Edward was waiting for Anne when she arrived home. He had put Clara to bed and packed a small bag for both her and Anne, not embarrassed by the tears he shed as he did so. He loved Clara like she was truly his own and wished he could keep her, but he knew that even with Anne's faults, it would not be right to separate a mother from her child.
When Anne arrived home, he stood up and inquired how her mother was. Had they arrived at a plan?
"My mother is fine, thank you for asking. She likes you very much. I believe a plan is forthcoming."
"Not your sisters, though," Edward said. "They don't like me."
Anne hesitated. "No, not them. They were still arguing over whether or not to kill Joseph when I left." She waited to see what, if anything, Edward might say to her. When he said nothing, she mistook his silence for forgiveness, or at least the possibility of it.
"Oh, Edward," she said, thrusting her arms around him and taking him completely by surprise. "I am so sorry for the lies I told you. Truly I am. If only you can find it in your heart to love me still, I swear to you I will never lie to you again."
It was then she noticed the bags by the door. She pulled away from Edward, searching his face for some understanding of what was meant by that.
"Oh," she finally said, seeing the look in his eyes. "You wish me to leave. So soon? But I thought you said I might stay until I found somewhere to go."
"That was before I knew your family was so nearby," he said.
"I see." Anne had been feeling the agony of guilt since her arrival in Sherburn; now she felt the rush of anger.
"So, it is alright for you to lie to me, but when I lie to you I have not even the chance to explain myself?"
"I never lied to you," Edward said, his own anger rising. "It is not my fault that you failed to tell me several key pieces of information about yourself."
"I only wanted a better life for Clara."
"Then you should have thought of that before you became a thief!"
"I am not a thief!" Anne cried, though in her heart she knew that was not true. "I mean, not anymore. It was not a lifestyle I chose for myself, Edward, you must believe that. It was forced upon me and my family by circumstance."
"And what of your lies to me? Your casual deception? Was that circumstance as well?"
"Edward, I love you! Can't you at least let me ex—"
"NO!" Edward said, striking his hand against a table. "I will entertain no more of your lies. Leave now, or I shall arrest you myself, in the name of the Sherburn City sheriff's department."
Anne's face dropped. Her shoulders slumped. Defeat settled upon her, and with it, the loss of Edward's love. Clara cried from her bedroom, and Anne went to her, scooping her into her arms. Tears rushed over her face as she carried Clara to the front door.
"You may keep the buggy I purchased for Clara," he told her. He refused to submit himself to the hard lump rising in his throat.
"Thanks," Anne said, "but I wouldn't want you to say I stole it later."
She closed the front door behind her as she walked out of Edward's life, for what he thought was the last time.
* * *
Anne walked down the street carrying Clara in one arm and their suitcase in her other. It was getting dark outside, and if Anne wanted to reach her family's camp, she would have to hurry. Although she stepped quickly and with purpose, she could not escape the feeling that she was making a huge mistake.
"But what can I do?" she asked herself, her bottom lip quivering. "If he won't listen to me," she gulped, "and no longer wants me, how might I change his mind?" To this no answer came, and so Anne continued on her way until she was almost to the outskirts of town. Her arms were growing tired, and she stopped in front of a shop, which had a bench out front so that she might rest a little before entering the forest.
People passed by, though the crowds had thinned considerably since evening had taken hold. Anne heard heavy footsteps behind her but thought little of them until a hand reached out and grabbed her throat. Anne's first impulse was to use both her hands to try and free herself, but that meant dropping Clara, who was beginning to cry. She felt the air drain from her lungs as she fought her attacker one-handed.
"I warned you," Joseph snarled. Anne clawed at him with her free hand, finally swinging the suitcase up and knocking it into his face so that it hit his nose, drawing a small amount of blood. Anne ran without looking behind her, but she had gotten no more than three feet before Joseph grabbed hold of her hair.
"Oh!" Anne cried. "Help!"
A small group of men who had been heading home from the saloon stopped and looked in their direction. "Help!" Anne screamed again as Joseph, sensing the urgency of the situation, grabbed hold of Clara. Anne refused to let her baby go. Clara's cries rang though the night, drawing even more people toward them. Shopkeepers began to come out.
"Hey, you there!" One of the men from the saloon cried. "You leave that woman and child alone!" The group ran toward him, and Joseph pulled as hard as he dared on Clara while pushing Anne away at the same time. Anne could not stop what happened next. Try as she might to hold onto her daughter, Anne's feet fell out from under her, and Clara tumbled to the ground, screaming.
The men were nearly upon them, as well as some other passersby who had begun to run toward them when they realized what was happening. There were general outcries of protest, and Joseph was forced to retreat without Clara. He just barely escaped the angry crowd—most of which would have continued after him except for the cries of Anne, who was screaming that her baby was hurt. A mass of people swarmed upon her, attempting to help.
