by Sharon Sala
"Oh, my God," Annie whispered, and turned back toward the mirror. The teenager who had been there moments ago was gone, along with the memories. There was nothing left but a woman wearing guilt on her face.
"How could you have done that?" she muttered, as she leaned forward to stare accusingly at her own reflection. "After all he's done … you still doubt him?" A bitter smile twisted her mouth. "You don't doubt him, you fool. It's yourself you doubt."
With that she pushed herself away from the dresser and walked out of the room without looking back.
By the time Gabe returned, Annie had cleaned the refrigerator and wiped off the stove, it was time to put the past behind her. She had no more choices to make.
* * *
After all these years, the night sounds in the hills were strange to Annie and made it impossible for her to sleep. She tossed restlessly on her bed; grimacing when the old springs squeaked protestingly under her weight.
Gabe shifted beside her in his sleep, and then unconsciously reached out, trying to settle her back safely against him. But Annie resisted the comfort of his touch, as well as the safety of his strength. He'd done what she asked and brought her home to Missouri. And although this was only their first night here, there was no way of telling how much longer he would stay.
Annie knew that she was going to have to find a way to exist without him, and there was no time like the present. The sooner she got used to being alone … and lonely… the better off she would be. With that bitter thought in mind, she rolled out from under Gabe's arm and left the bed.
The old wood floorboards creaked beneath her feet. Thorough cleaning would come in the days ahead, but the sweeping they'd gotten earlier had served its purpose. The floor was cool and smooth to the touch and, to Annie, vaguely familiar. Without thinking, she stepped over the board just left of center in the doorway, knowing that it would protest loudly under her weight.
A heavy, throbbing pressure was building at the back of her neck as she walked through the house toward the front door, a warning she'd come to recognize and hate.
Anxious for the welcome coolness waiting just outside on the porch steps, she rolled her head, rubbing her neck as she did and wincing as her muscles protested the action.
If I only had access to a hot tub, she thought. This misery had to be caused by exertion and exhaustion. All she needed was a good night's sleep and it would be better. Surely it wasn't a portent of things to come. Not yet. She wasn't ready.
Her fingers curled around the doorknob at the same instant that the first wave of pain struck. The moan that slid from her lips was soft and frightened, but it was enough to awaken Gabe, who sat up in startled silence, wondering how long he'd been alone in her bed … and why.
Wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton briefs, he bolted through the house without trying to mask the noise he made.
"Annie! Where are you?" he shouted, and then wondered why he felt such panic when they'd left the person who'd threatened her far behind and six feet under.
The pain was so sudden … and so intense. If she could have caught her breath, she would have screamed. As it was, she leaned against the door and braced her legs to keep from falling. At that moment, standing was all she was capable it doing.
"Oh, God," Gabe breathed as he saw her in the shadows, unable to walk, swaying by the door like a broken butterfly trying to fly.
And then he saw her clutch her head and tilt forward. He caught her just before she crashed to the floor.
"My head … my head," Annie groaned, and dug her fingers into her scalp. All she wanted was to rip out the pain and throw it away.
Gabe had a flashback of the first time he'd seen her in the throes of such pain and remembered the prescription medicine that had given her ease.
"Your pills, Annie! Where did you pack your pills?"
She didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Instead, she groaned and went limp against him as he slid his arms around her shoulders and tangled his hands in her hair, massaging the taut, corded muscles at the bade of her neck in a helpless effort to ease her pain.
"Annie … where did you put your pills?" he repeated.
"Kitchen … kitchen … kitchen," she moaned, saying the word over and over like a litany. "Oh God, oh God, make it stop."
Her fingers dug into her hair and pulled as Gabe lifted her from her feet and quickly carried her back to her room. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he bolted from the room, leaving her alone in the dark with the pain.
Gabe hit the light switch in the kitchen with the flat of his hand as he ran past. Seconds later he had every cabinet door swinging open as he searched the dusty shelves for the brown prescription bottle he'd seen before. And when he saw it, his sigh of relief coincided with her shriek of pain.
"My God," he muttered, realizing that in his entire life he'd never been this afraid before. Not even when he was about to be hanged.
He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, unmindful of the puddle he left on the floor by the sink as he bolted bade down the hall, the pills in his hand.
By the time he got back, Annie had rolled in upon herself. She was curled into a ball so tight that he had to fight her to get her upright enough to swallow.
"Open your mouth, damn it," he yelled when she fought him for making her move, because movement only increased the pain.
And somehow she heard … and obeyed. Gabe slid the pills between her teeth and chased them by pouring water down her throat, unmindful of the liquid that once again spilled, this time going down her neck and onto her gown.
Then he crawled in beside her, rolled her up into his arms and held her until the tremors subsided, her breathing slowed and the pulse he felt beneath his fingertips was no longer racing toward cataclysm. And when she finally slept, he could only hold her, staring up at the ceiling, wide-eyed and shocked, until daybreak came calling.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
Annie brushed the toast crumbs from the table into her hand and then tossed them into the sink. Breakfast had come and gone with little conversation. Gabe kept looking at her as if he expected her to self-destruct at any moment, and Annie kept looking away, afraid that he would learn more about her than she was willing to reveal.
