by Sharon Sala
And when they quietly entered the small frame house that had patiently waited for the lovers' return, they knew that the night had been magic. It had been with them like a friend, filling their memories with only the best of what had been, sifting out the fear of what was to come.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
"Gabriel, come look."
Poised in the act of tightening a nut on the bike, Gabe wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and turned to see what Annie was up to now. The last time he'd noticed, she'd been cleaning fallen leaves from the chrysanthemum bed that lined the front porch. Now she was nowhere to be seen.
"Annie? Where are you?" He dropped the crescent wrench he'd been using and straightened up to look around.
"Up here. In the tree."
Gabe walked to the porch, then tilted his head back until he was staring up into the wide, overhanging branches of the old oak that shaded the front of the house, peering intently through the thick growth in search of Annie.
She was perched about halfway up the tree, sitting in the fork of a branch while her feet dangled downward in thin air. All he could see was a bright splash of yellow that he knew to be her shirt and shorts, and an expanse of bare arms and legs,
"You'll fall," he said, and instinctively reached, up as if to catch her.
"No, I won't." Laughter was rich in her voice. "As a child, I used to spend hours upon hours up here. I never once fell."
"That was then, this is now," Gabe reminded her. "Come down … please?"
She smiled. Bracing her arms against the limb that was her seat, she leaned down and blew him a kiss.
His heartbeat jerked, a painful reminder that the world was never going to be the same without Annie's smiles, and that he was never going to be the same without her kisses.
"Okay, I'm willing to concede you're part monkey." He shrugged and put his hands on his hips in pretend defiance. "If you didn't intend to mind me, lady, then what the hell did you want?"
Annie grinned. His anger was all bluff. And he knew that she knew it.
"I hadn't realized until I got up here that the leaves are turning. I wanted you to see."
Annie reached out and picked a leaf from just over her head, then let it drop slowly downward, drifting through the gaps in the limbs until it came to rest at Gabe's feet.
He bent down and picked it up. It was still soft and supple to the touch, but she was right. The colors were changing. A faint hint of wine red and burnt orange highlighted the places between the leaf's fragile veins.
Gabe's anger came unexpectedly. Time was running out. The season was changing and taking Annie with it. He looked away, suddenly in need of something else on which to focus, and tried to ignore the fact that he was looking at the world through a blur of tears.
"Fall is great … but winter is my favorite time of year," Annie said, and then leaned back and stared up through the branches to the bits and pieces of clear blue sky overhead. "I like the snow … and I love Christmas."
Gabe stared down at the leaf in his hand and then slowly crushed it in his fist.
A low string of curses filtered up through the branches, to the spot where Annie was sitting. Shocked by his unexpected reaction, it took several moments for understanding to come. And when it did, she, too, felt an overwhelming sadness.
Unwittingly she'd just reminded them both that these were the last leaves of fall she would see. That she might never see this year's first snow or enjoy another Christmas.
"Gabe!"
It was no use. He was already gone. She looked down through the branches in time to see him walking away toward the creek below the house.
Annie leaned back and looked up; taking a last look around at the world from above, and then scrambled down through the branches. The lowest limb was her last firm handhold. To get down from there, she had to let herself dangle, then drop to the ground, trusting that it wasn't too far.
The bark of the branch was rough against her palms as she scissored her legs to find the perfect landing. From where she was hanging she was enveloped by leaves, a thick umbrella above her, another multicolored barrier between her and the ground below. Yet Annie knew firm ground awaited. All she had to do was trust her judgment and then turn loose. She held her breath, closed her eyes and let go of the limb.
Small clumps of leaves brushed against her underarms and the sides of her face as she slipped through the opening and dropped to the ground, landing safely upright just as she'd known she would.
Dusting her hands on the seat of her shorts, she started to run after Gabe when something stopped her. She turned in mid-stride and stared back at the heavily laden branches of the old oak tree that she'd just vacated.
"Oh!" Her gasp was soft as understanding came quickly.
She'd known before she climbed the tree that there was a way down. And when it had come time to vacate her perch, she'd known that all she had to do was trust in the obvious.
"All I had to do was believe that the ground was there," Annie whispered.
Her eyes grew round and her mouth went slack with surprise as she stared intently at the tree. There was nothing else to consider, because she had just been given the answer to something she'd been trying to come to terms with for months.
She'd faced everything about her illness except how she would behave when it ended. All along she had been—and still was—dealing with the pain. Another bridge that she'd already crossed was the knowledge that she would be leaving things and. people behind that she'd come to love.
But the one thing—the single most important thing—that she hadn't understood was what she had to do. What was her part in leaving going to be?
She'd made herself sick worrying about the way it would happen. Where would she be? Would it hurt? Would she even know it was coming? The unknowns had been driving her mad.
"That's it!" Annie said as a slow sigh of relief flooded her system. "I don't have to know when or where. All I have to do is trust. A firm foundation has already been laid. All I have to do is let go, just like I did when I climbed out of the tree. I won't fall. Someone will be there to catch me."
