Mittman, Stephanie (44 page)

Risa
went down and Annie could hear her arguing with Noah. The door slammed hard
enough to make the windows rattle. He was mad? What right did he have to be
mad? She was the one to whom the injury had been done.

Risa
found Annie pacing the room when she returned.

"He's
married," Annie said as soon as she saw her. "There's no dead Mrs.
Eastman. She's alive and she lives in New York City or somewhere and he kissed
me and I wanted him to do everything you said."

Embarrassed,
she raised the neckline of her chemise and held it tighter. "Maybe not
everything."

"He's
married?" Risa said. "He can't be. Reverend Winestock collected all
that money for his wife's memorial. She has to be dead. She died in the
flood."

Annie
shook her head. "No. Miller told me himself. After I told him I couldn't
marry him because I was in love with Noah."

"This
is all my fault. I pushed you into his arms. I let him have those shoes for
wholesale." She rolled her eyes. "God, don't tell my father!"

Somehow
that struck Annie as funny. So funny that tears popped into her eyes and she
leaned against the wall and laughed until she cried. And cried. She cried so
hard that Charlie and Bart and Willa and Francie all came running up the stairs
and stood in the doorway.

"What's
wrong?" they all asked, and Annie shook her head at them. But the shame of
all of them standing there and watching her didn't stop her and she cried on,
banging her fist on the wall and shouting about how much it hurt.

"Do
something," Charlie said to Risa. "Make her stop."

"Cover
her, for heaven's sake," Bart said. "She's half naked."

Willa
waddled over. It was the first time she actually looked pregnant, and the
thought that she would never know the miracle of carrying a new life inside her
set Annie off on a new round of tears before the old one had ended.

"Jeez,"
Bart said. "I've never seen her this bad. Did something happen with
Winestock?"

Her
tears had turned to hiccups and made her seem even more pathetic. What a
stupid, foolish woman. She couldn't even cry like a lady.

"Did
you know about him?" Risa demanded of Francie. "Did you know he was a
vile worthless despicable creeper? All that time you spent out there at his
farm. Did you know he was playing on everyone's sympathies and setting us all
up?"

"What
are you talking about? Noah made her cry? My Noah?"

"Your
Noah?"
Bart howled. "How many Morrows is he trying to diddle?"

"He
didn't try to diddle anyone," Francie shouted back, outraged.

"Well,"
Annie said, thinking about the way he'd raised her skirts on the kitchen floor
and wishing Bart would go over and give him two black eyes.

"What?"
Charlie and Bart yelled in unison.

Somehow,
after all the crying, Annie was light-headed. Two on one didn't seem fair, and
then of course Ethan would be there, and he'd no doubt take Noah's side and it
would be the civil war all over again, brother against brother. And the girls
would see.
Her
girls. But they weren't her girls. Wouldn't be her girls.

"Why
are you so mad at Noah?" Francie asked. "I thought you two were in
love." She pronounced love as if it was part of a song, raising her
eyebrows to mock her oldest sister's foolishness.

And
foolish she was to jump at the chance to marry the first man who tried to get
up her skirts. Well, at twenty-six it wasn't likely there'd be any more
attempts.

"That
hypocrite came to me swooning with love for your sister, telling me he wanted
to marry her, and all the time he was already married," Risa said. "I
feel like this is all my fault."

Everyone
looked at Francie, who was strangely silent.

"You
knew?" Risa said. "You knew he was leading your sister on and he
wasn't free to marry her?"

"He
is not married," Francie shouted, her hands on her hips, her cheeks
flaming. "Wylene's been dead over a year. They fished her body out of the
East River in New York."

There
was dead silence in the room.

"I
can prove it. I sent her death certificate to Noah." She turned to Annie.
"That was why I agreed to go to New York in the first place. I thought if
I could find Wylene and convince her to give Noah a divorce he would want to
marry me."

He'd
tried to tell her about Wylene, tried to be honest with her, but she'd said
they wouldn't speak of it. But he'd never listened to her about anything else, hadn't
stopped courting her just because she'd told him not to do it.

"Then
he told you she was alive?" Risa asked.

"Not
at first. But I found letters to detectives he had hired. And then I found a
letter from her saying she needed money and asking him to send it. The letter
came from New York City."

At
least he hadn't told Francie but not told her.

"So
you went there?" Risa prompted.

"And
the landlady said she left one day and never came back. Left her clothes, left
no forwarding address."

"And
she fell into the river?" Charlie asked. "In a city as big as New
York? Didn't anybody hear her yell for help?"

Francie
shrugged. "I don't know exactly what happened. All I know is what they
said at the coroner's office. That they thought she might have lost her balance,
being pregnant and all, and fallen into the river."

"Pregnant?"
Annie was sure now that the story was true. That everything he had ever told
her, including how he felt about her, was all wonderfully, marvelously true.

The
door slammed downstairs and a voice boomed throughout the house. "I'll be
damned if I can't see the woman I'm going to marry. I'm coming up and I've got
both fists ready, so don't think you're going to stop me."

Annie's
smile must have said it all. For no one told him to stay where he was, though
each brother was watching her carefully, ready to leap to her defense at just a
word or gesture.

He
took the steps two at a time, clunking loudly on each.

Willa
pushed Bart away from the doorway with her hip so that Noah could make his way
in.

"Hi,
Noah," Charlie said casually, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his
face. "How's things?"

"Well,
I guess we'll be going," Risa said, winking at Annie. "See ya,
Noah."

