Written In Stone

the fallen tree across the road too late to stop the horses. They tried to leap over it, running the wheels of the wagon into the trunk. Angie remembered screaming Jonathan's name, then flying through the air. Both of them thrown from the carriage, and Angie came down hard on her head and one shoulder. She heard a loud pop in her neck, then flipped over and felt her back twist. The pain was excruciating and all went black.
    Days later, she awoke in the sanatorium ward, pain wracking her body. She cried out, asking for Jonathan. When she placed her hands on her abdomen and discovered a smaller, softer stomach, she screamed, "My baby! Oh, God, where is my baby?" She couldn't seem to stop screaming until someone summoned the doctor, and he injected her with something that burned her arm and put her back to sleep.
    Two more days passed before Angie regained full consciousness, still in pain but aware of her surroundings. Summoning the doctor to her bedside once again, she asked about Jonathan's condition. That's when she learned he had died instantly upon being thrown from the carriage seat. The doctor told her that she had gone into early labor several hours after the accident, and they couldn't stop the baby's birth… or save the child once delivered. She never drew a single breath, he had told Angela, but arrived in the world as if she were sleeping.
    What the doctor hadn't told her, because he hadn't known himself, was that Angie could no longer walk on her own. After the injuries to her body healed and the back sprain eased enough that she could sit up on her own, the doctor decided to get her on her feet and walking again so she would regain her strength. When she tried to stand, she immediately fell to the floor. The doctor called nurses to help him and examined her legs and back again. They tried several times to get Angie to stand on her own and take a few steps, even using braces on her legs to help, but she could no longer walk on her own.
     
    Angie took a deep breath and held the pillow tightly to her. She killed her husband and daughter because of a foolish, childish whim. If only she had listened to Jonathan and not goaded him into going faster. If only she hadn't grabbed the reins like an impetuous child.
    "If, if, if!" Angie cried. "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride," she mumbled to herself.
    She'd had to live with those ifs for more than two years now, reminded, every second of every day, what her decisions had done to her life. She was suffering the consequences of her own actions, and no matter that everyone said it was an "unfortunate accident," Angie knew the truth. She'd caused it and nothing anyone could say would change that fact. Nothing she could do would allow her to forgive herself, not even dreaming of kissing the handsome Mr. Stone, as much as she wished it would.
    She wanted to accept his invitation, to arrive at his parents' home dressed in the ruby gown packed away with her other formal gowns and be the only woman Gavin danced with all evening. She wanted him take her by the hand and lead her to the gardens for a kiss stolen beneath the stars. She wanted to run her hands over his hard body and feel his hands on her. She wanted to feel a man making love to her again. Oh, how she missed the feel of a man's weight upon her, his hard cock pressing into her, driving her wild with desire, taking her mind, body and soul to the place only lovers can go.
    She wanted all that and more. She wanted a man in her life again, to be a wife, to have children, and to have the life that had slipped through her fingers in a split second. Angie had been happy then, and she wanted to be happy again, but what would she do with Mr. Stone; let him push her around the dance floor in a wheelchair? Furthermore, when he pushed her outside to the gardens and tried to steal a kiss, would she stop him and say, "By the way, I killed my husband and my child. Now I can't walk or bear another child, so go ahead and kiss me, please?" That was certainly the way to go.
    No, she was better off not going, not seeing Mr. Stone anymore, and not taking the chance he would pity her further once he heard her mournful story. It was bad enough Mrs. Waterston and the household staff knew what happened. She didn't need the entire town knowing, and especially not someone like Gavin Stone, someone who, if she got to know him, she could truly have feelings for. That would just be too horrible to deal with. It was better to