Part 5 (1/2)
”I know your situation can be frustrating at times, dearling,” her mother said, kissing her cheek. ”We can go without you tonight.”
”Oh, thank you,” Annie said, giving her mother a quick hug.
Going about her business, Mildred quickly left the room. Glenda gathered the cleaning supplies.
”Glenda?”
The young woman cast Annie a smile. ”Yes?”
”I wonder...” Annie rolled her chair to the cherry wood desk. ”If I gave you a note, would you mind delivering it on your way home?”
”Not at all.”
”It would be our secret,” Annie added quickly.
Glenda nodded her agreement. ”All right.”
Annie took a sheet of parchment and dipped her father's pen in a bottle of ink before writing a brief note, waving the paper to dry the ink, then folding it. She melted a drop of wax and sealed the fold with a bra.s.s stamp that smashed the wax into the shape of a horse's head. Annie handed the note to Glenda. ”Give it to Mr. Carpenter at the livery, please.”
Surprise lit Glenda's honey-colored eyes.
”You know who he is?”
Quickly, she looked down at the note in her hands. ”I know.”
”Thank you, Glenda.”
”You're welcome.” She slipped the paper into her ap.r.o.n pocket and carried a rolled pile of rags from the room.
Annie's heart reacted belatedly at what she'd done, thumping against her breast like a trapped wild bird. She could trust Glenda. She would give Luke the note without letting Annie's mother know.
Would he think her forward? Scandalous? More importantly-would he come?
Annie removed the ap.r.o.n, rolled her chair to her room, and washed the dust and polish from her hands and face.
An hour later, she was in the kitchen when her father called, ”Annie!”
”In here, Daddy.”
”Your mother tells me you're not going with us this evening.”
”No. You have a good time.”
”What are you doing?”
”I'm fixing myself something to eat.”
”You can't cook.”
”I'm doing a pretty fair job of pretending that I can, then.” Following the directions in a cookbook she'd discovered, she had rolled a pie crust, and was fluting the edges around the dried apple filling she'd stirred together. ”Glenda lit the oven for me before she left.”
”Well, baking will have to wait until tomorrow. I would worry all evening that you'd burned the house down.”
She frowned. ”Daddy.”
”You don't need to cook for yourself,” he said in a discouraging tone.
”Maybe I just want to.”
”You always did want to do more than you were capable of. Bank the fire now. I'm sure Mrs. Harper left something you can eat without a fire.”
She refused to let his words steal the air from her sails. She'd been flying high all afternoon, but of course she had to be reminded of her limitations on a regular basis. ”Perhaps I'm capable of more than you allow,” she said softly.
He stepped closer, and she turned to look up at his face. ”It's not only injury I protect you from, daughter,” he said softly. ”It's disappointment and cruelty.”
”I know. I'm sure that having a daughter such as I, you understand disappointment.”
”Annie,” he admonished, coming close and bending to press his freshly shaven cheek against hers. ”You're my darling girl, you've never been a disappointment.”
Annie returned his hug, then brushed a spot of flour from the collar of his suit. ”Enjoy your evening.”
”We shall. Good night. Bank the fire now. And you're not to go outside. Keep the door locked.”
”I will.”
As soon as she heard the Millers' carriage come for them, she opened the oven door and gently placed her pie inside.
By the time she had cleaned up her baking area and washed the utensils, she was so hungry, she sliced herself bread and cheese and nibbled a few olives.
When her pie was finished, she removed it from the oven and admired the golden crust with cinnamon-scented juice bubbling in the slits. Placing it on a counter to cool, she banked the fire, then rolled to her room, washed and changed into a clean dress.
The evening feeling cool now that the sun had gone down, Annie placed a shawl around her shoulders and maneuvered her chair out the front door. The sill of the door frame had been specially constructed for ease in wheeling her chair onto the wide porch where she often sat.
In the day, she read in the west corner, where the sun warmed her of an afternoon. In the evening, she sat where she could watch the stars and see the moon over the mountains. Tonight the moon was only half-full, but the sky was bright and clear.
The far-off jangle of a piano drifted to her from time to time, probably from one of the entertainment establishments that her friends whispered about. The lonely sound of a train whistle echoed through the night, and Annie imagined travelers bound for exciting destinations. The most exciting far-off places she'd ever been to were to the hospitals and doctors' offices in the East.
The hotel stays had been nightmares because of the flights of stairs and the people who stared at her with pity.
Annie hated pity more than anything.
The night sounds took on an unnatural stillness, and the hair on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled. Awareness roused her from her musings and she glanced into the darkness.
”Annie?” His voice, hushed, uncertain.
She leaned forward and strained to see. ”Luke?” she called softly.