Chapter 1: No Happy Endings
Anna felt alone and scared most of her life, especially when she faced the world outside her secure cocoon at home. When she was little, and living in Worthington Falls, Ohio, with her mother and grandparents, she knew nothing could ever touch her. There was no danger. There was no evilness, no bogeymen, no death or sadness. Though she was often a lonely child, she laughed a lot, was happy, protected, and was never left wanting. She had daydreams filled with fairies, sunshine, make-believe, and happily-ever-after. Then one by one, every member of her family died, and her life was never to be the same.
It started with her mother’s death. She died in a tragic ferry accident upon the Ohio River when Anna was nine years old. Water represented death and fear to her, because she almost drowned with her that day, although someone pulled her from the wreckage and set her upon the shore. She never saw who it was, and, more heartbreaking, she never saw her mother again. The only injury she sustained was a broken leg, which eventually healed. Anna’s broken heart was another story. Sitting all alone in her hospital bed back then, after having just heard from her grandparents that her mother had died, she only thought one thing … there was no such thing as happily ever after.
She cried and cried and cried until all her tears ran dry. She recalled rocking back and forth on her hospital bed, repeating one sentence, “I’m all alone, I’m all alone.” It was a disheartening aspect back then, even though it wasn’t exactly true, and it was no less scary now that she was grown, and it was true.
Sitting by herself in her hospital bed back then, Anna made a decision that would change her life forever. Since there were no more happy endings, there was no reason to open her heart to love again. It hurt too much when it was taken away. And more importantly, since there were no more happy endings, there was no reason for her to try to feel happiness. There was no reason to feel anything at all. She would stop showing all emotions, including sadness as well as happiness. She would be strong. She was tired of crying. If she could stop crying, she would, but that was one thing she couldn’t stop … tears. She still cried all the time. At least she had the power to stop crying in front of people. She cried only in private, as if it was a painful, shameful secret.
After her mother died, she went from being a bright, vibrant child, to a scared, sullen child. She went from laughing all the time to crying all the time, even if it was in private. She went from feeling like she belonged, and like she was special, to feeling like she was different and alone.
Sitting in a wheelchair, which was too large for her, staring out her hospital room window after her mother died, and on the verge of tears once again, she began to imagine a steel breastplate of armor growing over her heart. The more she imagined it, the more real it became, and soon, the armor became so real, so strong, and so impermeable, that before long, she no longer felt like crying. In fact, she no longer felt anything.
It felt right at the time. The only place she ever let down her armor was in her small closet in her grandparents’ home. When she hid in that closet, she would once again feel, and she would cry, and daydream of fairies and magical places far, far away. She would read the old book of Irish fairytales that her mother left her. She would wear a silver bracelet that once belonged to her mother. She would wrap her mother’s silk scarf around her neck because it smelled like her. She would feel, but only inside her closet. Her closet was her refuge; the outside world was her prison.
Now that she was older, she wasn’t so certain she made the right decision. She wanted to feel everywhere again. She just had forgotten how.
Even though she had her grandparents when she was little, and they loved her very much, she still felt very much alone. Before her mother died she didn’t know who her real father was. Her mother never talked about him. Anna didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. She wondered about him all the time. Who was he? If he was alive, how would he find her? Why did he leave her and her mother in the first place? Did he love her?
She would ask her mother questions about him, and her mother would always say the same thing: “Someday I’ll answer all your questions.”
That someday came the day of her mother’s funeral in the form of a handsome stranger who walked up to her in the graveyard and introduced himself to her as her father.
She was being carried away from her mother’s coffin by her grandfather, due to the cast on her lower leg, when they were stopped by a tall, dark haired man. He stopped in front of them, and her grandfather placed her on the ground beside him.
Her grandfather seemed to know the man, but he didn’t greet him. The man merely nodded to Anna’s grandfather, knelt down on one knee, on the muddy earth before her, and he reached out and touched her arm.
Then he said, “Hello. My name is Ethan Morgan, and I’m your real father, Annaliese. I’m so very sorry about your mommy.”
