Sweet Annie

by Cheryl St. John

  She closed the cabinet door with satisfaction. Aunt Vera had been impressed with Annie's skill with a needle and thread. After years of needlepoint practice, she'd been a natural at precise, even stitches, and had turned out the collar and facings so that they lay smooth and flat. They'd finished it a week ago, and she'd brought it home in her trunk.

  The dress fit her perfectly and was like nothing she'd ever owned before. She couldn't wait to wear it. But she could wait to see her mother's reaction.

  She wheeled herself into the kitchen, where Glenda was stirring gravy on the stove. “Can I help?''

  Glenda cast her a sideways glance. “You can if you want to hear your mother's sermon on why you shouldn't be in the kitchen."

  "I've heard that one. I'm pretty good at turning a deaf ear. I don't want her angry at you, though."

  “Now could I stop you from going over there and slicing up that ham?"

  Annie left her chair at the end of a counter and stood to slice the aromatic glazed ham. “How thick?''

  Glenda glanced over at the slice Annie'd made. "About like that."

  "Annie!" her mother shrieked, and the knife clat­tered to the floor.

  Glenda picked it up and rinsed it.

  Mildred stood with her hand on her hip. "You know you shouldn't be in here. It's far too hazardous."

  "It is when you scare the pea-wadden out of me while I have a knife in my hand."

  "Don't be insolent, child. And what are you doing out of your chair?''

  "I was helping Glenda."

  "Glenda has performed these tasks many times without your help, she doesn't need it now. Go out on the lawn and direct your father in setting up the cro­quet game."

  Deciding she'd rather save her battles for the im­portant things to come, Annie sat and rolled out the back door that her mother held open for her.

  She wheeled down the ramp and several feet into the yard. Her father came and pushed her closer to where he'd been poking U-shaped wires into the ground.

  "Daddy?" she asked.

  He adjusted a wire and straightened, glancing her way.

  “What did you and mother always think would be­come of me? I mean, did you think I would always live here with you?"

  "You're our daughter, we'll always take care of you."

  "You'll be old someday. What did you think would become of me then?"

  A pained expression crossed his features, and she knew it was something he'd given considerable thought. "There's Burdell and Diana. Or Charmaine."

  “Burdy has his own family, and soon enough Char­maine will, too."

  “There will always be someone who loves you and wants to take care of you."

  "You know," she risked saying, "I can take care of myself."

  "Money won't be a problem after we're gone," he added. "You could hire a nurse or a companion."

  "A nurse?" Like she was sick? "Didn't you ever imagine I'd meet someone... a man, I mean... and have a husband?"

  Her father stared at her as though her hair had turned to snakes. "You're not like other girls," he said, as gently as he could. “You have to look at your life in other perspectives."

  What other perspectives? They hadn't allowed her any outside interests or friends. She wasn't allowed to be productive in any way. Just what in heaven's name did they think would become of her? They treated her as though she were a porcelain doll they could just dress and pose, a doll that simply sat on a shelf look­ing pretty, with no feelings or desires or life.

  Annie closed her eyes. It had been over a week since she'd seen Luke. Glenda had brought her one note in that time. It had been seven whole days since she'd returned from the Renlows, where she at least felt like a whole person.

  "Hi, Nannie!" a tiny voice called.

  She opened her eyes and shaded them to see Burdell and Diana walking toward the gate. Burdell carried Will on one shoulder. She waved and smiled.

  Inside the yard, Burdell stood Will on his feet and the little boy ran toward Annie, an adorable cherub with huge round dark eyes and perfect tiny teeth vis­ible through that wide smile.

  She leaned to scoop him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her fiercely. "How's my boy?"

  "Meow!" he said and jabbered something she as­sumed was about a cat they'd seen on their walk over.

  "Ooh, a kitty, huh?"

  He nodded and then pointed to his brown leather shoes. "Shoes."

  "Those are nice shoes. Are they new?" He nodded.

  "Will, come now, don't wear out your aunt," Bur­dell said, coming close enough to reach for the boy.

