ANNIE AND THE OUTLAW

by Sharon Sala

  Gabe hurt from the inside out. "It will grow back," he whispered, and kissed the tips of her fingers before covering her hand with his own.

  She sighed and seemed to settle. Gabe sat on the edge of the chair and held Annie's hand in the safety of his own. When he could no longer look at the damage that had been done to her in his absence, he leaned forward, resting his head against the edge of her bed, and closed his eyes.

  Twice he swallowed, trying to get past the pain before he was able to talk. "Sleep, Annie. Rest while you can. I'll do the worrying for both of us now."

  She seemed to smile and then sighed.

  The sigh sounded too deep, too final, and Gabe found himself holding his breath in fear, unable to rest again until he'd heard her inhale. And when she did, he went weak with relief. It was the assurance he needed that she was still breathing.

  Guilt overwhelmed him. If he'd minded his own business and accepted Annie's decision about her life, she would be back in Missouri in her own house, in her own bed, waiting for fate to catch up with her. Not here, shorn of her pride, poked and prodded and hooked up to too many machines with too many beeping lights and multicolored wires.

  "Annie … Annie." His heartbroken plea slipped into the silence of the room. "What have I done to you?"

  But she didn't answer. And the night passed away.

  * * *

  They came with morning, unannounced … unexpected. Bolting in through the doors of her room like the sun springing up from below the horizon. Wearing surgical greens, laughing and talking about the movie they'd seen last night and the pizza they'd had. Making light of the fact that someone had gone off a diet while another had gone off the wagon.

  Gabe wanted to shout. He wanted to cry. He wanted to lash out at their lack of compassion for the pain that he was in. He wanted to rail at them … to ask them why it mattered that someone had gained a pound or drank too much, when Annie's desperation should have been foremost in their thoughts.

  Were they blind to the way she clung to him as they moved around the room? And when they lifted her with little finesse from her bed to the gurney, Gabe felt empty … without purpose, knowing she would soon be gone.

  He didn't know that they suffered with him, that they truly sympathized with Annie's pain. He didn't know that their loud, raucous jokes were the only way they could deal with daily doses of lives gone wrong. He didn't know, and at that moment he wouldn't have cared. The only thing in his world was Annie, and they were taking her away.

  "Gabe!" She called out in panic, reaching for a last touch of his hand as they wheeled her from the room.

  His fingers curled around her wrist and then instantly loosened as he felt her fragility.

  "I love you, sweetheart," he said huskily.

  "Will you wait?" Annie asked.

  Gabe shuddered. She hadn't asked him if he'd wait for her. She'd only asked him if he would wait. Wait until the verdict was in, whatever it might be.

  "Sure I will, honey," he said, forcing himself to smile when all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and pull it in after him. "Forever, if that's what it takes. But you already knew that, didn't you? Outlaws don't run from love, just the law."

  "Remember," Annie whispered as they wheeled her from the room. "Remember me."

  Gabe had stared at her face until they'd taken her away, too lost in the depths of those unblinking green eyes to tell her that her last request had been unnecessary. Remember Annie? How could he ever forget?

  A nurse came in and started to strip the bed. Gabe turned and stared, unable to make even the simplest of remarks.

  "I'm just going to make up her bed," she said gently. "There's a waiting room across the hall, and a cafeteria on the basement level. Why don't you go get yourself some breakfast … at least some coffee? Her surgery will take hours, and they haven't even started."

  Gabe wiped a shaky hand across his face. The thought of food made his stomach roil.

  "I might get some coffee," he said. "But I'll be just across the hall. When you have news, you'll come and get me … won't you? I won't be far."

  She smiled sympathetically. "I promise," she said. "Someone will find you. Until then, you need to take care of yourself … for her."

  For her.

  He looked up to see Davie and Charlotte almost running down the hall.

  "You just missed her," Gabe said, and pointed toward the end of the hallway.