She looked up at her grandfather, who was frowning. He never frowned. She looked back at the stranger and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck, call him ‘Daddy’ and cry upon his shoulder, but she was afraid. What if she decided to love this man and he died just like her mother?
She looked up at her grandfather again, and he nodded at her and said, “He is your father, Anna.”
The man continued to smile. It was a happy, open smile, and it confused her. She had to fight the continual, undeniable urge to run to his arms and stay there. He replied, “I want you to come back with me, to my home in West Virginia. It’s your home and I want you to come live there. I want you to meet your family. If you don’t want to live there, you could at least visit for the summer.”
She looked back to her grandfather, and then over to her grandmother, who by this time had gotten out of the car, and she said to him, “Can we leave now?” She was about to cry. She couldn’t allow herself to go with this man, or to love him, because something bad might happen to him, too, and she especially didn’t want him to see her cry.
But then, the handsome man, who claimed to be her father, stood up and reached down for Anna’s small hand. He held it in his own. She looked up in his eyes, and saw only warmth and love. She was afraid of that type of love. “Are you certain you don’t want to come for at least a small visit, Anna? Maybe for the summer, or for at least a week or two? You have a family that would love to meet you.”
She glanced back up at her grandfather, beseeching him to say something, and he did. He told the man, “We’ll let her come for a visit, but you can’t keep her there. We can protect her better here, and you know it. She’s better off with us. Remember, you can’t keep her. You have to bring her back in two weeks. Don’t let anyone know she’s there. Don’t let her mother have died in vain.” Those words confused her when she was young and, later in her life, she thought of them often, but soon they were forgotten in the wake of her father’s handsome smile.
And just like that, it was all decided. Anna lost her mother, and found her father.
Within days, she had a suitcase packed, filled with clothes, her doll, her mother’s bracelet, and her book of old fairytales and she left Worthington Falls, Ohio and was on her way to Glenn Briar, West Virginia.
They traveled throughout the night. She slept the whole way. Her father woke her the next morning by a gentle shake of her shoulder and saying, “We’re here, sweetheart.” He carried her from the car, up a long drive, to one of the biggest houses she had ever seen in her life.
Her father’s house was a large, three story white house with green shutters, and it looked like something from one of her fairytales. It was prettier than any house she had ever seen. There were roses climbing arbors, a large front porch with pillars that went all the way to the second floor, and a circular brick portico in the front. The house sat high up on a mountain, and was the only house for miles. There were other buildings … a barn, a shed, a carriage house, a large garage, but Anna couldn’t see any other houses. What she could see, as her father lifted her from the backseat, (since she still wore the cast on her lower right leg) was a view that stretched for miles and miles, and a valley below the property that looked like a scene from a picture book.
He carried her up the many steps, across the large porch, through a red door. He called out, “We’re home.”
He set her down on her feet, holding onto her shoulder. Three boys came from all four corners of the house, loud, laughing, greeting their father as they came near. She cowered behind her father’s trouser leg.
The oldest one, who was dark and good looking like their father, and who seemed already like a grown-up to her, though he couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17, leaned forward and said, “Hello, Anna. My name is Alec. I’m your eldest brother. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny little baby, and you were bald. Now you have long, blonde hair. Lord, you look so much like her. You’re so beautiful. I knew you would be.” He smiled so kindly at her that she couldn’t help but to smile shyly in return. She didn’t ask who he thought she looked like … she assumed he meant her mother.
Anna felt such peace and happiness at seeing ‘her family’ in the face of all her pain that she was confused, at first, by the multitude of emotions raining down on her. She gasped, and held her hand to her chest. The youngest boy, with hazel eyes and sandy brown hair, walked up to her, held out his hand and said, “My name’s Colin. I have to admit that I don’t remember you at all, but why would I? I was only four when you went away, but, judging from pictures, you do look just like her.”
