A Letter for Annie (5 page)

“The past.” She lifted a tentative forkful of quiche to her mouth. “So many are gone.” She chewed quietly as if reviewing the parade of friends and loved ones who had passed away.

Annie could empathize. When she’d left Eden Bay, it was not only Pete she’d left behind, but friends, now scattered to the four winds, and not likely to welcome her even if she located them.

“And about you.”

Annie blinked. “Me?”

“You need people. Love.”

“I have friends in Bisbee, and Nina has been like a second mother.”

Geneva swirled the tea bag in the pot and, with shaking hands, poured herself a cup. “That’s not the same.”

“The same as what?”

“Having someone who cares deeply about your welfare.”

Pete’s adoring face swam before her eyes. “I know.”

“It’s time to think about the future, not dwell on the past.”

Annie swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“Exactly my point. Before I march in with the saints, I intend to do something about that. If I can.”

And what would that be?
Annie hadn’t a clue.

A loud knock on the door interrupted her reverie. “Just a minute, Auntie G. That must be Kyle Becker. Eat some more, please, while I’m gone.”

For reasons she didn’t want to examine, she paused before the hall mirror and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she’d put on some lipstick. When she opened the door, expecting to see Kyle, she stepped back in surprise.

“Good morning, ma’am.” A stout older man with a beard stood on the porch. “I’m Vince Rayburn. Kyle sent me over to paint your porch. I just wanted to let you know I was here.”

“Isn’t he coming today?” She hated the disappointment she heard in her own voice.

“No, he’s checking on some other jobs. Said it might be a day or two before he’d be back.”

Annie thanked him and slowly closed the door,
furious with herself. She was actually upset that she wouldn’t see Kyle. What was wrong with her? Deep down she knew the answer.

Kyle Becker made her heart race.

K
YLE STRADDLED
the bar stool, shoved the ball cap back on his head and ordered a lager. After work, he hadn’t wanted to go home to his empty house. The Yacht Club, comforting in its familiarity, was at the same time vaguely depressing. The changes to the place since he and Pete had drunk their first legal beer here were that Ollie, the owner, now had gray hair, and a new flat-screen TV, tuned to a soccer rematch, dominated the area above the bar. The dimly lit interior, stale smells and loud music blaring from the small dance floor made him wonder why he’d sought this particular refuge. The truth was…he was in a rut.

“Here ya go.” Ollie placed the pilsner glass in front of Kyle. “How’s it hanging?”

By a thread,
he wanted to say. “Great.”

“Don’t usually see you in here on a weeknight.” Ollie made a show of wiping down the counter. “Problems?”

Nothing I’m going to share with you.
“Nah. Just thirsty.”

He could hardly tell Ollie about nightmares and betrayal. About the way soft hazel eyes avoided his or the lump in his throat whenever he thought about Pete and Annie. Or about the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her, no matter how hard he tried. For years anger at the way she’d treated Pete had kept him sane, but
every time he saw her now, it was harder to use resentment as a barrier.

He drained his beer and ordered another. People came and went, slapping him on the back and giving him high fives, but he declined their invitations to join them. When Shellie Austin, a bleached blonde he’d known since high school, settled at the adjacent bar stool, he knew he was supposed to be interested. Might have been even a few short weeks ago.

Suddenly everything—the woman, the bar, his life—seemed tedious beyond bearing. He stood, then laid several bills on the counter. “Hey, Shellie, your next drink’s on me.”

Outside, he leaned against the truck, pulling in deep breaths of fresh air. Was this what his life had come to?

Everything he’d ever wanted had always remained beyond his reach. A stable home with a mother and father who loved him. A lifelong friendship with his best buddy. And, difficult as it was to admit, a girl with hair like silk who loved another.

Climbing into his truck, he paused, taking in the garish, flashing neon sign—The Yacht Club—symbol of all that was shallow and meaningless in his life. Not even Bubba’s enthusiastic greeting elevated his mood.

T
WO MORE DAYS PASSED
and still no Kyle. Two days during which Geneva struggled to complete the family history—filling in the blanks with anecdotes and more photographs.

