Annie's Song Part 3

But her mother's hands still covered her face. Whatever she said to Papa made him grow pale. He turned aching blue eyes on Annie.

"Dear G.o.d, no."

He moved slowly toward the tub. Grasping Annie's arm, he drew her to her feet. Annie couldn't recall the last time her father had seen her without clothes, and an awful hot feeling washed over her. She bent forward at the waist and splayed her hands over her private place again. In response. Papa gave her a hard shake. She glanced up just in time to see him say, "Stop that! Stand up, girl, so I can look at you."

Annie didn't want him to look, but look he did. She was thankful that the humiliation lasted only for a moment. Then he released her arm and, cupping a hand over his eyes, wheeled away. Growing alarmed at their behavior, Annie clamped both palms over her stomach. She'd seldom seen her parents so upset. Surely she wasn't as fat as all that.

Saying something over his shoulder that Annie couldn't catch, her father left the room. Her mother wiped at her cheeks with shaky hands, then lifted the towel, beckoning Annie from the tub. s.h.i.+vering, she stepped into the warm folds of flannel and drew the cloth around her body. Her mother gestured at the fresh nightgown she had laid out for her on the bed. Then, clearly expecting Annie to dry - off and dress by herself, she scurried from the bedroom. After tugging on her gown, Annie crept to the door and cracked it open. She felt the vibration of her father's footsteps in the floor before she saw him coming down the hall. To her surprise, he had thrown his clothes back on and was hastily b.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. His shoelaces flopped as he walked, but he didn't seem aware that he had forgotten to tie them. She watched as he descended the stairs. A moment later, she felt the walls tremble as he slammed the front door on the way out.

Annie couldn't imagine where he might be going. On Sat.u.r.day evenings, he always retired early and read in bed until he fell asleep. In her memory, he had never gone out after retiring unless something bad had happened.

Afraid her mother might catch her spying, she eased the door closed. Pressing her back against the wood, she hugged her waist and went back over all that had happened. Her parents couldn't be this upset because her waist was thickening.

Unable to make sense of things, she turned down the lamps then hurried into bed by the dying glow of the wicks. Even though the summer night was warm, the sheets were cool, and she s.h.i.+vered, snuggling deeply under the quilt. As darkness settled, she closed her eyes, determined to go to sleep.

Whatever her father was so upset about, it didn't concern her.

Surely not. Lots of people were far fatter than she, and no one got into such a dither about it.

Alex took a slow sip of brandy, savoring its taste as it flowed over his tongue. This was his favorite time of evening, his workday finished, supper over, the quiet hours before bedtime stretching before him. The fire popped cheerily, its amber flames and most of the heat rus.h.i.+ng upward to the open chimney vent. Winter or summer, Alex always liked to build a fire at night, for warmth during the cold months, for mood when the temperatures grew sultry. Very little heat radiated from the flames, but the friendly glow flickered into the farthest corners of his study.

After doing a little paperwork, he hoped to catch up on his reading. A week's worth of newspapers from Portland were stacked beside his chair, none of them so much as unfolded. At both the horse farm and the rock quarry, spring and summer were his busiest times of year, beginning with the foaling season and not ending until harvest time in September. In between stretched week after week of backbreaking toil, filling orders for crushed rock, attending mares in labor, caring for foals, tilling the fields, then planting and irrigating. The ch.o.r.es seemed endless, the leisure hours few. On those rare occasions when he found spare time, he usually spent it at the rock quarry conferring with his foreman.

Stretching out his long legs, Alex crossed his ankles, Basking in the glow of the fire, he felt as lazy as a cat, Drowsiness slipped over him like a downy comforter, and he allowed his eyes to close, his snifter cupped loosely in one hand and perched on his chest.

"Sir?"

At the sound of his butler's voice, Alex jerked erect. Brandy sloshed over the front of his s.h.i.+rt, and he swore under his breath.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Master Alex, but James Trimble is in the foyer, and he insists he must see you about a matter of great urgency."

Alex set the snifter on the marble table beside his chair and rubbed his hand over his face. Trimble? He glanced at the mantel clock and saw that it was only ten after seven. Giving himself a shake to wake up, he pushed to his feet and began tucking in his s.h.i.+rt. "Show him in, Frederick."

