“Jan,” she whispered, “please stop.”
When he looked up, Anna saw only the fire of desire in his eyes, and she became afraid. He continued to watch her, to study her. Slowly, the blue discs that were his eyes filled with a placid tenderness. Anna realized at once that where she thought there was danger, there was only safety, only strength.
“Marry me, Anna. I swear by the white eagle that I will love you always.”
Some silent gasp escaped within Anna, but she was unable to speak. What she had dared to dream had come true, and her life would never be the same. Her loneliness would belong to the past. Once again she would be part of a family. And, like her parents, she would experience love and marriage.
She found breath, but words came with difficulty. “Jan, I . . . it is so soon after—”
“It is not! We were meant to find each other when we did. You’ve felt it all along, just as I have.”
“It’s just that—”
“I’ll make you happy, I will! If we must wait a bit, so be it. We shall. Unhappily, perhaps, but willingly. Only say that you will marry me, Anna. I love you.”
“Oh, Jan, I—”
“Anna! Jan!” Zofia’s shrilly cheerful voice came from nearby.
Jan jumped to his feet, then aided Anna to hers.
“What is she doing here?” he whispered sharply. He had recognized the voice at once.
“She’s brought a lunch. It was to be a surprise.”
“Oh, it is that.”
“Over here,” Anna called weakly. She felt her face burning crimson. What had she seen?
“There you are!” Zofia cried, appearing from behind a tree. “Good afternoon, Anna . . . Jan.” Her voice bubbled with life and innocence. She wore a rose riding outfit and a white lacy blouse. Her black hair fell in a free-flowing wavy mass.
“Good afternoon, Zofia,” Jan said. He pretended to be busy tethering the already secured horses to a shrub.
“I began to think that you might not come.” Anna was aware that her own voice and visage could not disguise her embarrassment. She could not say the truth: that she had begun to wish that her cousin would not appear at all.
“Oh, I am sorry to be late.” Zofia hugged Anna.
Anna had come to realize that her cousin’s apologies were but endstops to a topic and required no reply.
Zofia helped Anna spread out a blanket on the ground, her perfume competing with the forest fragrances. Bending over, she whispered: “But I did it for you, dearest!” Then, in a louder voice: “I’ve brought the most delightful luncheon. Ah, what could be lovelier than an outing in the woods with my cousin and . . . my friend Janek?”
Anna looked to Jan, who was brushing down the horses. His annoyance at Zofia’s presence was visible. Was he also annoyed she had used his diminutive? Or had he noticed?
“We might even bathe later, Anna,” Zofia was saying. “That is, if Jan would be so good as to leave us alone for a while.”
“I’d rather not, Zofia,” Anna said. “You know how I am about the water.”
Zofia sighed dramatically. “You do give the impression of being dainty and helpless, Anna. And I suppose there are men who find those characteristics attractive.” Her dark eyes darted fleetingly to Jan, who seemed preoccupied with his task. “For me, though,” she continued, “such a guise would require too much patience, a quality I readily admit I lack.”
Anna thought for a moment that this last barb was directed at Jan, but she could not understand it. She was miffed by her cousin’s teasing and chose to ignore it. “I have an idea,” she said. “Let’s pick some raspberries to eat with our meal. I had no breakfast, so I’m hungry as a bear. And I adore raspberries!”
“Well, it’s not my idea of fun,” Zofia said, “but I’ll defer.” She turned now, cupped her hands to her mouth, peasant-like, and shouted: “Stanisław!”
In a few moments the servant appeared, leading two horses. The three left him to unpack the small bundles that comprised their lunch and began walking through the dense greenery in search of a raspberry patch.
“Jan,” Zofia asked, “will you walk ahead of us to make sure that the way is clear?”
Jan stepped a few paces ahead and began clearing the few obstructions. Anna thought he did so grudgingly.
Zofia pattered on casually, holding Anna back until Jan was out of earshot. “Well,” she impatiently whispered, “what happened, darling?”