“You think I look like my mother?” Anna asked, which were the first words she had spoken since arriving. Anna’s mother was beautiful, but Anna wasn’t, though if this boy said it was true, maybe she was at that. The youngest boy smiled at her and held out his hand. She couldn’t help but to smile back. She reached out and touched his hand. It was warm, and a tremor of happiness radiated from him directly to her.
Before she realized it, the other young man pushed his way into the foyer as well. When he didn’t offer his hand to her, her father motioned to him to come forward. “That’s Brendan. These are my three sons, your brothers.”
“You have three sons?” she asked, shocked. She had three brothers. She had a family. A real family!
He smiled. “Yes, and you have three brothers.” He laughed, and reached out to stroke her hair. The oldest boy laughed as well.
Anna looked at the one named, ‘Alec’ and said, “You said I look like my mother. You knew my mother?”
“She was our mother, too,” the one named Brendan interjected with a frown. He hadn’t offered his hand, and he looked sullen and mean to the young Anna. He had black hair, darker than the rest, and his eyes were just as black. “She left us when we were little, and took you away when you were a tiny baby and we never saw her again, and, yes, you look just like her.”
Anna backed up, away from that young man, her hand out in front of her. She wasn’t even aware she was doing it. It was as if she were ‘warding’ them away, protecting herself with a mere hand held high, telling them that they needed to leave her alone. What did he mean by that statement?
She felt hot, and overwhelmed, and lightheaded. Her mother was the mother of these boys, too? If that was true, it meant that she left them when they were little, just as surely as she left Anna when she died. The thought that the mother that she loved, revered, and missed more than anything, had done something as reprehensible as to leave her own children, causing them anguish and pain, and not because she died, but out of choice, well, it was too much for her to take.
If she were a different sort of girl, she might have openly started to cry. Since she never cried in front of anyone any longer, she turned to her father and said, “I’m tired. Please, take me to my room.” He carried her up a grand staircase, all polished wood. She looked down upon the boys as they ascended the stairs. Two were still smiling, one was not. Her father took her to a large bedroom on the second floor. The one named Alec carried her belongings up a little while later. As soon as everyone left, she scooted off the bed, found the closet, her new sanctuary, and cried, and cried, and cried.
Hours later, her father opened the closet door, found her on the floor, picked her up, held her in his arms, and said, “My poor little girl.”
She spent two weeks there that first year. She learned that her father was kind, loving and firm. He was a physician, and he sang to her every night. He told her stories, the same stories that were in her book of fairytales. He made her laugh. She asked him why her mother took her away from him all those years ago, but he told her someday he would explain. After that, she didn’t ask him any other questions. If he wanted to tell her something, she assumed he would do so.
Her brother Alec was serious but sweet. The first year she was there, he was just learning to drive, so he drove Anna in an old beat-up pick up truck, all around the farm as well as up and down the mountainside. Since she still had a broken leg, he would carry her out to an old quilt under a tall pine tree and read to her, or he would read to himself while she played with her toys. He would make up stories and they would watch the clouds go by. He made her a crown of daisies. She pressed it in a book, to save it forever.
On her second day there, Colin, the youngest, called her a baby because she was afraid of a spider. She held back her tears, though she wanted to cry. That night, after Alec carried her to her room, she wobbled over to the closet, climbed in, and began to cry. Colin’s room was right next door. He slipped in her room, opened the closet door, saw her tears and asked her why she was crying.
“Because you called me a baby,” she reasoned through her tears, embarrassed that he saw her crying, realizing it made her even more of a baby.
He stood by the closet, staring down at her, and finally he told her he would never make fun of her again. He saw her tears, and they caused him to cry. He told her that the next time she saw a spider he would kill it, and then he made her promise never to tell their older brothers that he cried, or that he made her cry. He promised that he would never make her cry again. During the rest of her stay, he played all sorts of games with her and since she couldn’t walk or run, they played checkers, backgammon, marbles and chess.
