Out of Reach

I always knew what my life would look like. My daddy told me at a young age that I’d marry a good man and raise strong boys for him. I had accepted my fate without really thinking about it because it was just what was expected. By the time I was seventeen, it was widely known throughout the town that I was next to be married. My cousin Fiona had married the preacher’s son only a year earlier and she was already pregnant, hopefully with a boy. 

One day after I cooked breakfast for the two of us, my daddy asked how I felt about the Philips’ boy. I knew where the conversation was headed and that he didn’t really wonder how I felt about him. Dan Philips was twenty-five years old, an eligible bachelor in our town, but I had never known him very well. He spent most of the time working on his daddy’s ranch.

I told him that I didn’t know how I felt about him, before adding that I thought he was handsome because I reckoned that was what my daddy was aiming to hear. I was proven right when he nodded to himself and shoveled more eggs down his throat. That was the most approval I’d ever get from daddy.

Later that day, I met with Fiona to walk to the general store together. It was a ways away from our two houses which were fairly near each other compared to everyone else. Fiona was my closest friend and I’d trust her with my life. She was also my biggest hopes and dreams wrapped into one. She was everything I wanted to be.

When she had gotten married though, I noticed a change in her. She wasn’t as wide-eyed as she used to be when we spent our afternoons by the creek fantasizing over our fictional husbands and what our last names might be one day. When she got married, she became harder, like life had caught up to her somehow, and the time for dreaming had passed.

I told her about Dan Philips and the likelihood that soon my last name might match his. She didn’t have the reaction I’d hoped she would when I’d announced my future engagement. She stopped in her tracks and looked real sullen for a moment before pursing her lips and saying “that’s good, Annabelle, that’s real good”. She patted my back lightly and continued walking.

I didn’t bring it up any further. Who knew if the marriage would even happen? I told myself that I was jumping to conclusions, that I’d marry some other man that Fiona would approve of. I knew deep down that I was kidding myself. The wedding date was all but set.

Three months later, I walked down the aisle in a simple white dress that had belonged to my mama. I wore that dress the same way some men would carry the rattle of a rattlesnake around with them. It was my good luck charm and I felt it work its magic through me as soon as I put it on.

The reception was held at Dan’s house that he built a few years back on his daddy’s property so he could be near the ranch. It was the first time I ever entered my new home and it was to celebrate my marriage. I was too happy to care. The younger unmarried girls of the town gathered around me and fawned over the dress and my new husband. They chattered excitedly about their future wedding days, and how they wished it would be just like mine. They thought it was romantic. I heard that word crop up a few times that day, and up until then I thought I knew what it meant.

Some of the young men brought their instruments and made the party lively with music. Dan spun me around his living room among the other happy newlyweds, including Fiona who was already showing motherhood in her round belly. When one of the songs ended, I grasped her hand on the dance floor and whispered in her ear “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life”.

The festivities dwindled down as the moon made its journey across the night sky. I thanked the guests for coming and smiled from ear to ear as they wished me happiness. My daddy kissed me on the cheek before he left and told me he’d never been prouder. I think I even saw the trace of a smile beneath his furry mustache. 

Fiona and her husband were the last to leave. She gave me a tight hug and I chuckled, warning her that we might squish the baby. She pretended not to hear me as she pulled back and tentatively placed a light kiss on my forehead, like I was still a child.

I took it as a sign of her blessing and I felt tears fill my eyes. I nodded my head with understanding, but it wasn’t reciprocated.

That night, Dan was gentle with me. I was grateful to him, I had heard stories of other girls and their new husbands being rough with them. I had never experienced anything like it so I was worried if Dan would be happy with me. He seemed happy enough. He passed out next to me as soon as he was done. 

I couldn’t sleep that night. I was praying to God that Dan had put a baby boy in my belly so that he could grow up with Fiona’s and be best friends. I wanted him to be strong enough to help Dan with the ranch when he was old enough.

I looked over at my snoring husband and even though I didn’t feel the romance I had dreamt for us, I did feel something akin to love. I leaned over to his ear and whispered “I will always be faithful to you and love you with everything I have in me.” I said it like a promise, mainly to myself. Dan would be my life from the moment I had said “I do”.

Fiona went into labor only a few weeks later. I was by her bedside when the midwife delivered the baby. Fiona looked pale as a ghost, with one foot out the door to the afterlife, but with what little strength she had, she looked at me with her big brown eyes and gasped out “what is it?”

