Part 3 (2/2)
”It's a nice party. Want to sit on my lap, Will?”
Burdy took her plate and handed it to one of the ladies pa.s.sing by. The child scooted from his dad's knee and used Annie's foot as a step in his eagerness to sit with her.
”Whoa there, William, you'll hurt your aunt.”
”No, he won't hurt me,” she denied, and brushed his concern aside like swatting at an irritating fly. ”We're buddies, aren't we?”
Will nodded. Annie inhaled the sweet fragrance of his baby-fine dark hair and kissed the downy soft skin of his cheek. The twill trousers he wore were miniature replicas of his father's, with suspenders crossing his narrow back.
He said a few words she wished she understood, and pointed to the crowd. Annie nodded and listened. He gave her a comical look with his brown eyes open wide and one corner of his mouth turned up. She laughed aloud. ”You're just precious, Will, do you know that?”
”Yup,” he said seriously.
She kissed his head and hugged him, enjoying the feel of his st.u.r.dy little body in her arms. The evening was full upon them, and Will was probably used to being in bed by now. He snuggled and relaxed contentedly.
Burdy visited for a few minutes, but when he was ready to move on, Annie raised a hand to stop him from taking his son. ”Can't he stay with me a while longer? He might fall asleep.”
”He'll hurt your legs, Annie.”
”He doesn't hurt my legs. I love to hold him.”
”He'll tire you out.” Burdy picked up the boy, and Will waved to Annie with a disappointed frown and a puckered lip.
She managed a smile for his sake and watched her brother carry him into the crowd.
Annie looked at her empty lap, looked at the dancers smiling and laughing. Then she turned her chair and propelled it toward the back room. She had to pa.s.s through a kitchen area to get to the door.
One of the young women standing close by asked, ”Need any help using the facility?”
Annie gave her a weak smile. ”No, thank you, I can make it on my own.”
Darlene held the door open and Annie wheeled past her, out the door and into the dark. The ground near the building was hard packed, easy to roll across, but the farther she got from the social hall, the more gra.s.s and stubble covered the earth, and the more difficulty she had pus.h.i.+ng the wheels of the chair.
Driven, she struggled until she was hot and frustrated, and made a few more yards. Glancing behind her, she realized she'd come quite a way, almost to the area where the horses were penned and the wagons parked. She had halted between two ancient gnarled trees, and saw now that their roots had finally arrested her progress.
She leaned back, let her aching arms droop, and stared through the branches to the twinkling stars overhead.
”h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation,” she said aloud to the night, the worst words she could think of to express her fury at herself for her self-pity. What was worse, being treated like an invalid, or hating herself for her woeful feelings?
She released a shaky breath, refusing to give way to tears.
”Somethin' bothering you, Annie?”
His voice, coming from the quiet darkness, startled her. She turned to see the blue-black sheen of Luke Carpenter's hair in the moonlight.
Chapter Three.
Annie gathered her composure. ”No, no, I'm fine. I just came out for a little air.”
”Seems to me there was air back by the social hall. I think what you wanted was distance so you could curse a blue streak.”
Oh, Lord, he'd heard her! Her cheeks scorched with embarra.s.sment.
He chuckled. ”I'm impressed, actually. And glad to know I wasn't wrong about that fire.”
”I-I didn't know anyone was out here. I-I'm sorry.”
”Don't be sorry on my account. Sometimes a body's gotta let off a little steam. Can't be healthy holding all that in.”
a.s.sured that she hadn't alienated or offended him with her outburst, Annie relaxed. That was exactly how she felt much of the time: ready to explode. Sometimes screaming out her frustration was all that kept her sane.
”Feel better now?” he asked.
She thought about it and slanted her head. ”Some.”
”Not all better?”
No, she would never feel all better. She would always be trapped and stifled and... She shook her head.
”What's wrong, Annie?”
His use of her name was disturbing in more ways than one. The familiarity was improper-even her mother called her father Mr. Sweet.w.a.ter in public-but Annie loved the sound of her name from his lips. She could form no reply and shook her head again.
”Bet I can guess.”
She looked up at his silhouette against the dark sky.
”They treat you like a child,” he said.
The candid statement hung in the night air. They treated her like a child. Somewhere over the years she'd grown into a woman, but they hadn't acknowledged it. Her mother chided and protected, her father pampered and decided, and Burdy...well Burdy was Burdy.
”They don't see me as a person, not a real person,” she said, the disclosure tumbling out. ”To my parents, to my friends, to the whole world, I'm poor little Annie.”
”But not to you,” he said.
”Even the things that I can do, they don't allow me to do. I'm able to care for my nephew, I can hold him and play with him. I can help with dinner and ch.o.r.es and all kinds of things.” Tears had gathered behind her eyes and she swallowed hard to keep them from her voice. ”I'm not just a burden.” Annie looked up at him. ”I can stand. I can walk...a little.”
She'd never shared these feelings with anyone. Sharing her secret shame made her feel vulnerable, but also free and, somehow, unburdened.
”Well then, stand up, Annie.”
She just stared at him.
”You want to, don't you?”
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