  Annie settled him more firmly in her lap, clamped her arms around his waist and glared at her brother.

  He would have had to wrestle Will from her, which might have hurt the child, so he appeared to change his mind and backed away.

  "Hi, Annie," Diana said. The open, friendly smile on her round face allowed Annie to lower her de­fenses. Burdell strolled toward their father.

  Annie kissed Will's cheek and loosened her grip.

  “You're just in time,'' Mildred called from the edge of the porch. "Dinner is ready."

  Diana pushed Annie and Will across the lawn, up the ramp and into the house. There was never a chair on Annie's side of the table. Her wheelchair fit neatly in its spot.

  The food was all on platters and in bowls and in minutes it was served and the family ate. Sounds of cleanup came from the kitchen where Glenda was no doubt eager to get home to her own family. She agreed to come in and cook for the Sweetwaters two Sundays a month, and Annie knew it was because Mildred paid her so well and she needed the money for her two children.

  "Would you like some potatoes, Will?" Diana asked her son.

  He nodded and she served him. He sat on a stack of books across from Annie, a dish towel tied around his neck to protect his clothing.

  Annie loved watching his animated expressions as he sampled the food on his plate. Everything he did was an adventure. The sliced potatoes kept slipping off his fork, so using Will's fork, Burdy patiently stabbed a slice at a time for the boy to get them to his mouth himself.

  "You're a good daddy," she told her brother softly.

  He shrugged modestly and took a bite of his own meal. He'd been a good brother, too, if a bit over-zealous in protecting her.

  "He's a very good daddy," Diana agreed. "He even reads Will a bedtime story every night."

  The scenario sounded so normal. Annie couldn't have been happier for her nephew, having a kind mother and an attentive father...enjoying his health and a typical childhood.

  All the things she'd longed for. All the things that had never been hers. Her thoughts kept straying to Luke's intent, as they had every day since the night he'd expressed his interest in her. Charmaine had been right—about the courting part.

  Could something so ordinary and so wonderful truly be happening to her? Should she allow her dreams to include a family of her own—a husband—children like Will?

  For the first time she'd begun to think that those things were possible for her. Happiness bubbled up inside without a means of expression.

  After coffee and dessert, which Mildred served her­self, the family headed back outside. Annie remained in the kitchen to help Glenda finish. "Will you take this note for me?" she asked. She'd prepared it that morning.

  "Glad to help a budding romance," Glenda said with a sly grin and took the paper, tucking it into her pocket.

  "Go on now, I'll dry that pan," Annie told her.

  Glenda thanked her, hung her apron on a peg in the pantry and wished her a good afternoon.

  "You, too." Annie dried the pan, put it away and took herself out back.

  The three adults were engaged in a game of croquet, and Will was getting in trouble trying to play with the wooden balls.

  "Here, Will!" she called. "There's a rubber ball on the porch right there." She got the message across to him and he ran up the ramp, got the ball and carried it back to her.

  "Let
's move over here and throw it."

  Of course Will's pitches landed on all sides of her, rarely reaching her unless they caught her in the head or the chest. It would have been so easy for her to get out of her chair and simply walk to the ball each time. Her arms grew tired of pushing the wheels over the grass, and her frustration became a coppery taste in her mouth.

  The ball sailed six feet to her right and the temp­tation to stand grew so strong, she drew a deep breath.

  Standing, she limped to retrieve it and tossed it back.

  Wide-eyed, Will grinned and picked it up, only to toss it in the other direction. Annie went after it. This was so much easier—and so much fun! Will was de­lighted, too, crying, "Nannie! Nannie!"

  "Annie!" Her mother's shriek broke into their joy­ful game. Burdell was at her side in an instant, pushing her chair up behind her.

  "What are you doing, child?" her mother cried in horror. “Thank goodness there was no one here to see this!"

  Annie sat and stared up at her, a sick feeling sinking in her chest. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean—you could have hurt yourself! You could have fallen! You may already have been hurt." She turned to Eldon. "Do you think we should send for the doctor?"

