Sweet Annie (8 page)

"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 bloody pulp!"

"I
wasn't a bloody pulp." He laughed at her dramatic description, but then
sobered. "I thought you probably hated me for embarrassin' 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?"

"I
baked you an apple pie," she said abruptly. "Wait here and I'll bring
you a big slice."

Surprised,
he agreed and held the screen door while she rolled her chair into the house.
Several minutes later, she returned with a small tray in her lap. "I
couldn't fill the glass, because I spill when I cross the doorway," she
apologized, handing him a partially full glass of milk.

"I
don't mind," he said, taking the cold tumbler from her.

"The pie tastes pretty
good. I tried a bite earlier."

He
accepted the plate and seated himself on the wicker chair, placing the glass on
a small table. He tasted her offering, the apples still warm from the oven.
Cinnamon sweetness melted on his tongue. “No one has ever baked me a pie
before."

"No?"

He
shook his head and enjoyed another mouthwatering bite.

"It's my first one. I
just followed a recipe."

"It's
better than the pies at Dora Edgewood's cafe. You could give her a tip or
two."

Annie
laughed, a delicate ear-pleasing sound of delight. "Are you flattering
me?"

"Yes,
but it's true." He finished the slice of pie and drank the milk.

"Mother
says it's improper to welcome flattery." She set the empty tray on the
floor, and Luke placed his dishes on it.

"I
guess your mother'd know about things like that."

“A
lady may accept a delicate compliment, but she should not appear to expect or
encourage them."

"I hardly think you
expect compliments, Annie."

She folded her hands in her
lap. "I want to go write the telegram, but I don't want to miss another
minute with you."

Her honesty warmed him.
"Why don't you just tell me what it should say then, and I'll
remember."

"But I'll have to find
the doctor's address."

"Will it take
long?"

"No."

He placed the tray on her
lap and opened the screen door for her. "Hurry."

Precious minutes ticked by
before she returned with an envelope and handed it to him. He folded it and
tucked it into his shirt pocket. "How will I get the reply to you when it
arrives?"

"Glenda comes every
afternoon. You could catch her on her way here and give it to her. She promised
to keep my secret when I sent you the note this afternoon. I trust her."

A comfortable silence
settled between them. Distant piano music drifted on the night air.

"Luke?"

"Yes."

"It's probably highly
improper, but would you mind holding my hand, so I can move over there and sit
beside you on the glider?"

"That
would be my pleasure," he replied.

She took his hand for
support, and using it and the arm of her chair, pushed herself up. Then, with
only a few awkward steps, she made it to the padded glider and sat.

Luke lowered his weight to the seat next to her,
unwilling to release her hand. She smelled wonderful, an enticing combination
of vanilla and lilacs and starched cotton. Her voluminous skirts draped across
his knee. He closed his eyes and joyfully inhaled her presence.

"I've thought a lot about the night of the
wedding," she said softly.

Thoughts
of her kisses had driven him crazy every night since. Even today, he'd found
himself staring off into the forge, letting a piece of iron cool, and having to
heat it over again. "Me, too."

"Good thoughts?"
she asked.

He
smiled at her delightful frankness. "Very good thoughts. Was that a
delicate enough compliment?"

She
smiled and nodded. "Would you mind—kissing me again?"

The
question was laughable. "Let me think about it. Hmm. No." He pulled
her hand, which brought her face to his, and leaned toward her. She met his
lips with hers, a sweet, eager union that immediately had his blood pounding.

He
released her hand, and she placed it tentatively on his shoulder. He'd never
known she returned his feelings; he'd only hoped, maybe just dreamed. Finding
out like this that she was drawn to him, too, gave him so much pleasure, his
heart swelled to bursting.

Their
lips parted and Luke remembered to draw a breath.

"You taste like
cinnamon," she said.

"You smell like
lilacs," he replied.

She leaned closer, placing
her nose against his neck. A wispy curl grazed his cheek. A shudder passed
through his body. "You smell like..." she said, her breath against
his neck exquisite torture, "...I don't know...heaven. You smell like heaven."

He
turned his face, so that his lips and nose were a scant breath from her ear. “You
think there are horses in heaven?"