And with that thought came the knowledge that it wouldn't be Gabe. He was part of what had to be left behind.
Tears shifted across her vision, but she blinked them back with rough determination. She had no time for tears. There was too much left to do to waste time crying over things that couldn't be changed. She remembered where she'd been going, turned toward the creek and began to run. He needed to know that she was going to be all right.
Somewhere between the tree and the creek, Gabe had started undressing. A grease rag lay on the ground where he'd dropped it. His vest was hanging from a low branch, dangling from the armhole where he'd looped it. She saw his shirt hanging across a bush in a haphazard fashion where he'd obviously tossed it.
And then she saw him, bare to the waist, with water droplets running from his seal-black hair down the middle of his back and onto his jeans. His head was thrown back in a gesture of defiance, his legs braced for an invisible blow only he saw coming. He stood without moving, staring blindly down into the gentle flow of water while the world went on without him.
Annie felt his pain as if it were her own. The love she held for him went deep and was without reservation. Everything about him was at once familiar to her and, at the same time, unique, right down to the stillness that was so much a part of him. The strength of his body, as well as his character, that she'd come to rely on more each day. She knew him so well … and yet he was very much a stranger.
She accepted the secrets that were a part of him, because she understood his need. The unabashed way in which they made love was what kept her going from day to day. For Annie there was nothing else left in this world that mattered to her except this man.
And yet, in spite of his constant denials, she knew that staying with her was killing him. She saw his pain. She felt his regrets. She, after all, was the one doi
ng all the taking. She took what he offered, knowing that she had nothing left to give back. And he never complained.
Unobserved, she continued to watch, but when he drew back his arm, she saw for the first time the thick, clublike stick he held in his hand. Uncertain what to expect, she was not prepared for the rage that exploded within him.
Anger came up and out of him in a roar, a painful denial of Annie's fate that went out with the stick he threw into the air. It crossed the creek with deathlike force and exploded against the side of a tree trunk. Helpless to deal with his fury, he let it tear through him. With the release of his rage came an ebbing of adrenaline that sent him to his knees.
"Gabe … don't!"
In seconds Annie was at his side, wrapping her arms around his heck, absorbing the shudders that ripped through him while he held her in desperation.
"I don't know how to let you go."
His heartbroken words wounded her and, at the same time, consoled her. At that moment, the depth of his love for her was unmistakable.
"You don't have to, Gabe. I finally understand what you've been trying to show me. I know that I don't have to worry about anything. When it happens, I'll know what to do."
"No, no," he begged, and pulled her roughly across his lap. "Surely there's another way. Another doctor. Someone else with a…"
Annie closed her eyes against the pain of his words, realizing, as she did, that she was also closing herself off from everything that could have been. It didn't bear thinking about. The decision had already been made.
"Stop it, Gabe. Please don't make this any harder than it already is."
Her quiet plea was all he needed to get his maverick emotions in check. And the only way he knew to change the subject was to pick another one she couldn't ignore. It was all he could do to laugh through the pain, but for Annie's sake he made the effort.
He jiggled her lightly on his lap and nuzzled her neck. "So … you don't want this any harder?" he asked.
Annie flushed, knowing full well what he was referring to.
"What I want, at this minute, is beside the point." She gave him her best teacher look for good measure.
A wry smile changed the expression on his face from one of despair to one of beauty.
Annie caught her breath, and then, before she thought, she clasped his face in her hands. "You are so beautiful," she whispered as their lips met, then danced back and forth in little nips and tastes, savoring each other as passion built Gabe nearly blushed. "Oh, hell, Annie, men aren't beautiful."
"Tell that to your mother, then," Annie said, and sighed with regret as the smile slid off his face. "What? What did I say?"
He looked away in shame, remembering his life before. Old fears and bad memories came calling. And then he thought of Annie and knew that whatever she saw in him, she saw through the eyes of love.
"I never knew my mother," Gabe said. "Or my father … or any single person who I might be related to."
Shocked by the unexpected revelation, all she could ask was, "Who raised you?"
Gabe shrugged. "Mostly I raised myself. There was an old trapper … and a few others. It was a long time ago … lifetimes ago, darlin'. You wouldn't understand."
Annie leaned forward and pressed her mouth against the faint pucker of scar tissue ringing his neck. She felt his shock beneath her lips. Blood raced and muscles jerked as his throat worked and he tried to speak past the surge of emotion her touch had aroused.
"I would understand anything about you, Gabriel. Even how you came by this." Her fingers traced the edge of the sear. "When you love someone, anything is possible."
Everything faded except the sound of Annie's voice and the wide, green stare of her eyes. He was stunned by her admission.
She watched anxiously for his reaction. It was the first time that either had said aloud the thing that was in their hearts. Emotion filled him.
"So … you think you love me?"
Shyness accompanied the joy in his voice as he looked into Annie's face.
She laughed softly. "I don't think. I know. And why shouldn't I?"
He took her fingers and laid them against the scar at his throat. "Because you just shouldn't. Because I don't deserve it," he said quietly.
