A Change of Heart (44 page)

Annabeth raced down the stairs, her feet gathering speed as she moved and she walked into the kitchen where the pile of paintings lay.
 
She paused a moment, took a deep breath, then lifted the pages, sheet by sheet, examining each one as though it were the first time she'd see them.
 
Slowly she poured over her work, stopping to note special details, searching for flaws until she'd reached the last sheet, then said aloud, "They are good.
 
They are."
 
She thought of Doug, telling her to paint on canvas, to stop wasting her talent on junk.
 
Then, taking another deep breath, she reached in a drawer for the phone number Becky had given her weeks ago and dialed the calendar company.

"Hello," she said, "I'm an artist and I'd like to submit some sketches for consideration for a calendar."
 
After noting all the details on a sheet of paper, Annabeth sat and thought.
 
Maybe they wouldn't want her sketches, maybe it wouldn't lead anywhere, but at least she had tried and it was a beginning.
 
She had done something difficult, had been courageous and Annabeth was proud of herself.
 
When the phone rang, she half expected it to be the calendar people calling to say yes, which of course was silly.
 
She hadn't even sent the sketches yet.

"Can you make me five pies this year instead of four?"
 
It was Julie.

"Julie, do you know how to bake a pie?"

"No, you always bake the pies."

"Well, it's time you learned.
 
Instead of me making the pies this year all by myself, I want you to come over here and help with them.
 
That way you can learn how to do it."

"I don't know if I'll have time."

"You'll have to make time, or there won't be any pies.
 
Besides, it can be a fun thing for us to do together."

"You're getting so bossy."

Annabeth laughed.
 
"We'll have fun."

She climbed back up to the attic then and finished sorting through the art materials and was ready to bring down a box of things she wanted to discard when an old steel filing box caught her eye.
 
Opening the top, Annabeth withdrew a number of papers, some having to do with her husband, some with Mother Welner.
 
"Look at this.
 
Hmm.
 
Look at this."
 
She stopped and carefully examined the papers, then placed them back in the box.
 
Could R.J. really have made that much money?
 
He always had a pocket full of cash.
 
Should she call her father about this?
 
What was the use of that?
 
She thought back to the conversation she'd witnessed between R.J. and his mother in the courtroom.
 
This must be what Mother Welner was so worried about.
 
No wonder.

Doug arrived early on Christmas morning, before Laurel was awake and way before the others were due to arrive.
 
He carried several bundles as well as some of his homemade biscuits and a ham he'd smoked himself the night before.
 

"Don't you look like Santa Claus," Annabeth commented, smiling, "And me still in my robe."

"I wanted us to be alone so I could give you these."
 
After setting the food down, Doug lifted the other packages and followed Annabeth into her living room, where they both were seated on the sofa.
 
He set a medium-size package on the coffee table, topped by a smaller one.
 
And a huge parcel he held in front of her.
 
It was easily four feet square.
 
"Open this one," he commanded.

"Let me get yours first."
 
She rose, reached under the tree which sat in the front window and removed one large box, which she lifted with difficulty, and another smaller one.
 

"Wow!" he said, filled with boyish excitement.
 
"I didn't expect anything at all.
 
Go on, you go first."

Annabeth smiled with anticipation, then tore into the wrappings covering the huge parcel.
 
It was filled with blank canvases in an assortment of sizes.
 
She grinned, sighed, bit her lip, then reached to hug Doug.
 
"This is great.
 
I was planning to take your advice you know."

"Well, I know artists really stretch their own, but I figured these would be a start and you wouldn't have to do any work before you got going.
 
Now open that box right there--it's part of this gift."

Annabeth obeyed, revealing a tool-kit type box filled with tubes of paint in every color.
 
Her eyes opened wide.
 
"Oh Doug!"

"I didn't know if you wanted oil or acrylic, so we can change these if they're wrong."

"They're perfect.
 
Oh thank you!
 
Now you open that box."

"Wow, heavy!"
 
Doug hoisted the box easily, noting its weight.
 
He marveled as he unwrapped it, "Look at this.
 
Oh!"
 

"I had Rum build it."

"For my baseballs.
 
It's perfect."
 
It was a natural maple cabinet, polished to a high luster and containing several shelves on which the baseballs would fit perfectly.
 
Glass doors closed tightly, keeping the inside dust-free.
 
"But you didn't paint on it."

"I didn't want to do it in case you'd rather have it plain, but…"
 
Annabeth rose and pulled a panel from behind the Christmas tree.
 
She removed the pull out shelves and neatly fit the panel in place.
 
It contained scenes from great moments in baseball.

"Will you look at that!
 
Babe Ruth.
 
Hank Aaron."
 
Doug shook his head in amazement.

Annabeth looked sheepish for a moment.
 
"Research.
 
I didn't know who any of these guys were.
 
Had to get a book on it from the library."

Doug set the cabinet down gently then reached over and hugged Annabeth.
 
"It's the best present I ever got."

"Ah," she sighed with pleasure.

"Now you.
 
Open up that one."

"This is heavy too.
 
Weren't you the busy bee!"
 