"Do you want more coffee?" she asked as she topped off her own cup and then turned to Gabe with the pot in her hand.
He shook his head.
"Did you get enough to eat?" she asked as she began dumping grounds and rinsing out the inner components of the old percolator she'd unearthed from her mother's cupboard.
He nodded.
She twisted the tie onto the bread wrapper and shoved the loaf into the wooden bread box beneath the cabinet. Without looking around to see if he was watching, she took a dishcloth from a drawer, doused it into some sudsy water and began scrubbing needlessly at the countertops.
"Annie…"
She grimaced. It was the tone of his voice that warned her. That and the look he'd been wearing that she'd tried all morning to ignore. Last night had been unexpected … and it had been hell. He was bound to wonder. There was only one way to stop the interrogation before it started, and that was to take the offensive.
"Migraines are hell," she said.
Migraines? Was that what those were?
Gabe frowned. He'd heard of their ferocity. After the second episode that he'd witnessed, he could vouch for the truth of that statement—in spades.
"Are you sure that's all they—"
"Would you add dish soap to the grocery list, please? I need some. I just used up what was left."
She rinsed the dishcloth before going on to the next set of cabinets.
Gabe frowned and did as she'd asked.
"You need a car," he muttered, and added it to the top of the list just for spite, as if she could just walk into a supermarket and pick one off the shelves.
The thought of Annie alone up in these woods with who knew what for neighbors made him nervous. Thinking
of Annie alone, period, made him angry with himself. Thinking of himself without her made him sick.
Annie shrugged. "I'll see to it in good time," she said. "There's no hurry."
He gawked at her. Her answer made no sense at all. Of course there was a hurry. "How will you get food?" he asked. "How will you get to town? How will—"
A car horn honked, interrupting Gabe's questions. Annie dropped the dishcloth into the sink and parted the curtains over the window to peer outside.
A new model electric-blue pickup truck with silver running boards had just pulled up and parked beneath the big oak at the edge of the yard. Annie watched as a hulking figure of a man squeezed himself out from behind the steering wheel and stood, looking anxiously toward the house and the big Harley parked in front.
"Davie! It's Davie Henry!" she said, and headed for the door.
So who the hell is Davie Henry? Gabe shoved himself out of the chair, abandoning the list he'd been helping her make, and followed.
The screen door banged against the wall as Annie raced outside. In three steps she was off the porch and headed toward the big man who stood waiting beside the truck with a huge grin on his face.
"Annie … Annie, it is you!" Davie said, and caught her on the fly, swinging her up into his arms and then turning her around and around beneath the shade tree.
Gabe sauntered out, leaned against the porch post and tried not to glare. It was obvious they were friends. From the way the man was holding her, damned good ones, at that.
A slow rage filled his belly, building layer by layer at the injustice of it all, and just when it might have erupted and ruined whatever existed between himself and Annie, she was released and set back on her feet.
At that moment Gabe felt hatred. He hated Annie for laughing with that man in a way she'd never laughed with him. And he hated the man for being able to make her do it.
"Gabe!" Annie motioned for him to come closer. "There's someone I want you to meet."
"I can't wait," he muttered, and took his time about complying.
Davie Henry's shock was evident as he looked past Annie to the man on the porch. The smile on his face disappeared as he watched the big biker come toward him. He looked from Annie to the man and back again, unable to believe that these two were actually traveling companions.
The man she called Gabe didn't look like anyone he'd ever seen her with before. The expression on his face could only be called menacing. And even though he was wearing blue jeans and a near-white shirt that might pass for Western-style, those high-top leather boots and leather vest of shiny obsidian that matched the too-long shock of unruly hair framing his face, made Davie nervous—along with the silver spurs on his boots that jingled when he walked. Davie thought he'd never seen a more likely outlaw. He frowned and watched. The man reminded him of a big black panther stalking his prey.
Oddly enough, if Annie saw the animosity between the two men, she chose to ignore it
"Gabe, this is Davie Henry. One of my oldest friends." She punched him playfully on the shoulder and looked up into his face. "Would you believe I used to baby-sit this big lug?"
Gabe stared. Baby-sit? Then that meant…
"Only until I was eleven," Davie added, and ruffled Annie's hair as if she were a puppy at his feet. "That was the year I outgrew you by six inches."
Annie rolled her eyes and slapped his hand away. "It's true," she said, turning to fix Gabe with a smile that dropped his heart to his feet "My parents made me baby-sit a moose."
Davie laughed so openly at the joke on himself that Gabe had to grin. The man was big. And Annie wasn't all that tall. He looked back at her, trying to imagine her as a young child and then a teenager, and suddenly he realized how little he really knew of this woman who'd stolen his heart.
The time was nearing when he would have to leave her. But it was suddenly a little bit easier, knowing that Annie would be among friends when he did. He held out his hand.
"Gabe Donner," he said, introducing himself. "Annie and I don't go quite that far back. But it's nice to know that she's got friends nearby."
Davie nodded and shook Gabe's hand. "Our place is just a hoot and a holler from here as the crow flies. By car, about a mile and a half."