Annie shook her head in denial. "What you were doesn't count, Gabe. You could have been an outlaw for all I care. What matters is that right now … for as long as it takes … you're my outlaw."
He laughed wryly and rolled her beneath him before she had time to think.
Outlaw. Oh, Annie, if you only knew.
"I'm going to make love to you, Annie Laurie."
She looked up, startled by his announcement.
"Right here? In broad daylight?"
He grinned. "Sure, lady. That's what outlaws do."
* * *
Nearly a week had passed since the incident at the creek. And in that time Gabe had almost been able to convince himself that Annie was getting better. It had been weeks since she'd had any pain. Her, days were spent in doing whatever she wanted. All she had to do was think it and he would put the thought in motion.
He went to bed each night with her in his arms, and then lay awake watching her sleep, trying not to think of a world without her in it. Everything revolved around Annie's wants and wishes. Everything else had been put on hold. To him, she was all that mattered.
Her days were fall of immediate plans. And each day a certain portion was set aside for Davie and his lessons. Watching his progress and knowing that she was partly responsible was a large part of what kept her going. Because of Davie's need, she had something to look forward to … a purpose in life. It seemed as if, while Davie still needed her, Annie refused to give up and give in to the thing growing inside her head.
* * *
"Gabe! You're still here!"
Annie's shock was evident as she stared at the part he'd removed from the Harley and the oil dripping from his fingers. A nervous glance toward the clock on the wall told her that Davie would arrive almost any minute for his reading lesson.
He waved the length of tubing as he walked past her toward the kitchen sink. "Fuel line's clogged. I'm not going anywhere today."
"But … Davie will be here any minute. What's he going to think when…?"
"I think Davie's a big boy," Gabe said shortly. "He'll survive."
Annie resisted the urge to stomp her foot. It wouldn't do any good, and she knew it. When Gabe got that look on his face, there was no changing him. Obviously the fact that his bike was on the fritz had put him in a disgruntled mood.
"Oh, Lord," Annie muttered, as Davie pulled up and parked beneath her climbing tree.
She peeked out the window. Even from here she could see the frown on his face as he neared the front door clutching his small stack of books. There was only one thing to do, and that was to pretend nothing was different.
"Hi!" she said as she went to meet him. "Come in. I'm on my way to the kitchen. I was just taking brownies out of the oven."
"Why is he still here?" Davie muttered, glaring over his shoulder at the black Harley still parked at the edge of the yard.
"He's working on his bike," Annie said. "He won't bother us."
Davie stopped short and stood in the doorway. "Maybe I should come back tomorrow," he said. and started to make a U-turn.
"Hey, Davie, how's things?"
Gabe's simple question stopped him from leaving and left the trio standing at the door, staring mutely at one another while Gabe waited for his answer.
Davie shrugged and tried to grin. "'Bout the same, I guess," he said. "Can't complain."
"Well, I sure can," Gabe said, holding up the piece of tubing. "I thought this thing was clogged. Now I find it's got a pinhole in it somewhere. The darned bike sucks air instead of fuel."
Davie frowned. "You know … I just might have something in the toolbox behind the cab. Come on outside and we'll look. Might save you a trip into Walnut Shade."
Gabe nodded and walked past A
nnie, giving her a slow wink that Davie missed.
Annie watched them go through the doorway, their heads together like two little boys with one frog, and smiled to herself at the mental image.
One was blond, broad and brawny, the other tall, dark and deceptively deadly. And yet, somehow, she knew that in another time, another place, they could have been friends.
* * *
"Sorry," Gabe said as he watched Davie digging through the odd assortment of bits and pieces in his toolbox.
"What for?" Davie mumbled as he shoved a greasy glove and a half-used box of shotgun shells aside. "I know I've got some tubing somewhere. I'm just not sure if it's the right size."
"I'm sorry you're going to miss your lesson because of me."
Davie grew still. A deep red flush stained his face and neck as he backed away from the toolbox. "Damn it, she promised," he said, glaring at the ground as shame overwhelmed him.
"She didn't actually tell me anything," Gabe said. "I just recognized the signs. I've been there myself."
Davie looked up. Shock spread across his face as his gaze swept up and then down the big biker.
"You? You didn't know how to… I mean you couldn't…?"
"Oh, hell. Come out and say it. I couldn't read. I never even went to school until I was full-grown. You're not so damned special after all, are you?" Gabe grinned wryly to lessen the sting of his words.
Davie sighed. "Thanks to Annie, I'm getting real good at it," he offered.
Gabe clapped his hand roughly on Davie's shoulder and grinned. "I know. Congratulations."
Davie grinned back. "When I can read the want ads in a newspaper, I'm going to ask my girlfriend to marry me."
The smile died on Gabe's face. A sudden and intense surge of jealousy filled him as he considered the simplicity of Davie Henry's life.
Davie had a problem. His problem was that he couldn't read. All he had to do was learn how and his problem was over.
Annie had a problem, too. And it wasn't going to be cured by learning anything. In fact, the more they learned, the worse her situation became.
