She hated him; she had since the moment he'd told her the truth about himself. In that split second the love in her eyes had metamorphosed, congealed into something cold and dark. Not once in all the years of their marriage had the hatred lessened. She despised him and his cowardice with an intensity that continued to amaze him. Wound him.
Amarylis had married Jack for one thing, and one alone. Security. She'd come from a family labeled poor white
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trash by the whole county, and Jackson Rafferty had been her ladder out of poverty. When things had changed, when he had changed, she'd felt betrayed, and in the years since, her sense of betrayal had grown, turning finally into an icy knot of hatred. She had never?would never?forgive his weakness. It had taken her dreams of respectability and wealth and left her with nothing but a crazy shell of a man and a broken-down sheep ranch in the middle of nowhere. He knew all that, and more. So why did he see in her eyes right now an impossible softness? Amarylis was never frail and frightened; he knew that. It was all in his mind, as were so many things.
He ran a shaking hand through his hair. Too well he knew what she was capable of doing to him, and he wouldn't let it happen again. Her contempt and hatred wouldn't push him over the edge. He had the children to fight for, even if he didn't have himself.
"I'm not your wife, you know. What's her name, Amaretto?"
Jack's head snapped up. "Huh?" "She died. Go ahead and mourn her passing. There's been a mix-up. I never agreed to any time change. Eighteen seventy-three." She shuddered. "How am I supposed to function without a microwave and a computer? And what about my work?"
"You mean the household chores?" He frowned. "But you don't do anything."
She drew in a tiny, squeaking breath. "Nineteenth-century chores?" she said, gasping. "What do I do, make soap from tree bark and scrub floors? Oh my God. Carol! Get down here. Now!" She looked wildly around the room, as if she expected someone?or something?to answer her cry. The name, Carol, vibrated on the air, then died away, plunging the bedroom back into its thick, awkward silence.
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The lamp beside the bed sputtered. Light wobbled, splashed across the red and white wedding-ring-pattern quilt and glittered on his wife's classically beautiful face. Her eyelids quavered for a moment and closed. The dark brown lashes looked like smudges against the paleness of her skin.
He thought he heard her mumble "shit" as she sank tiredly back into the pile of feather pillows, but that wasn't possible. Amarylis Rafferty?the perfect southern lady even on a backwater sheep ranch?never cursed.
Jack scoured his brain for something to say. But it had been years since he'd spoken civilly to his wife, and longer yet since she'd wanted to hear it.
He had just decided to try something incredibly banal and inoffensive, like Are you thirsty? when footsteps sounded outside the door. After a flurry of whispers, a knock thudded.
Jack tensed. All thoughts of comforting his wife vanished. He remembered in a rush just who she was and the pain she was more than capable of inflicting on all of them.
A headache pounded behind his eyes. He rubbed his throbbing temple. The kids were his life; all he had or ever hoped to have. He had to protect them from their mother's vituperative anger and explosive hatred, and there was only one way to do that. No matter how much it pained him, how much each aching silence cost him, he had to appear detached and uncaring. Because if Amarylis thought?even suspected?how much he loved his children, she'd find a way to make them all pay. The children most of all, for in hurting them, she hurt Jack. And hurting Jack was always her primary goal. She wanted him to remember, every day in every way, that he'd betrayed and ruined her, and that she would never forgive him.
He still remembered the last time he'd tried to shield the
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girls from his wife's biting tongue. She had smacked him?a stinging, flat-palmed crack to the cheek?and told him that if he said another word, ever, she'd leave.
See how the girls would do then, you sniveling coward. They'd grow up as twisted and crazy as you are. Do you want that? Do you?
A chill crept up his spine at the memory. "It's the girls. They've been asking to see you."
She looked at him sharply, her eyebrows pulling together in a slight frown. "The girls?"
He searched her face for a hint that she was toying with him again. But there was no trace of pretense, no sign that she was faking her memory loss. "Our daughters, Savannah and Mary Katherine."
