exposed at the sloping bank.
<
br /> Anna’s heart quickened. Her eyes scanned ahead, near to the water’s edge, then all about. With the leisurely pace she had set and the stops they had made, she was certain that Zofia had had enough time to catch up. There was, however, no sign of her. Ah, Zofia, she thought, it would be a clever trick of you to leave me alone here with Jan Stelnicki.
Anna’s knuckles whitened as her hands clenched and drew up reins. The horse came to a halt and Anna leaned forward.
“What are you looking for?” Jan asked, dismounting.
“Nothing.” If he were angry with her, the storm had passed.
“Come, Anna, let me help you down.” His voice was soft but insistent.
Jan’s grip was tender as he effortlessly lifted her from the horse. He is so terribly strong, she thought. When her feet touched the ground, his arms went around her. He kissed her, harder than before, with firm lips that slid over and between hers.
The warmth of his mouth and the strength of his body made her feel as though she were being supported solely by him, and should he unfold his arms from her, she would fall to the ground.
Suddenly, she felt and tasted Jan’s tongue and was stunned into an unwitting acknowledgment that this foreign kiss was the sweetest of sensations.
Though Anna tried to pull away, she was powerless in Jan’s arms, and after a time her body sank with his into the dry, soft leaves beneath them.
Anna could only think that this must not happen. She struggled against Jan and against some interior part of her that wanted not to struggle. On the horse, she had felt an element of protection, an avenue of escape. On the ground, however, she felt suddenly vulnerable.
“Stop . . . please . . .”
The air near the earth smelled warm and heavy with the late summer dust of the leaves and flowers. The weight of the world pulled at her eyelids while Jan kissed her, again and again.
She forced open her eyes when she felt his silken blond hair beneath her chin, his warm mouth on her throat. She had left the top button of her blouse undone, and his lips moved down now, laying light, caressing kisses. Anna’s feelings were new to her and undeniably blissful. But she knew their danger, too.
Push Not the River Page 8
