Abe shook his head, a slow, back-and-forth motion of disbelief. His face might have been hewn in granite, it looked so hard. “No!” That simple word pierced the close air like a knife-thrust. “No. Karen ain’t dead. The child ain’t dead, either. You save ’em. That’s what you’re paid for.”
“I’m sorry.” With effort, she blinked back tears and straightened her shoulders. The midwife she’d trained with had taught her to remain calm during cases like this, and she wouldn’t forsake that training. “I did everything in my power. She needed a doctor, and there was no one here to fetch one. There was nothing more I could have done.”
“No. You save my wife.” Though his words were wooden, the twist of his wrist as he pulled a pistol from his pocket was lightning-quick. He aimed the barrel at Annie with a steady hand. “You make Karen better. And if you can’t, you’re a killer, not a midwife. I’ll just save the court the trouble and do you in myself. Now, I’m goin’ outside. If you step even one foot out of this door, it better be ’cause she’s all right.”
A chill traveled from her shoulders down to her feet. “You can’t do that to me. Childbirth is a dangerous ordeal. There is no guarantee of a woman’s survival. I did my best. Your wife was ill, undernourished, and living in deplorable conditions. None of that was my fault.”
With a ram of his fist, Sandler shoved her against the cabin wall. Pain jolted down her spine. He leaned in, his words low, breath fetid with liquor. “Shut up. I don’t want any more words out of you.” He pulled back abruptly and stormed out the cabin door. The slam of wood against wood shot terror deep through Annie’s bones.
She’d only met Sandler once before. But Mrs. Miller had told her about him. The man had fought in the war and come back alive. Though according to rumor, it might’ve been better had he not. Even Karen had told her—in hushed whispers—of Abe’s terrible nightmares, how the slightest thing set him off like a powder keg with a single spark.
Now Karen was dead; Annie, miles from help of any sort.
She chanced a look out the single cabin window. Sandler sat, his six-foot frame barring the door, pistol gripped between his hands.
Her gaze swung back to Karen. Annie had closed the woman’s eyes, but the glassy orbs had reopened and appeared fixated on the ceiling, as if the woman were simply deep in thought.
Though a trail of perspiration slithered down her spine, Annie shivered. Perhaps if she waited until Sandler fell asleep, she could make an escape. But if he awoke and caught her … The cold steel of the pistol filled her vision.
God, what now?
She sank to the dirt floor, hugging her arms around her knees. Hours passed. As quietly as she could, Annie cleaned the cabin, washed Karen and the baby, and covered them with a blanket. Her throat tightened. Karen had cherished so much hope for the new life inside her. The first time Annie had met the woman, her faded eyes sparkled, a smile on her lips. Now she would never smile again, never hold a squirming infant in her arms.
Dear God, why?
Sandler still sat outside, unmoving, except to take a swig from an amber bottle now and then. Would anyone realize her absence and start to investigate? Her father probably wouldn’t. He himself had said he never expected her back for days on end. Who else would care? Robbie and Josie, but would the concern of either be taken strongly enough to warrant a search?
What if Sandler did kill her? Her life would end. Robbie would lose his mother. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She hadn’t even said good-bye to him this morning, wrapped up in her own turmoil. What a terrible mother she was. Now would she ever have a chance to be a better one?
Another face filled her memory, creeping in at the edges before consuming the whole. Travis. She’d rejected him. It had been a chance at a new start, and what had she done? Ruined it.
No. She’d been right. She didn’t deserve a new start.
“Don’t let guilt over something that happened so many years ago determine the way you face your tomorrows.”
“I don’t know if I can, Mrs. Miller. I’ve carried this guilt around for so long. I don’t know how to let it go. Or even if I should. Don’t I deserve to be punished? I broke a commandment. I committed adultery in my heart when I was married to Stuart.”
“No condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.”
The verse she had read only yesterday flashed through her thoughts. Then the words seemed empty, meant for others, not her. But now, as she sat alone in this cabin…
“God, I need answers. If You have truly forgiven me, help me to see it. I’m tired of feeling guilty about the past. I want Your blessings. Not because I deserve them, but because You love me. I know others have been given grace. I want to know that whatever happens, whether I walk through this door and return to my family, or whether I die here, that I’m forgiven.”
No condemnation.
“Truly, Lord?” She raised her gaze to the ceiling.