Sweet Annie Part 5

"I know your situation can be frustrating at times, dearling," her mother said, kissing her cheek. "We can go without you tonight."

"Oh, thank you," Annie said, giving her mother a quick hug.

Going about her business, Mildred quickly left the room. Glenda gathered the cleaning supplies.

"Glenda?"

The young woman cast Annie a smile. "Yes?"

"I wonder..." Annie rolled her chair to the cherry wood desk. "If I gave you a note, would you mind delivering it on your way home?"

"Not at all."

"It would be our secret," Annie added quickly.

Glenda nodded her agreement. "All right."

Annie took a sheet of parchment and dipped her father's pen in a bottle of ink before writing a brief note, waving the paper to dry the ink, then folding it. She melted a drop of wax and sealed the fold with a bra.s.s stamp that smashed the wax into the shape of a horse's head. Annie handed the note to Glenda. "Give it to Mr. Carpenter at the livery, please."

Surprise lit Glenda's honey-colored eyes.

"You know who he is?"

Quickly, she looked down at the note in her hands. "I know."

"Thank you, Glenda."

"You're welcome." She slipped the paper into her ap.r.o.n pocket and carried a rolled pile of rags from the room.

Annie's heart reacted belatedly at what she'd done, thumping against her breast like a trapped wild bird. She could trust Glenda. She would give Luke the note without letting Annie's mother know.

Would he think her forward? Scandalous? More importantly-would he come?

Annie removed the ap.r.o.n, rolled her chair to her room, and washed the dust and polish from her hands and face.

An hour later, she was in the kitchen when her father called, "Annie!"

"In here, Daddy."

"Your mother tells me you're not going with us this evening."

"No. You have a good time."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing myself something to eat."

"You can't cook."

"I'm doing a pretty fair job of pretending that I can, then." Following the directions in a cookbook she'd discovered, she had rolled a pie crust, and was fluting the edges around the dried apple filling she'd stirred together. "Glenda lit the oven for me before she left."

"Well, baking will have to wait until tomorrow. I would worry all evening that you'd burned the house down."

She frowned. "Daddy."

"You don't need to cook for yourself," he said in a discouraging tone.

"Maybe I just want to."

"You always did want to do more than you were capable of. Bank the fire now. I'm sure Mrs. Harper left something you can eat without a fire."

She refused to let his words steal the air from her sails. She'd been flying high all afternoon, but of course she had to be reminded of her limitations on a regular basis. "Perhaps I'm capable of more than you allow," she said softly.

He stepped closer, and she turned to look up at his face. "It's not only injury I protect you from, daughter," he said softly. "It's disappointment and cruelty."

"I know. I'm sure that having a daughter such as I, you understand disappointment."

"Annie," he admonished, coming close and bending to press his freshly shaven cheek against hers. "You're my darling girl, you've never been a disappointment."

Annie returned his hug, then brushed a spot of flour from the collar of his suit. "Enjoy your evening."

"We shall. Good night. Bank the fire now. And you're not to go outside. Keep the door locked."

"I will."

As soon as she heard the Millers' carriage come for them, she opened the oven door and gently placed her pie inside.

By the time she had cleaned up her baking area and washed the utensils, she was so hungry, she sliced herself bread and cheese and nibbled a few olives.

When her pie was finished, she removed it from the oven and admired the golden crust with cinnamon-scented juice bubbling in the slits. Placing it on a counter to cool, she banked the fire, then rolled to her room, washed and changed into a clean dress.

The evening feeling cool now that the sun had gone down, Annie placed a shawl around her shoulders and maneuvered her chair out the front door. The sill of the door frame had been specially constructed for ease in wheeling her chair onto the wide porch where she often sat.

In the day, she read in the west corner, where the sun warmed her of an afternoon. In the evening, she sat where she could watch the stars and see the moon over the mountains. Tonight the moon was only half-full, but the sky was bright and clear.

The far-off jangle of a piano drifted to her from time to time, probably from one of the entertainment establishments that her friends whispered about. The lonely sound of a train whistle echoed through the night, and Annie imagined travelers bound for exciting destinations. The most exciting far-off places she'd ever been to were to the hospitals and doctors' offices in the East.

The hotel stays had been nightmares because of the flights of stairs and the people who stared at her with pity.

Annie hated pity more than anything.

The night sounds took on an unnatural stillness, and the hair on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled. Awareness roused her from her musings and she glanced into the darkness.

