November 29, 1859
inspired by Queen's song Who Wants to Love Forever
February 14, 1860
I can hardly believe it. Here I am, about to get married on Valentines day. There was a time when I never thought this would happen. I had reconciled myself to the fact that I was going to die young, and there seemed no point to a coming out party (such as there was in Wollongong) and finding myself a husband. It would not be fair to anyone for me to marry them and die within a few years. I would not even able to have children, I am not strong enough. When I explained this all to Buck, he said he did not care, he would rather have what precious time we could have together, than live a lifetime without ever having that.
I smiled to myself as I put down the quill. It seemed like all my dreams were coming true at once. Buck Cross was a wonderful young man, younger even than I was by a few years. But he touched me deep inside. He looked beyond the fact that I was an invalid, and fell in love with me anyway. As a result, I was actually living life and enjoying it now, as opposed to just existing before I came to America. I thought back to that time, when winter had set in to Nebraska Territory, and my father and I were forced to take shelter with Emma Shannon until the spring and we could make our way to St. Joseph.
November 29, 1859
The air was cold. Much colder than I was used to back in New South Wales. Father, who was used to such weather back in England, said that there was snow in the air. I had never seen snow, so that sparked my interest somewhat, but the truth was, I was bored and tired. All I wanted was to be back in New South Wales, in the warm November sun, sitting on the beach looking out on the stone pier, watching the waves crash and smelling the salt in the air.
Instead, I was sitting in a cold stage coach, heading to a little Missouri town called St. Joesph, to see a doctor, a heart specialist in an effort to prolong my life. I knew that it was a waste of time, but I could not begrudge my father the chance. Ever since my mother passed away, eighteen months ago, Father had been practically obsessed in trying to save, or at least prolong my life. I guess he could not face the thought of losing someone he loved so soon, or being completely alone.
So there we were, travelling east in that stage coach, when it started to snow. At first it was light and very pretty, all white and delicate looking like little bits of lace. But then it started to get heavier and heavier. Soon it was coming down so fast and heavy that you could not see anything. Father called it a blizzard. Whatever it was, it was spooking the horses, and we had slowed right down to avoid slipping on the icy trail.
It did not exactly work. The stage coach was not equipped to drive along in the snow, and inevitably, the wheels slipped, and we turned over and over. That was the last thing I remembered.
The next thing I knew was my father shaking me awake. Somehow Father had dragged me from the wreckage with a broken arm. The driver and the other passenger in the stage with us had died, and Father had to shoot one of the horses as it had a badly broken leg and would have only died slowly. The other horse had run away as soon as Father unharnessed him. This, father said, was a good thing, as people would see the runaway horse, know something was wrong, and find us when they investigate.
I was not so sure about that, but at the point I did not care anyway. I was so tired that all I wanted to do was fall asleep. but Father would not let me. Every time I lay back in father's arms and closed my eyes, Father would shake me awake. I told him to leave me alone, that I wanted to sleep, but he said that if I sleep, I die. I was so far out of it that I told Father that I was going to die any way, so why not let me sleep. Father chose not to respond to the statement, he just shook me again.
It was just after that when help came in the form of Sam Cain, the Marshal of the town of Sweetwater, and two young men, boys really, who worked on a near by farm. the Marshal and one of the boys were on horseback, while the other was driving a sled.
"I'm Marshal Cain," the marshal said. "Can you tell me what happened here?"
"My name' East," Father replied. "My daughter and I, as well as another passenger, were travelling by stage to St. Joseph when the storm hit. The stage slipped and we ended up down here. The driver and the other passenger died in the crash, and my daughter is not much better off. Could you please get her help? she has a weak heart, and I don't know how long she has got."
The marshal looked down at me. I opened my eyes and blearily returned his gaze. He was ruggedly good looking with nice clear blue eyes. I tried to protest what my father was saying about me, but when I opened my mouth no sound came out, and I just yawned. Cain muttered something under his breath and called to one of the boys, the one on horseback. "Buck, could you get over here, please. And bring your horse."
I tried to focus my attention on the young man, but all I could see was a blur of horse and rider. Cain spoke to him in undertones and all I could hear were the words "take" "Emma's" "ill" and "Doc. Barnes." I could not make sense of it. It all became clear when the young man, Buck, mounted his horse, and Cain gathered me into his arms and placed me on the horse in from of Buck.
"What are you doing?" Father called, frantic. "Where are you takin' my daughter?"
