Second Chance Bride (21 page)

“Miss Cunningham!” Elizabeth ran toward Annie and launched herself into her teacher’s arms. “My father said you were gone,” she sobbed.

“I’m here now.” Annie clenched the child to her chest. “We have to get out of here.” She put the child down and tore off part of her own skirt. “Put this over your nose and breathe through it.” She placed another piece over her own mouth and nose, picked Elizabeth up and ran toward the narrowing passage on the south end of the blaze. “Hold on tight.”

“I was just playing next to the stock tank. I didn’t notice the fire until I couldn’t get out.”

“I’m here. You’ll be fine.” But Annie knew she couldn’t run fast enough holding Elizabeth, even as tiny as she was.

“I’m going to put you down now,” Annie said, and pointed. “See that opening down there? We’re going to run to it together. Hold my hand. I know you can run really fast.”

Elizabeth clung more tightly to Annie’s neck. “No, don’t put me down,” she sobbed. “I’m scared. Don’t leave me.”

Annie looked up in time to see the gap to the south close as two fires met in an astounding blaze. She had to find a way to save the terrified child. “Let’s go back to where you were.”

“But there’s fire, Miss Cunningham. Father and Duffy tried to save me, but they couldn’t get through.”

“I’ll think of something.”
Dear Lord, please help me think of something.

As they ran toward the stock tank, Annie studied the fire. Six-feet high and collapsing in on them. She looked around her. She could put Elizabeth in the tank until the blaze passed but thought there wasn’t nearly enough water to cover her, and the child would be so frightened alone.

“Look, Miss Cunningham! The fire’s almost as high as the roof!” Elizabeth began to sob.

“Elizabeth!” someone called from the other side of the fire.

“I’m here with her!” Annie shouted.

Of course being together only meant that she and Elizabeth would both die in the blaze if she didn’t think of something. If the flames didn’t kill them, the smoke would.

“Elizabeth, get in the water.” She took her to the stock tank. Obediently, the child followed her direction. “Throw me a blanket!” she shouted to the group on the other side.

She waited for the blanket as the flames raced closer. It finally arrived, tied in a ball and soaring over the fire.

“What now, Miss Cunningham?” Elizabeth was coughing so much Annie could barely understand her words.

“Stand up and wring your skirt to get as much of the water out as you can. I’m going to dip the blanket in there.”

“Won’t the water make me safer?”

“Yes, but I’m going to wrap you in the blanket and throw you over the flame. You’ll be too heavy with too much water in your clothing.”

“Throw me?” Tears mixed with soot on Elizabeth’s face.

Annie knelt beside the child. “Pretend you’re the alle-over ball. I’m going to toss you over the flame and into your father’s arms.”

A smile glimmered. “Pretend I’m the alle-over ball? I can do that.”

Annie nodded and grabbed the wet blanket, wrung it out and wrapped Elizabeth in it. She closed the blanket tightly, took the four corners and tied them together, then shouted as she approached the narrowest section of flames. “I’m going to toss Elizabeth to you! Get ready! You’ll have to catch her!”

Elizabeth was a lot heavier than the ball they used for alle-over but Annie hoped she’d be able to do it. It was her only idea, her only option. If this didn’t work, if she tossed the child into the flames, it meant death. But if she could gather all her strength to make this throw, at least the child would survive.

“Hold still, Elizabeth.” She stood sideways, held the knot on the blanket tightly with both hands. Using every bit of muscle she could muster, she swung the blanket back, then forward and let it go at the highest arc.

“Here she comes!” she shouted as the blanket cleared the flames. Within a second she heard a cheer. “We got her!”

“Thank You, God,” she whispered.

The flame crackled, close and hot. She had only a few more seconds to breathe. Hurrying to the tank, she stood in it to dampen her skirt and then ripped her wet petticoat off and wound it around her hands and covered her head. Could she make it through? If she didn’t try, death was certain.