Inside the wrapping was a box and in the box lay a black leather book.
 
"A big book?" she asked, lifting it out.
 
It had handles and a zipper which Annabeth opened.
 
"A portfolio!
 
It's wonderful!"
 
Then she saw what was inside it.
 
Blow ups of all her photos.
 
It was a portfolio of her work.
 
"Oh," she said, "Oh," pressing her hand to her throat and afraid to go on, lest she start to weep.
 
She reached that hand to Doug, squeezing his arm.
 
"Oh Doug.
 
It's so wonderful.
 
I just can't tell you what this means to me.
 
Thank you so much.
 
How did you get these anyway?"
 

"Sally helped me."

"Look, you even have shots of the big pieces in the attic.
 
You're amazing."

Doug smiled, thrilled that she was so touched.
  
"There's this crafts gallery I know of in Atlanta.
 
I thought maybe you could go see them.
 
I mean I'd take you."

Annabeth nodded.
 
"Really?"

"Sure.
 
Anytime you want.
 
No more shows for a while, right?"
 
As Annabeth nodded, he continued,
 
"So craft galleries are a good idea."

"If my stuff is good enough.
 
I didn't have much luck with the gallery in New Orleans."

"Did you actually go see them?
 
With pictures I mean."

Annabeth shook her head.
 
"No."

"So what're you talking about.
 
Go see them!
 
Now can I open this one?"
 
Annabeth nodded and watched as he tore into his other box.
 
"Sexy," exclaimed Doug as he pulled out a navy silk bathrobe.

"You said you didn't have a robe."

Doug held the robe up to himself.
 
"What do you think?"

Annabeth pursed her lips as someone about to whistle or moan with pleasure aloud and said, "Gorgeous!"

"Really?"

Not realizing the question was sincere, she answered, "You bet."

"Oh," he said, "I almost forgot."
 
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small rectangular box which he offered to Annabeth.
 
"Had to get something personal."

Her mouth hung open as she saw what was in the box.

"You're always stroking your throat when you have a realization or are touched by something meaningful, so I thought you might enjoy having a special necklace there.
 
Called diamonds by the yard, though there are only three of them."

"Only three!
 
My God!
 
It's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen."
 
It was a fine gold chain with three bezel-set diamonds evenly spaced within the links.
 
Annabeth held the necklace to her throat and then leaned toward Doug who fastened it for her.
 
She pressed her hand to her throat then, aware for the first time of the gesture and amazed that Doug knew it about her when she hadn't know it about herself.
 
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I love it."
 
Instead of rising to go look in a mirror, she turned toward Doug, reaching in, expecting to kiss him for real at last but the moment their lips met, Laurel walked into the room, causing them to pull back away from each other.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," replied Doug and Annabeth in unison.

The day grew busy then and Annabeth had to race upstairs to dress in a skirt that was much too loose, noting as she had often lately that her clothes were beginning to fall off of her.
 
There was no time to think about that however, because Doug was waiting downstairs and everyone was beginning to arrive.
 
There was a feast to prepare and family to entertain, gifts to give and to receive, eggnog, laughter and merriment to enjoy.
 
Annabeth glanced in the mirror as she raced out the bedroom door.
 
The diamonds at her throat sparkled.
 
Doug.
 
Wasn't he wonderful?

She raced around for the rest of the day and there wasn't a moment alone with Doug until he, the last to depart, was ready to walk out the door.
 
Annabeth walked out with him, waiting while he carefully placed his gifts in the car.
 
"It was a wonderful day," he said.
 

She smiled.
 
"Thank you again.
 
I love my presents.
 
I've never had presents I've loved as much."

"I'm glad.
 
I love mine too."
 
Doug reached down and enveloped her in a long, warm hug, and Annabeth relaxed against him, holding him tightly to her.
 
When he loosened his grasp slightly, Annabeth looked up, gazing into his dark eyes that always twinkled so merrily.
 
She leaned in then, tilting her head upwards, reaching toward him, wanting the kiss that they'd missed earlier.
 
Doug, sensing that she was ready, at least for a first kiss, leaned down, his lips coming closer to hers.

"Mom, where is the tin foil?
 
Are we out?"
 
Laurel looked out the door, then spotting Annabeth in Doug's arms, said "Oops," and retreated hastily inside.

They both jumped then and pulled apart.
 
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek, then said, "You're just angling to see me in that silk robe."

"No," she said, doing him one better and remembering a similar comment he'd made a few weeks earlier, "I want to see you without it."
 
Then they both dissolved in laughter until they had to cling to each other to stand up straight.

A few days later, after Laurel had gone back to New Orleans, Sally entered the house and yelled up to where her mother was working.
 
"Mom!
 
Can you come down here, please!"

Annabeth, hearing the panic in her daughter's voice, raced down the stairs and entered the kitchen where Sally sat at the table.
 
"You're drenched."
 

"It just started to rain.
 
Nevermind that."

"What's wrong?"

"Daddy," said Sally.
 
"He gave me this," she placed six one-hundred dollar bills on the table.
 
"Said to make it do for the wedding.
 
Said he had some big deal cooking and couldn't spare any more cash."