  "I'm fine, Mother," Annie said with disgust.

  "Are you certain?" her father asked. "Does any­thing hurt?"

  They had no idea, no idea whatsoever. "Yes, my arms, from pushing this damned chair across the grass."

  "Annie!" Mildred's hand flattened on her breast in offense. "Such language is inappropriate for a lady!"

  "It's my fault," Burdell said. "I wasn't paying at­tention and Will wore her out."

  "Will didn't wear me out," Annie disagreed with a disgusted flick of her hand. “All this invalid stuff is wearing me out."

  Her mother's pale face took on a positively stricken expression. She grabbed her husband's arm. "That tea that the Philadelphia hospital suggested. That will re­lax her. I'll go prepare it immediately."

  "I don't need to be 'relaxed', Mother!" Annie called to her back. She studied her father's helpless expression, Burdell's smothering look of concern, and noted that Diana was giving the two men curious looks.

  She met Annie's gaze.

  "Diana, will you push me to my room?"

  Diana stepped behind her. "Of course."

  She wheeled Annie past her mother, who was fan­ning the fire in the stove, and got her to her room.

  "You are all right, aren't you?" Diana said, more of a statement than a question.

  "I'm perfectly fine except for wanting to tear my hair out and scream."

  "Don't do that. Your hair is too pretty to tear out."

  Annie couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm just so tired of being treated as though I'm worthless," she said wearily. "I can do things! I can walk! They just won't let me." She got out of her chair and demonstrated, walking first to the window and then to the wardrobe. The enormous room allowed her space to walk in a circle and she did so, as she'd done every day for weeks and weeks. "Is this so awful? Is my limping so hideous that I should be ashamed and hide myself away? Is it? Do I embarrass you?"

  “Not in the least! I'm thrilled you can walk so well. I had no idea."

  "Because they don't allow it." Her temper had cooled and she stepped to the overstuffed chair near the window seat and sat, cradling this new injury to her pride and confidence.

  Her sister-in-law took a seat on the padded window bench. "Maybe they just need some time," she said.

  "How much time? Nineteen years, would that be long enough?" She hated the catch in her voice that gave away her hurt feelings.

  Diana's glance at the ceiling and bob of her head said she'd gotten the point. Nineteen years hadn't been enough to show them she was capable of anything more than the slim allowances they'd permitted.

  "I'll speak to Burdell," she promised. "Maybe that'll make a difference."

  Annie didn't hold much hope that it would, but she was grateful that Diana understood and cared. "Thanks."

  Mildred tapped on the door and opened it, a tray balanced between her hip and forearm. "Annie?"

  Annie rolled her eyes at Diana. “Come in, Mother. You'll notice I'm not foaming at the mouth."

  "I've made you tea."

  "I'm not going to drink it."

  "Of course you will. The doctors warned us you might become agitated from time to time."

  "Yes, I get agitated. So would anyone in my situ­ation. But I don't want to be drugged."

  "Don't be difficult, dear—"

  "Mother, please. I'm not a child. I'm not being dif­ficult. Please stop treating me as if I were six years old."

  Her mother sat the tray on a cherry wood table and wrung her hands, her dismay evident. "I don't know where this attitude has come from. Diana, talk some sense into her."

  Startled, Diana glanced up. "She makes perfect sense to me. I can't imagine anything I'd have to say. She has some valid points if anyone cared long enough to listen."

  Mildred stiffened and clasped her hands together. "I might have expected as much from you."

  She turned and quit the room in a huff.

  Diana shrugged.

  "I have something to show you." Annie got up and walked over to her wardrobe. She withdrew the green dress and held it for her sister-in-law to see.

  "That's a pretty dress."

  "Isn't it positively normal?" She held it against herself and gazed down fondly. "I sewed most of it myself, too. Aunt Vera showed me how and helped when I made a mistake, but I pretty much did it on my own."

  "That's impressive. I've never sewn a dress for my­self."

  "Really? Well then I guess I'm impressed, too." She grinned. "But you can do so many things. You're independent and smart and politically savvy."

