Annie's Song
Chapter 21 : The instant he entered the hall, Alex heard the screaming. It was like nothing he had e

The instant he entered the hall, Alex heard the screaming. It was like nothing he had ever heard in his life, a horrible, demented wailing that reverberated eerily along the landing arid down the stairway. Grasping the banister rail, he swung onto the first step and took the others in flying leaps, his heart slamming like a sledge against his ribs. When he reached the second flight of stairs, the screams seemed louder, more frightening, shrieks one moment, guttural moans the next, the intermittent sobs so deep and tearing that he began to fear Annie might do some serious harm to herself.

Tearing along the third-floor corridor to the west wing.

Hitting the narrow, dangerously steep staircase. Falling to one knee. Scrabbling to regain his feet. Alex moved in a blur, scarcely conscious of anything but the screams and his sense of urgency to reach his wife.

He hit the closed attic door as though the barrier of wood wasn't there. Darkness. Objects in his path. What he couldn't leap over, he plowed through, scarcely noticing the pain as sharp projections barked his s.h.i.+ns and slammed into his thighs.

Annie ... Dear G.o.d. The panic and pain he heard in her cries nearly dropped him to his knees. The mare, he thought wildly.

She had seen the mare giving birth. That she had come into the stable, that she had witnessed something so awful, made him feel sick. Physically sick. No pregnant woman should see something like that, least of all someone like Annie.

Alex finally reached the dividing wall that separated her small parlor from the rest of the attic. As he staggered around the part.i.tion, Annie's screams came to a sudden stop. The silence was so absolute it seemed deafening, cras.h.i.+ng against his ears, resounding. Dimly, he was aware of the rasp of his own breathing.

The fading light of the late autumn afternoon spilled anemically through the dormer windows, doing little to illuminate the room. Alex searched the gloom, trying frantically to locate her. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he finally spotted her pale oval face. Stepping closer, straining to see, he began to make out her features.

Thinking only to comfort her, he ate up the distance with three strides to where she sat huddled in a corner. "Annie, sweetheart." He grasped her violently shaking shoulders.

"Honey ..."

It hit Alex then. The silence. The sudden and awful silence.

Dear G.o.d, she was holding her breath. To stop herself from screaming. She was afraid. Of him. She had broken the rule of silence, and now she thought he might punish her.

"Annie, no. Sweetheart, go ahead and cry. I don't care."

In her panicked state, Alex didn't think she was registering anything he said. Her slender body jerked fiercely with suppressed sobs. He stared down at her, helpless to breach the chasm that stretched between them. Deafness. A lifetime of observing rules and being harshly reprimanded when she broke them. Even in the dimness, he could see her pinched little face turning a frightening, dull red. The veins at her temples and along her throat bulged, bluish purple beneath her skin, throbbing and swelling with pressure.

Impotent rage exploded within Alex. He shoved to his feet with such suddenness that his head spun. James Trimble. The G.o.dd.a.m.ned razor strop.

He turned and ran from the attic, taking the narrow, steep staircase as though it weren't there. Almost immediately after his departure from the attic, Annie began to cry again. Bless her heart, she had no way of knowing how loud her screams were.

Nearly blind with tears, he pa.s.sed through the house, feeling as if he were slogging through waist high mola.s.ses, each step an effort, every movement agonizingly slow. Alex hit his study like a man gone mad. The strop.

That d.a.m.ned strop. He couldn't remember where he had put it.

When he reached his desk, he began jerking drawers open with such force that they departed from their runners, spilling the contents onto the floor. Dimly, Alex realized that Maddy had run into the study. As if from a distance, he heard her talking, but he couldn't make out the words. What she was saying didn't matter. Nothing mattered to him at that moment but the girl upstairs.

He finally found the razor strop in the bottom right drawer of the desk. He closed his fist around it and raced past Maddy, never sparing her a glance. Retracing his steps, he returned to the attic. He knew now that Annie would quiet the minute she saw him. That was the rule.

Well, he had had it with the Trimbles' idiotic rules, and he was going to show Annie that, once and for all.

When he stepped into her parlor again, she reacted just as she had before, gasping and then holding her breath to stifle any sounds that tried to erupt. Alex strode directly to her wobbly three-legged table. With a violent sweep of his arm, he sent her mismatched collection of china flying. Cups and saucers. .h.i.t the wall, shattering upon impact, particles and shards ricocheting. He didn't care. He could buy her more china, a whole houseful of it if that would make her happy. But he couldn't buy her another chance at life!

Shaking with rage, Alex slapped the strop across the table's surface. Then he fished his pocketknife from his trousers.

