by Sharon Sala
Gabe grabbed it with a thankful oath and seconds later was trying unsuccessfully to push one of the small tablets between Annie's tightly clenched teeth, unaware that Davie was calling for an ambulance.
"Oh, damn," he muttered when he realized that her pain was so great that her muscles had gone into spasm. "Annie … baby, please? Open your mouth!"
Sweat beaded Gabe's forehead as panic began to set in. This was by far the worst episode that he'd witnessed. He couldn't even face the implications of that knowledge.
Harsh, aching gasps of air tore through her windpipe and down into her lungs as she tried to remember to breathe. It would be so easy to just stop. It would be so much simpler to just give up now. No, she thought, and opened her mouth wide enough to pull in the next breath.
"Thank God," Gabe whispered, and dropped the tiny pill deep into her mouth, knowing that when she next swallowed, it would go down where it belonged.
And then he braced himself against the cabinets, with his back to the doors and his boots digging deeply into the floor, and held her with a grip that death couldn't have loosened while he waited for the pill to take effect.
Davie sank to his knees on the other side of the room and stared blankly at the mess in front of him, trying to assimilate what he had witnessed. "What's wrong? What in hell's wrong with Annie?"
Gabe shuddered and began to rock her gently, back and forth in a slow, gentle motion. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt her body beginning to relax. Twice he looked up at the shock on David's face and knew that the man deserved an answer. But each time that he tried to speak, nothing came out. It was impossible to say aloud what he knew was happening.
"I called the doctor," Davie finally said. "The ambulance should be here any minute."
"It won't help," Gabe said. He buried his face in her shoulder. "Nothing will help."
Annie moaned and rolled limply against him as the painkillers began to kick in.
"What the hell do you mean, 'It won't help'? Have you lost your mind? She needs attention. She needs it now."
Gabe maneuvered himself to his feet and then shifted Annie's limp body carefully as the distant sounds of a siren became obvious. He glared at the younger man, directing his anger at Davie to keep from crying aloud in despair.
"No doctor can fix what's wrong with Annie," he said harshly, unaware of the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Damn it, Davie, she's dying." His voice broke. "She's dying, and I can't stop it. No one can."
With that, he walked outside to the ambulance that had just pulled up in front of the house. Moments later, the ambulance pulled away, with Gabe on his Harley, only seconds behind.
* * *
Chapter 13
«^»
The waiting room was too warm. Gabe sat in a hard-backed chair against the wall and watched the sweat beading across Davie Henry's forehead. He knew that the small blond woman who sat beside him was Charlotte. He'd been introduced. That was as far as the relationship had progressed.
He watched them whispering to each other, trying to get past the bitterness of knowing they had each other and the rest of their lives, when he and Annie had nothing.
Charlotte clutched Davie's hands in her own, touching the worry lines on his face, patting his knee when he fidgeted restlessly in the chair, and every now and then leaned over and murmured in his ear.
Gabe wished to hell that they were somewhere else. He didn't want to see them. Not here. Not now. And yet he knew that Davie cared deeply for Annie, that begrudging him the right to be here was petty. But he couldn't help what he was feeling.
Oh, Annie … they don't love you like I do, Gabe thought, and buried his face in his hands.
In doing so, he missed seeing Dr. Pope enter the waiting room. He jerked in surprise when the doctor touched him on the arm.
"How is she?" Gabe asked. "When can I take her home?"
"She's stable. But her condition has progressed a little faster than we'd expected. I'm not sure home is the best place for her at this time," Dr. Pope said.
"Exactly what does that mean?" Davie asked.
"It means that for her to be able to go home and … function normally … she's going to have to be on a stronger medication. That in turn means that she'll sleep for longer periods of time, which in turn means that she's close to needing round-the-clock care."
"Son of a bitch."
Gabe's curse startled them all, and left them staring in shock as he bolted from the chair and stalked out into the hall.