The middle brother never tried to get to know Anna that first summer. He kept her at arm’s length. He was guarded with her. He seemed bothered by her. One afternoon, he was charged with watching her when his father had to go to an emergency. The fourteen year old boy’s idea of watching her was to carry her to the top of the hayloft, give her a sandwich, a bottle of water, and a book, and then tell her to be good for a few hours while he went on a hike in the woods.
She was scared in the loft, so high, so alone. She sat beside the swinging loft door, stared down at the ground, and because she couldn’t see another living soul for miles, only trees, the valley, and more mountain peaks, she figured she was alone, so she felt no remorse for crying. Therefore, she began to cry. She wanted to go home.
A tall blonde boy walked up to the barn, looked up and while shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, he inquired, “Who are you?”
Anna was embarrassed that someone heard her crying. She quickly dried her tears, backed away from the portal in the top of the barn, and peeked down below. She didn’t answer. She could barely see the boy down below. The sun was shining down upon him, masking his face, his features.
“Hello, I saw you up there, you know. I heard you, too. I asked you a question. It would be impolite not to answer me,” the boy repeated.
Anna looked down. “My name’s Anna.”
“Oh, right, the long, lost little sister returned. What are you doing up there, Anna?” he asked.
She thought his first question would be, ‘Why are you crying?’ She was glad that it wasn’t. “I’m stuck up here and I can’t come down. My brother put me up here instead of babysitting me.”
“Why would you need babysitting?” He laughed. “You don’t look like a baby. Climb on down, if you aren’t content up there.”
“Didn’t you hear me say I was stuck?” she asked, exasperated. “I have a broken leg.”
He chuckled and said, “Feisty little thing, aren’t you. I can see your dilemma.” He shook his head, his long, shaggy blonde hair going every which way. “I had a broken toe once. It hurt like the dickens. Does your leg hurt?”
“Not really,” she answered. She moved closer to the opening of the hayloft. She could see him better. He was beautiful, she thought. It was that simple. “How did you break your toe?”
“I kicked a very big rock,” he said, smiling. “How did you break your leg?”
She shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It broke in the river somehow when my mommy died.”
The boy brought his hand up to his eyes again, glaring up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun, and from her gaze. He didn’t respond. He looked up at her for a long time, and then said, “I’ll come up and get you.” Instead of climbing up the ladder inside the barn, he found a ladder to the side of the shed, brought it to the hay opening at the front of the barn, propped it against the building, and climbed up. She moved to the side. When he reached the top, and smiled, Anna thought he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. It dawned on her, even as a child, that if only she still believed in fairytales, then he could have been her Prince Charming, climbing up a tower to save her.
Too bad she didn’t believe in that sort of thing any longer.
When he reached the top he said, “I’m here to rescue you, Little One.” Seeing him up close, face-to-face, and watching a gentle smile creep upon his lips, and a laugh reach his eyes, Anna knew she would hold this boy in a special place in her heart for the rest of her life.
He maneuvered her so that she was on his back, threw her book and other things to the ground, and then climbed down the ladder. Once at the bottom, he continued to carry her on his back until they reached the back porch. He placed her on a large, white swing and said, “Your brother is an ass. Don’t tell anyone I said that word in front of you though, okay? If you were my little sister, I would never put you in the top of the hayloft. I’ll go find him and tell him so, okay?” He cupped her cheek and kissed the top of her head.
She fell a little bit more in love with him after that.
After the two weeks were over, her father told her it was time to take her home. She kissed all three brothers goodbye, even Brendan, though he stiffened under her embrace. She knew she was going to miss her new family, so she willed herself not to cry. She was so tired of tears.
Her father asked her if she wanted to stay. She did, but she lied and said no. She was afraid to stay, fall in love with him and this place, and then have it all taken away from her. He waited until she fell asleep that night and then he drove her home.
That was how it was each year after that. Each summer he would come for her, always driving her straight through in the middle of the night. She would spend two weeks with him at his farm. She never left it. She never saw the village of Glenn Briar. She never met any of their neighbors, or any of their relatives. She didn’t even get to meet the good looking blond boy again, until her very last summer there, the summer she turned twelve.