Chapter 12

The first time Gabe saw Lily, she peeped out of a handmade baby quilt with those blue eyes, so deep a blue they made the sky pale. A surge of wonder filled a void he had tried to ignore. This emptiness had sprouted and grown large within him, this not having a family. Now the awesomeness of it all lifted him so high he felt he left the floor. He wanted to snatch the baby from Anna and run. Instead, he thought, A lucky man, Clint Goodman. At least he owns his own child.

A heaviness pressed on his chest. He realized that this loneliness, this lack of acknowledgement by his father, had walked with him since his mother left with Lloyd Freeman. He needed his father to stand before the people of Breakline, lift his hands, palms flat, and say, “Come and see. This is my son.”

He spoke when he realized Anna was staring at him. “What’s her name?” he asked. He reached out, and the baby grasped his index finger.

 

“Sister Sun, come here. You’re female. Clue me in on what’s happening here,” calls Brother Moon.

“Silly old rock. The man wants a family. Being one of a kind, you wouldn’t know about that.”

“But not this woman. Or her child.”

“Stay out of it. That’s what you tell me.”

 

“Lily. Lily Marie. After my sister Ruth Marie down in Covington.” Anna handed Gabe the child.

Gabe cuddled the baby to his chest and laughed aloud. “She’s one more miracle,” he said.

Over the following months, Clint came to adore the child more and more. In an attempt to hide her guilt, Anna encouraged him to dote on Lily. Anna had been a fool. She had played fancy with a man who, like a card shark, shuffled the deck so he could show only the cards that played to his game. Anna admitted to herself that Lily had a quality that drew people to her, though she couldn’t name it. They wanted to touch her, cuddle her, make her smile. Women she worried had slighted her at the commissary approached Anna and smiled and cooed over Lily as if she were a treasured toy. Anna mulled over the attention Lily drew. She was not jealous, but more curious about what special power her child held, especially over Clint and Gabe.

Lily was old enough to sit alone the night Anna placed a slice of plain cake topped with applesauce on the highchair tray. Lily closed her small fist around the cake, squeezing cake and applesauce into squishy batter that oozed between her fingers.

Clint laughed. “That’s my girl there, Anna. See? She takes what’s given her and don’t complain.”

“Not like her mama?” Anna stood to wipe cake from Lily’s hands. “Better she learn to consider what she’s offered before making her choice. They’s always consequences. God sees to that.” She moved to the dishpan to rinse the cloth. “Nothing to be gained by reaching out and grabbing the first thing you see.”

Clint ignored the tinge of bitterness in Anna’s comment. He swept Lily out of her chair, spilling the cup of milk Anna had placed to the side, out of Lily’s reach. “Oops! Lily girl, looks like we made a fine mess for certain.”

Lily giggled.

Clint put her on the floor easy, as if she might break. She crawled into the living room. He took a mop to the milk spill.

“Don’t let her run loose, Clint,” Anna scolded. “You don’t know where she’ll end up.”

Clint placed the mop back in its bucket by the door. “Well, I’ll end up fired, if I don’t get on to the mine.” He gave Anna a peck on the back of her hair and said, “No double shift tonight, Anna. I’ll be home early morning, soon as I can.” He took her face in both his hands and smiled. “See if you can’t find that little gown you wore when we got Lily started.”

“Oh, hush up, Clint.” Anna brushed him away. “Here. Take your bucket.” She tapped the lid to be sure it was tight and handed him his food. He winked one coal-rimmed eye and gave his wife a salute, as snappy as possible for a man whose back was already bowing in the manner of all miners. He called out a goodbye to Lily and closed the door behind him.

Anna set about putting Lily to bed for the night.

 

Brother Moon slides behind newly formed rain clouds and leaves Breakline Camp in the dark. He summons the rain to wait until after midnight to fall.

 

Clint had been gone for less than an hour when Anna heard a tap, no more than a whisper of a knock, on the back door. She froze. Breakline was not a place where people visited after dark. Not that she had reason to fear, but she was at the end of the road, away from other houses, by herself. She thought about changing from her cotton robe into a dress but decided she could perhaps see who was there by looking out the bedroom window. She tip-toed through the darkened room and edged the curtain aside.

Winston Rafe stood with his back against the wall and hat pulled low, waiting in the dim porch light.

Anna switched off the kitchen light and cracked the door. Rafe pushed in and keyed the lock. She did not question his boldness. Had she asked why, like many times before, he would have convinced her he was in the right.

“I’ve come to see the girl,” he said. “Where is she?”

Anna inclined her head toward the bedroom. “She’s sleeping.” She grabbed his arm to hold him back.

Rafe jerked away. “I aim to see the baby, Anna.”

Anna dropped his arm on command. “Be quiet,” she said, wondering if he had been drinking at O’Mary’s Saloon.

Rafe ignored her and walked into the bedroom.

She glanced around to see if Clint had left his clothes in their usual place on the floor by the straight back chair. Guilt perched on her shoulder, heavy as a big-beaked crow, and nipped at her ear. Allowing Winston here by your marriage bed is more of a betrayal than lying with him on some rock ledge. You know that, don’t you? The words were more reprimand than question. Yes, she knew. She looked away from the bed and said nothing.