The quick tears that shot to his eyes shamed Gabe. He didn't cry. He never cried. He couldn't let go of his emotions, not even for Annie. If he did, he would never be able to stop.
Dr. Pope followed him into the hall.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Donner. I wish I had better news to give you."
"Hell, Doc, so do I," Gabe said shortly, then shoved his hands in his pockets, and started toward Annie's room. Suddenly he stopped and turned.
A tiny jingle from the rowels on his spurs was the only sound that warned Dr. Pope he was coming back.
"Doc…"
"What is it?" Dr. Pope asked.
"How long?"
"It's hard to say … maybe a month, maybe three."
A month? A mere thirty days?
The doctor's prediction was a death knell that knocked the wind from Gabe's lungs. He knew that he staggered, because he remembered seeing the floor tilt. But he never saw the doctor reach out and steady him. All he felt was the firm, reassuring grip, and then the world coming back into focus.
"If you were planning a big Christmas, I'd advise an early celebration," the doctor said, and patted Gabe roughly on the shoulder.
Shock bled the color from Gabe's face. "Christmas," he repealed blankly, as if unable to contemplate a celebration of any kind. His life was never going to be the same. Not without Annie.
Davie and Charlotte came out of the waiting room hand in hand. Gabe saw the way their heads nearly touched as they leaned together, sharing whispered words of comfort as they drew near. In that moment be hated them for having the rest of their lives together.
"It doesn't make sense," Gabe muttered. Annie's life should still be beginning, and instead it was coming to an end.
Doctor Pope overheard Gabe's remark and misunderstood the reason for the comment. And in doing so, he inadvertently revealed the last of Annie's secret. The part she'd never meant to share.
"I agree," Dr. Pope said. "It doesn't make sense. And I told Miss O'Brien so, the first time I examined her. You remember … the day she cut her foot and you brought her in to see me."
Gabe nodded absently and stared at a small water spot on the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the news at hand.
"There is a risk involved. Actually, a big risk. But to blindly turn it down without giving herself a chance…" Dr. Pope shook his head. "I don't know her very well, but it surprised me. I imagined her to be more of a fighter."
Gabe's attention slowly refocused. He turned and stared, suddenly very attentive to the rest of Dr. Pope's opinion.
"Annie is a fighter," Gabe argued. "I've never known anyone quite like her."
Dr. Pope shrugged. "That may be. But I was still surprised when she refused to consider the possibilities of surgery."
Gabe's belly turned. What he was hearing didn't bear contemplation.
"Are you trying to tell me that Annie had a choice? That she didn't have to die?" Gabe asked.
Dr. Pope looked startled as he realized that he'd revealed confidential information.
"I thought you knew," the doctor muttered. "This wasn't my news to tell."
Gabe grabbed the doctor by the shoulders. Without thinking, he shoved him against the wall. "I want the truth," he whispered. "I'm sick and tired of hearing everything in bits and pieces. Talk to me … now!"
Davie saw the commotion and ran toward them without waiting to see what would happen next. From the expression on Gabe's face, it could have been almost anything.
"What t
he hell do you think you're doing?" Davie said, and started prying the doctor from Gabe's grasp.
"Answer me," Gabe said softly, refusing to let go of the man until his question had been answered. "Are you telling me that Annie could have been cured?"
Davie froze. He, too, stood silently, awaiting the doctor's diagnosis.
Dr. Pope shrugged. "There was a chance. It was a slim one, but it was better than no chance at all."
"And she refused to consider it?" Shock was thick in Gabe's voice.
The doctor nodded. "So it would seem," he said.
"Why? Why would she choose to die?" Gabe asked.
"She said the risk was too great. She didn't want to be just alive. If she couldn't be active, she didn't want to live."
"She chose death? She could have changed her own fate, and she chose death?"
Gabe couldn't believe his ears. He'd heard the doctor saying it, but he wasn't processing it as thoroughly as he should. All he could see was Annie, withering away before his eyes, and it had been by choice.
