Sweet Annie (9 page)

"She'll
just think I'm still put out over our argument about letting Charmaine come
here and stay with me for the week, instead of me going to their house. I
lost—again." Annie quickly tucked the papers beneath the folds of her
dress. "You won't tell?"

"What's
to tell?" Glenda removed her bonnet. "You and Luke Carpenter
exchanged letters. Nothing scandalous about that. Besides, your folks are far
too protective. Pretty thing like you should have been courted by now."

"Did your husband court
you?" Annie asked.

“Lands,
yes. He brought me flowers and trinkets of all sorts. My mama liked him right
off, but my father took a while to come around."

"What convinced
him?"

“I
think it was the fact that Tim plucked him from the midst of a saloon fight and
brought him home without my mama being any the wiser."

"I
doubt my father will be in a saloon fight any time soon," Annie said
dejectedly.

"I 'spect not. Well, I
have chores to do."

"Thank you,
Glenda."

Glenda
patted her arm. "You're welcome. Now you'd better get in there and pack
your things before your mother starts doin' it for you."

Glenda
held the door and Annie wheeled herself into the house. She hid her note and
the telegram in between the pages of the Bible on her night table.

She
would be staying at the Renlows' until Friday. Surely she could find an
occasion in those three days and nights to see Luke. Perhaps Charmaine would
want to go into town again, like they'd done the last time. Charmaine loved to
shop, or Annie could suggest a visit to the public library. It was open every
weekday. Packing took on more excitement at the hope of seeing Luke soon.

That evening she sat at her
aunt and uncle's table, a more relaxed affair than dinner at her home, and
joined her uncle in a conversation about the man who was running for governor.

"How do you know about
such things, Annie?" Charmaine asked.

"News of the upcoming
election has been in the newspaper every day," she replied. "I can't
talk about it at home, though. Mother has a fit."

“Does she have something
against one of the candidates?"

“No, you know Mother. She
thinks ladies are supposed to avoid pretentions of learning."

"My friends had
instructions on that, too," Charmaine offered. "Young women aren't
supposed to let on that they know as much as gentlemen. It's pedantic, they
say."

"So you're supposed to
pretend to be dumb?" Uncle Mort asked the girls. “What kind of man wants
a dumb wife? Or daughter for that matter?''

"A gentleman, I
guess," Charmaine said with a sigh.

"What about Diana? She's
not one to hold her opinions to herself," Mort said. "My nephew
obviously didn't take to that thinkin'."

"Diana drives Mother
crazy," Annie said with a grin. "Although she does know a lot of
influential people, and Mother is impressed by that. There's bitter mixed with
the sweet, I guess."

"Mama,
may I stay home from school while Annie's here?"

Annie's
Aunt Vera cast her daughter a knowing look. "The answer is the same as
last time and the time before. Annie and I get along just fine while you're in
school."

Charmaine
pouted prettily for all of thirty seconds, then turned to Annie. “What shall we
do after school tomorrow?''

Annie's
heart gave a little leap. “Would you like to shop?"

Charmaine
appeared to be thinking. "I'll bet there are more interesting places to
shop in Denver. Wouldn't you like to go with your parents one of these
days?"

Annie
pushed some turnips around on her plate. "I don't know. I don't much like
going into cities—there are too many people. I feel awkward."

"Well
if you should ever want to, you know I'd be happy to accompany you."

Annie
gave her cousin an amused smile. "Thank you for the offer. We could go to
the library."

"All
right. Let's help Mama with the dishes, and then she'll have more time to work
on the dress she's making for me."

Annie
was always more than glad to help with the dinner chores. The Renlows didn't
treat her as though she were an invalid; they allowed her to help with meals
and dishes and any household task she put her hand to. Here it was as if her
help was expected, and that tiny measure of normalcy gave Annie a deep-down
sense of value.

Mort
went off to the barn, and the ladies completed the dishes, then Vera had
Charmaine try on the bodice of the new dress. The creation was a lovely
moss-green print, with a high collar and a cinched waist.

Annie fingered the fabric
of the basted skirt lying on the dining room table. "Oh, this is just
lovely."

Charmaine and her mother
turned their heads toward Annie at the same time.

"It's a simple
pattern," Charmaine said. "And not an expensive fabric."

Annie glanced at her own
dress: silk taffeta with outsize cap sleeves and three layers of ruffles around
her neck and at the hem. People had seen her dressed like this her entire life;
why it should matter now, she didn't know. But it did. She wondered how others
saw her—how Luke saw her. "My clothes are childish," she said
honestly.

"They're elegant, Annie," her aunt said.

"And expensive," Charmaine added.

Vera nudged her daughter.

"Well, they are."

"I stand out enough in
this chair." Annie tapped the arm. "But combined with the dresses,
I'm a carnival act. I should learn to juggle."

"Stop it, Annie, you
are not a freak." Charmaine came and knelt beside her. Charmaine picked up
Annie's hand and brought the backs of her fingers to her cheek. “You are the
most special person I know, and I love you. Please don't belittle
yourself."