"Annie?" His voice, hushed, uncertain.

She leaned forward and strained to see. "Luke?" she called softly.

Chapter Four.

He emerged from the darkness of the side yard. "You're alone?"

"Yes. They went to dinner at the Millers'. They never come home until after eleven. Where's your horse?"

He climbed the porch stairs. "I walked."

Annie had closed the door and the front drapes, shrouding the porch in darkness. If anyone pa.s.sed by, they wouldn't be able to make out their shapes. "All that way?"

"It's not so far. It's a nice night."

"You got my note."

"Yes." He sat on a wicker chair across from her. "You took a chance, Annie."

"But you came."

Silence hung between them for a long moment. Finally he said softly, "Yes, I came."

Luke had looked up from the horse he'd been shoeing when the young woman appeared in the doorway of the livery. She'd called out to him, and he'd wiped his hands and greeted her, thinking she needed to rent a rig.

But she'd simply handed him the piece of paper. "This is for you."

She'd been gone by the time he looked up from the unfamiliar handwriting on the outside.

Luke had opened the fancy seal and stood in the doorway so that the sun caught the page, and read the simple words that had leaped from the parchment and into his heart: Dear Luke, I will be alone this evening. Annie.

She wanted to see him.

He hadn't set foot on this property in at least ten years. Looking out across the expansive grounds surrounded by a white fence, he could picture the spot where he had returned Annie after their ride and had promptly been set upon by her brother and his friends.

He didn't fear Burdell Sweet.w.a.ter. He never had. Skin grew back. Noses and ribs healed. He didn't fear the physical harm that could come to him because of his a.s.sociation with Annie. What he feared, and always had, was that her parents would send her away. So he'd kept his distance, knowing that one day she'd be old enough to make her own choices.

And praying that she would.

The fact that she'd wanted him to come to her was almost too good to believe. Why he felt this attachment to Annie, he couldn't explain, but he'd been drawn to her since they'd both been young.

"Luke, I-" she began.

"I've wondered-" he said at the same time.

Both stopped and chuckled nervously.

"Go ahead," Luke said.

Annie smoothed the ruffles on her skirt. "I have wanted so many times to tell you how sorry I was for that day."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Please let me say this. The words have been in my heart forever."

His chest contracted, and uncomfortably he kept his silence.

"That was the best day I can ever remember. When I think back on how brief it was-how wonderful...well, I have no words to say what it meant to me.

"When we got back and my father was so angry, I was shocked. And then when Burdy hit you, Luke...." Her voice quavered and her breath escaped tremulously. "I just wanted to die. I felt so helpless. I was angry. I cried and cried, because you took that punishment so unjustly."

"Annie, it's okay."

"It's not okay," she argued. "I wanted to go to you."

"I was all right. It was you I was worried about." He leaned forward, and the chair creaked beneath his weight. "I tried to get back to see you. I wanted to see if you were all right."

"Me? I wasn't the one pounded to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp!"

"I wasn't a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp." He laughed at her dramatic description, but then sobered. "I thought you probably hated me for embarra.s.sin' you at your party."

"Oh, pooh on my party. My parties were all dull, and they still are. How could you think such a thing? You were the only person who ever let me be myself. I never forgot that."

"I don't know why anybody'd want to change you." She was the most delightful person he'd ever met.

"It's like everybody wants to put a rock on my head and keep me in this chair. Why do they do that?"

He shook his head, because he'd wondered the same thing. What did it hurt for her to get up and walk if she wanted? "Have the doctors said it's bad for you to walk?"

"No."

"Well, I'm no doctor, but I know if you don't let a horse exercise, he can't build strong muscles and he tires easily. But if you run him regularly, his strength builds. Seems like your legs are the same. I'll bet if you exercised them, they'd get stronger."

"I think so, too. I've read about some forward-thinking individuals who believe exercise is the key to vitality." She sounded excited about the possibility. "But my parents don't allow me to move about, let alone do calisthenics."

"Annie, is there any way you can contact one of the doctors you've seen and ask if he thinks walking or exercising is harmful for you?"

She seemed to think his question over. "I do remember one of the kinder doctors. He has even written me on a few occasions."

"Could we telegraph him?"

"I don't know why not. But how would I get to the telegraph office without my parents knowing?"

"I could take your message and send the telegraph."

"Splendid idea! Tomorrow? I can write it tonight."

The excitement in her voice pleased him. "Why not?"