  "Not exactly sterling qualities in your mother's book, are they?" Diana asked with a wry tone.

  “And you have a beautiful little boy, who is bright and happy."

  "He is, isn't he?" Pride shone in her dark eyes.

  "And you obviously make my brother very happy. He adores you."

  "He adores you, too, Annie. But he treats me com­pletely different than he treats you."

  "Because he looks at you as an adult," Annie said. "An equal."

  "He's overprotective because he loves you."

  "I know that. But it's smothering."

  "I promised you I would talk to him, and I will."

  Annie nodded her understanding. "I know. Thank you."

  After a few more minutes, Diana left to join her husband and son. Annie stayed in her room, pacing for a time, then lying on the bed and allowing her thoughts to roam.

  She opened her eyes and discovered she'd fallen asleep. Darkness shrouded her room. She sat, finding her arms and legs achy from excessive use that day. Flexing the muscles, she brushed the wrinkles from her clothing and wheeled herself to the kitchen for water to wash and clean her teeth.

  The house sat dark and silent; her parents had been upstairs for quite some time. After washing, she checked the Seth Thomas clock on the mantel, then silently unlocked the back door and wheeled down the ramp and along the hard-packed path to the gate. By the time she reached the end of her street, her arms were trembling, but the pain was forgotten as soon as she saw the dark horse and the tall man beneath the glow of the silvery moon.

  Chapter Seven

  “You got the note. I'm sorry I'm late," she said. "I fell asleep."

  "I didn't mind the wait." The nearest house here at the edge of town was several hundred yards away, and a dozen pine trees plus a blooming hedge of spi­raea prevented anyone from seeing where Luke waited.

  "It's been so long," she said, hearing the breath-lessness in her own voice.

  "I'm glad you sent the note." He glanced down the lane. "We probably shouldn't stay here."

  "Let's go somewhere, then," she suggested, even though her suggestion was a risky idea. She really didn't worry about her parents waking and checking on her; they neve
r did any more. But someone might see them together.

  "All right." He appeared to think for a moment. "Stand up."

  Willing to take the risk, she did.

  He pushed her chair into the spiraea bushes where it couldn't be seen. "You up to a ride?"

  She glanced at the horse. "You brought Wrangler."

  "He wanted to see you."

  Annie laughed softly. "Yes, I'm up to it."

  He moved the animal closer to where an abandoned cart sat at the comer of the neighbor's property. June flowers bloomed in the back. Luke dipped to sweep her up and carry her to the cart, where he placed her on the top of the wheel and held her hand for balance. "Can you reach his back from there?"

  She grabbed the saddle horn and made the transfer­ence easily. Using the stirrup, Luke swung up behind her.

  He was bigger than the last time they'd done this, harder, more muscled, and she was aware of his chest and thighs against her back and hips, his breath graz­ing her neck.

  "Can Wrangler handle this?" she asked.

  "We're not going far." Luke took the reins and with a flex of his hard thighs against hers, the horse stepped forward.

  Elated, Annie clung to the saddle hom and leaned back against his solid reassuring form. Her second ride was every bit as exhilarating as her first, in fact even more so. Now she was aware of Luke as a man. She had eagerly anticipated their stolen time together.

  He led the horse through the dark silent streets of town, passed businesses with living quarters overhead. Annie glanced up at the dark windows. Luke halted the horse before the livery. The wide door that stood open during the day was closed, and the horse stopped near a door to the side.

  Luke dismounted, then reached up. She leaned to­ward him and he took her weight easily, carrying her and leading the horse through the doorway and into the dark interior of the stable that smelled of hay and horses.

  He paused and told her where to reach to locate a lamp and matches. She lit the wick and carried the lantern, letting the light guide their way as he carried her down a double row of box stalls.

  Luke lowered her to her feet. "There's a bench there, if you want to sit."

  She did.

  He led Wrangler into a stall, removed his saddle, and scooped grain into a bucket. “You deserve extra oats, boy," he said, slapping his hindquarters. "I'll brush you down good later."