By Any Other Name

Chapter 3

For a while, the ride was quiet but for the beginnings of cricket songs and other typical night noises. We drove along a dusty, bumpy road, lined by trees on the left, and farms and small houses to the right.

"Can I ask your name?" Levi broke the silence from beside me on the too-small wagon seat. I sat as far away from him as I could, making the railing dig painfully into my hip, and was still too close for my liking.

"Annie." It wasn't exactly a lie. My middle name was Anne, but I still tripped over the half-truth.

In the weeks following my escape from my husband, several people commented on my hair. A perfect combination of my father's dark brown and my mother's deep red, mine was a deep, dark red. And it was unusual. I used to appreciate the unique color, but it became an irritation and a danger once I was trying to remain anonymous. I began concealing it under a small, plain bonnet, but it was impossible to conceal completely, or all the time.

Charles was a powerful man with many friends in London, and I worried that one of them might recognize me.

Since I could only do so much to disguise my hair, I decided to go by my middle name in hopes that anyone who might recognize me would know that the wife Charles was looking for was named Rose and would therefore brush off the connection.

After the change, I realized that I didn't mind leaving my identity behind. It was something that tied me to Charles, and I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. I was a different person now. A much less idealistic and naive one. I didn't want to be Rose anymore. Especially not with his favorite pet name for me - his little Irish Rose.

I used to assume that the nickname was endearing. A way of calling me beautiful while appreciating my Irish heritage. Now though, I think it was actually something he used to mock me.

Although I loved my mother dearly, I didn't appreciate the association that came with her family's immigrant status. Many people assumed that all Irish immigrants were dirty, uncivilized devil-worshipers, but my mother wasn't any of those things. My father certainly never thought so, and he never cared about having the daughter of immigrants as his wife or as the mother of his children. I'd assumed that Charles felt the same way, but I knew better now. All that time he was laughing at me, calling me simple-minded street trash.

Levi glanced at me and I could tell that he knew I was lying about my name, but he didn't question it.

"Annie...?" He pushed for a last name.

I looked down not sure what to say. I hadn't put much thought into what I would say my last name was. No one in London or New York had cared to ask. There, people just wanted money from you, or for you to do the work they were paying you for.

In my eyes, Charles and I were divorced. I certainly didn't want to use his name any longer, but I couldn't use my maiden name either. It was bad enough that I'd given it when I entered the country. I'd been taken off guard and the man asking for my name was impatient about putting me in his record book. But I couldn't keep using it. However remote this town may be off Charles' radar, I didn't want him to have even a slight chance of tracking me down. Unlikely as that possibility was.

"Just Annie," I decided, meeting his gaze again.

There was an uncharacteristic solemness in his expression just then, and I became nervous. Did he somehow guess why I was lying about my name? But no, he couldn't. He just understood that nothing good would cause someone to want to disappear.

Still, I didn't appreciate the way he was watching me. Raising my chin, I faced forward again.

"Well then, Just Annie," he teased. "What brings you all the way out here to see Minnie?"