“Fiona, it’s a boy,” I told her incredulously. I had just witnessed the miracle of birth for my closest friend. I wondered if my mama felt the same way when Fiona’s gave birth to her.

Fiona started to weep, I think it was from relief. The whole ordeal had taxed her greatly.

“Would you like to hold him?” The midwife asked her. She nodded weakly. The little bundle was placed gently in her arms and she looked at him with such love and tenderness, exactly like a mother should. 

“Annabelle,” her voice broke my inner musings, “what should I name him?” She asked me.

“It isn’t my place to say,” I told her, not taking my eyes away from the child, the same blood running through his veins as mine.

“I want you to name him,” she said firmly. I didn’t really have to think too hard about what I’d name a baby boy since I had been thinking about it as long as I could remember, but I still did try to give it a bit of thought. My cousin’s son should have a name that was special, I thought.

“Walker,” I said finally. A good name. A strong name. Boys needed to be strong. 

“Walker,” she repeated softly, stroking his cheek lightly with her thumb.

More than four years had passed by, and motherhood suited Fiona well. Walker was growing into a fine little man and I could see that his good looks came from his mother entirely. They shared the same big brown eyes. Unfortunately for myself, I had not yet been blessed with a child. I was twenty-one, the clock had begun ticking for too long and people were past the point of worrying. There were rumors that I might be a witch. The people who had wished me happiness at my wedding were now whispering about how Dan should leave me.

I was growing desperate. I spoke with the doctor everyday about ways to increase my chances, but even after a certain point he started to view me as the others did: hopeless. More and more of me started to believe those rumors. Was I cursed? Was I a monster? 

Dan stopped talking to me altogether, but still he didn’t leave me. Every night we climbed into bed together and tried, but nothing would change. 

I never saw my daddy anymore. As he grew older, he rarely ever left his land. He probably heard the whispers about me when he went into town, but he never tried to reach out. He was part of a life I had left behind.

I would go to Fiona for comfort and would cry by her side as we watched Walker play in her yard from the front steps. She was the only one who didn’t treat me like an abomination.

“Hush now little bird, it 'll be alright,” she’d soothe me and stroke my hair.

“But it won’t,” I sobbed hysterically, “Dan barely looks at me anymore. Any day now he’s going to throw me out and what’ll I do then? The whole town’ll expect me to just wither up and die!”

Fiona gripped my arm and looked at me fiercely, “do not say that.”

“Say what?” I sniffed and she seemed to remember herself and let go of me.

“It’s getting dark out, we should go inside.” She stood up and brushed herself off before calling Walker to follow her back inside. I stayed out on the steps for a few minutes afterwards, trying to compose myself. When I brushed the part of my arm Fiona had held, I could still feel the indents left by her fingernails.

Walker would turn five not long after that conversation. I was completely caught up in my own self-pity by that point. Walker turning another year older was just a reminder of what I didn’t have and how I had failed as a wife. 

Five years old was a big achievement for a little boy. It meant that he was strong, that he hadn’t been taken by disease and probably never would. Fiona was proud of her son, but there was something lurking behind her pride that only I could see.

The day before his birthday, I confronted Fiona about what was going on. We were sewing new clothes for Walker, as he had already grown out of all his old ones.

“You don’t seem to be doing too well,” I told her outright, reattaching a button to a pair of tiny pants.

“I’m fine, just tired.” She waved me off like she wanted it to be the end of it, but I pressed on.

“I know you better than anyone else. You may have gotten away with that when I was a teenager, but I’m a woman now and you can’t hide.” 

She set down the shirt she was stitching and looked up at the ceiling, like she could see the whole great big sky above it. She sighed deeply, breathing in the fresh air that only she could feel, and then she looked back to me.

“Walker is five now,” she started out slowly, “he won’t need his mama anymore–”

“What do you mean he won’t need his mama? Are you going somewhere?” I interrupted her.

“Annabelle,” she let out a deep breath, trying to compose herself, “where’s your mother?” She asked me.

“She died when I was young, same as yours.” I furrowed my brow, unsure of where she was going.

“Right, they died when we were five. Where are all the other mothers in town?” She asked.

“They’ve passed on.” I said slower, my head racing.