"Oh ..." She nodded, but the confusion remained in her eyes. "Okay."
"Come on in, girls," he yelled. The door opened. Savannah entered first, carrying the baby. She stopped at the foot of the massive bed. Katie followed quickly, melting like a formless apparition into the shadows behind her older sister. Only the jet black outline of her hair and a hint of lemon yellow ribbon were visible at Savannah's crooked elbow.
Jack stared through dull, tired eyes at his children. Their frightened faces tore at his heart. As always, the magnitude of his sin and shame sickened him. He and Amarylis had turned two vibrant, loving girls into shadowy, silent wraiths.
This marriage had been a bloody battlefield for years. And these two perfect, beautiful girls, their own children, had become the casualties. Prisoners of a war they couldn't understand.
"H-How are you, Mama?" Savannah asked in a hushed, respectful voice. Tess sat up a little straighter in bed. There was some-
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thing wrong here. Something ... strange. "Come closer, girls. I want to see you."
The taller of the two girls moved hesitantly forward. As she moved into the lamp's circle of light, Tess's heart wrenched. The girl was trying desperately hard to keep her chin cocked at a defiant angle. Her huge blue eyes stared emotionlessly forward, as if the wall were of utmost fascination. She was completely motionless except for the trembling in her chapped, work-reddened hands.
Behind her cowered a smaller child, her small, pink fingers clutched tightly in the blue gingham of her sister's floor-length skirt.
"Which one of you is Savannah?"
The older girl seemed startled for a moment, then said, "I?I am."
"I assume that's Mary Katherine behind your skirts?"
She nodded, flicking a long, mahogany-hued braid over her shoulder.
"How old are you?"
"I'm twelve. Katie's seven."
After the quick answer, silence descended once again. Tess got the distinct impression that it was the normal state of affairs with this family. Then someone cried. It was a hiccuping, sputtering sound like the whining cry of an un-greased engine.
Tess's gaze lowered to the bundle in Savannah's arms. "Is that the baby?"
Savannah bobbed her head.
Tess swallowed thickly. Fear and excitement merged together, bringing a slow, hesitant smile to her lips. "M-May I see him?"
Surprise flitted across Savannah's face. She stood rooted
to the spot.
The truth washed over Tess in a cold wave, made her feel
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sick and twisted-up inside. "You're afraid to let her ... I mean me hold him."
Savannah blanched. Chewing nervously on her lower lip, she edged closer to the bed and gently placed the baby on Tess's distended stomach. "N-No, it's just that you never wanted to hold Katie. I?I thought ..."
Instinctively Tess reached out to comfort the frightened girl. "It's okay, honey."
Savannah stiffened and jerked out of reach. Before Tess could respond, the bundle in her arms started wriggling furiously.
Gingerly she peeled back the homespun blanket. Murky, swollen-lidded eyes peered up at her from a beet red, wrinkled face the size of a tea saucer.
Hesitantly she stroked his velvet-soft newborn skin. At her touch he sucked in a shuddering, hiccuping breath and stopped crying. His unfocused gaze landed on her face, and she had the unmistakable sense that he was studying her. After a moment he gave a quiet, contented sigh. Snuggling deeper in
the blanket, he went back to sleep.
Tess felt his acceptance and trust like a tangible presence. For the first time, she understood the meaning of the word awe. Her eyes widened with it, her heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Tears scalded her eyes.
She looked up suddenly, expecting to see her awe mirrored on the faces around her. Instead, she saw anxiety and suspicion.
Savannah immediately reached out for the baby. "Here, Mama, I'll take him...."
Katie, who'd peeked her head around her sister's elbow, jerked back into invisibility behind Savannah.
Tess frowned. What was wrong with this family? They acted as if they expected her to fling the baby across the room. Savannah and Jack were standing on guard, waiting for the explosion, regarding her with the wary, nervous
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glances normally accorded a hand grenade with a pulled pin. And poor Katie was following the first rule of warfare: Keep your head down and stay in the trenches.