“What do you mean?” As they passed through a narrow clearing, Anna pretended to be concerned with her skirt and would not lift her eyes.
“Don’t be coy!” Zofia hissed. “Tell me. Did he dare to kiss you?”
Anna looked up at Zofia and nodded.
“Honestly, Anna! Must I pry everything out of you?”
Anna drew in breath to blurt out her news. “He asked me to marry him.”
“What?” Zofia’s mouth dropped open. She appeared to be genuinely stunned. “Are you joking?”
“No.”
Zofia let out a little gasp. “What . . . what did you tell him?”
“I put him off.”
Zofia’s blank look changed now as her tone and expression took on direction. “Oh, Anna, I’m so sorry to have done this to you. You don’t hate me for it, do you? I thought that after your mourning you would enjoy a little dalliance with Jan. That’s why I plotted for you to have this time alone with him. Who would have imagined that he would propose? He was serious?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Now, don’t worry, dearest. I’ll fix things for you.”
“Don’t be silly, Zofia. I—” Anna stopped, realizing that Jan had waited for them to catch up.
“This way,” Jan said. “I’ve found a decent patch.”
While the three picked raspberries, Zofia babbled incessantly. Anna could not read her cousin’s behavior. Did she think that her interest in Jan was only casual? If so, she could only bide her time until she could tell her differently.
Bored and perhaps irritated by Zofia’s banter, Jan kept stealing impatient glances at Anna.
Finally, Anna became unnerved. “I’ll let you two finish,” she announced. “I’ll go get the luncheon ready.” She quickly moved off in the direction they had come.
“You were the one who wanted raspberries!” Zofia called.
Anna didn’t know what she wanted. Her mind was as tangled as the briar and brambles she found herself encountering. Her feelings concerning Jan were strong and positive but tainted by some nameless sense of danger or inappropriateness. And her cousin’s attitude was a mystery to her.
By the time Anna came to the clearing at the pond, she had made the decision to put an end to the outing. She ordered Stanisław to repack the bundles of food.
She walked down near to the water and paced, waiting for Jan and Zofia to return so that the day might end. Time and a clear head were needed. She was uncertain of marriage, though she knew she loved him—despite his changeable ways.
His advances and proposal had been impetuous. It was behavior very different from the custom of her parish. Tradition held that the suitor would arrive at his beloved’s home with a flower-covered bottle of wine. The young lady would fetch the prescribed tiny wineglass, fill it, offer it to her suitor, then to her parents. When they had all sipped of the glass, she, too, would lift it to her lips, and the young man would know that his offer had met with a favorable response.
Anna felt guilt, too. Having had to hide her romance with Jan from her guardians, she could look forward only to objections.
She watched idly as Stanisław put the last of the bundles into the saddlebags. The servant then mounted his horse and spoke to it in a playful tone while he patiently waited.
A shadow passed overhead.
Looking up to the sky, Anna saw a huge eagle soaring majestically. She recalled how Jan had sworn by the white eagle that he would love her forever.
The bird circled now and fell into a sudden swoop, disappearing beyond the treetops.
“I reckon he’s sighted his dinner,” Stanisław called.
“I suppose he has,” Anna heard herself say. Her mind, however, was recalling her father and remarks he had made numberless times. She could picture him at the supper table, knife and fork in hand but forgetting to eat so caught up was he in expounding on how strange it was that Poland should have as its symbol the eagle, a bird of prey; how Poland held no standing army and chose not to barter and threaten in the great throne rooms of Europe; how peaceful are the Polish citizens; how, in the past, it has been the countries bordering Poland—Prussia, Austria, and Russia—that have been the predators on Polish lands and peoples; how, only twenty years ago, these three partitioned Poland, taking spoils amounting to one-third of the land and one-half of the population.
It was peculiar, how her father’s words carried so little weight at the time. It seemed a lifetime ago. How young she had been then . . . before things began to fall apart. How caught up she had been in frivolities of youth. Now, her father’s words about his homeland echoed through the tunnel of her memory, ringing into the present with truth and portent.