Black coattails floating behind him, the butler pivoted and exited the study. A moment later, the gleaming mahogany door swung back open and Trimble stepped inside. With one glance, Alex knew something was wrong. The judge's left shoelace was untied, and his right stocking lay in folds around his ankle, his pant leg riding above it. His s.h.i.+rt was b.u.t.toned straight, but only one tail had found its way into his trousers.

"Dear G.o.d, Judge, what's happened?"

The older man made a beeline for the sideboard, never breaking stride until his hand curled around the brandy decanter. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he sloshed a generous measure of liquor into a gla.s.s and downed it in one gulp. Given the fact that the judge had called at his home only one other time, that being the evening of his daughter's rape, Alex found his behavior rather odd, to say the least. He watched with a raised eyebrow as the man poured himself more brandy.

After taking another belt, he finally turned toward Alex.

"She's pregnant."

The words took Alex completely off-guard. Four months had pa.s.sed with nary a word from the Trimbles, and he'd thought the possibility of a pregnancy long past. His knees buckled, and he barely guided himself into his chair. Eyes burning, his throat frozen with shock, he could only stare at the older man. After several endlessly long seconds, he finally said, "You're just now discovering it?"

The judge waved his hand, accidentally slos.h.i.+ng liquor over the edge of his gla.s.s. He didn't seem to notice the spill on the Persian carpet. "Her mother never told me."

He broke off and closed his eyes for a moment. "She hoped the cessation of her flux didn't mean anything." He raised his lashes to fix Alex with an anguished gaze. "She was wrong.

Annie's breeding, no doubt about it."

Alex sank back in his chair. "d.a.m.n."

"The question now is what do we do? I believe she's too far along to terminate the pregnancy without endangering her life."

Alex knew there were disreputable physicians who, for a price, would perform such procedures, but the thought sickened him. His brother's child? His own niece or nephew?

Even if a termination were possible at this late date, he wouldn't allow it. To him, children were an unattainable dream and precious beyond measure.

As if reading his thoughts, the judge downed the remainder of his brandy and said in a shaky voice, "My Annie isn't capable of raising a child, Montgomery, and my wife and I are too old to take on such a responsibility. We'll be doddering old fools before it ever reaches its majority." He shook his head.

"If she weren't so far into the pregnancy, I'd have it terminated without batting an eye. Probably that's why Edie wouldn't admit the possibility to me."

"You're forgetting my responsibility in this. Has the thought occurred to you that I might be willing to raise the child?"

"That isn't an alternative."

"Why the h.e.l.l not? Because of your political career?" Alex snorted. "There are ways to get around a scandal, Trimble."

Though the admission came with difficulty, Alex knew this was no time to mince words. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors that I'm sterile. They're true. Mumps in my early twenties." Feigning a casualness he was far from feeling, Alex shrugged. "Because I'm unable to father children, I have no intention of taking a wife. If nothing else, I'd be willing to marry Annie and claim this child as my own."

The judge shook his head vehemently.

Alex rushed on to argue his point. "Aside from the young men who witnessed the rape, and I doubt they'll talk, no one will know the babe isn't mine. Given Annie's affliction, there might be some speculation about why I'd marry her, but that would reflect badly on me, not you. After an acceptable period of time, I could claim irreconcilable differences and seek a separation. Annie could return home to be with her mother.

It'd be the perfect solution for all involved. This is my brother's child we're discussing, after all. I've a responsibility for its welfare as well as for Annie's."

"No."

With that p.r.o.nouncement, the judge slapped his gla.s.s back down on the sideboard. Like a blind man, he made his way across the room toward the fire, hands groping for support on the chair backs he pa.s.sed. When he reached the hearth, he grasped the mantel and pressed his forehead against the rock.

Alex was shocked when he heard the man sob.

"If you ever breathe a word of this," Trimble whispered raggedly, "I'm ruined. Swear nothing I say will go beyond this room."

Alex shot a glance at the door to be certain it was securely closed. "Of course you have my word."