With jerky movements, he unfolded the blade, and then he set upon the length of leather in a frenzy, hacking it into pieces, then hacking the pieces into pieces.

"Scream!" he roared at her. "Scream, yell, cry! I don't care, Annie! Do you understand me? I won't punish you for making noise. I will never punish you. Never!"

Hack, hack, hack! In his frenzy, Alex mutilated the length of leather until it lay before him in minuscule bits. Then, and only then, did he stop. Tossing down the knife, he planted his hands on the tabletop and hung his head, breathing as though he had run a mile. When he finally looked up, he saw that Annie was still huddled in the corner, her slender arms locked around her knees. Against her breathlessly red face, her gigantic, tear-filled eyes were inky splashes of blue.

Alex held her gaze. "I love you, Annie," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, and then he opened his arms to her.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Alex waited, silently praying for a miracle as he hadn't since childhood.

Just one little miracle.

"Please ..." he whispered raggedly. "Come here, Annie love."

With a low, broken cry, she pushed up so suddenly from the floor that she seemed to move in a blur. Then she launched herself at him, plowing into him with the foremost part of her small body, which at this stage of pregnancy happened to be her belly. Afraid she might hurt herself, Alex gave with her weight to lessen the impact and nearly lost his balance in the attempt. Catching her against him, he staggered back a step, then managed to regain his footing.

Annie . . . Her slender arms were hooked around his neck, clinging to him as though she hung off a cliff and he were her only purchase. Her deep, shuddering sobs, which she still stifled against his shoulder, weren't that loud, but they jolted through him. He was just glad she no longer held her breath.

"Oh, G.o.d, Annie..." Gently, Alex gathered her closer, if indeed that was possible, for she had melted against him like a pat of b.u.t.ter on a hot griddle cake.

"Forgive me, sweetheart. Forgive me."

With her face buried in his shoulder, Alex knew she couldn't know what he was saying, and perhaps that was just as well. Before he could hope to soothe her, he had to calm down himself, and right now, he was far from calm. This was all his fault. He'd had an opportunity to sit down with her once and explain the birth process, and out of some misguided sense of chivalry, he'd s.h.i.+rked the responsibility, telling himself ignorance was bliss.

How wrong he had been. By avoiding the issue, he'd left her vulnerable in a way that no woman should be. Because of him and his stupidity, she was terrified now and in a panic.

Senseless and totally unnecessary. If he had only talked to her.

All it would have taken to avoid this mess was a little honesty.

Nearly frantic in her attempt to get close to him, she stepped up on the toes of his boots and clung more tightly to his neck.

Her weight was so slight that Alex scarcely felt the pressure on his feet. Angling an arm under her rump, he lifted her against him, smiling through tears at how sweet she felt. Annie, big belly and all, was the most precious armful he'd ever held. As he pressed his face against her hair, she let loose with a wail. A terrible, tearing cry that came jaggedly from her chest.

To Alex, the sound was heartbreaking, not a practiced cry designed to gain sympathy, not a delicate sob, carefully measured to seem feminine. This cry came from her soul, raw with pain, ugly in its honesty. Nothing was held back or modulated. Even so, to Alex, it was the most beautiful sound on earth. The very fact that she had dared to utter it was a gift of trust.

That realization brought fresh tears to his eyes. Forgetting her delicate condition, forgetting everything, he tightened his arms around her, acutely conscious of the fragile ladder of her ribs beneath one of his palms, of the narrow span of her shoulders, of her lightness. There wasn't much of her, but somehow, she had filled up his world. To hold her in his arms.

To know that she trusted him as she had never trusted anyone else . ..

The gift of Annie . . . Holding her as he was now, Alex could scarcely believe that there had been a time when he had railed against fate, when he had viewed his marriage to her as an obligatory sacrifice to set a wrong right. He had wrongs to rectify, certainly, but they had nothing to do with duty and nothing to do with sacrifice. Loving this girl, being a part of her world, was a blessing.

Bending low, Alex swept her into his arms and carried her to the rocker in one corner of the room. Sinking down on it, he cradled her across his lap, letting her head rest against his arm, not so much so that he could see her face, but so that she might see his. Her eyes, dark with panic, clung almost desperately to his. Until that moment, Alex had intended to talk to her, to explain away what she'd seen in the stables. But that look in her eyes silenced him. Now was not the time for talking. At least not in the conventional way.

Instead, he gathered her close, much as he might have a child, and began to rock her. As he rocked, he whispered words he knew she couldn't hear. But it wasn't what he said that mattered. What Annie needed right now were messages that couldn't be expressed with words, anyway. With a shaking hand, he stroked her hair. Then he pressed his cheek atop her head and closed his eyes, not at all surprised when he felt more tears running down his cheeks. Each one of her sobs cut through him like a knife.