Suddenly, Anna’s attention was jarred from this tangent by the sound of Zofia’s screaming. “Go back to the house, Stanisław!” she was crying. “Go back now!”
Anna turned around. “What is it, Zofia?” She could see only her cousin’s back. “What is the matter?”
At Zofia’s repeated command, the confused stable master gave spur to his horse and disappeared into the woods.
Zofia turned toward Anna now and dashed down the slope. “Jan did this to me!” she cried.
Anna stared in disbelief. The lace material covering Zofia’s ample bosom was disheveled and torn.
Jan was in quick pursuit.
He ran to where the cousins stood and roughly turned Zofia to him. Beneath his blond hair his face was red with rage. “What did you say to Anna?” He held tightly to Zofia’s arm. “Tell me!”
Zofia did not answer but only snarled at the brusque manner in which Jan treated her.
Jan cocked his head in Anna’s direction. “What did this lying creature say to you, Anna?”
The scene unfolding before Anna seemed unreal to her. She became confused and terrorized as Jan continued to press for an answer and as Zofia cried, her free hand struggling for release, her high voice full of reproofs. Anna felt removed, as if this were happening to someone else.
Jan shoved the hysterical Zofia aside and moved toward Anna. “You need to know the truth about your cousin . . .” he was saying.
But panic surged within Anna, and she turned and ran.
In a flash Jan followed, barking out words of explanation that Anna’s mind could no longer process.
Anna’s feet padded along the dry and crusty shore of the pond. Her mind was in a ferment.
Where was she to go? Her breath came hard. Still, she increased the speed of her steps.
She could hear Jan’s labored breathing close behind.
Anna raced up the incline of a little hill. She saw—too late—that it ended abruptly in a bluff of several feet.
She went tumbling headlong into a water-parched pocket below, coming to rest in an awkward sitting position. Her hat had fallen off and her braids, which had been wound about her head, had come loose.
Anna looked up to see Jan staring down at her from the little bluff.
“Are you hurt, Anna?”
“Let me be!” she heard herself cry. Her foot burned with pain, but she said nothing of it.
Jan descended the bluff and came to where Anna sat. Kneeling in the dry earth, he clumsily held out his hand.
Anna averted her eyes, then covered her face. “Jan, please leave me. Please!”
After what seemed an eternity, she looked again. He was gone. She sat motionless and numb.
Should she call him back? Anna suddenly realized that she did not want him to leave.
But the sound now of a horse’s hooves told her that it was too late. Hot, stinging tears brimmed in her eyes. What had she done?
She tried to stand but couldn’t.
“Oh, Anna, you’re hurt!” Zofia stood on the bluff now, gaping down at her.
Anna held the tears at bay. “My ankle feels like fire,” she conceded, “but I don’t think it’s broken.”
“Oh, it’s your left ankle! We’ll need Jan’s help if you’re to mount your horse. Don’t try to move, darling. I’ll catch up to him.”
“Do be careful, Zofia,” Anna called. Her cousin had already disappeared from view.
Using her elbows for support, she raised herself up onto a small mound from which she could see Zofia mounting her horse. As Zofia’s horse galloped away, Pegasus, still tethered to a shrub, shied, unsuccessfully straining against her reins.
Anna knew that they would need a man’s assistance. She prayed that her cousin would be able to overtake Jan and bring him back. And, perhaps more importantly, she wanted to give Jan a chance to explain himself. Only now did she process the genuine concern she had seen in his eyes. How could he have done what Zofia accused him of if Anna had won his heart?
She picked herself up on her hands and knees and struggled to a flat, shaded area at the edge of the pond. She lay down, and cupping her hands, brought cool water to her dry lips.