“Annie!” she heard John cry.

“I’m coming.” Taking a breath through the wet cotton, she located a place in the flame that looked narrow and began to run through the fire, her sodden skirt ensnaring her legs.

Flames licked at her, catching her sleeves on fire and swirling around her body. It felt as if the heat were melting her bones and flesh. Finally, she couldn’t move any farther, couldn’t stand up any longer. As she began to sink into the inferno, hands caught her and pulled her out while someone poured water on her.

She didn’t remember anything after that for a long time.

When she awoke in a dark room, Lucia was kneeling on the floor beside her, praying. Annie’s lips were parched and her throat and lungs hurt when she attempted to speak.

“Water,” she croaked.

“Oh, Miss Cunningham, you woke up!” Lucia held the glass out and slowly trickled the liquid down Annie’s throat and on her dry lips.

Waves of pain swept over Annie’s body. Her arms were wrapped in something, as were her feet and legs. Her hands were slathered with balm.

“How long?” she whispered, after painfully swallowing the water.

“Two days. The doctor gave you medicine for the pain, to help you sleep.”

“The fire?” she whispered.

“It rained. Only minutes after you came through the blaze, the clouds opened and it rained and put the fire out.”

Rain. That was good. She fell asleep again.

The fifth day after the fire, she awakened to see John and Elizabeth by her side. Elizabeth leaned over, careful not to touch Annie. “I’m fine, Miss Cunningham. Only a few burns. Thank you.”

Annie tried to smile.

“Thank you for saving my daughter,” John said.

Were there tears on his cheek? Probably tears of joy for his daughter. Then she noticed his hands, both heavily bandaged.

“That was you?” she asked. “You pulled me through the fire?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Of course. He was a good man. He’d have helped anyone caught in the fire. She closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.

The next day, Annie examined her injuries as Amanda changed the wrappings.

“I trimmed a little of your hair that was burned, but the petticoat protected your head and hands well.” She moved down to unwind the bandages on Annie’s legs. “The doctor said we can leave these off today. Your legs weren’t burned too badly and the shoes protected your feet. But your ankles.” She shook her head.

Then Amanda leaned back. “The worst burns are on your arms and your lungs.”

Annie bit her lip as Amanda attempted to remove the wrappings slowly and gently. “I’ll have scars.”

Amanda nodded.

“Will I be able to write?” She looked at her hands, which were puffy and blackened.

“The doctor believes you’ll heal completely, except for the scars.” Amanda attempted to blink back tears. “You were so brave. You saved Elizabeth.”

“When can I leave here?”

“John says you may stay for as long as you wish.”

“How long does the doctor say?” she whispered, having trouble catching her breath.

“No one knows. You have to heal.”

She nodded and closed her eyes again, remembering the hands that had reached out to save her.

A week later, Annie stood at the window. The rain had lasted two days, she’d been told. She could see the scarred section of the prairie where the fire had raged, but the rest was thick and green. Pink flox and orange-red standing cypress poked their heads up through the luxurious grass. Here and there she saw the fragile purple petals of the wine cup.

“Annie.”

She turned to see John in the doorway. It was strange to hear him use her real name.

“You’re leaving now?” No affection showed in his eyes.

“Yes. Amanda has asked me to spend a few days with her before I decide where to go.”

He nodded again. “I’d like you to know that I’ve reconsidered my earlier words and actions.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’d like for you to stay here. Because my daughter loves you and you saved her life, I’m grateful and willing to forgive you. Therefore, I’m asking you again to marry me.”

Her gaze flew to his face but still no emotion showed there. He stood stiffly, his weight balanced on both feet, his healing hands at his sides. Annie didn’t feel a proposal that started with
therefore
came with a promise of eternal love.

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s what a Christian would do.”

She blinked. He’d asked her because it was his duty.

“No, thank you.” She picked up her purse and headed toward the door. Although her legs still hurt, she refused to allow him to see that.