He had felt guilty a few times in his life, but never more so than now. Because he knew she needed to, he allowed her to cry. G.o.d knew she deserved that much. When she finally began to quiet, he resettled her in his arms so their faces were only inches apart. "Annie," he said, and hauled in a deep breath, "I think we need to have a talk. About the baby, and what it will be like when-"

Her eyes going wide with unmistakable dread, she gave her head a violent shake. "Naa-ooh!"

Alex caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. When she finally grew still and he felt he had her full attention, he said, "Have I ever told you a lie? Ever?"

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

"Then trust me not to lie to you now. Having a baby is not" -he stressed the word not, saying it slowly and with exaggerated clarity-"like what you saw happening in the stable."

Her gaze clung to his, filled with questions and disbelief.

Alex swallowed, not looking forward to this conversation, but knowing he had to get through it. Uncertain where to start, he simply began talking. Word for word, he wasn't certain exactly what he said, only that he told her about the foal's breech birth, following up with a description of normal childbirth. He held nothing back and was completely honest, even about the pain of labor. As he explained how the child would exit her body, her eyes grew dark with fear, which caught at his heart but also made him smile.

"Annie love, your mama gave birth to you. Mine gave birth to me. All the living things we see around us were born, and in much the same way that your baby will be born. It may not be pleasant, but you're going to survive it, and I'll be there to help you, I promise." He traced a fingertip along the hollow of her cheek. "It's going to be beautiful, sweetheart, not awful. Trust me on that. And when it's all over, you're going to have a baby all your very own to love."

At that bit of news, she looked dubious. Alex couldn't help but grin. "Do you think I'd fib to you?"

When she continued to look doubtful, he said, "Well, it looks to me as if a walk to the stable is in order. Breech birth and all, the mare is fine. And she's the proud mama of the cutest little colt you ever saw." Determined, Alex set her off his lap and pushed to his feet. "I'll prove to you I'm not lying."

She gave her head a vehement shake, clearly frightened at the thought of returning to the stable.

Alex took her hand. "Trust me, Annie. You saw the worst thing an expectant mother can possibly see. Now I want you to see the sweetest."

The last place Annie wanted to go was back to that stable.

But Alex insisted, and since he was a good deal larger than she, she had no choice but to comply. To her surprise, darkness had fallen during the time she was indoors. Moonlight and shadows fell across them as they stepped out into the dooryard.

As if he sensed her jumpiness, Alex curled an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him as they walked.

His unaccustomed closeness served to distract her from her worries more than anything else he could have done. Where her shoulder pressed against his side, he felt like lightly padded silk over steel. His arm around her felt wonderfully strong and warm. As they moved in unison through the dark garden, it occurred to her that he must be matching his stride to hers, for his legs were longer, by far, than her own. The rotation of his hip b.u.mped against her side at a point well above her waist.

She sneaked a glance at his dark profile, unnerved by him in a way that she'd never felt before, sort of fluttery in the stomach, yet oddly excited. As if he sensed her regard, he looked down, caught her gaze, and smiled one of those slow, slightly crooked grins. "We've never walked together in the moonlight, have we?"

Annie shook her head.

His long fingers s.h.i.+fted where they were curled over her shoulder, and the friction of his touch through the sleeve of her dress made her skin tingle. "We'll have to do it more often.

You're beautiful in the moonlight. Absolutely beautiful."

Somehow, Annie doubted that. Though she had not indulged in bouts of weeping very often, the few times that she had, she'd looked awful afterward, all puffy-eyed and red in the face.

As though he guessed her thoughts, he chuckled, the low laugh vibrating into her shoulder and radiating down the length of her arm. "You are beautiful, Annie love. Trust me on that. Without question, one of the loveliest young women I've ever had the pleasure of clapping eyes on."

A hot feeling crept slowly up Annie's neck and pooled like fire in her cheeks. She glanced quickly away. She immediately felt his body s.h.i.+ft, and the next thing she knew, he'd stooped down and forward to put his face in front of hers. She reared back in startlement, which made him laugh again.

"I'm talking to you, goose. How can you know what I'm saying if you don't look at me?"

As he straightened, Annie followed him with her gaze, about to smile in spite of herself. Since the last thing she'd felt like doing a few minutes ago was smile, that gave her pause.

"That's better," he said. "I feel like a d.a.m.ned fool, walking along in the dark, talking to myself."

Her mouth quivered at one corner. He touched a fingertip to the dimple in her cheek. "You also have the most glorious smile I've ever seen, by the way. The kind of smile that drives grown men to make utter fools of themselves."