"I know you think I'm a hardhearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d for wis.h.i.+ng we could do away with the babe, but you aren't aware of all the facts. Our Annie, she-" He broke off and heaved a jerky breath. "Well, you've heard the story. About the childhood fever that affected her mind?''

"Yes."

The judge brushed his cheek against the shoulder of his jacket. "She was stricken with a fever. That isn't a lie. When she was five or six, somewhere around then, and her strangeness began after that, coming on slowly, growing progressively worse as time wore on until she became what she is now."

Alex didn't know what to say or if the judge even expected a reply.

"The thing is," he went on, "I'm not absolutely sure her affliction was caused by the fever. Edie insists it was. And because spreading that story has made it possible for us to keep the girl at home without it reflecting too badly on our family, I've pretended to believe it. But the truth is, one of Edie's uncles went mad. Stark raving mad. The mental imbalance began in childhood, just as Annie's did, and he grew progressively worse until he had to be physically restrained and inst.i.tutionalized."

Alex clenched his teeth, not wanting to hear this.

The judge slowly straightened and turned to face him, his blue eyes sparkling with tears, his face pasty white. "Until now, the truth was never that important. I just bided my time and prayed Annie would never get so bad I'd be forced to send her away. It'd kill her mother to put the girl into an asylum.

Even the best of them are horrible places."

Alex had heard the stories.

The judge lifted his hands. "But now-well, I can't continue to bury my head in the sand, not with a child on the way.

Annie's affliction could be hereditary. Knowing that, I can't allow you or anyone else to adopt her child. A few years hence, it might go mad."

Alex dropped his gaze, shamed to his core that he voiced no objection. Madness. Dear G.o.d. Not even he would want to take the risk of being saddled with a child like that.

"Now you see the problem."

Alex pushed up from his chair and started to pace. He wished to h.e.l.l Douglas were here right now to witness the pain and heartache he had inflicted, not just on Annie, but on everyone around her.

The judge pinched the bridge of his nose. "The way I see it, I've only one option, and that is to send Annie away until the child has been born and can be put in an orphanage. I'll see to it that those in charge understand that it should never be adopted out."

Alex nodded. It seemed to be the only alternative to him as well. "Where will you send Annie? Have you relatives who might take her in?"

The judge shook his head. "A couple of elderly aunts who are too feeble to be of help. My brothers died of influenza back in the seventies, and Edie was an only child, conceived during her mother's change of life when she thought she had become infertile. Because of the uncle, her parents thought it best never to have other children for fear the madness might be hereditary."

In light of that, Alex was dying to know why the judge and Mrs. Trimble had had four daughters, but he bit back the question. It was none of his business, after all. "Then you'll have to foster Annie out to a home of some sort?"

"Yes, and that's where you come in. I'll need a bit of help financially. Care for her will be expensive, especially for that long a period of time."

"Name the amount. I told you in the beginning that I'd help in any way possible, and I meant it. As it happens, money is something I have plenty of, and I'll happily pay all the expenses."

The judge rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm comf t ortably se but, contrary to what folks believe, my financial resources aren't inexhaustible."

His heart going out to the other man, Alex clasped his shoulder. "You know, James, not that I doubt your judgment, but wouldn't it be wise to have Annie's condition confirmed by Dr. Muir before we go off half-c.o.c.ked?"

"She's pregnant, no doubt about it. Her waistline is already beginning to thicken."

Alex recalled the many times he'd thought a mare to be with foal only to discover later that it wasn't. "Sometimes looks can be deceiving. Trust me on that. We may be panicking over nothing. The girl could be putting on a bit of weight, nothing more."

"If only that were so. Dear G.o.d, if only it were."

Alex shared that sentiment. It would be better for all concerned if Annie wasn't carrying Douglas's child, especially for the babe's sake. An orphanage. The thought of his own flesh and blood being stuck in an inst.i.tution and labeled unadoptable made him heartsick.

The judge drew himself up and took a bracing breath. "Well, I guess I'll go get Dr. Muir."

"Tonight?" Alex couldn't conceal his surprise. It seemed to him that calling in the doctor could wait until morning, for Annie's sake, if nothing else.

"Edie is so upset, I want this settled as quickly as possible,"

the older man explained.

"I see."