There was so much pain here, so much she didn't understand. She felt again the involuntary urge to help, to touch, to heal. Just like when she'd seen Jack huddled piteously near the crib ...
She wanted to say something light and easy, something that would ease the heartache from the faces around her. But she couldn't think of a thing.
She tried to reach for Savannah, but the infant restricted her movement. All she could do was raise a single pointed finger toward the girl.
Only her finger didn't point at Savannah. It pointed at the door. At the gesture, Savannah's skin went ashen. Before Tess could utter a word, Savannah swirled and ran from the room. Katie followed at a scamper. The door slammed shut.
Jack leapt to his feet. "Damn you, Amarylis! Would it have hurt you to talk to them? They've been worried about you, for God's sake."
"I thought?"
"Ha!" He surged toward her. The hollow sound of his bootheels slamming against the floor rang in Tess's head.
"You know what you're doing to her, goddamn you."
"I just wanted?"
He laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound without a trace of mirth. "I know what the hell you want. Everyone does." He stared at her again through cold, narrowed eyes, then turned away from the bed as if sickened by the sight of her. He crossed the small room in three steps and yanked the door open, slamming it shut behind him.
Tess stared at the door, feeling?stupidly?another woman's guilt and regret.
Amarylis, it seemed, had not been a very good mother.
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Jack slammed the door so hard, the rafters rattled. The girls jumped like scared rabbits and spun around to face him. Katie slunk behind her sister's full skirts.
He wanted to push past his children and run from this cursed house, and keep on running until he couldn't run anymore.
"Is Mama all right?" Savannah asked.
Jack looked at his eldest daughter and felt a jolt of emotion so strong, he almost cursed out loud. She was looking at him with a mixture of hope and love and desperation that serrated his heart.
How? he thought angrily. How could she love him after everything he'd done ... and not done?
Need rose in him like a sudden wave. He wanted? ached?to get down on his knees and take them in his arms.
But, of course, he didn't move. His hands remained bolted to his sides, and not a hint of softness crept into his hardened gaze. The only protection was in distance. If he cracked?even for an instant, as long as it took to say, "I love you"?the evil in his soul would slip out and devour his children.
But he wanted to. Sweet Christ, how he wanted to.
He swallowed the boulder-sized lump in his throat and prayed the emotions in his heart didn't reach his eyes. "She's fine. Doc Hayes says she'll be confused for a while. Might even forget some things. We're supposed to help her out."
Katie peeked her head out from behind Savannah. "Caleb's a good name."
"Caleb, huh?"
"Mama won't like it," Savannah said tonelessly.
Because we do. Jack had no trouble finishing the sad sentence. She was right, and all three of them knew it.
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Amarylis took pleasure in stealing their joy. Jack knew he should say nothing, should simply turn his back and walk away. But God help him, he couldn't. Before he knew it, he found himself saying, "Well, maybe we should try it now, while she's ... confused."
At Savannah's sudden smile, Jack felt a new wave of despair. It took so little to make his girls happy. So very, very little. And, damn his soul, he gave them even less.
"Carol," Tess hissed as soon as the door closed. "Get down here. Now!"
Tess moved higher in bed. "Carol!"
No answer.
Tess let her breath out in a frustrated sigh. She hadn't really expected Carol to answer. Apparently ghostly intervention was reserved for postdeath experiences. New lives were a new slate.
What was she supposed to do now? Be a pioneer wife? She shuddered at the thought. She didn't even like movies about pioneer wives. The women were always so dirty and overworked.
She glanced down at the baby curled so peacefully beside her and felt a rush of confusing emotions. Fear, hope, excitement. Mostly fear.
She didn't know the first thing about being a mother. Or a wife, for that matter. She'd never really been part of a family in her life. She'd never been in love, and now here she was, the matriarch of an apparently frightened, dysfunctional family and the mother of three?including a newborn. She didn't cook, clean, sew, understand children, or communicate particularly well.
She should have chosen the knight in shining armor. At least she could have outrun him.