Annie shook her head. He nodded just as emphatically.

Gulping back a giggle, she shook her head harder.

He arched an eyebrow and a.s.sumed a disgruntled expression. "My G.o.d, our first argument."

At that, Annie lost control. The giggle she'd been swallowing back erupted from her throat. At the sound, Alex spun to a stop. Annie's first thought was instinctive, that he was going to reprimand her. But even in the moonlight, she could see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Was that a laugh I just heard?" Tightening his arm around her shoulders, he drew her gently against him. "Nah! Not my Annie." He studied her for a moment. "You poor girl, you've got the hiccups, don't you? The bane of every expectant mother's existence, chronic indigestion."

Annie giggled again. She couldn't seem to stop herself. And when she did, the most incredible thing happened. Alex's grin vanished, and after gazing down at her for what seemed to her several endless seconds, he got tears in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said. Only that, just a simple "thank you."

But to Annie, those were the two most wonderful words she'd ever seen spoken, and they meant more to her than a thousand others might have. With them, he told her a wealth of things, namely that he had meant everything he'd said to her in the attic, that he not only wouldn't punish her for making noise, but that he wanted her to.

A wondrously free feeling filled her, a light sensation, almost as if she'd become buoyant. She could trust this man, she realized. With everything. And with his gaze to embolden her, she dared to mouth the words, "You're welcome."

Incredibly, he seemed to read her lips, for his smile deepened. Catching her chin on the edge of his hand, he tipped her face so the moonlight fell across it. "Say it again."

Annie obliged him. As she finished, he slanted his thumb across her lips, his eyes warm with laughter as they delved into hers. "Isn't that just like a woman? Encourage her to talk, and the first thing you know, she's a chatterbox."

With that proclamation, he shook his head and drew her back into a walk. Fixing her gaze on the stables, Annie realized that she no longer felt afraid to go there and see the mare. Even if Alex was wrong, and the horse was in pitiful condition, she could face it.

As long as Alex went with her, she thought she could face almost anything.

When they entered the stable, Annie's courage dwindled. It was so dark inside the building. And utterly silent. It was how she imagined death would be, black nothingness. For a few moments, Alex left her standing there in the void alone. She had no idea why, only that he'd left her and she felt as though her skin was going to turn inside out.

Then he was beside her again. Big and muscular and warm.

He took her hands and placed them on something made of metal and gla.s.s. Annie searched out its contours with her fingers and identified it as a lantern. She smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness. By letting her touch the lamp, he was explaining why he'd left her for a minute.

Clutching his arm, she leaned against him as they walked, wis.h.i.+ng he would decide they didn't have to do this, after all.

No such luck. He pressed forward, drawing her along beside him in the blackness. When they turned left, she knew they had entered the intersecting corridor and that the mare's stall lay just ahead. Peering futilely through the blackness, she tried to see Alex's face. She wanted, no, needed to see him.

As he drew to a stop, he pulled away from her again. Never in her life had Annie resented her deafness so intensely. It seemed to her that the silence had become a living thing with cold, clawing fingers that were curling around her. Alex? Oh, G.o.d, he had left her. All alone. She groped a little wildly. Her palm encountered rough wood.

The next instant, light exploded beside her. Startled, Annie leaped back. Then she saw that Alex had only struck a match.

Amber flickered across his dark face, making his eyes glow eerily. Lifting the lantern globe, he touched the flame to the mantle, and a blinding whiteness flared. Waving the match out, he stuck the hot end in his mouth to make sure it was dead out before he tossed it away. After turning the fuel valve to adjust the light, he hung the lamp from a long nail protruding from a wall stud above, him.

He said something to her. Then, when she didn't react, he placed his hands on his hips, his weight on one booted foot, his other leg slightly bent. Clenching the match between his teeth, he spoke again. Because he was talking through his teeth, Annie had no idea what he was saying, only that he was getting aggravated because she wasn't complying. When he started to speak again, she stepped quickly forward and jerked the match from between his teeth.

He looked nonplussed for a second and then slowly grinned.

"Oh. Sorry about that."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"I was telling you to take a look and see for yourself." He inclined his head at the stall. "Mama and baby, safe and sound."

As Annie turned to look over the gate, he stepped up behind her and encircled her waist with his strong arms, one large hand splayed over her swollen stomach, his fingertips lightly caressing. For just an instant, she stiffened, unnerved by the familiarity. But then she felt her tension slipping away under the gentle strokes of his hands. Alex. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, imagining that she felt his strength seeping into her. Against her shoulder, she felt the steady thumping of his heart, a st.u.r.dy, soothing rhythm that seemed oddly harmonious with the flutter of her own pulse.