Part 4 (2/2)
Luke bracketed her jaw with both hands and kissed her deeply, stealing her breath and her hesitation, and giving her confidence and a newfound sense of delight. She pressed a palm against his s.h.i.+rtfront to steady herself and his warmth seeped into her skin.
The smell and feel and taste of him saturated her senses. Luke was the only person in her entire world at that moment.
Her heart raced, rus.h.i.+ng blood to tingle across her skin and pound in her ears. Her body caught fire and thrummed to the beat of Luke's heart beneath her palm.
Luke raised his head, and she had to untangle his hair from her fist. He took her hands and held them firmly, stepping back and placing distance between their bodies. ”Annie,” he said on a gust of released air. ”Sweet, sweet Annie.”
Annie's heart soared with a sense of freedom. ”I never imagined,” she said shakily.
”I did,” came his hoa.r.s.e confession. ”But this was better than my dreams.”
”You imagined kissing me?”
”Yes.”
Why? Why would he even look twice at her when there were so many pretty, healthy girls in Copper Creek? The knowledge astounded her. Pleased her beyond measure.
”You'd better get back,” he said, ”before they come looking for you.”
”I'll see you again?” she asked, then bit her lip at her forwardness.
”I'll find a way,” he promised. He placed her hand on the rail and went for her chair. Annie seated herself and Luke pushed her close to the building. ”I promise, Annie,” he said before he disappeared into the night.
She sat alone for a few minutes, savoring the precious minutes they'd spent together. Finally, she pushed herself toward the rear entrance, but her arms had grown tired, and she paused.
”Annie! There you are!” Burdell rounded the corner of the building. ”We've been looking for you.”
”I just came out for some air.”
”Mama said you didn't have your lap robe.”
”I was warm enough.”
He pushed her chair toward the social hall, and Annie didn't even dread spending the rest of the evening sitting in her chair along the wall. She had the priceless memory of Luke's kiss to savor until he found a way to see her again.
”I want to help with the cleaning today, Mama,” Annie told her mother the following Monday morning.
”Nonsense, Annie,” Mother said, looking up from the tasks she'd been listing on a piece of paper for the young woman who worked for them part-time. ”Mrs. Harper can handle the heavy ch.o.r.es as she always does. I am prepared to do the dusting myself.”
”I can do the dusting,” Annie said, pus.h.i.+ng her chair forward.
”It's not an appropriate task for you,” her mother disagreed. ”You have your books to read and your sewing to keep you busy.”
”Well then, just what am I good for?” Annie asked in exasperation.
”We love you, darling,” her mother said in her most patronizing voice. ”You're our precious girl. We don't expect you to tax yourself with household ch.o.r.es.”
”Tax myself? Mother, I'm bored out of my mind most of the time. I feel useless sitting here. Worthless!”
”Get that out of your head right now,” her mother said sternly. ”You most certainly are not worthless.”
”Then let me help,” Annie begged. ”I have trouble walking, Mama. I don't have a weak heart or a feeble const.i.tution. I need to do something!”
As though Annie's declaration had disoriented her, Mildred laid down the ink pen and stood, glancing about the drawing room, her expression one of bewilderment. ”What's come over you, child?”
”She could dust the tables and the lamps, Mrs. Sweet.w.a.ter,” Glenda Harper suggested kindly.
Annie turned and gave the young woman a grateful smile.
Her mother clasped and unclasped her hands. ”Well...I suppose so.”
Glenda brought Annie rags and a tin of lemon polish. ”I'll get you an ap.r.o.n, Miss Annie, so you don't soil your pretty dress.”
”Your dress is unsuitable,” her mother commented.
”I don't have any normal dresses, Mother,” Annie told her. Her entire wardrobe consisted of fancy frilly feminine clothing in an array of delicate fabrics and colors. ”Everything looks like it belongs on one of those Dresden dolls in my room.”
”Don't be ungrateful, young lady,” her mother said. ”Most girls would be pleased to have the advantages you've had.”
”Most girls would, but I'm no longer a girl.”
”Annie, this talk is most unbecoming. I've agreed to allow you to dust, even though it's against my better judgment. Don't be impertinent.”
Feeling as though she'd waged a battle and won only a small victory, Annie set herself to the task of waxing the tables and dusting the lamps and the bric-a-brac.
The work was rewarding, though frustrating, because there were so many occasions she had to reach a little higher or a little lower, and had to ask Glenda to hand her something or reach for her. The good-natured young mother took Annie's requests for help in stride, however, encouraging her with warm smiles, and never seeming put out.
”We're dining with the Millers this evening,” her mother reminded her. She had finished her ch.o.r.es in time to bathe and dress. ”Be ready by seven.”
”I'm going to stay home,” Annie told her. ”I'll find myself something to eat.”
”But you can't stay home by yourself.”
”Mother. We've been though this before. The Millers are in their seventies, and their house smells like moth cakes. I can stay home by myself, and I can manage just fine. I stayed home last time you went.”
”We don't want them to think you're rude.”
”Let them think I'm bored, then. I can't take another discussion of Mr. Miller's joint aches.”
”He's a business partner of your father's.”
”I know that. Sometimes business and dinner don't mix, especially when one has to dine in that mausoleum of a house.”
”The Miller house is a landmark, as you very well know. For someone as fortunate as you, Miss Annie Sweet.w.a.ter, you have certainly become a complainer.”
Chastised, Annie regretted her unkind words. Her parents' friends had been nothing but kind to her. And her mother and father had provided for her in every way they knew how, and to the best of their ability. ”I didn't mean to be ungrateful, Mother. I know I'm far more fortunate than many people.”
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