But Pete didn’t stick around. He hopped in his truck and sped off into the twilight. Fueled by betrayal and the alcohol, Johnny went into the house and grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet.
He couldn’t stand to be in the house. They had moved into his parents’ old place right after the wedding. It was a house filled with memories of his folks, who had passed away in a car accident shortly before he shipped out. Annie was an orphan herself, raised by a strict aunt in the next valley, and she had been so happy to finally have a home of her own.
Johnny drank through the night. By the time the sun started to peek over the ridge, he was in a dark, dangerous place. Stumbling, he went to the gun safe in the den and pulled out his hunting rifle.
He was seen by a neighbor, Mrs. Gable, as he walked toward the back porch with the weapon in his hand. She was the town’s unofficial news reporter, and soon, curtains were twitching all down the road.
He burst into the bedroom, the barrel of the rifle leading the way. He shouted at Annie to get up. She woke instantly, but strangely, there was no fear in her eyes—only a deep, sudden sadness.
She stood up, placing herself firmly between Johnny and the crib. She told him he was drunk and needed to sleep it off, but her calm only made him angrier. He looked at her with a sneer he’d never used before.
He told her to pack her things and take the “stray” with her. Annie’s expression shifted to pure shock. She asked him how he could say that about his own son.
That sent him over the edge. He screamed that the boy wasn’t his and thanked his “real friends” for telling him the truth. Annie stared at him for a long, silent minute, her face hardening.
Without another word, she began throwing clothes into a suitcase. With a bitter voice, she asked if Pete was the one who had “enlightened” him, noting that it all made sense now. Her hands shook as she packed the baby’s bottles and onesies…