Gabe grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard anyone talk like that. It reminded him of his life before.
"Someone's been taking care of the place," Annie said, and looked at Davie.
The blush that ran up his neck toward his ears was answer enough for her, although he verified it with a grin.
"It wasn't much," he said. "Just cut a little grass and made sure the roof didn't leak."
Annie thanked him with a hug.
"You here for a visit?" Davie asked. "I haven't seen you since your daddy's funeral."
She shook her head. "No visit, Davie. I'm moving home."
He grinned. "It'll be just like old times."
A strange shadow passed over Annie's face. Davie was too busy rejoicing in the news to see, but Gabe saw it. With Annie, he missed nothing. He saw regret and something else … something that looked suspiciously like…
Fear!
Annie was afraid. Of that he was certain. Gabe didn't know how he knew, but he did. And for the life of him, he couldn't understand why she should be afraid. What did she have to fear? Damon Tuttle was out of the picture permanently. Here in Missouri, she had a chance at a fresh start, which was more man he would ever have. So why in hell was she afraid? Everything around her was familiar. She should be waltzing on air. But she wasn't Annie O'Brien was afraid.
"I have a girlfriend," Davie said, and then ducked his I head, suddenly embarrassed that he'd announced something so personal so abruptly.
Annie hid what she'd been thinking behind a grin. "Who on earth would have you?" she teased, and then watched an odd expression come and go on Davie's face. She'd unintentionally hit a sore spot somewhere.
"You don't know her," Davie said. "Her folks moved into town about six years ago … right after you got that teaching job in Oklahoma City. They own and operate a feed-and-seed store."
"What's her name?" Annie asked, trying to smooth whatever it was that she'd stirred up.
"Charlotte. But I call her Charlie."
Gabe walked away, leaving the pair to hash over old times. The knowledge that he had no place in the conversation and no place in their lives was eating at him like a festering sore.
Minutes later Gabe heard the sounds of an engine starting up, and then Annie's footsteps in the dirt behind him. He squatted down beside his bike, picked up a wrench and a pair of pliers, and began tightening stuff on his Harley that didn't need tightening. But it didn't matter. It would give him something else to do when he had to loosen it up again.
"Seeing Davie was great!" Annie said as she knelt beside Gabe and handed him a screwdriver.
He took it from her and then dropped it onto the ground with a thud.
"I don't need that," he said sharply, and refused to look at the shocked expression he knew she would be wearing.
In all the months they'd known each other, he'd never been rude to her. And yet he'd done it today with a vengeance.
"And I don't need to see you act like a jealous baby," she said, and jerked to her feet.
She would have walked away, but Gabe caught her before she'd taken the second step.
"I'm sorry," he said. "And I wasn't jealous."
She fixed him with a stare he tried to ignore. It was no use.
"Is that your 'teacher' look?" he asked with a grin. "Okay … I was a little bit jealous. But not enough to count."
Her lips pursed as she continued to stare. This time she crossed her arms across her chest and waited for him to fold. He did. Like a table with three broken legs.
"Look, honey," he said, and swept her into his arms, "I admit it." He kissed the end of her nose. "Now are you happy? I saw red." He grinned against her neck as he felt her arms sliding around his shoulders. "I even saw stars. I also
saw myself wiping that grin off his face and replacing it with a big fat lip. Now … does that make you happy? I have confessed my worst thoughts to you regarding Davie Henry, and I expect to be rewarded for telling the truth."
"You can quit worrying about my lack of transportation. Davie is loaning me his father's car. And I think I want you to take me to bed."
Gabe was at a loss for words. He now had to consider the knowledge that Davie Henry was about to step into his shoes by providing for Annie's well-being and welfare.
Okay … he knew the reality of leaving her. Someone had to be there for her when he was gone, and it might as well be Davie. He kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot, and then he thought about the second half of her statement. In spite of his need to stay angry, he caught himself grinning.
"So, pretty Annie, you want me to take you to bed? Once we get there … just exactly what do you expect me to do?"
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. It was reflex that made Gabe sweep her off her feet and into his arms. But then he stopped, staring down into her face at the moisture glistening on her lower lip and the promise of passion in her eyes.
She waited. Quietly. Impatiently.
Desire for this woman turned him pale as he stumbled toward the door with her in his arms. It was one of the few times in his life that he thought to say a prayer. And his prayer was that he would make it to the bedroom in time to do what she asked before he came unglued at the thought
"Do you know what you're asking?" he said as he set her gently in the middle of her bed.
I asked you to make love to me until I begged you to stop.
But what I want is never to forget this day … or you.
"Yes, I think so. I just don't want you to forget me when you're gone," Annie said, and started to pull her T-shirt over her head.
Oh, my God. When I'm gone.
"Damn you," Gabe said harshly, and yanked the shirt from her hands. "As if I could, Annie Laurie. As if I could."
In seconds he had her naked. Within the next heartbeat he'd joined her, body to body, heart to heart, upon the bed. Now all he had to do was exert enough control over his own emotions to make certain that she never forgot him, either.