She fell back now, exhausted, eyes to a cloudless sky. Jan Stelnicki’s appearance in her life had been the most exciting thing ever to happen to her. Perhaps, however, their meeting had occurred too soon. She was just seventeen. Anna dreamt of marriage, a home, children—yet life since she had come to live with the Gronski family seemed so grand and promising, especially by comparison with her more reserved and rustic background. She longed to shed her childlike innocence and acquire sophistication. She wanted to experience the splendid social and cultural life of Warsaw, of which Zofia spoke incessantly. In a year or two, she might grow tired of leisure and independence, but she hesitated to forfeit it now.
And there was, too, that vague fear of Jan’s temperament. He appeared so impatient and impetuous. Had he attacked Zofia? It seemed inconceivable.
Would Zofia lie about such a serious thing? Why?
Anna worried over Zofia. Though she was a good horsewoman, the forest was rife with clawing undergrowth, fallen trees, low-hanging limbs. Anna looked about her, trying to concentrate only on the seemingly endless flow of drifting, autumnal leaves.
She felt alone and powerless. As time passed she struggled to stay alert.
It was a voice calling her name, Anna thought, that awakened her. She was instantly aware of a new pain. Hours had passed, it seemed, and the sun had shifted, burning her face. She felt as if the dry, pulsating skin had been drawn across her face like a mask.
“Oh, Anna,” Zofia was calling, “Jan was furious!” She picked her way down the embankment and moved toward Anna. “Oh, darling, you’re scorched. Your face is as red as a ripened strawberry!”
“He isn’t coming back?”
“No, dearest.”
Anna’s heart dropped.
“I caught up to him a long ways from here. He hardly let me speak, though, he was so enraged. Oh, he’s an impossible man!”
“What about Stanisław?”
“I tried to track him, that’s what took me so long. But he had too great a head start.”
“What are we to do, then?”
“Do you think that if we combined our efforts we could get you mounted?”
“Perhaps. We can try.”
The cousins did make an effort of it; however, after half of an hour their attempt ended ingloriously when they found themselves both sitting upon the ground. “There’s only one thing left to do,” Zofia said. “I’ll go back to the house for help.”
“Must you? Can’t we just wait? Surely the stable master—”
“No. I led Stanisław here.” Zofia got to her feet. “I expect the old fool can find his way home, but I doubt that he could find the pond again on his own, and it will be dark before anyo
ne will think to look for us. And they might never find us here. Walter and I discovered this place when we were but children and kept it secret from everyone.”
Anna had to admit that Zofia’s going back was the only logical plan.
“Don’t fret,” Zofia said. “I will hurry. Did Stanisław leave any of the food?”
“No, I had ordered him to repack it.”
Zofia regarded Anna strangely at this but did not question her. She stood now. “I’ll not be long in bringing help.”
“Zofia?”
“Yes, dearest?”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“What you said. . . . Did Jan attack you?”
“I said that he did, didn’t I? Do you question my word, Anna?”
“But I don’t understand. Only a short time before he said that he loved me. He proposed marriage to me.”
“And you believed him? Oh, Anna, you have so much to learn about life and about men! In the heat of romance a man will promise anything to gain satisfaction. He merely wanted his way with you, darling. Nothing else.”
“I don’t believe it! Jan is not like that!”
“It comes as a surprise to me, too, I must admit. Had I the slightest suspicion, I would never have allowed you to go with him. It’s a good thing I came along when I did.”
“Zofia, look at me. Is this the truth?” Anna’s eyes searched her cousin’s face for some sign of deceit. She prayed that it was a lie. She could not have so misjudged Jan. Anna pressed the issue: “You were not play-acting?”
Zofia’s anger flared without warning. “You little fool!” she hissed. “You dare to call me liar? What makes you think that a man like Jan Stelnicki would want to marry a backwoods bog-trotter like you when he could have his pick of Warsaw’s finest? He took you for an easy mark, that’s all!”
Zofia turned now and left.
Stunned, Anna watched her leave with eyes that would not focus, parted lips that could not speak. A few minutes later, she realized that Zofia had not only taken her own horse, but she had taken Pegasus as well.
Push Not the River Page 9