"I don't believe it," he said, and turned away.
"Is it too late now?" Davie asked.
Gabe listened intently for the answer, although he couldn't look at the doctor's face when it came.
Dr. Pope shook his head sadly. "I would guess that the chances now are reduced by more than half. It's hard to tell whether she would even survive the surgery, let alone in what condition."
"Oh, damn," Gabe groaned, and felt his legs go weak. He hadn't been this scared in his whole life. Not even the day he'd been hanged.
"At their best, what were her chances of coming out alive and well?" Davie asked.
"There was about a twenty percent chance of a total cure, maybe less," the doctor said.
"Then that means that Annie now has less than a ten percent chance of living through the surgery," Davie repeated.
"And that doesn't take into consideration what shape she'd be in if she did," the doctor reminded them.
"So what?" Gabe shouted. "Without it, her chances of living are zero."
He slammed his hand against the wall, ignoring the fact that it echoed down the hall and brought several nurses scrambling to see what was happening.
"Damn her! She cheated." Gabe's voice went from angry to empty in one breath. "She lied to me. But what was worse, she lied to herself."
He walked away, leaving Davie and Charlotte to console each other as best they could. For Gabe, there was no consolation, only the overwhelming fact that Annie had given up on life without a fight.
* * *
The walls of her room were yellow. A pale, placid color that reminded her of a plate of butter that had sat out too long and lost its shape and consistency. The view wasn't the most appealing she could have had, either. It made her lonesome for her little frame house and the thick ring of trees surrounding it, for the clear running water in the creek and the big moss-covered rock below the spring.
And she missed Gabe. She vaguely remembered hearing his voice when she'd been brought in, but she couldn't remember if he'd visited since.
She shrugged. It was to be expected. She'd lost most of the last twenty-four hours to pills and shots. But no more. Annie wasn't ready to sleep what was left of her life away.
She threw back the sheets and swung her legs out from under them, letting them dangle for a minute off the edge of the bed, just to make sure that the vertigo she'd experienced earlier was gone.
Nothing happened. The room didn't spin. Her head didn't feel as if it was about to explode. Okay … now I'm going to get dressed.
And then the door swung open and Gabe filled the doorway with his presence.
"Gabe! I'm glad you're here," Annie said, her attention entirely focused on the fact that her means of escape had arrived. She didn't notice his expression. If she had, she might have been ready for what ensued.
"Hand me my clothes, will you? They're in the closet."
He didn't, move. He didn't speak.
"I can't wait to get home," she said, unaware of his lack of cooperation. "I'm going to soak in a tub for—"
"I didn't take you for a coward."
Shock spilled across her thoughts like beads of water dancing on a hot griddle. She slid back into bed and pulled the sheets up beneath her chin. It was an unconscious and useless gesture. She had no way of hiding from Gabe or the truth. And from the look on his face, the truth had finally come out.
"I don't know what you're talking ab—"
"Bull."
"You don't understand."
Gabe came toward her, the rowels on his spurs jingling with each long, slow step he took. And when he got to the edge of the bed, he placed an arm on either side of her body and leaned forward until Annie saw her own reflection in the cold blue glare in his eyes.
"Make me understand," Gabe whispered. The bed shook gently from the movement of his body as he slid onto the edge beside her. "Damn you, lady. Make me understand."
Her chin quivered, but it was the only sign she gave of how deeply his behavior moved her.
"I've been alone for seven years," she said.
"And I've been alone for more than two lifetimes," he countered, uncaring of how odd his rebuttal might seem.
Annie tried to glare. It shouldn't have been necessary to defend her decisions about her life to anyone.
"When I first got the news, I was devastated," Annie said. And then her chin tilted in a defiant gesture, as if daring him to begrudge her her fear. "Actually. I was scared out of my wits."