"Just relax, Mr. East," Cain said. "Buck here is just going to take her to Emma Shannon's place. Emma will help her, and they can send for a doctor from there. Will that be all right?"
Father nodded so Buck and I headed off, but not without a parting word from the Marshal. "Don't let her sleep."
"I'm Buck Cross," Buck said as we were riding along. "What's your name?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength to. My eyes were closing and I just wanted to sleep. But like my father, Buck was determined to keep me awake.
"Come on," he persisted. "You can't go to sleep yet, not on the horse. You have to wait until we get to Emma's. Then you'll have a nice warm bed to sleep in and she'll take care of you." Around that point, Buck must have realised that if he kept on talking, I would drift off to sleep, so he turned the conversation on to me. "So, we've got a fair ride ahead of us. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? Keep yourself awake."
Again, I did not answer right away, but this time Buck was not going to let me get away with it. He had one hand on the reins and his other arm wrapped securely around my waist so I would not slip. Moving his arm slightly, he positioned his hand roughly where my ribs were and started tickling me, hard enough for me to feel it beneath the layers of clothes I wore. Naturally, being very ticklish, I started giggling. Weakly, but I was giggling.
"Ah ha! I thought that would wake you up. Are you gonna start talkin' now?"
"You're not gonna let me get out of it, are you?" I mumbled.
"Not a chance," he replied. "If you start to drop off again, I'll just start ticklin' again."
"All right, all right," I said. "My name is Allison Kay East."
"What does the K. stand for?"
"Kay."
"Huh? I mean what does it stand for? Or is the K just and initial?"
"Oh, sorry, Kay is my second name. It's spelt K A Y. It's short for the name Kathleen, which was my mother's name."
"So where are you from, Miss East? From..."
"Please," I interjected. "Call me Alli. 'Miss East' sounds a little too formal for this situation."
"Okay, Alli. Where are you from? You don't sound like you're from around here"
"I'm not. I'm from the Colony of New South Wales."
"Isn't that on the other side of the would?"
"Yes," I sighed. "It was a long voyage to get to California. I wish I was back home now."
"Why? Are you homesick?"
"Yes, but it's not just that. It's almost summer back home. I have never been this cold in my life. It doesn't get this cold back in Wollongong, even in winter. It doesn't snow."
"Is Wollongong..." he stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "...the town where you live? Why don't you tell me about it?"
"You don't really want to hear this," I said. "You just want to make sure I don't fall asleep."
"No," Buck protested a little too quickly. "Well, okay, I don't want you to fall asleep," he amended. "But I also want to hear about this Wollongong, of yours. It sounds so different from where I grew up."
"Where did you grow up, Buck Cross?" I asked, turning the tables on him.
But Buck would have none of it. "Uh uh," he said. "This is your story. We're talkin' about you. I really am interested in hearin' this."
He sounded so sincere that I turned slightly so I could look up at him. Even with my blurred vision and the fading light I could read the sincerity in his deep brown eyes.
"All right," I said after a long moment. "Wollongong is a small town on the coast of New South Wales..." and from there I described the little bush town where I grew up. The subtle beauty that lay beneath the harsh bush land that surrounds the area, known as the Illawarra. The smell of the salt air on the breeze as you sit on the beach watching the waves come in.
I must have spoken with some reverence about the sea, and the beach, because Buck noticed. "You really love it, don't you?"
"What? Home or the sea?"
"Both."
I nodded. "I miss them terribly. Everything. My home, the sea...even my sister."
"You have a sister?"
"A much older one. Fourteen years older to be exact."
"Fourteen years?"
"Well, Mother lost a few babies between us. In fact, after a while my parents thought they would never have another child. Then I came along. I think my sister resented me for that. She had our parents exclusively to herself for fourteen years, then suddenly, she had me to contend with." I could not believe it. There I was, telling a practical stranger about the problems I have had with my sister, something I usually don't admit to people. But Buck was so charismatic, I just wanted to tell him everything. He made me forget that I was tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. What really surprised me was that he really seemed interested, he was not indulging me like so many others have.
Buck wanted me to talk about my sister, but not wanting to say anymore on that topic, I changed the subject back to the beach. I told him about how when Father's boat was late coming in, I would climb to the top of the rocks on the breakwater and watch for him. If the tide was coming in and the waves were high, the water break on the rocks below, and spray upwards to wet me with a cool sheen.