Annie caressed Charmaine's
soft cheek. "You're my best friend, you know that."

"Mama could make you a
dress like this if you'd like one."

Annie
looked to her aunt hopefully. "Would you, Aunt Vera?"

Vera
dropped her gaze to the basted fabric on the table. "I'm not a seamstress,
girls. Annie, your clothes are exquisitely made by professionals. My sewing
doesn't hold a candle."

Annie's
initial hope ebbed back into complacency. "And you're busy, I know. You
have many important things to do, as well as things to make for Charmaine. It's
all right, really." She drew her hand from her cousin. "What can I do
to help? I can sew a straight seam, or I could iron the hem for you."

Vera
and Charmaine exchanged a glance. "Annie, would you really like a dress
like this?" Vera asked.

Tears smarted behind
Annie's eyes at the fierce longing for something so normal and grown-up looking.
Somehow it symbolized a passage to adulthood that she longed for. Keeping her
eyes averted, she nodded.

"Well
then, we'd better have you stand up here and let us measure you."

Annie
met her aunt's eyes. Understanding passed between them. A lump formed in her
throat and she swallowed past it.

"Better
yet, let's go into your room and measure you without your dress. I'm sure those
ruffles add inches."

Annie
laughed and wheeled herself toward the modestly furnished room she used when
she stayed at the Renlows'. Vera measured and jotted numbers, while the girls
discussed colors and fabrics. Annie planned to buy fabric during their visit to
Copper Creek.

The
following day after Charmaine returned from school, she and Annie set off for
town in the wagon.

"Missy
Sharpe is such a flirt," Charmaine called over her shoulder. "She had
all the boys gathered around her today because she brought lemon tarts to
share."

"Maybe
we could bake something for you to take," Annie suggested.

"Oh,
they're just silly boys," her cousin replied. "I'd much rather bake
something for someone more mature. Say, Luke Carpenter, for example."

Annie blinked her surprise,
but said nothing.

"He's ever so
handsome, don't you think?"

"I
guess so." He was so handsome, she could hardly breathe when she looked at
him.

"And
ambitious, with his own business, even if it's a livery."

"Yes,
he's ambitious." Not enough for her parents' standards however.

"He's
become the best part of coming into town, don't you think?"

She'd thought of little
else and knew without a doubt that Luke was the best part of coming to town. He
was the best part of any week in which she saw him, and thinking about him was
the best part of the numerous days she didn't see him. She looked toward town
in anticipation and said, "I haven't really thought about it."

Chapter Five

They
entered Copper Creek and Charmaine guided the horse to the livery. To Annie's
disappointment, a fatherly looking man with a dark beard greeted them and
assisted Annie and the chair from the back of the wagon.

Charmaine
stood beside Annie's chair. "We were expecting to see Mr. Carpenter."

"Guess he had business
this afternoon."

"Do you work for
him?"

"I help him out once
in a while."

"We'll
be back for the wagon when the library closes."

"I'll be here."

The
library was only a short distance from the livery, but the building itself had
several stairs. Annie stood by while Charmaine wrangled her chair up the stairs
and inside the library, then came back for her.

She clung to Charmaine's
arm, managed the steps, and went inside. It didn't matter that her cousin
couldn't lift and carry her, because Charmaine didn't mind her awkward
stumblings, and was always ready to offer her strength as support.

"Good afternoon,"
Mrs. Krenshaw said in the loud whisper she used even when not in her natural
habitat. She stood behind the loan desk, a pencil tucked into the lopsided
graying bun on the top of her head.

The cousins greeted her
quietly.

Annie seated herself in her
chair and Charmaine handed the librarian a few books they were returning.

Annie
rolled herself across the spacious open floor toward one of the sections of
wooden shelving.

She had been spending an
hour a day, in twenty-minute intervals, standing and walking in the privacy of
her room. So far, the practice had had no ill effects aside from a few sore
muscles.

Today
it gave her a feeling of accomplishment and independence to leave her chair at
the end of a row of shelves and inch along the books, examining spines,
reaching tomes on the top shelves.

"Goodness,
Annie, look at you!" Charmaine said. The building was large and open, with
wooden walls and ceiling, and sound carried clear to the desk.

Annie
placed her finger to her lips to silence her. "I've been practicing,"
she confessed.

"Standing?"

"Walking."

“What does your mother
think?''

"She doesn't know.
Don't tell her, please."

"You
know I won't. I think it's positively wonderful." After voicing her
approval, she moved away, browsing though the books.

Annie
found a few she wanted to borrow, placed them on her chair and began another
search. Many she'd read before, but she didn't mind reading them again. Some
were beloved old friends she visited often. Locating a favorite she'd borrowed
half a dozen times, she opened it and scanned the familiar worn pages.

She'd
become engrossed in the scene in which a young boy who has raised a colt is
forced to sell him when a step behind her caught her attention. The back of her
neck prickled.

"Hello,
Annie." The greeting was whispered so near her ear that warm breath
touched her neck and scattered shivers across her shoulders. The masculine
voice was unmistakable.