She
moved as though to see his eyes, though it was dark and she couldn't possibly
read his expression. "You don't smell like a horse."

"I must. I even sleep
in the livery."

"Well,
you don't. You smell like...like you shaved."

"Mm-hmm,"
he agreed. He had shaved before he'd come to see her. "And how would you
know what that smells like?"

"My
father shaves. But he doesn't smell nearly as good as you do."

"Your mother probably
thinks so."

Annie
sat up straight and her eyes widened in the moonlight. "What a thought!
Don't you ever place another thought like that in my mind! Goodness, if I
imagine my mother sniffing my father, I'll die of laughter and you'll never get
to kiss me again."

"Well,
we can't have that, so forget all thoughts of your parents. They probably don't
even sleep in the same room."

"Luke
Carpenter, you're incorrigible!" She laughed out loud that time, however.
Lord, she was fun.

He
wrapped his arm around her shoulders, felt her delicate bones beneath the
fabric of her dress, and pulled her toward him. She came willingly, eagerly,
all softness and sighs.

Luke
nuzzled the springy curls at her temple, the delicate skin behind her ear, and
placed a kiss there. She leaned more fully into him, pressing her breasts
against his chest, and he tried to feel and taste and smell every vivid
sensation and press it into his mind for later.

Their
lips met again, this time more forcefully, and when he touched her lip with his
tongue, she intuitively allowed him access. Her whole body stilled and her
breathing grew shallow, as though she were concentrating fully on this
exploratory kiss.

Luke
had to bracket her face with his palms and end the torture before he allowed
himself more liberties. Because she was willing. And he was weak.

"I'm going to leave,
Annie," he whispered hoarsely.

"But we still have
time."

"That's what I'm
afraid of."

"What are you afraid
of?"

"If
I don't go, I might do somethin' very ungentle-manly. And I think too much of
you to let that happen. So I'm leaving."

He
stood, swept her up into his arms, and deposited her in her chair. He leaned
over her, his palms on the armrests.

She
placed her soft hands on the backs of his, and slowly, he backed away until
only their fingers were touching, even that tentative contact a tactile
pleasure.

"There will be a next
time," he promised.

"It'll seem like
forever."

"I'll be thinkin' of
you."

"And I of you."

"Good night, sweet
Annie."

"Night, Luke."

He
released her fingers, moved to the stairs and disappeared into the night.
Annie placed her empty palms over her racing heart. Adrift in heavenly
sensations and riotous feelings, she slowly came back down to earth, the chair
beneath her a cold reality.

But
Luke didn't care. He didn't see her and this chair as one. He saw her as she
saw herself, as she dreamed to be. A whole, unfettered person.

How would she ever sleep
again?

*   
*    *

For
a week, Annie anticipated Glenda's daily arrival. The weekend seemed endless
and unbearable, because the housekeeper didn't come on Saturday, and it wasn't
her Sunday to help with dinner. But on the following Monday, as Annie sat
waiting on the shady porch, Glenda climbed the stairs with a sly smile.

Annie's heart fluttered.
"Do you have something for me?"

Glenda glanced through the
open doorway. "Where's your mother?"

"She's upstairs
packing. I'm to be shipped off to my aunt and uncle's again while Mother and
Daddy travel to Denver."

Glenda slipped folded papers from her pocket and
handed them to Annie.

Opening them quickly, Annie
discovered there were two pages to the missive, the first a Western Union
telegram from Dr. Mulvaney: "I wager that the benefits of exercise would
greatly strengthen muscles. Stop. To my knowledge there is no damage that can
be done by walking. Stop. I should be interested to know results after an
adequate period. Stop. Regards to your family. Stop."

Giddy at the encouragement, Annie pressed the papers
to her chest and grinned. She hadn't been wrong. She could walk and not harm
herself as long as she was careful.

Remembering the piece of
brown paper, Annie opened it and read the words scrawled in black ink:
"Sweet Annie, I should be interested to know the results, too. I believe
you can do anything you put your mind to. The scent of lilacs fills my dreams.
Luke."

She must have been grinning
foolishly, because Glenda chuckled. "Your cheeks are pinker than the
snapdragons beside the porch, Miss Annie. Your mother will suspect something
for sure."