I closed my eyes. I could just see myself sitting there, watching the waves, feeling the spray of the water, smelling the salt in the air. Dimly, I could hear Buck telling me not to go to sleep, and I could feel him tickling me, but I was past caring. For that one moment I was really there, and I was not about to leave in a hurry
I was only partially aware that Buck had pulled the horse up and was yelling "Emma!" That while holding me he managed to swing his leg over the horse's neck and slip from the saddle. The jolt of the landing was not enough to rouse me from my lethargy, in fact I began to disassociate myself from that time and place and drift further into the haven I had made for myself thinking of the beach.
A hand touched my shoulder, jolting me from my musings. Startled, I looked up to see Ike McSwain grinning sheepishly at me. <<Sorry,>> he signed in the language that I had so recently begun to learn. <<But Emma sent me up here to tell you that she will be up with your dress in about an hour.>>
"Thank you, Ike." I noticed that he was looking at me strangely. "What is it?"
<<I was just wondering what you were thinking about?>>
"Nothin' much," I smiled. "I was just rememberin' when I first met Buck." Ike chuckled at that, shook his head, and left me to the privacy of my thoughts, closing the door behind him.
Now where was I? I asked myself. Oh, yes, the night I met Buck Cross...
I don't remember any of this, but apparently, Buck carried me into Emma's house and placed me on the bed. The next thing I remember was hearing voices.
"She's wakin' up," and unfamiliar female voice said.
My eyes flew open, and saw a women, in her late twenties, staring down at me, her brown eyes warm, and her red hair drawn back in a severe bun. "Who are you?" I asked, panicked. "Where's my father?"
"Easy now," the woman said soothingly. "My name's Emma Shannon."
"Where's my father?" I repeated.
"I'm right here," Father appeared behind the woman. "Don't worry, Emma here's gonna be lookin' after you for a while. She's agreed to let us stay here until we can get a stage east."
There was something in his eyes, something almost unreadable, and I knew that he was not telling the whole truth. And I had a sick feeling I knew what it was.
"Would you like some broth?" Emma asked me.
I nodded weakly, so she left and left me alone with Father. "What is it?" I asked him immediately. "What is it you're not tellin' me?"
"Nothin'!" he said evasively, and proceeded to change the subject. "There's a young man out here who's been waitin' to see how you were." Father went to the door and opened it, beckoning someone in. A moment later, Buck followed Father in, along with an unfamiliar young man, who looked to be about the came age as Buck.
"Hey," Buck said softly. "How are you feelin'?"
"Fine," I said, trying to sit up. But I was too fast, and I was hit by a wave of dizziness. Father rushed to my bedside, and propped me up with some pillows. "I just shouldn't sit up so fast."
Buck chuckled. "You had me worried, the way you passed out there."
"Yeah, well, I was just swept away by memories of the sea." I stared at the other young man curiously, as I had never seen him before.
"This is Ike McSwain," Buck said. "He was the one who drove the wagon to the accident"
"Pleased to meet, Ike," I said. Ike nodded, then turned to Buck and started making rapid movements with his hands. I turned my curious glance to Buck.
"That's Indian sign language, " Buck explained. "Ike can't talk."
"Oh, what did he say?"
"He wanted to hear about the sea."
"If you boys want to talk to Allison here, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. She needs her rest." Emma appeared, carrying a tray. Looking properly chastened, Buck and Ike bade me goodnight and left. But Buck lingered a moment to look into my eyes...
I started. There was another knock at my door. "Come in," I called.
The door opened, and Emma poked her head round. "How are you feelin'?"
"Nervous. How's Buck?"
"Much the same. I think he's half tempted to run off with you and have an Indian ceremony."
"I wouldn't mind, but Father has his heart set on this, and I don't really have the heart to disappoint him, especially now."
"Buck feels much the same, why do you think he agreed to this? The preacher's here, and now it's time to get you ready." Emma sat me up in bed and started to arrange my hair, while I drifted off into thought again.
The next few weeks passed by. Sometimes time seemed to fly, but others the days just seemed to drag on. Father stayed in the hotel in the near by town of Sweetwater, mainly for propriety's sake -- he did not want to hurt Emma's reputation by staying at her place, especially as she was kind enough to look after me. As Doc. Barnes said I shouldn't be moved, I stayed at Emma's, just seeing Father if the weather permitted. Of course Emma came in to keep me company when she had the time, as did Buck and Ike. I got Buck to teach me the Indian sign language Ike used so I could talk with him without Buck's presence.