He started to take her arm, but she pulled away. She refused to lean on him again. He dropped his hand.

“But you must marry me. Certainly you know you cannot go back into the world alone again. Here you’ll be cared for.”

“Thank you, John, but no.” She moved past him and, holding on to the rail, slowly descended the stairs.

“You’re not well enough,” he said. “You still need to rest.”

Even though she heard the pleading in his voice, his words didn’t stop her. “Thank you for your hospitality and care.” And she walked out the door without a backward glance.

Once outside the house, she refused Duffy’s hand and pulled herself into the phaeton. The ride was not comfortable, but she sat up proudly.

For the first time in many years, she’d stood up for herself. She’d said “no” to a man. Although John may not realize it, she was a blessed and beloved child of God, a person of value, worthy of love and deserving of forgiveness.

O
ut of all the choices that had been forced on him, John knew he’d made one correct decision. He just wasn’t sure which one it was.

At first, he’d believed he was right to break the engagement. After all, he’d spent his whole life as a moral leader of the community, an elder of the church, an example to all of the decent, ethical ways to live. He’d asked a fallen woman to marry him not once but twice. Showing no gratitude at all, she’d refused the second time, an action he now admired greatly considering the manner in which he’d presented it.

But the more time that passed, the less certain he became about his decisions, about which was the right one.

When he thought about her, he had to remind himself of the grievous sin she’d committed so he wouldn’t soften his opinion of her. But now he wondered, why didn’t judging immoral behavior feel right to him anymore? Why wasn’t it enough to be both right and righteous?

Three days after Annie’s departure from his home, he spent the evening with Farley Hanson and several bankers and cattlemen from Llano County, discussing the rumors about the railroad. If it came through, what route would it take? What land would be bought? Who’d make money and who wouldn’t?

Once the men left, John felt alone, very much alone. Because he hadn’t convinced Annie to stay, Elizabeth was angry with him. He hoped she would forgive him but for now she was in her bedroom, refusing to talk to him. Lucia and Ramon were polite to him as usual, but not warm.

Duffy told him right out to his face that he was a fool. Duffy pretty much described the whole problem only he didn’t go far enough. A stiff-necked fool who didn’t know how to change. Oh, he bet Duffy could add even more to that picture, but John preferred not to give him another chance.

He didn’t like who he was and apparently no one else did, either.

Before he headed upstairs, John looked out across the scorched strip of land between the ranch and the schoolhouse. For a moment he remembered Annie, how she looked playing alle-over with the children, her hair spilling down, her face flushed and happy. She had glowed with pride for her students at the Christmas program. He thought of the sheriff’s words, of her terrible childhood and her remarkable transformation after she arrived in Trail’s End.

No wonder he’d detected a little panic when he first met her, after he’d told her she was the schoolteacher. How desperate she must have felt. She’d looked as if she wanted to turn and run, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d taught herself to read and write. She’d found a way to survive and had lived a moral life since her arrival. Annie MacAllister was a survivor and a remarkable woman. He admired her greatly.

In fact, he still loved her, but he had no idea what to do about it. At the moment, his high standards were of very little comfort and wouldn’t bring him warmth and love, not like Annie would.

A few hours after midnight, he climbed the stairs but didn’t go to the bed. He knew he wouldn’t sleep because he didn’t sleep at all anymore. He looked again at the charred swatch in the land and at the graveyard where Celeste and his parents lay. Finally, he allowed his eyes to move toward the schoolhouse.

The building was dark. Not a flicker of light shone through the windows. Of course not. She wasn’t there. The longer he stood looking out at the dark, empty schoolhouse, the more obvious it was that Annie would never return to his life again.

In spite of her deception, in spite of her past, he couldn’t forget her warmth and her love and her laughter and all the things that had made her the woman he cherished, in spite of everything.