“I don’t blame you for not noticing, little bird. I didn’t notice until my wedding day when my father-in-law pulled me over and mentioned how I’d be a great mama one day and leave this world with a gift. It took me weeks to connect the dots and when I did, it became so much clearer.”

“What did?” I asked even though a part of me knew, a part of me had always known, I had just refused to listen to it.

“That when children become a certain age, their mamas are no longer needed.” She said simply.

Two days later, I knocked on Fiona’s door and Walker answered all by himself.

“Annabelle!” He said excitedly when he saw it was me. “Look how old I am now!” He held him his whole hand, his fingers spread wide.

“You are such a big boy,” I told him with a smile.

“No, I’m a man”, he said proudly and I felt my smile slip away.

“Walker, where’s your mama? I need to tell her something.” I bit my lip until I was sure I tasted blood.

“She’s out.” 

“Do you know where?” I asked him, my heart rate started to pick up. Walker stood for a moment and I could tell he was thinking deeply. Kids don’t have much of a good memory when it comes to things not directly concerning them.

“I think she and pa went up to Miller’s Cliff,” he told me and I heaved a sigh of relief. I knelt down and wrapped his tiny body in my arms, squeezing him tightly.

“You’re a good kid. You remember to stay good, alright?” I quickly hurried back to Dan’s house. I knew he was out working on the ranch until sundown, but it was only a few dwindling hours until then, so I picked up my pace.

I ran up the stairs to our room and threw open the drawers of Dan’s separate dresser which he kept for “private matters”. In the bottom drawer, I found what I was looking for.

It would take me too long to get to Miller’s Cliff on foot so I went to the barn before anything. My daddy had taught me how to ride, but I had never been interested in it so I rarely practiced. I hoped that the knowledge of how had been ingrained in me somehow as I pulled myself onto the ranch hand’s already saddled horse. I had to take off before he knew it had gone missing so I kicked in the horse’s belly and gripped the reins with one hand until my knuckles turned white. The other hand held onto the gun like it was gold.

I was wrong about knowing how to ride a horse and I nearly fell off too many times to remember, but I somehow made it to the cliff intact, still holding that gun, more precious to me than my mother’s wedding dress. I quickly pulled myself off the horse and pointed the gun straight out. The shapes of two men were directly in front of me, their backs facing me. They had their own guns pointed to a petrified Fiona standing by the cliff’s edge. She saw me first and shook her head, alerting the men to my presence. They whipped around, revealing their identities, Fiona’s husband and my daddy, who I had not seen for ages.

I pointed the gun at Fiona’s husband, my finger caressed the trigger. I started to shake.

“Honey, you don’t want to do this,” my daddy tried to coax me.

“Let Fiona go,” I tried to say the words strongly, but they came out misshapen and wobbly. Fiona’s husband dropped his gun and raised his hands up high over his head. I’d never felt more disgusted. My daddy didn’t move though. He kept his gun pointed at Fiona’s head, his hand steady as a rock.

“I will pull this trigger, I swear it, this man will die.” I raised the gun higher. I hadn’t thought I could do it on the way over, but I felt a bravery in my chest roar to life at the sight of the closest thing I had to a soulmate trembling in fear for her life. That bravery was accompanied by a flaming anger at the fact that my daddy was the one to put me in this position, to betray me in this way.

“I can’t,” he said simply. He didn’t even look sorry. No traces of remorse under that mustache.

I swung my arm as fast as I could until the gun was pointed directly at my own father, and without even a second to decide, I pulled the trigger.

Instead of the sound of a gunshot, I heard a small click, and before I had time to take in that information, a different gunshot sounded and then a body hit the ground. 

Blood pooled from the hole in Fiona’s head. Her expressive brown eyes were now lifeless, staring into a realm I could not see. My gun had been empty. I had not thought to check for bullets.

I ran to my best friend’s side and pulled her close to my chest. I didn’t cry, I don’t think I truly believed it.

My daddy pulled me away and Fiona’s husband was the one to kick her body off the edge of the cliff.

We had a funeral for her a few days later. We all knew there wasn’t a body in that coffin, but we pretended that she had died of disease, at least for Walker’s sake. I sat in the first row with my husband on one side and my father on the other. As Fiona’s father-in-law delivered the sermon, a thought occurred to me. I did not remember when I had last had my period.