I came to love Buck's visits with me, as I came to love Buck himself. He personified the tall, dark and handsome man that I used to dream about, but never thought I would actually meet, let alone fall in love with. But he was much more than that. Like the first night I met him, I felt as if I could tell him everything, and that is exactly what I did. We would spend hours talking, both about myself and him.
One afternoon, mid-December, Buck was keeping me company, trying to keep my thoughts off the blizzard that was raging outside. We had been talking about fish, I was relating a particularly funny story regarding my father's fishing boat and an unexpected swim we took.
"Trust me," I said. "You don't want to swallow a whole lot of sea water."
"Why not? I thought water was water."
"Sea water is a lot saltier."
I could see that Buck did not believe me on that point, so I sent him in to the kitchen to get some salt, an empty glass and a spoon. He came back with the salt and Emma in tow, curious as to why I wanted salt without anything to put it on. I poured Buck about a quarter of a glass of water, and placed a spoonful of salt into it. Then I stirred and held it out to him. "Drink," I commanded.
He took a sip, and the funniest expression I had ever seen crossed his face. I laughed out loud. "That's what sea water tastes like, only sea water burns your throat, and it's poison if you drink too much of it."
"Why would you?" he coughed, trying to get rid of the taste of the salty water. I handed him my glass of fresh water, which he drank in a single gulp.
"What was that all about?" Emma wanted to know.
"Buck wouldn't believe what I said about sea water bein' salty, so I gave him a taste."
Wisely, Emma did not comment. "I'll leave you to it then."
"You know," Buck said when Emma had gone, "you have a wicked sense of humour. You would really have fit it with some of my tribe."
"In spite of my colour?"
"Well, with some of them anyway."
"You sound as if you really miss them."
"Er...."
"No?"
"Well, lets just say I miss them about as much as you miss your sister."
"Oh, like that is it? So what would you say if I told you that I miss my sister more than I thought?"
"Probably much the same. While I'm proud of my Kiowa heritage, I didn't much fit in with the tribe, They all resented the fact that I was half white. Most of them just saw the white, they didn't see any of the Kiowa. One day while me and most of the warriors were out in a hunting party, the tribe was attacked by white Trappers. They raided the village, killed the women and children, and took Camille away. The other warriors needed someone to blame, and I was the nearest one. My brother sent me away partly to save my own life."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I paused for a moment. "Who was Camille?"
"Camille was a white girl the tribe raised as they own after her parents were killed. She was supposed to be my wife."
"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I know they seem like empty words, but I hate to think of you being hurt like that."
"It's all right now, I've put most of the pain behind me." Despite his words, I could hear the lack of conviction in his voice and see the pain in his eyes, and my heart bled for him.
"Yeah, I s'pose I do miss livin' with the Kiowa. I miss the freedom of that life, the little things that differ from the life I have now. But it's been so long, over five years." Buck stood and walked to the window, looking out over the snow-covered plains. Winter set in early that year.
"Hey, come have a look at this."
Curious, I slowly stood and made my way to the window, cursing the weakness that kept me practically an invalid. Buck moved back slightly so I could see what he was looking at. Outside, right out the window, Ike was trying to rope this donkey. Every time the rope got anywhere near the animal, it would just talk a little side step and the rope would fall to the ground. Finally, Ike managed to get the rope round it's neck, and the donkey promptly dragged Ike off his feet and through the snow, something I have never seen a donkey do before.
"That donkey should be called Samson, for the strength it has," I commented to Buck. He chuckled, recognising the reference from something he learned at the Catholic mission school he went to. Then I looked beyond Ike and the donkey, to the beautiful sunset. I thought the sunsets over the mountains beck in New South Wales were beautiful, as were the ones over the water as we were crossing to California. But this, this was a different kind of beauty. The fading sunlight, all pinks and oranges, made the snow sparkle and seem all different colours, ranging from pale yellow to crimson. It was a breathtaking sight.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" Buck asked, noticing where I was gazing. "I bet you don't see anything like that back in Wollongong."