"The child is injured!" someone cried.
"Send for the doctor!"
"The scoundrel!"
"He got away!"
Anne saw Clara's mouth open, her head bloodied, and she nearly fainted for the fear Clara was dead. Dear God, please don't punish Clara for my mistakes. Take me, only let her live. Clara let out a loud wail just then, and Anne sobbed, holding her close. She would never let Clara go again, even if that meant giving her life to save hers.
* * *
There was pounding on Edward's door. The room was dark, but Edward had rested in it with his eyes open for the last hours, wondering if he had made a mistake. The pounding sounded again, and he wondered if it might be Anne's first husband come to stake his claim.
"Sheriff Wilmot!" Jake cried out, loud enough to wake every house around them. Edward sat up, more alert. "Sheriff Wilmot!" Jake cried again. "Are you in there? Your wife and daughter have been injured!"
Edward jumped from his bed. He had not even changed into his night clothes, so sullen was he at the loss of his new family. He opened the front door and looked out at his deputy.
"Hurt?" he asked. "How? Are they alright?" His first thought was not of Joseph, but of some well-intended pedestrian who, upon recognizing Anne as one of the Keats sisters, had tried to bring her in for the reward money, hurting her and poor Clara in the process. So worried was he about her past crimes that it did not even occur to him that Joseph could have been the cause of her trouble.
"Someone attacked Anne, I mean Mrs. Wilmot, as she was walking down the street carrying baby Clara. Lots of people saw it. They said it looked like he was trying to grab Clara and strangle Anne. They tried to help her, but the man got away."
Edward's mind raced. His heart hammered against his chest. He began to see stars as the air around him shifted and grew thin. He could not breathe. For he had just understood the situation—that Joseph was behind the ordeal, and that he, Edward, was responsible for delivering Anne into the devil's hands. Could he ever forgive himself?
He followed Jacob, not even aware of where he was going.
"They're with the doctor now," Jake told him. Edward was grateful that at least it was the doctor they were with and not the undertaker. "Are they badly injured?" he finally dared to ask Jake.
"I'm sorry," Jacob said, shrugging his shoulders. "I just don't know."
When they finally arrived at Doctor Martin's house, Edward thought he might pass out. So frantic had his mind been, so filled with thoughts of Clara's broken body and Anne's blackened face, that when he first saw them, he mistook them for ghosts. Slowly, he began to realize that they were both alive and that he might have a second chance with them.
"Anne," he cried, throwing his arms around her. She clung to him like he was the last man in the world.
"Oh, Edward," she sobbed, their earlier argument instantly forgotten at the sight of his red eyes and wearied face. Clara lay on a table where the doctor was still busy examining her.
"Is Clara alright?" he asked, desperate to hear that she was.
The doctor looked up. "Sheriff Wilmot," he said, walking to them now. Clara wiggled her legs on the table. She made sweet cooing noises upon detecting that Edward was in the room. "Your daughter is quite lucky. She took quite a spill. Luckily, I do not believe there to be any serious or permanent injury, except perhaps for an abrasion above her left eye that may scar over. But it will be nothing too serious and will fade as she grows to adulthood."
"Oh, thank God," Edward sighed.
"I dropped her," Anne cried, looking at Edward with pleading eyes. "Joseph grabbed me, and I dropped Clara." Anne had not stopped blaming herself for Clara's injury since Clara had fallen from her hands.
"Ssh," Edward said, cradling her against his chest. "It is alright. Clara is safe. If there is anyone to blame for this, it is me. I should never have let you leave like I did."
"Oh no," Anne cried, looking at him with wet eyes. "I cannot blame you. You were right to be angry with me."
Doctor Martin, sensing something private between Anne and Edward, cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. They both blushed; they had entirely forgotten he was in the room with them.
"It is your wife I am more concerned with at the moment," the doctor said.
"What do you mean?" Edward asked, alarmed. He turned back to Anne. "What did Joseph do to you? Are you alright?"
"It is the bruises about her neck that concern me," Doctor Martin said.
It was the first time, since arriving on the scene, that Edward observed Anne's neck. It was swollen and bruised, horrible purple splotches circling all around her creamy skin.
"Oh, God," Edward cried.
"It is only because of God that Clara and I are alive now," she said.
"I believe your wife will be okay, but I'd like for you to watch her tonight. Let me know if she has any difficulties breathing. If she does, send for me right away."
"I will, Doctor Martin," Edward said. "Thank you." He shook the doctor's hand, then took Clara in his arms and led her and Anne outside. Gratefully, Jake had thought to secure a buggy for them. They took a seat and rode home together, a family once more, and for the first time, they were secure in the knowledge that they would remain a family forever more.
* * *
