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She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. And saw her mother and father standing behind the iron settee.
She gasped. "Mama . . . Daddy . . . " We love you, Mariah.
Mariah heard the words, felt them, as clearly as if theyd been spoken aloud. Her parents said nothing else, but in that instant, that heartbeat, Mariah felt their warm, unconditional love. It seeped through her, filling the dark, lonely spots in her soul.
She knew then, without question, that they understood. That theyd always understood. And they loved her.
Jesus, they loved her. With all her faults and mistakes and stupid silences, they loved her.
She looked up at them. "Thomas?" She whispered his name quietly, hopefully.
Her mother smiled. His soul was reborn.
New tears burned across Mariahs eyes, but this time they were happy, loving tears.
For the first time in her life, she felt filled with hope and light. She brought a hand to her face and swiped the tears away.
And when she pulled her arm away, her parents were gone.
She felt a moments sadness at their passing, but it lasted no longer than that. She smiled at Mad Dog, blinking through the tears. "Did you see them?"
He frowned. "See who?"
She pushed the hair out of her eyes. "I guess not," she said, laughing easily.
Mad Dog eyed her steadily. "Feel better?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea. . . . "
"Whos Thomas?"
Almost involuntarily, she glanced back at the small, grown-over patch near her mamas grave. For the first time in years, she looked at it without feeling a crushing, smothering sense of guilt. "He was my son. "
Mad Dog made a soft sound of surprise. "Your son?"
She turned to him, looked into his eyes. "Remember my two-minutes loss of virginity?"
"Yeah. "
"I got pregnant. "
"Oh, Mariah. " He touched her cheek, a feather-stroke touch of compassion that made her shiver.
"I wrote to Stephen when I found out—his acting troupe was in Spokane by then.
He said hed meet me in Walla Walla and marry me. " Surprisingly, she felt no bitterness about Stephen now; only a thread of sadness at her own naivete. "I shouldnt have believed him, but I did—I was only . sixteen. Of course, he stood me up at the altar. "
"How . . . how did Thomas die?" She started to cry again, soft, melting tears that slid down her cheeks and splashed on her skirt. "He never really lived. I had him almost six weeks too early. He was so tiny. . . . There was nothing Doc Sherman could do.
Doc . . . said there shouldnt be any more. "
Mad Dog touched her cheek. "Shouldnt. Or couldnt?" Mariah tried to smile. "He said I didnt carry well and shouldnt have any more. "
"My mom had four miscarriages before she had me. The doctors told her the same thing. And you were sixteen years old. Youre stronger now. "
Her breath caught, her eyes rounded. A quivering sense of hope, new and more powerful than anything shed ever imagined, spiraled through her. "Maybe. " i, Thats all she said, just maybe, but the word freed something inside her, made her, for once, believe. "Why isnt there a marker?"
She glanced back at the small grave, remembering the tiny little box that lay beneath the frozen grass. She shook her head, realizing for the first time why she hadnt purchased one. "I couldnt say good-bye. "