"No," I said breathlessly. "Our sunsets are different, but no less beautiful." We stood like that for a while, watching the sun set, not speaking. It was a comfortable silence, and after a few moments Buck's arms just casually, naturally, encircled my waist, and he held me like that until the sun had completely gone, and the moon came out. It was dark, but I did not want this moment to end. Buck started to say something, so I turned around in his loose embrace and placed my fingers over his mouth, shushing him. He kissed them, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then, as though being drawn, our lips met in the sweetest kiss that I have ever known. Tender at first, it deepened until I had to break it off from breathlessness, and I didn't know why.
Before anything else could happen between us, Emma came in to turn the lamps on. Startled, I backed away from Buck so fast that I lost my balance and would have fallen over if it wasn't for Buck quickly grabbing me. Naturally, this caught Emma's attention. She gave us a funny look. "What are you two doin' over there?"
Thinking she meant the kiss, I blushed and started to stutter. Luckily Buck was able to answer. "We were just watchin' the sunset."
"Pretty, wasn't it? But now, I think Alli had better get back into bed."
Before I could protest that I had spent too much time in bed, Buck readily agreed with Emma and promptly swooped me up in his arms and carried me over to the bed. He lightly placed me down, pulled the covers over me, and bade me a quick, slightly embarrassed, good night. He turned to leave, but I restrained him. He glanced quickly at Emma, but she had her back turned, lighting the other lamp.
"Can we talk tomorrow?" I asked him, my voice low.
"Sure, I'll be here just after lunch, as usual."
"No, I mean, really talk, about..."
Buck nodded, so I let him go. He left after bidding Emma goodnight.
I was hoping that Emma had missed what was going on between Buck and myself, as I had no idea, but no such luck. Emma was very astute.
"You're rather fond of him, aren't you?" Emma said, more of a statement than a question.
I blushed again. "What makes you say that?"
"I've seen the way you look at him, the way you flush when he looks at you. You're flushin' like that now."
I lifted my hand to my cheeks and felt the tell-tale warmth, and groaned.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. I did not want to say anything to Emma just yet. Not until I knew for sure what was going on between Buck and I. I knew I loved him, at least, I thought I did. I had never met anyone who made my heart flutter the way Buck did. Whenever he was around, I would feel all warm and tingly and special, and my breath would catch in my throat. At first I thought I was becoming rather ill, but then I caught the connection with Buck. Earlier, watching the sunset, when he casually slipped his arms around me felt so natural, so right, so comfortable, that I never wanted it to end; the warm, tingly feeling inside me just spread all over, giving me strength and energy that I had not felt in a long time.
Emma looked at me for a moment, as if assessing my need to talk about it. "All right," she said finally. "If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."
Due to a break in the weather, Father was able to visit me the next morning. Our conversation was light and teasing, as it often was, but I sensed that Father knew that there was something on my mind, something that he wanted to avoid talking about. When Buck came in after lunch for our usual chat, he almost left again after seeing Father. But Father must have known there was something going on between us, because he excused himself with a really unbelievable reason, and left the two of us alone.
"Well," I said awkwardly.
"Well," he said at the same time. We laughed nervously. "About last night," Buck began finally.
"What about it?" I asked quickly, suddenly afraid.
"The...I never should have kissed you. It was wrong. It can never happen again."
Tears blurred my vision as he words cut deep inside. That was not what I wanted to hear.
When he noticed my distress, Buck beautiful deep brown eyes widen, and his voice took on an urgent tone. "Look I was awake half the night tryin' to figure this out," he tried to explain. "I realised that I am fallin' in love with you, and I know that things can't work out between us. There's no way. You're father..."
I chose to cut him off there, my mind was not taking in anything much beyond the 'I am fallin' in love with you'. "Buck, how do you feel about me?" I knew that he'd just said it, but I felt as though I needed confirmation.
"I think I'm in love with you, but..."
"No buts Buck, I think...no, I know I'm in love with you."
"But it can't work between us, Alli."
"Why not?"
"Look at me!" he demanded, standing. "What do you see?"
I saw Buck, his black hair gleaming, his brown eyes blazing with an intense passion, his lean, well-toned body firm in a defensive posture. I saw the man that I had, for better or worse, fallen in love with. I stood on my shaky legs and grabbed his hand. "I see you, Buck. I see the beautiful, wonderful man, who has stolen my heart and given me more hope to live than anyone I've known, includin' my parents. I see the person I have fallen in love with."
Buck stared at me for a long moment, tracing the path of my tears with his fingers. Then he gently kissed them away. Looking deep into my eyes, he suddenly kissed me full on the lips, with the same intense passion that I had seen in his eyes. Not the tender passion from the night before, but a raw passion with which I eagerly responded. When he finally broke the kiss, there were tears in his eyes as well.