Gabe heard the tremble in her voice, but he gave her no evidence that he cared. He couldn't. He needed her to see her life from another perspective.
"And…?" he said.
"They gave me my options, such as they were. Actually, it was pretty cut and dried." Annie's eyes teared up as she remembered sitting in the doctor's office while her world came shattering down around her. "I could have an operation. But there was a less-than-twenty-percent chance that I'd survive, and even less than that, that I would survive intact. If I survived, I might be blind, immobile, unable to speak, unable to think, or—" bitterness colored her last remark "—a combination of the above."
Gabe looked away. He didn't want her to see the sympathy he was feeling.
"So … I chose to go out the way I came in. All in one piece."
The bravado in her voice made him furious. He turned and glared. "It all sounds so damn easy. Is that the way you've gone through life? Taking no chances, always choosing the easy way out?"
Annie leaned toward him, her voice shaking with fury. "No! Once in my life I took a hell of a chance, Gabe Donner. I took you home, and I fell in love."
He flushed, unwilling to admit that she'd scored.
"That wasn't much of a chance, lady," he whispered. "You had nothing to lose when we met. How can you look on our relationship as any kind of a risk? You'd already signed your own damned death warrant. There wasn't anything I could do to you that you hadn't already done to yourself."
Annie gasped. Cruelty from Gabe was something new. Something she didn't know how to fight. It made her angry. In fact, it made her fighting mad.
She kicked out and actually pushed Gabe from her bed with her feet "Get out!" she said, swinging her legs over and then off the bed. "I don't need your help. I'll get myself dressed."
"So it's like that, is it, teacher? Do as I say, not as I do?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Everyone needs help at one time or another in their life, Annie. I can vouch for that. I've had more help than you'd ever believe. But not you! Oh, no! You're willing to help everyone else, but you won't help yourself."
Annie stomped to the closet and started grabbing her clothes from the hangers in fits and jerks.
"All the years that you taught, you made such a difference in your students' lives," Gabe said. "Look at the ones you left behind in Oklahoma City who'd looked forward to having you for a teacher next year. You walked off and left them without a single th
ought. And why? Because you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to fight."
Annie threw a shoe at him and screamed in frustration when it missed.
"Look at Davie. He'd still be hiding behind a wall of ignorance, afraid to tell the woman he loved that he wanted to marry her. And why? Because he couldn't read. You changed all that for Davie, but you aren't willing to change anything for yourself."
Annie pushed her feet angrily through the legs of her jeans, wishing she had enough hands to dress herself and still cover her ears. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to face the truth of what Gabe was telling her.
"You have so much to offer, Annie," Gabe said softly as all the anger and fight suddenly went out of him. "Life has so much to offer you. How can you give up without a fight?"
Annie slumped forward and buried her face in her hands. But no tears would come. There was no way of hiding from the truth of what he'd said.
"Oh, Gabe," she whispered. "I wish I'd met you sooner. Before all this happened. If I'd had you to come home to, I might have been strong enough to give myself a chance."
"No! No, you don't," he said, his voice harsh and unforgiving. "You don't use me for your scapegoat. You don't choose to live for me, Annie. You either choose life for yourself or not at all."
Annie stared, dry-eyed and sick at heart, as Gabe turned and walked out the door. Long, silent seconds slid by as the echo of his accusations rang in her ears.
Annie shuddered, then stared slowly around the room, as if coming out of a trance. She moved toward the bed, walking as if every muscle in her body ached, and when her knees hit the mattress, she collapsed. Crawling beneath the covers like a recalcitrant child, she turned over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, unable to look at the truth of what she'd done.
* * *
Gabe sat on the bank of the creek below Annie's house and stared off into the trees beyond. The ground on which he sat was cold, and the seat of his jeans felt damp, but he didn't care. Moving took too much effort. He was weary clear down to his soul and heartsick beyond belief.
"I've been here too long," Gabe muttered, and buried his face in his hands.