Or maybe, because of all that. The woman who escaped from her terrible past and had built a respectful life and gave back to the community was a far stronger, braver woman than he’d realized—far more courageous than he.

What would she do if he went to her? If he were a different man, he could do that, but he was the upstanding son of Joshua Matthew Sullivan, heir to over sixty years of Texas history.

As he thought of the rest of his life without her, his soul groaned in anguish, a torment that continued to grow worse with each passing day.

What was he going to do?

A sob escaped his lips. Almost before he knew it, his legs collapsed beneath him, and he fell to the floor on his knees with his hands clenched in prayer. It was like nothing he’d ever done before, but never had his soul been in such agony. In fact, he’d never quite realized he had a soul until the pain began.

“Dear God, what should I do?” Tears ran down his face. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. “What should I do?”

As he knelt, he felt a presence around him and within. The assurance of God’s closeness filled him. It was as if God knelt beside him and shared his agony. Overwhelmed by the knowledge that he couldn’t face the shambles of his life alone, he attempted to accept his utter dependence on God, to place his life in God’s hands.

Giving up his self-reliance was not comfortable for John. For nearly an hour he struggled, until he realized the peace that flooded him felt so much better than his constant resistance and his efforts to control his life. Finally he whispered, “I turn my life over to You, Lord. Please help me.”

He was not a man who poured out his feelings to anyone, but he’d never felt such serenity, comfort and understanding before. Letting down the last barrier, he prayed, “I still love her, Lord. What should I do?”

The answer came to him—so clear, so easy—as he remembered the words of the Scripture he himself had read at church. “Jesus said unto her, ‘Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.’” He repeated the words aloud. “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

From what she’d said, Annie knew Jesus had forgiven her. Wasn’t he incredibly presumptuous not to?

Filled with peace and assured of God’s leading, he stood and looked out the window again. The darkness didn’t seem as bleak to him. He fell into bed and slept immediately, finally certain of God’s guidance and the calm acceptance that had eluded him for so long.

“I wish you’d stay longer.” Amanda folded Annie’s blue basque and placed it in the valise. “I’m going to cook something new tonight, a pineapple upside-down cake. I’d love to have your help.”

“Sounds good.” Annie studied herself in the mirror. Amanda had arranged her hair so the burns on her neck were covered. Most of the redness on her face had disappeared in the weeks since the fire. Her hands showed only a few patches of red against the pink skin. The long sleeves of her basque covered the dressings on her arms. Although the pain hadn’t disappeared completely and she still struggled to breathe occasionally, she’d regained most of her strength. “It’s time for me to go.”

“Everyone will miss you.”

Over the weeks of Annie’s recuperation, people had dropped by, bringing food and small gifts for her, asking her to stay. As far as she could tell, no one had heard about her past.

She’d decided to remain Matilda Susan Cunningham until she left because explanations seemed foolish and hurtful now. Let the students and their parents remember her as a fine teacher.

“You have the recommendation I wrote for you?”

Annie nodded.

“You know you don’t have to worry about Willie Preston. Cole tossed him out of town and told him never to come back. He told Preston to tell Roy Martin the same.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I hope you’ll teach again.” Amanda sat on the bed.

She shook her head. “I’m through with that. I’ll go to a big city, use my new name, and be a shop girl.” She smiled at Amanda to comfort her. “That was what I’d always dreamed of doing. I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t you lie down and rest? The stage doesn’t leave for two hours.”

Annie nodded. The preparation to leave had exhausted her. “Thank you for taking care of Minnie.” She picked up the cat and scratched her ears. “I’ll miss her.”

“Mr. Sullivan?” Lucia tapped on the door. “Breakfast is ready.”

He sat up. The sun streamed through his window. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

He never slept that late, but he couldn’t be angry with Lucia. She had firm instructions never to wake him.

However, he had things to do this morning. Leaping out of bed and feeling better than he had in a long time, he got ready to start the day, a day he hoped would end far more happily than it had begun.