"It can never work, Alli," he whispered. "I'm half-Kiowa, and that's all some people can see."
"Why should that make any difference, Buck?" I asked. "I had Rheumatic Fever when I was six years old, and ever since then I have known that I would not live long, that I would have until I was twenty-five at most. Because of that I have never met anyone who I could have fallen in love with until now. And I might never have the chance again. I don't want to lose this Buck, this one chance I have. I don't want to wait forever for something that may never come again."
I was overcome by a wave of dizziness at that moment, and I nearly passed out at Buck's feet. He picked me up and placed me on the bed, a frightened look on his face. "See, I even swoon at your feet," I joked lamely, trying to bring back even the ghost of a smile to his face.
It worked. Buck smiled briefly, but only briefly. "Alli, as much as I would like for us to be together, it will never happen. There's just no way your father would let it happen."
"Have you asked him?" I asked.
"I don't need to."
"Buck, how do you know what he will say until you ask him?"
"Because I know, all right! It's always the same. No white man wants me to court their daughters, even if they have nothin' against me personally. No matter how much your father likes me, he's not gonna want to see me with you." Buck bit his lip, and I could see that he was fighting tears. I was not even trying to fight mine. There was a long silence, painful, tension so think that you could almost touch it.
"Um, I think that I'd better not come in here anymore," Buck said finally in a shaky voice, then rushed out of the room before I had a chance to call out after him.
I stared at the door for a long moment, wishing him, willing him to cone back in, but to no avail. Finally, I just lay back on my pillow, and cried.
"What is it, honey?" Emma asked me later, worried. I had cried myself to sleep after Buck left, and I had no appetite for supper. I was weak and tired and irritable; and it must have shown, for Emma was clearly concerned. I was not in the mood for answering questions, but that did not stop Emma.
"Are you feelin' okay? Do you want me to send for the doctor, or your father? Did somethin' happen this afternoon? Did Buck to somethin' to hurt you?"
I shook my head no to all her questions, but the mention of Buck turned me bright red in the face. I could not help it. Even the mention of his name was enough to make me blush and set my heart pounding. "Buck didn't do anything," I muttered. "Buck's wonderful."
Something in my tone made Emma glance at me sharply. "Is there somethin' goin' on between the two of you?"
"Not exactly."
Emma just looked at me.
"What?!" I exclaimed.
"Somethin's got you lookin' so down."
"Who says it has anything to do with Buck?"
She just looked at me again, until I could not stand it anymore.
"We kissed, and he told me that he loves me, all right!"
"And?"
"And nothin'." I sighed. "He told me that we can never be together because he's half-Kiowa, that Father would never let us be together, no white man would."
"He's got a point there," Emma said softly. "Not many men would let their daughter marry an Indian."
"But some might! Father might! I don't have long, Father would be happy for me to marry someone who truly loved me! But Buck wouldn't even ask! He just said that it would be better if didn't sit with me anymore. I love him so much Emma!"
"I know."
"I can't bear the thought of losin' him. He's givin' me so much strength, so much to look forward to! I want...I want..." I trailed off, running out of both breath and words to express my thoughts.
"You mightn't lose him."
Emma said this so softly that I almost missed it. "Pardon?" I asked, wondering if she were going crazy.
"I said, you mightn't lose him."
"I heard you the first time. I just don't understand."
Emma smiled. "Do you know where Buck is right now?" She did not wait for me to answer. "He's in talkin' to your father."
"Really?" I asked. At Emma's nod, I got out of bed and went to the door. "Where are they?"
"Honey, I don't think..."
Instead of hearing her out, I opened the door and crept out. I heard voices coming from the living room, so I crept to the top of the stairs and peered down. I could just see Buck and Father pacing the room, so I sat down and listened.
"I know how it looks, sir," Buck was saying.
"Do you," Father countered.
"I really care about Allison. I love her. I would never do anything to hurt her."
"You do know that she hasn't got long to live."
"Yes, sir, and that doesn't matter to me. If she's willin', I will stay with her until she's gone. I just want to make her happy, and I think that she should have that chance. I would rather have her to love for a little while, than to have never have at all."
For a long moment, Father said nothing, then Buck continued. "Look, I know what you're probably thinkin'. I told Alli that you would never let us be together, and I tried walkin' away from her; but I couldn't. I can't. I love her too much. I never thought I'd say this about anybody, but I can't stop thinkin' about her. She haunts me when I'm not with her. So help me, I love her!"