Rafe leaned over the child and squinted against the dark. “What color’s her hair?” he whispered.

The question addled Anna. Lily’s hair was no hair. Still a lap baby, the baby’s scalp was covered with colorless fuzz. Now at less than a year, she had a little, but not enough to hold a hair ribbon. Had he never seen a baby?

Rafe bent close, then stood. Lily slept in a drawer taken from the bureau across the room. “She can’t have my family’s hair. You know that.” He spoke, his back toward Anna, as if he dared the baby to sprout hair with him standing there watching.

Anger surged through her body. “Damn it, Winston. You come barging in here acting like I can wave a wand and color her hair. Are you crazy?” She stepped back. “I can’t cast spells like some granny.” She tilted her head. “Winston Rafe, are you drunk?”

Anna watched as he circled his attention around the room, looking first to the window, with its white curtains, then the open closet, her clothes hanging next to Clint’s. His eyes stopped at the dresser mirror, most of its back silvering gone. There he stood, Anna noticed, reflected in a gauzy haze that presented him almost featureless. He ran his fingers through his wavy hair.

“Family hair,” he said. “It’s chestnut, my mother always said. Said there was none other like it.” He swallowed. “Maybe she’ll be blonde? Like you?”

Anna took a deep breath and mumbled, “I don’t know, Winston. There’s no way to tell as yet.” He had not answered her question about being drunk. She felt the warped reflection in the mirror watching her.

Anna had many nights envisioned having Winston here. Now that he was, the bed looked severe, its dusty rose chenille spread stretched so taunt no wrinkle rippled the surface. The elation she had imagined had never entered the room. She looked back at the mirror’s curvy image. Her face mocked her. She saw a face she had never seen before, the face of a fallen woman. Tears came before she could stop them.

That night was the first night Winston came inside Anna’s home. Lily was seven months old.

 

The rain defies Brother Moon’s command and plummets onto Breakline Mining Camp. It drenches the tipple and moves south toward the end of the camp.

 

As soon as Winston Rafe stepped out of Clint Goodman’s house, rain dropped in broad sheets, drenching Rafe as he walked back to the Queen Anne house on the rise.

After Rafe left, three weeks of emptiness and yearning consumed Anna. She stumbled through days and fought pre-dawn nightmares before she admitted her body needed Winston Rafe. She convinced herself that he whispered to her, calling her. One late July evening, she bundled Lily in a light blanket, walked out the back door, and climbed the rise to her rock ledge.

At first, she did not see him. His approach startled her. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” she said.

“Neither did I.”

Later, Anna would ponder on whether he meant he had not expected to return to their ledge or whether he didn’t expect her to return. Neither mattered. She had never suspected when she lured Clint away from Ruth that she had taken such a precarious road. Nor did she have an idea how painful the resulting wreck would be.

 

Lily slept in a bower away from the ledge’s rim. Anna sat on the edge, her feet hanging loose in the dark. A cool night breeze blew down the mountain.

Winston lit a cigarette and said, “You got to take Lily and Clint and leave.”

“What’d you mean?”

He stared out over the camp. “I’m transferring Clint over to Big Mama #2 next week.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything more, she told herself, but she had.

“Gladys is pregnant. Told me last night. She won’t tolerate having a kid walking around that favors her own child. Almost the same age.” His voice grew louder with each statement.

“Gladys is pregnant.” Anna’s voice came out flat.

“You got to go. What if the more Lily grows the more she favors me?”

“She won’t.” Anna interlocked her fingers to steady their trembling. “I swear she won’t.” Wind whipped up, calling for rain in the night.

“Anna, listen here. . .”

“No. I’m not going.” Anna rubbed her hands down her thighs to dry her palms.

“Anna, I’m not a begging man, but you got to go. You don’t have a choice. Don’t make me do something I don’t want.”

“Clint adores Lily. He’s convinced she’s his.” She refused to look at Winston. This change was something he had told her to expect, but she never really thought it would come to such a betrayal. Gladys. Pregnant.

“He’s never questioned her looks.” Anna kept her voice low so as not to wake Lily.

“Anna,” he pleaded. “Anna?”

Winston’s command had hit deep. Anna did not want to plead, but his argument left her defenseless. She had no idea what to say. “It’s been almost a full year. He hasn’t questioned her yet.” She whirled around and stood behind Winston. “We’re settled here. Now that I have Lily, wives talk to me. I have friends.”

“Go home, Anna. Get settled back in Covington. You have family there.”

“I’m not leaving, Winston. Not next week. Not ever.” She lifted Lily, cradled her child close and started back toward the camp house.

Rafe called after her, “I told you all along. I can’t claim the child.”

“Shut up,” Anna barked.

“Don’t push me, Anna,” were the last words she heard.

 

Brother Moon takes on extra iridescence to help Anna down the mountain. He reminds himself not to mention his actions to Sister Sun or Great Spirit. They will not approve of his interfering.