Mittman, Stephanie (11 page)

"I'm
sorry," she said finally, blinking rapidly but not allowing a tear to
fall. "Of course you feel that this is too soon. I don't suppose I'd care
for you so much if you hadn't been so good to Elvira and if you didn't feel the
loyalty to her memory that you do. I admire you for that, and I shouldn'ta let
my own needs and bad feelings make me ask you to do somethin' you don't want to
do."

Her
eyes were on her hands, wringing the skirt of her dress like a small child
awaiting a scolding. "It's not something I don't want to do," he
admitted for the first time, both to himself and to her. Seeing Noah Eastman
still so bitter about his wife after all this time had touched a responsive
chord within his own soul. It was time to move on, or nearly time, anyway.

"Then
you'll...?" she asked, her eyes raised to him like a supplicant begging
forgiveness.

"No,"
he said, shaking his head sadly. He wished, truly wished, he could do as she
asked, but Elvira's memory was too fresh, his conscience too strong, his
obligations too clear. "We cannot always do what we wish, Sissy. I must
wait the year as much for my own peace of mind as for Elvira's dignity. Can you
understand that?"

She
nodded, sad eyes locked on his.

"Can
you accept that?"

She
nodded again, without hesitation.

"And
we'll not discuss it again? I will not, cannot, change my mind, and I so do not
wish to disappoint you again."

She
shook her head. "I won't ask you again."

Taking
her in his arms and comforting her would have been easy, but Miller prided
himself on never taking the easy way out. His hands stayed behind his back and
he rocked gently on his heels.

"Well,
then," he said, trying to inject some lightness into his voice. "Is
there anything else I can do for you today?"

He
was anxious for her to leave now that the argument had been settled to his
satisfaction. The mail still awaited him, and among the other correspondence he
had noticed a letter from the Minister of the Johnstown Methodist Church in
Pennsylvania. He had already collected a tidy sum on behalf of Wylene Eastman,
much to his surprise, since Noah Eastman was still rather new to Van Wert and
not a particularly friendly individual. Of course, people gave because Miller
had appealed to their better nature and as always they responded to him.

"I'd
better go," she said, rising and heading for the door when she sensed that
the conversation was over.

"Looks
like rain," he said, as he opened the door for her. "Better take
care."

"Oh,
I'm a hearty soul," she said over her shoulder as she headed out into the
wind.

After
Elvira, he hoped it was so.

***

The
first drop of rain, fat, cold, and hard, hit Annie just as she and Blackie
arrived at the Eastman farm with the cookies she had baked for the girls. She
grabbed her basket, scrambled out of the wagon, and ran under the porch roof
like a protective mother hen anxious to keep her chicks dry. As if her day
hadn't gone badly enough, now she would have to return home drenched and cold
and with little to comfort her.

At
the far end of the field, Ethan and Noah were mere silhouettes barely visible
against the horizon. Annie couldn't imagine how they had managed to work
through the dust storm. Surely, though, the rain would stop them.

Her
firm knock was answered by Mrs. Abernathy, a heavy woman with a perpetual frown
on her face. Annie and she had no more than a nodding acquaintance from town,
and she waited patiently for Mrs. Abernathy to invite her in.

"Yes?"

"Hello,
Mrs. Abernathy," Annie began politely. "I've come to see the
girls."

Hannah
had followed Ruth Abernathy to the door and, with a finger twirling her curls,
had her eyes glued on the basket Annie was holding. Julia was nowhere to be
seen.

"Raining?"
Ruth asked, ignoring Annie's request and looking around her. "Felt it in
my bones since last night."

With
bones buried as deeply in fat as hers were, Annie marveled that Ruth could feel
anything. "I guess the wind brought it. Looks like it's about ready to
pour. Felt the first few drops already. And nothing could be more welcome than
rain, huh? May I come in? I've got something for the girls." She waggled
her fingers at Hannah, whose eyes shone brightly in answer.

Shouts
from the field drowned out Ruth's answer.

"Rain!"

"Hallelujah!
Rain!"

As
if the sky was waiting for the two men's announcement, it opened up to their
cheers and applause while they grabbed each other around and danced toward the
house.

"Sissy!"
Ethan yelled. "Hey! It's Sissy!" He was like a drunken man, sliding
toward the house, the rain pelting him and flattening his hair against his
head. He pretended to wash with it, rubbing his armpits, scrubbing his face,
slapping his shirt.

"'Down
went McGinty,'" he sang, "'to the bottom of the sea. He must be very
wet, for they haven't found him yet....'"

Annie
licked her lips and imagined the rain falling on her, washing her hair and her
clothes and rinsing away the dirt of three months of drought. Before she knew
what he was doing, Ethan grabbed the basket from her hand, shoved it at Ruth
Abernathy, and dragged her off the porch and out into the storm.

"Ethan!"
she yelled. "My dress!" But he was swinging her around, kissing her
cheek and singing about the bubble where McGinty ought to be.

Hannah
inched her way toward the edge of the porch in time for her father to scoop her
up in his arms, despite Mrs. Abernathy's protests, and twirl the little girl
about while the rain drenched them. He too was singing, and Annie couldn't stop
herself from joining in. Eyes closed shut against the rain, she tipped her head
back and opened her mouth, letting the drops pound her tongue and pool in her
mouth.

Ethan
released her and she tottered until she almost lost her balance. Then arms were
around her again, and she was hugged until her feet came up off the ground.
Only a few minutes ago it seemed like nothing would ever change. The drought
would last forever and she would be stuck on her dirty farm with her brother
and his wife for what might as well be eternity. Now the wind had shifted and rain
was soaking her to her very soul and anything was possible.