By Thursday, Annie was increasingly concerned. Auntie G.’s feet were swollen, and she was eating like a
bird and spending more time in bed. Most alarming were her spells of fighting for the next breath. Although her eyes were still bright with intelligence, now Annie noticed in them something she had never seen before—fear. After conferring on the phone with Carmen, Annie called the doctor, who scheduled a late-afternoon appointment.

Cajoling Geneva to eat the tiny portion of chicken salad she’d prepared for lunch, Annie heard a loud thump outside. She went out on the porch. There stood Kyle, fastening a tool belt around his waist. A tall ladder was propped against the side of the house. Annie momentarily closed her eyes against the relief she felt. Even if he hated her, his presence was oddly comforting. Familiar.

He lifted the Mariners ball cap and scratched his head. “Something I can do for you?”

“I, uh, I didn’t know you were here, and when we heard the noise—”

“Oh. The ladder. Sorry about the racket. I should’ve knocked. There will be more commotion, I’m afraid. I’m fixing your roof today.”

It was then she noticed the pile of shingles beneath her bedroom window.

Kyle’s gray eyes bored into her. “Will that be a problem? I need to complete the work on the roof before I start tearing out the Sheetrock in your bedroom.”

Was it just her or were they being overly polite with each other?

“My great-aunt sleeps quite a bit, but I suppose the repairs have to be made.”

“I hope to get the roof under control today.” He put
one foot on the first rung of the ladder, drawing his jeans tight across his butt.

Annie tried not to notice, just as she tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders, the muscular, tanned arm grasping the fourth rung. Unaccustomed heat caused her to blush. His sheer masculinity unleashed long-stifled desire, the suddenness of it taking her aback. Embarrassed, she turned on her heels. “Do what you need to do,” she said more curtly than she’d intended.

Once safely inside the house, she leaned over, hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths. What was she thinking? Her involuntary reaction to Kyle scared her. He was Pete’s best friend. She couldn’t allow herself—wouldn’t allow herself to think of him that way. Even if Kyle were similarly attracted, which was highly unlikely, any attachment was unthinkable. Just as it had been on that strange May night at the end of their senior year.

It had been the week before graduation. Even though it was a cool night, a group of seniors had gone to the beach. Gathered around a roaring bonfire, they’d laughed and sung, until Kyle remarked that this might be one of the last times they’d all be together before they moved on to work and college. The mood turned somber and reflective. A few of the girls got teary, and Annie could remember wanting to hold on to the moment and never let it go.

Instead of scattering to their usual make-out places, the couples all remained by the fire, reminiscing. Pete had snuggled her close, reassuring her. “The best is yet to come,” he whispered. “We’ll have the rest of our lives
together.” She remembered feeling contentment and a sense of being luckier than most of her classmates.

After midnight when the last sparks of the fire died against the night sky, they’d slowly folded their blankets and ambled toward their cars. Pete was carrying a cooler, and Annie had started to follow him when she noticed Kyle standing apart near the breaking waves. Something about the way he stood there—so separate—broke her heart. Instead of following Pete and the others, she went over to Kyle and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

When he shrugged, she turned him toward her, astonished to see tears welling in his eyes. In the distance she heard the shouts of her friends, engines revving. But the beach felt deserted, except for the rhythm of the sea and the boy’s naked, anguished expression. “Kyle?”

“Don’t, Annie, just don’t,” he said gruffly.

“Please, what’s wrong?”

Before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he’d never let her go.

Abruptly he’d flung her away. “That’s what’s wrong, damn it. You, Annie. You.”

Then he’d walked off, leaving her standing there with a pounding heart and the slowly dawning realization of what had happened. There had been no mistaking the need in his eyes.

Kyle. Pete. They were best friends. And Kyle was her friend, too, but something had changed that night.

Other than at the graduation ceremony, she hadn’t seen Kyle again until the day he’d knocked on Auntie G.’s door.

Dismissing the memory and its emotional impact, she
pulled herself together and returned to the living room and saw that, once again, Auntie G. had rearranged the food on her plate to make it look as if she had eaten something.