"Gosh
all hemlock," Bart said to Annie. "Cover up! You're half naked!"

"I'm
awful tired, Bart," Willa said. "Would you help me to our room?"

That
left Francie, Annie, and a very confused Noah Eastman.

"I
guess I could go make some tea," Francie said feebly.

"Good,"
Annie said distractedly. "That would be nice."

"Take
your time," Noah added. He walked over to where Annie huddled on the bed
and sat down next to her.

She
touched his face gently, her fingers memorizing his features, and then she
closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Her throat was raw
from crying.

"Say
it, Annie," he said as he gathered her against him. "Say it."

"I
love you, Noah Eastman," she whispered against his chest. "With all
my heart."

"I
know that," he said impatiently. "Now tell me you'll marry me."

It
was to be a small wedding.
Miller was glad for that. Not that everyone
in Van Wert didn't already know that Sissy Morrow had thrown him over for Noah
Eastman. Only two days after he had stood beside the grave of Samuel Gibbs and
told everyone that he and Sissy would marry, Eastman had stood up at Sunday
services and announced that he and Annie Morrow would be exchanging vows the
following Friday and that because of the short notice and the recent tragedy in
the family there would be just a brief ceremony and a small reception hosted by
the bride's brother and sister-in-law, Charlie and Risa Morrow.

As
he changed into his best suit, he hoped the cooking wasn't left to Willa.
Performing the ceremony would turn his stomach quite enough. And he couldn't
even find anything in the man to dislike, now that the true story of Wylene
Eastman had been confided to him. Eastman had even had the good taste to refuse
the memorial in her honor.

"Umph!"
he said when the button on his shirt came off in his hands. Being a minister of
God and responsible for setting a good example, he never swore. But here and
there he allowed himself a few choice groans, which he knew in his head
substituted for words he longed to utter.

The
past week had been full of such noises. If there had been one bright spot in it
all, it was Tessie Willis. Even now she was downstairs finishing up the last of
his correspondence while he readied himself for church. Tessie was a good woman
who didn't deserve the reputation that her illness had foisted upon her. And he
had determined to set the town straight. Why, she needed their help, their
understanding, even their pity, not their condemnation and avoidance.

In
the last week, the Morrow family, whom he would have expected to shy away from
him now that he was not to join their circle, had embraced him warmly. He knew
that if he asked them, they would accept Tessie for the wonderful woman that
she was and convince others to do the same.

The
idea of helping Tessie put a smile on his face, but it did nothing for the
button in his hand. He wondered if Tessie would be so kind as to sew it on for
him. He slipped off the shirt, put on the one he had been wearing, and went
downstairs to ask.

Tessie
sat at his desk, her back straight and her hair neatly pulled into a chestnut
bun. When she heard his footsteps she turned and smiled.

"Do
you realize there is almost three hundred dollars in that memorial fund?"
she asked.

"That
much?" he said and couldn't hide the grimace. "That's a lot of money
to return."

"Whatever
do you mean?"

Miller
had agreed not to reveal the true circumstances of Wylene Eastman's death, for
it would hurt two innocent little girls. It was yet another instance of wanting
to fault Noah Eastman and being unable to. "Mr. Eastman has declined the
memorial. He feels the people of Van Wert never knew Mrs. Eastman and shouldn't
be obligated to give their good money on her behalf." Just because he
condoned the lie, it didn't mean he would tell one himself.

"Oh,
but that's wonderful!" she said and turned her bright smile once again to
him.

"It
is?"

"The
schoolhouse, Mr. Winestock," she explained. "If the money was used to
repair it, it would benefit the town and even Mrs. Eastman's little
girls."

Miller
returned Tessie's smile with one of his own. "You remind me of my dear
Elvira, just a bit," he said, pleased beyond measure with her suggestion.

"Really?"
she said. "I always thought she was a lovely woman."

***

Annie
was nervous.

Noah
was worse.

She'd
never been a married woman before.

He'd
already been a married man.

All
three of her brothers wanted to walk her down the aisle.

He
was all alone.

The
plan had been to have a small ceremony, just family and a few close friends. Of
course, when you started counting up the whole Morrow clan and those who were
their close friends, they packed the church.

Noah
picked up bits of one conversation after another as he made his way down the
aisle
Not surprised in the least,
someone said.
I
knew it all
along,
was someone else's comment.
It surely took them long enough to
realize. Such a perfect match!

At
the front of the church Ethan stood waiting. "Risa says I'm to be the best
man," he explained.

Noah
took his hand and shook it. "Risa's taken care of everything, it seems.
She's got Hannah and Julia all dolled up and sitting with Cara in the front
row."

Ethan
pinned a white rose and a sprig of something green to Noah's lapel. "You
were right," he said. "Mrs. Lutefoot had plenty in her greenhouse.
And she said to remind you that if it hadn't been for her, none of this would
be happening."

Noah
remembered the picnic where Annie had lost her button all too well. It was
then, in the far meadow, after having received Francie's letter about Wylene,
that he knew in his heart Annie would be his wife for as long as they both
lived and forever after.

A
commotion started in the back of the church, and Noah and Ethan looked behind
them. Annie, flanked by Bart and Charlie, was coming into the church. She had
on a cloak he had never seen before. He guessed it might be Della's, with its
fancy braid. Charlie took it gallantly off her shoulders and she stood in the
doorway in the same rust-colored sateen dress she had worn to the Harvest
Social. That was the night he had first kissed her, had tasted the honey he had
until then only dreamed about and which had haunted him ever since.