  "No, we didn't. We saw her just as they were putting her on the elevator. We got to say goodbye."

  Anger overwhelmed him at Davie's careless words. He shook as fury enveloped him, and then he cursed helplessly, knowing that he was searching for an excuse to take his fear and anger out on someone else. He shook his head and shrugged, telling himself that what had been said, had been said without malice.

  Davie flushed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't really mean … goodbye as in forever. I just meant…"

  "Save it," Gabe said. "I knew what you meant. It's hard to find the right thing to say."

  "Come on," Davie said. "Charlie and I brought you some coffee and doughnuts. We can eat in the waiting room."

  Gabe followed them. It was the simplest thing to do. Having to explain why he would rather be alone would have been impossible … and selfish.

  The waiting room quickly became a prison. The longer he sat, the sicker he got. Imagination was making him crazy. Any minute Gabe expected to look up, see that damned doctor wearing pity and mouthing excuses, and know that it had all been for nothing.

  Davie and Charlotte were at it again. Heads together, touching, whispering, even now and then having the unmitigated gall to laugh quietly about things, when he was bleeding to death from uncertainty.

  "I'm going to get some coffee. I'll be right back," Gabe said shortly, then jumped to his feet and stomped out of the waiting room before anyone could offer to go with him.

  Within seconds he'd made it to the elevator without losing his mind. He pushed the button, then leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breams while he waited.

  The car came quickly, and when he got on, he was thankful he was alone. Conversation was the last thing he could face. The doors closed behind him as he reached out to punch the button for the ground floor.

  His finger never touched the panel. Instead, all around him, the air inside the car felt strangely charged and too rich to breathe. Gabe staggered then fell against the back wall as the pressure inside the car changed from heavy to light.

  Suddenly he found himself being drawn upward, quickly now that motion had started, faster and faster toward a bright white light

  Gabe's thoughts spun outward, flinging themselves into the atmosphere until there was nothing left inside him but one single, desperate cry.

  "No-o-o!"

  But it was too late, and he'd gone too far to be heard. Gabriel Donner was gone.

  * * *

  The Voice came through the air, and when he dropped into the light, he knew who was waiting for him to appear.

  "Gabriel."

  Oh, God. Why now?

  "Because it is time. Welcome, my son," God said. "I've been waiting for this day."

  Gabriel felt weightless and knew that somewhere along the way he'd left his earthly body behind. And with that thought came the knowledge that he'd also left something else … something infinitely more important. Annie!

  I wasn't ready.

  "Oh, but you are," God said, and joy filled the air around them as his laughter echoed within the clouds. "You've done all that, I asked and more during your time on earth. You've earned your rest Gabriel, my son. Come … follow me … and the sound of my voice."

  Wait!

  God gasped, and the air was suddenly filled with the sound of his displeasure, rumbling across the sides like so much thunder.

  "Gabriel! What manner of foolishness is this? You don't wait to get into the Kingdom of Heaven. You come when you are called."

  Annie! What about my Annie?

  God's s
igh blew the thunder from the heavens, clearing the skies and the air with a single breath.

  "She's no longer your Annie, Gabriel."

  No-o-o! I have to know. I can't leave without being sure. Will Annie live? Please … will she live?

  God's answer was kind, his voice benevolent, and yet Gabriel heard the certainty with which he spoke.

  "Her fate is no longer your concern."

  An overwhelming pain sent Gabriel to his knees. There at the Gates of Heaven, he felt the first onslaught of tears as they began running down his face.

  He never cried. Not even on earth when it had mattered, and here he was, crying at the feet of God.

  Please. Don't let her die!

  God hissed, and the heavens stirred, as with a tumult of thousands upon thousands of angels' wings moving in constant motion, fluttering in unison. And with the wind came a sound, a wailing unlike anything Gabriel had ever heard.

  "Now see what you've done," God said.

  The accusation in his voice became a violent reverberation of judgment that made Gabriel unable to look up.