“You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Geneva shrugged. “I know you’re trying. And the salad looks lovely, but I’m not hungry.” She set her plate on the end table beside her chair.

Swallowing back the grief tearing at her throat, Annie said, “
Please,
Auntie G. Don’t do this.”

Geneva reached out a gnarled hand and drew Annie onto the floor beside her chair. “It’s my time, dear. I’m doing what I can for your sake. But the day is coming when I will no longer be able to fight.”

“I can’t bear to lose you.” Annie laid her head in Geneva’s lap to conceal her tears.

“I know.” Auntie G.’s gentle hand caressed Annie’s head. “But dying is part of life. We’re none of us given any promises, and I’ve lasted longer than most.”

They sat like that for several minutes, suspended in a silence broken only by the wheeze of Geneva’s oxygen tank and the intermittent sound of hammer blows on the roof.

I
T TOOK
over an hour to get Auntie G. dressed and ready to leave for the doctor’s appointment. Twice she had changed her mind about what she wanted to wear, opting finally for a colorful yellow Mexican dress, which only served to emphasize her pale complexion. She spent considerable time at her dressing table and, with a trembling hand, applied mascara, rouge and lipstick. She completed her outfit with a turquoise and
silver necklace. When she sat back to appraise the result in the mirror, she blew out a disgusted breath. “I look like hell.”

As if to underline the comment, a loud blow sounded from the roof. In her imagination, Annie raised a fist and shook it at Kyle Becker. She had been fighting a headache all afternoon and didn’t need any further aggravation.

Before they could leave, Geneva insisted on dumping the contents of her purse on the bed and selecting a different handbag. Rifling through her billfold, she located her insurance cards. Only then did she fill the new bag and pronounce herself ready. Glancing surreptitiously at her watch, Annie saw they would be cutting it close to make it on time.

“Wait here while I pull the car up to the door.” Annie collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the trunk, then returned to help Geneva down the steps. Balancing herself with the walker and supported by Annie, who tucked an arm around her waist, Geneva started across the porch. Just then Kyle rounded the corner of the house carrying another load of shingles from his pickup. Dropping the shingles, he bounded toward them. “Here, let me help.”

He handed Annie the walker before swooping Geneva up and heading for the car. Annie managed a smile when she heard her great-aunt say, “I always did fancy a strong man.”

By the time she’d folded up the walker and stowed it and arranged the portable oxygen tank in the front seat, Annie was even more concerned about the time,
knowing that she would face the cumbersome unloading process on the other end.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she brushed past Kyle, his warm, metallic scent turning her knees to rubber.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? Do you need me to follow you?”

She could hardly trust herself to look up, because she knew his eyes would be full of sympathy. And they were. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate the thought. Geneva has a doctor’s appointment.”

Before releasing her, he ran his hand down her arm, setting up goose bumps. “This can’t be easy for you, Annie. You can ask for help, you know.”

Ducking her head, Annie slithered behind the wheel. His thoughtfulness had unnerved her. Before closing the car door, she nodded. “I will if I need to,” she said, praying she would never have to ask.

Kyle stood in the driveway watching Annie’s vintage Honda lurch over the rutted road to the highway. Geneva Greer was light as a feather. In the short time he’d been working on the house, she had faded like a late-autumn bloom. Annie’s devotion to her great-aunt was evident, but he could tell it was sapping her energy. In her oversize shirts and sweaters, she looked like a wraith trying to escape notice. This picture was at complete odds with the animated, sparkly eyed teen she’d been. Kyle wondered what it would take to restore the person he’d once known.

Why did he care? Shaking his head in bewilderment, he picked up the stack of shingles and moved them to the base of the ladder. A breeze gusted and the sharp
tang of salt filled the air. Scanning the horizon, he saw a bank of dark clouds massing over the water.

Later, he didn’t know whether he’d used the weather as his excuse or whether he’d been motivated by a different reason—one he didn’t want to think about—but at the time, it had seemed as if there was only one decision to be made.