"While we're on the subject of Edie ..." The judge ran a finger under his collar, clearly uncomfortable with what he meant to say. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention anything we've discussed tonight in front of her. About her uncle, I mean. I, um ... well, the madness in her family, it isn't something we talk about."

It wasn't something they talked about? Considering the fact that their daughter might be mad, Alex found that bit of information peculiar in the extreme.

Four.

Doing his best to conceal his anger, Daniel Muir eased himself down onto the edge of Annie Trimble's bed and took her hand. The wariness in her wide blue eyes caught at his heart, and for at least the dozenth time since Alex Montgomery had fetched him from town, he had to swallow his ire at her parents. How two people as good and charitable as James and Edie could be so callous in their dealings with their youngest daughter was beyond him. If the girl was indeed pregnant, she'd be no less so in the morning. But they had insisted her condition be confirmed tonight.

Daniel didn't believe in frightening his patients, and there was no mistaking the fact that Annie was afraid of him. Small wonder. He'd attended the girl no more than half a dozen times in her entire life, only once since the fever that had rendered her mentally impaired, and was a virtual stranger to her. Now here he was, waking her from a sound sleep to examine her. Behind him, Edie stood guard, wringing her hands, wailing, and weeping. That alone was bound to terrify the girl. To make matters worse, James was across the room, wearing a path in the gleaming hardwood floor. For two highly intelligent people, they were sorely lacking in horse sense.

"Well?" James said impatiently. "Is she, or isn't she?"

Enough was enough. Daniel rose from the bed and drew himself to his full height, which was diminutive, at best.

Leveling a glare at the distraught couple, he barked, "Out! I haven't examined her yet and don't plan to with all of this going on."

Edie jumped. James spun to a stop and fixed him with a startled gaze.

"You're upsetting the girl," Daniel said more gently.

"Please, step out into the hall. When I've come to a determination, I'll call you back in."

"Well," Edie said with an indignant sputter. "I never!"

At the moment, Daniel didn't particularly care if he had offended Edie Trimble. His patience with the woman was in short supply, and it was all he could do not to lace her up one side and down the other. Moron or no, Annie still had feelings, and her mother, of all people, should appreciate that. Raped, no less, and Daniel hadn't been summoned to examine her?

Edie had to have known the girl might have had internal bleeding or, barring that, could have contracted an infection.

Yet he hadn't been brought to the house. It was almost as if Edie were afraid to let him examine Annie for fear of what he might conclude. Why, that was the question, and it was one for which Daniel had no answer.

After showing the Trimbles to the door, Daniel sighed and turned back to regard Annie. She watched him nervously, her eyes the size of dinner plates. Trying his best to look harmless, he walked slowly back to the bed. Resuming his seat on the edge of the mattress, he took her hand again and gave it a kindly pat.

"Do you remember me, Annie?" he asked softly.

Keeping her gaze fixed on his mouth, she tucked in her chin and rubbed her cheek against the shoulder of her nightgown.

Daniel took stock of her finely sculpted features, thinking what a shame it was that a fever had incapacitated her. Though the older Trimble girls were all married and, because of the distances they had to travel, visited home infrequently, Daniel recollected each of their countenances quite clearly. Of the four sisters, Annie was without question the loveliest. A person had to look closely to see that, of course. She had an uncommonly thick mane of sable hair that clouded in silky, unruly waves about her face, nearly obscuring what was an almost cameo-perfect visage. Her mother wasted little coin to clothe her, probably because the girl ruined her garments running in the hills. The result was that Annie went about in shapeless, unflattering frocks made of low-quality fabric. To make matters worse, no one had bothered to teach the child any social graces. To be fair to the Trimbles, maybe she was incapable of learning, but Daniel still thought it a shame they hadn't at least made an effort to give the girl some polish. As it was, her manners and behavior were those of a six-year-old.

"When you were a very small girl, I used to hide candy in my pockets when I came to see you, but I don't suppose you can remember that."

Her gaze flicked to the breast pocket of his jacket. Grasping the lapel, Daniel turned the inner compartment out, glad that he always carried treats to win over his younger patients.

Leaning forward slightly, he released his hold on her small hand and said, "Go ahead. Help yourself."