When
she opened her eyes, it was Noah Eastman's smiling face that she found just
inches from her own.

***

Rain!
Glorious rain! Rain that would water the crops and save the harvest and fill
the barrels and make the front of Annie Morrow's light-brown dress stick to her
body, revealing two ripe breasts with stiffened peaks. He hugged her to him
again and felt the strength in her, the firmness of her body.

Her
face, her hair, her neck, everything was dripping with clean fresh water and he
wanted to lick her skin and see if she was as sweet as the honey she always
brought to mind. He settled for kissing the top of her head.

Her
eyes were wide with surprise, but before she could object, he was swinging her
around and pretending it was the rain that had him so heady he was like a
drunken man. God, but her skin glistened in the rain like gold. A strand of her
hair was pressed against his lips, and he caught it with his tongue and sucked
the rainwater from it. Oh, she made him crazy! Crazy enough to pull the pins
from her hair and spread the silken strands out with his fingers to let the
rain get at all of it.

And
all the while he saw the wonder in her eyes and shrugged it aside.
"Rain!" he shouted again. "Isn't it marvelous?" He lifted
the tail of his shirt to her face and wiped her eyes. He was touching her face!
A finger brushed her cheek, as soft as his daughter's. "There. Can you see
now?"

"Mr.
Eastman," she began, and he could feel the reserve in her body, "I
think you'd better let me loose."

Ethan
chose just that moment to close in on them with Hannah in his arms. The little
girl was laughing and waving her arms, but the moment Annie saw her, she
sobered.

"She's
cold," she said, extricating herself from his embrace and taking his child
from Ethan's arms. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you out of these wet
things."

She
headed for the house, her body clearly outlined in her wet dress. He followed
at enough of a distance to watch the sway of her hips beneath several layers of
fabric. On the porch Annie wrung out Hannah's dress, first just the skirts,
then, seeing the futility of it, slipping it over her head and throwing it
across the railing. The little girl shivered and Annie hurried her toward the
door.

"You'd
better dry her off," she said to Mrs. Abernathy, when the older woman
opened the door and shook her head in disgust.

"Don't
you come in here dripping all over the place," she scolded the adults on
the porch. "All that water's gonna turn to mud in here."

With
that she slammed the door and left the three drowned rats making puddles on the
porch.

Noah
and Ethan, being men,
had both taken their shirts off and wrung them
out. But of course, Annie couldn't do the same. Noah could see her shaking with
cold while he and Ethan tried to wring out her skirts without getting overly
personal. Finally he decided it was his house and Mrs. Abernathy worked for him
and he'd be damned if he'd let the woman he planned to marry freeze to death on
his own front porch. Planned to marry? He nodded his head as if in answer to
his own question.

With
a firm grip that seemed to say it was decided, he threw open the front door,
grasped Annie's hand, and pulled her into the house. "Mrs.
Abernathy," he said as if he'd just inherited a title, "get some
towels and bring them into my bedroom. Miss Annie, you go in there with Mrs.
Abernathy, get out of your wet things, and find something decent enough to come
out here in when you're done. I'll get a fire going in the stove and you can
warm yourself and dry your honey—I mean your hair—when you come back out."

The
women stared at him without moving.

"Go
ahead," he said, like a schoolmaster sending an errant child from his
classroom. He headed for the stove but stopped when he realized that no one was
doing as they had been told. "What's the matter with all of you?"

Ethan
whistled under his breath and picked up Hannah, who was snuggled deep in a
threadbare towel. "Well, who anointed your daddy the pope?" he asked
the little girl.

Before
Noah had a chance to answer that criticism, Mrs. Abernathy voiced one of her
own. "I don't take to bein' ordered about," she huffed, but she
headed for the linens all the same.

As
for Annie, he guessed she was just too cold to be thinking straight. She
remained in the middle of the room, her teeth chattering, a pool forming by her
feet. Her jaw hung open slightly as her eyes scanned the rows of books he had
lined up on every surface around the room.

"And
you'll get those boots off, too," he told her. He noticed his command of
the English language had miraculously returned, and when she remained glued to
the floor he decided to test his limits. "Madam," he said with great
authority, "you may either divest yourself of your sodden garments or I
will—"

"Divest?"
she asked in a small voice that made him feel like a pompous fool.

"I
think you'd better get out of your wet things," he said, chuckling at
himself. He surely didn't want to make her feel any more ill at ease than she
undoubtedly already was. "I've clean shirts and overalls in my
bureau," he added.

He
gestured toward his room and she'd already started for it when it dawned on him
what he had suggested. He'd actually told her to go through his drawers. What
that woman did to his mind!

"Wait!
I'll get them for you," he said, racing her to his room and pulling things
out like some animal foraging through a refuse pile. Everything he owned would
be too big for her, but he supposed she would manage to make do. "I'm
sorry I don't have anything more—" he started.

"I
really should go home," she said before he finished. He eyed her soggy
garments and tried to send her a look that said she was being foolish. It
seemed to work as well as his tongue, since she took the pile of clothing from
him in his doorway and went obediently into his room. Mrs. Abernathy followed
her and put two towels that looked like he'd used them to clean a pig's trough
on his bed.

"You
ain't gonna put them men's pants on, are you?" she asked Annie, who by now
was shivering so badly that he wasn't sure she'd be able to undo her own
buttons.

"She
will, if she knows what's good for her," Noah said. "And you will
help her." He closed the door firmly, without slamming it, and turned to
find Ethan and Hannah gaping at him, both wide-mouthed and big-eyed. "What
are you two staring at?"

"Why,
Noah, I just ain't never seen you so... so..."

"Overbearing?"
He could see Ethan had never heard the word before. "Bossy? Loud-mouthed?
Biggety?"