I felt a blush tint my cheeks as I heard Buck of his love for me, and I smiled. But my smile faded as the silence following Buck's words grew. And grew.
Finally Father spoke. "I don't doubt that you love her, and I would like nothing more then if the two of you got together. I know you're a good lad. But will it be worth it? Because you may not have as long as you think."
"What do you mean?"
"Allison doesn't know this, but the stage accident has set her back some. Doc. Barnes says that she has six months at most. She's not even strong enough to make the trip east to see that doctor."
"But she seems so strong...She can stand, and walk..."
"I know, she hides it well, she always has. She just won't give up. But I know Doc Barnes is right. I can see it in her. So, do you think you can stand lovin' her, only to lose her in six months?"
I don't know what Buck would have said to that, because I never gave him the chance. Hearing my father say that I had only six months really hit me hard. I guess I already knew that I was getting worse; I could feel the pain, though I tried to hide it. But to hear it like that. To hear that I was allowed to be with Buck, but I only had six months...
"No," I whispered. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no NO!" My voice grew into a crescendo. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I started hitting the banister.
Everyone came out to see what the matter was. Buck took the stairs to at a time to reach me, wrapping his arms around me and rocking me back an forth. "Shhh," he whispered.
"It's not fair. it's not fair!" I wailed. "I'd always wanted to find love, and now it's bein' taken away from me!"
"I know, I know,"Buck said, his voice choked. "But we still have six months. We still have that."
"It's not fair to you, Buck. You should have someone who will love you forever. Who can be with you forever. You don't deserve to lose your love. You should just forget about me..."
"No," Buck placed his fingers over my mouth. I looked up and saw the tears in his eyes through the tears in my own. "I'd rather have you. Even if it's only for six months. I'd rather that than never loving you at all."
"Oh. Buck..."
"Will you marry me, Allison?"
I smiled through my tears. "Yes."
Buck kissed me then. Full and hard and long on my lips. In front of everybody. I probably should have been embarrassed, but I knew that my time was short, and I did not want to miss one moment of living. After a while, Father cleared his throat, and we broke apart; seeing that father had come up behind Buck on the stairs. "I hope you don't mind," Buck said to Father.
He shook his head. "Congratulations." He held out his hand for Buck to shake. I stood suddenly and rushed into Father's arms. "Thank you, Daddy," I whispered, calling him something that I hadn't in a long time.
"Well," Emma said. "Now that we have that sorted out. I think it's time Alli gets back into bed so she can get some rest."
"I agree," Father added. "Buck, would you do the honours?"
Buck grinned, swooped me up in his arms, and carried me back to bed.
Christmas that year was especially wonderful, as I had Buck and we were determined to make the most of the only Christmas we would have together. That was the easy part. Shortly after Christmas I developed a head cold which turned into bronchial pneumonia by the first week of January, 1860. For two-and-a-half weeks I was laid up in bed (not that that was any real difference) with a fever and everybody wondering if I was going to pull through. Well I did, but not without a price. The pneumonia severely weakened me, and after an extra two weeks recovery time, the beginning of February, it proved that I was not going to gain much strength. If I were ever going to marry Buck, it would have to be now. So we decided on a date: February 14th, St. Valentine's Day; and all the preparations were made.
"There you are," Emma said, cutting into my thoughts. "All finished."
She helped me sit up so I could look into the mirror. I was amazed at the job she had done. I did not look so much like an invalid anymore. In fact, I looked half-way decent and even healthy. Of course, Buck says that I look beautiful, but I have a hard time believing him.
The dress Emma had bought for me was just a simple, white thing, yet right now, looking in the mirror, it somehow doesn't seem all that plain.
There was another knock at my door. "Is she decent?" Father called.
I smiled. "Come on in, Father."
He opened the door and just stood there, dumbfounded when he saw me. "Well, Allison," he said finally. "Buck is one lucky fellow. Shall we go down now, and not make him wait any longer?"
I nodded. "Please." Father picked me up and carried me downstairs, followed by Emma.