  "You've made my angels cry. For shame!" He cried as the air was rent with sound. "For shame! There can be no tears in Heaven."

  But she has no one. No one but me, and now I'm gone. I have to know … will she live?

  "I tell you now! Come forward into the light."

  The voice was once again a command and a demand, yet solace to Gabe's aching soul, peace where none had been, but taking that first step away from Annie was still impossible for him to do.

  He lay at the feet of God. Prostrate with grief. Unable to do what his Master had commanded.

  Send me to hell. Cast me from heaven forever … leave me in Limbo, lost between Heaven and Hell for all eternity … just let Annie live.

  The cry came from Gabe's heart.

  God heard and at once understood that the man. He'd sent back to earth to right all his wrongs had indeed grown in stature and grace. He'd done more than penance, he'd learned the meaning of true sacrifice.

  God's manner changed. His voice became the sound of purity overflowing with patience, and yet it held a warning Gabriel could not miss.

  "You would willingly exist alone—for all eternity and more, without the sight or sound of another living soul—just to know this woman's fate?"

  Yes … oh, yes.

  "You would never know the meaning of rest, never feel an inner peace, never—"

  Yes! Yes! Yes! I would go now. I would go willingly. If you will only let Annie live.

  "Without you?"

  Without me.

  God smiled. And in that moment Gabriel felt the tears drying upon his face. Felt the wind around him moving, turning, faster and faster, a whirlwind of motion that pulled him up and then flung him out.

  Gabe forgot to be afraid. He forgot to say that last good-bye to Annie in his heart. Everything exploded within him, and he felt, rather than saw, a blackness enveloping him.

  So, this is now my existence… This is my Limbo.

  "No, my son! This is life!"

  * * *

  The elevator came to an abrupt stop that sent Gabe to his knees. He reached out as he fell, expecting to touch the empty space of Limbo and instead felt the floor of the elevator coming up to meet his face.

  "Where am I?" he muttered as he rolled over and then pulled himself to his feet, thinking that Limbo couldn't be an empty elevator car on its way to nowhere.

  And then he heard the squeak of the elevator cables and heard a receptionist's voice coming over the hospital intercom and into the car, patiently paging a doctor by name.

  He reached up, felt the tears on his face and knew in that moment that everything he'd imagined had been true. He had stood at the feet of God. He had been called Home. Then why was he back? Why was he here?

  Because you cared.

  Gabe started to shake. He knew as well as he knew his own name that God had just spoken to him.

  "So … how long do I have this time?" Gabriel whispered, almost afraid to ask.

  You are now as other men, my son. Live your life. Love your love. When it's time … you will come to me. I will never again come for you.

  The elevator door opened. Davie all but jerked him out of the car and began running with him back toward the waiting room.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Davie muttered as he turned a corner with Gabe in tow.

  "Talking to God … I think," Gabe said.

  "Oh! Right. I didn't think to look in the chapel," Davie said. "Sorry." And then they entered the waiting room, where a weary young doctor, still wearing his surgical greens, stood up at their arrival.

  "I found him!" Davie shouted, almost shoving Gabe toward the man. "Now … tell him what you just told us." Davie was almost dancing with relief as he pulled Charlotte into his arms.

  The doctor smiled and motioned for Gabe to sit.

  "I'll stand, if you don't mind," Gabe said softly. "I'm still trying to get my land legs back."

  They all smiled at his joke. They had no idea how close to the truth it was.

  "It's like this," the doctor said. "We had all the tests results. MRIs, CAT scans, EEGs, every test known to man. "We had every reason to believe that the mass inside Miss O'Brien's head was becoming aggressively invasive."

  Gabe ignored his own advice and sank into a chair. What were they all smiling about? This sounded like hell.