The first thing he did after he washed and dressed was to find Elizabeth, and apologize to her. Next he grabbed a bit of breakfast while Ramon hitched the horses to the surrey. By ten-thirty, he’d left the ranch and tooled along the road to the sheriff’s new house where he’d heard she was staying.

No one was home.

He knocked on every door and window. He looked inside, going all the way around the house twice. Both times, Minnie sat in the parlor window and meowed. That was good, right? Annie wouldn’t leave Minnie behind, would she?

John checked on the horses in the stable and found only the stable boy. All the boy knew was that everyone had left nearly an hour earlier, including the pretty schoolteacher with her suitcase.

John couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t.

It took only minutes to get to town. The stagecoach didn’t leave until eleven. She couldn’t be gone, not yet. Certainly he had time. Thoughts, worries and reproaches echoed through his brain.

When he reached town, he saw Amanda’s phaeton next to the hotel. Annie was with her. Carefully, she swung out of the carriage. Once on the road, she picked up her valise and placed it next to her.

She was leaving town today.

He’d known she would at some point. She’d told him. The sheriff had told him. He’d just never considered that she really would, not until he could make some sense out of what had happened between them. Had he dithered too long? Had he left his apology until too late? Still he couldn’t move as he drank in the sight of her.

Her hair was different, swooped low over her ears and in a braid on the nape of her neck. She was thinner, almost willowy now. When she smiled at Amanda, he felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. She was so lovely.

And she was leaving.

What was he going to do? He knew what he
should
do. He knew what he and God had decided together only a few hours ago, but he couldn’t move.

Then he heard the sound of the stagecoach coming into town. In a few minutes, Annie would get onto the stage and disappear from his life. He couldn’t allow that.

“Annie.”

Annie turned when she heard John’s voice and saw him driving his carriage toward the hotel. She turned away to lift her valise off the street.

“John, what are you doing here?” Amanda said from the seat of the phaeton.

He ignored her, got out of his surrey, twisted the reins around a post and crossed to Annie. Taking the valise from her hands, he said, “Please don’t go.”

Annie attempted to wrestle the bag away from him. “Mr. Sullivan—”

“Please, you used to call me John.”

“I called you
John
when I was Matilda Susan Cunningham, your fiancée.” Anger so consumed her that, with a strong tug, she pulled the satchel from his hand and turned away.

“I don’t care who you are, Annie or Matilda or Miss Cunningham or Miss MacAllister. I only know I love you and want to marry you.”

“John, there’s quite a crowd gathering,” Amanda said.

Annie looked around to see faces peering from all the stores while people spilled out of the buildings.

“I don’t care,” he repeated.

“You don’t care?” Annie said.

“All I care about is you.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for everything I said and did. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Mr. Sullivan,” Annie whispered. “I’m Annie MacAllister. I always will be. You can’t pretend I’m not. If you can’t accept who I was and what I did, I can understand that.” She turned away. “Please leave me alone. I’m getting on the stagecoach in a few minutes.”

“Annie, I love you and accept everything you did to survive.” When she didn’t answer, he said loudly and clearly, “I love you.”

The watching crowd murmured and laughed.

“John, we’re in the middle of town.” She looked around. More people had joined the crowd. “There are dozens of people watching. You can’t say that out here.”

“I prayed about this. I asked God to forgive me for being so stiff-necked.”

“You did?” Annie asked.

John took her hands. “I don’t care about the past. I want us to be together. I want you to be my wife.”

“Why? Because that’s what a Christian does?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, because I love you. Please forgive me.”

She looked at him, at the pleading in his eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“I hurt you too much. Please forgive me.” He gazed at her. “Will you marry me? I beg you.”

He begged her to marry him? John Matthew Sullivan begged her to forgive him? “I can’t,” she whispered. “I have a past. Men like Willie Preston could appear at any time. They could hurt you and Elizabeth.”