"It's perfect, Carol," she said sarcastically. "I should fit right in."
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The sarcastic words were barely past her lips when she heard the doorknob turn. Seconds later, the family filed into her bedroom like a contingent of mute, defeated soldiers, with Jack in the lead. He stood tall and proud, far enough away from the girls to keep his distance, and yet close enough to make Tess wonder why he bothered to keep himself separate. His unkempt hair hung in wavy disarray to the broad shelf of his shoulders, where it lay curled like shavings of jet. Piercing green eyes impaled her from beneath a row of thick black eyebrows.
Savannah moved stiffly forward, her hands balled together at her waist. With her long, auburn braids and huge blue eyes, she looked like Dorothy facing the Wizard.
Tess leaned sideways in an attempt to see Katie. But the moment Tess shifted her weight, Katie scooted the opposite way. Again there was nothing to see but the child's drooping yellow ribbon and a flash of black hair.
Strange family, Tess thought again.
"Mama?" Savannah said quietly.
It took Tess a moment to remember that she was now their mother. Cautiously, she said, "Yes?"
"We ... We thought Caleb might be a nice name."
Tess glanced down at the baby in her arms. "Caleb." The word rolled off her tongue with just the right sound. Of course, it wasn't her place to name the baby, and she wouldn't have presumed to disagree, and yet, strangely, they had chosen exactly the name she would have picked. She nodded, smiling slowly. "It's perfect."
Katie poked her head out. "It is?"
Tess smiled softly at the little girl. "Did you think of it?"
Katie blushed furiously and disappeared again.
"And who diapered him?" Tess asked.
Savannah chewed on her lower lip. "I?I did. But if you want, I can do it a?"
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"You did a perfect job. Thank you."
Blood rushed to Savannah's milky white cheeks. "I gotta go." Turning quickly, she raced out of the room, with Katie fast on her heels.
Jack stared at Tess with an inscrutable expression. She couldn't tell if he was pleased or angry. Time stretched out, turned thick and uneasy. She wanted to speak, but couldn't think of what to say. The fiasco of the finger pointing had proved to Tess what an emotional minefield this family was. A person could say the wrong thing
and get her head blown off.
The silence made Tess distinctly uncomfortable. She'd spent years?a lifetime?living in aching silence. It was something she'd never do again.
"Jack, I?"
"Don't worry, I'm leaving." He spun on his heels and barreled for the door.
It slammed shut just as Tess said, "?think we should
talk."
She stared at the door for a while, feeling strangely betrayed. Then, with a resigned sigh, she melted deeper into the pillows and closed her eyes. The unfamiliar scents of weathered wood, hand-washed cotton, and burning oil wreathed her senses. Sounds reached her ears and made her smile; soft, quiet noises that most people probably wouldn't notice. Creaking, settling boards, wind tapping against the windowpane, Caleb's steady breathing. To Tess, deaf since the age of seven, these sounds were a glorious explosion. A gift from God.
"Okay, Carol," she said quietly. "I'm here. I accept that. But what the hell am I supposed to do?"
There was no answer; she hadn't expected one. As usual, Tess was on her own.
She rocked Caleb gently back and forth until he fell
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asleep, then she peeled back the covers and started to get out of bed.
Pain stopped her cold, reminding her forcibly that her body had just given birth. Slowing considerably, she shuffled toward the cradle and gingerly put the sleeping baby to bed.
Straightening, she pressed a fist to her aching back and turned around. The mirror winked at her, drew her. She moved cautiously toward the looking glass, feeling very much like Alice.
What she saw made her breath catch. Silky, cornsilk-blond hair wreathed an exquisite Grace Kelly face. Huge, liquid-soft brown eyes peered questioningly back at her.
She shook her head in amazement, mesmerized by the way the light caught and tangled in her long, golden hair. "Whew, when God gives you a second chance, He means it," she said in a smooth southern drawl.
Hobbling back to the bed, she snuggled under the heavy quilt. For the first time in her life, she went to sleep thinking she was beautiful.