The actual wedding was short, sweet, yet incredibly beautiful. Neither Buck nor I wanted anything elaborate, given the state of my health and the circumstanced, a small, private occasion seemed best. It was held in Emma's living room, with just Marshal Cain, and Doc. Barnes and his wife as guests. Father had his role as father of the Bride (naturally), Ike McSwain was Buck's Best Man, and Emma was my Matron of Honour. Father wanted to carry me down the isle, but I thought that would look incredibly stupid, so I insisted on walking down under my own power, on Father's arm, the way it is usually done. Surprisingly, that did not sap too much strength. Somehow, I think that Mama was shining down on me from heaven and granted me that little extra strength.
After the ceremony, there was a brief luncheon that Emma and Mrs. Barnes prepared earlier. Then, Buck carried me upstairs to our bedroom, which, he said, counts for carrying me over the threshold.
"I can't believe we're actually married," I said as Buck, my husband, sat down on the bed next to me.
"Believe it," he replied, kissing my left hand, the hand that wore his ring. "How do you feel?"
"I feel fine. I feel wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that..." I leaned forward and kissed him firmly, tenderly, my lips moving against his in a sensual manner, untying his bow tie at the same time.
"Whoa," Buck said softly after a moment, drawing back and looking deep into my eyes. "Are you sure about this?"
"Buck, it's our weddin' day. I can't think of a better time, can you?" I started kissing him again, this time with more passion, more aggression. He responded, eagerly. "Buck, honey," I murmured.
"Mmm hmm?"
"Would you mind unbuttoning the back of my gown?"
"With pleasure."
"Why are you cryin'?" Buck asked me later, concerned.
"Because I'm so happy," I said. "I love you so much that I don't know how to put it in words, and I wish I could make love with you like that again and again, forever and ever."
Buck smiled. "You goose," he said, kissing my tears away. "I wish we could have forever."
"But we can," I said, sitting up and drawing the sheet with me.
"What are you talkin' about?"
"We can have forever. Here, in this room, just the two of us, today, tomorrow, for as long as we have; this is our forever. Whatever happens afterwards, we'll always have our forever. And we can love forever."
He touched my face with his fingertips, feather-light touches that never failed to stir my soul. "We can love forever. I like the sound of that." He trailed butterfly kisses all over my face.
"Buck," I said idly, trailing my fingers up and down his smooth chest.
"Mmm?"
"Could you do something for me?"
"Anything while you're doin' that."
"Could you get me the sea shell of the shelf over there, please. I want to show you something."
Buck gave me a funny look, a cross between a glare and a grin, but got the shell for me anyway. "What do you want to show me?"
"This," I held the large shell up to his ear. "Do you hear that?"
"What is it?"
"It's the sound of the sea. I found it on the beach when I was a little girl, and I was delighted to discover it's little surprise. I wanted to share it with you, as part of our 'forever'. You see, when I was younger, I thought that I would be near the sea forever. When I had to come here to America, I brought the shell with me so I could have part of the sea always with me, and now I'm sharing this with you."
Buck held the shell up to my ear. "You really do love the sea, don't you. Do you wish you could go back?"
"I did at first, but not anymore. For you are all the world to me, Buck, and I am completely happy no matter where we are."
In answer, Buck laid me back on the bed, softly igniting the fire once more.
February 16, 1860
Dear Diary,
I was just wakened by the strangest dream. My mother told me that it was time to leave. As my mother has been dead for two years, this can only mean one thing: my time is almost up.
The pages of this diary are damp from the tears that I have already shed at the thought of leaving Buck so soon, and I fear that before I finish, I will have cried more of them. There is so much that I want to tell my husband, but I fear that I don't have the time, so I have written it all in a letter that I will enclose in this diary. I have letters for Father, my sister, Emma and a few others. I know that they will be delivered, eventually, because I told Buck before we were married that when I go, I wanted him to read my diary to get a better understanding of me.
I am scared for Buck. Our 'forever' is going to be cut short, and while we were expecting it, it is still going to hurt him. I am afraid that the pain will make him cut himself off from the world, and I don't want that. I want him to continue living, to some day find love again. I want him to promise me that he will continue living after I am gone, but I do not want to bring up the subject and risk hurting him. So, I am counting on this diary to relay my wishes and help remind him of me occasionally, like the sea shell I shared with him last night.
The quill is beginning to grow heavy, and I fear that I won't be able to write much longer, so I will leave this, possibly my last, entry with this for Buck to read: Buck, this world has only one sweet moment for us. You have built my dreams up and made my life better, and I love you for that. You touched my tears with your lips, and you touched my world with your fingertips. We had forever.
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