  "But…" the doctor continued. "When we got inside—" his face lit up, and he began gesturing with his hands to describe what had happened "—the damned thing was just … just sitting there. It all but fell out in our hands, so to speak. I don't know what it was we saw on the X rays—shadows … bad films … I can't explain it. All I can say is, in surgery today … I saw a miracle. I can't explain how or why, but Miss O'Brien should recover with few, if any, lingering effects."

  Gabe buried his face in his hands. He could have explained it.

  A miracle. Divine intervention. Or just a plain, old-fashioned gift from God.

  He didn't care what they called it. Annie had been given back to him. And in a way none of them could ever have known, he'd been given back to Annie.

  "Thank God," Gabe whispered, and reached up to shake the doctor's hand.

  You're welcome.

  Gabe smiled. The Big Man always had the last word.

  * * *

  Epilogue

  «^

  Sunlight was warm on Gabe's face as he carried the last of the groceries into the house. He passed through the hall on the way to the kitchen and caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror. He almost laughed. The outlaw he'd been was nowhere in sight.

  His leather and his spurs had been packed away, his haircut was almost ordinary, and he was going to be late for work if he didn't hurry.

  Work! It still amazed him that the old skills he'd once thought were useless had been the single most important reason for landing him a job as one of Silver Dollar City's employees.

  If old-style, wooden shingles needed to be hacked by hand, he was their man. He also blacksmithed, trading days with another blacksmith who also knew how to make soap, a job Gabe politely refused to do.

  Now and then he was even a stand-in for the gunslingers when an exhibition shoot-out was performed. But there was one thing he refused to do. He wouldn't pin on a star to save his life. Being a lawman, even playacting as one, was a little too close to the bone for Gabe.

  "Gabe … you're going to be late for—"

  "I'm never late for the things that count, am I, Annie Laurie?"

  He dropped the sacks onto the counter and swung her up into his arms, ruffling her short, thick curls and mussing her makeup just to hear her fuss.

  She did. But not because she cared. She did it because he expected her to.

  "So your timing is almost perfect," she said, and grinned when his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

  He laughed. The little devil. She wasn't talking about his damned job, and they both knew it.
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  "What do you mean … almost?" he asked. "I give good love. Remember … you said so yourself."

  Annie blushed, then opened her mouth for the kiss she saw coming.

  Gabe sighed and wrapped her in his arms as she snuggled within his embrace. "What?" he asked. "Why, my dear wife, do you always wiggle when I first hold you?"

  "I'm just finding my spot," Annie said, surprised that he'd even had to ask.

  "What spot?"

  Annie smiled and moved the flat of her hand across his chest until she found the spot she'd been searching for.

  "This one," she said, and laid her cheek against it. "It's the place where your heartbeat's the loudest. It makes me feel closer to your heart."

  "My God," Gabe whispered, and dug his hands deep within the baby curls framing her face. "Closer to my heart, Annie? You couldn't be any closer, darlin'. You are my heart. Without you, it isn't capable of beating."

  She sighed and relaxed in his arms.

  "When I get a little better, I'm going to teach again, you know. Then we won't have all this special time together."

  "Then we'd better enjoy it while we can, honey."

  Reluctantly he set her aside with a sweet farewell kiss. And when she whispered a naughty promise in his ear as he started to let her go, he laughed uproariously and began swinging her around and around the room like a doll.

  It was during their dance that Annie looked up, laughter rich upon her face, and saw them shining in his hair.

  "Gabe! Gabe! You have to stop. You won't believe what I just saw."

  He stopped and stared, thinking that she'd truly lost her mind.

  "What is it now?" he asked. "And don't make up stories. I really can't be late for work. One of the men is out sick."

  Annie grabbed him by the hand and dragged him back; out into the hall, pushing and shoving until she had him square in front of the oval-shaped minor.

  "Look!"

  He bent over and peered carefully. All he could see was the same old face.

  "See what?" he asked. "I don't see anything different."

  Annie turned his head and then plucked a lock from above each ear and held it out from his head like little horns.