Part 19 (1/2)
A quiver of unease ran through Annie's heart. Hurt and betrayal that her own mother thought so little of her, had such small regard for her feelings, pressed a bruise into her newly gained confidence.
”I will not place my approval on this abomination,” she said.
”Annie is going to marry him,” Eldon said calmly.
”Not with my blessing. I will not lift a finger to help you make a fool of yourself,” she said to Annie. ”And he will never be welcome in this house.”
Hurt sliced through Annie's chest.
Eldon stood and faced his wife squarely. ”Annie is our daughter!”
Mildred turned her face aside. ”Not the daughter I know.”
He glanced down at Annie. Heart breaking, she struggled to keep her features composed. Why? Why had it come to this? It wasn't even Luke who was the problem. It wasn't that her mother considered him not good enough for her-it was that she considered Annie not good enough for anyone! It had always been this way.
”Luke doesn't care that I'm not perfect, Mother,” Annie said softly. ”He doesn't ask me to be anyone I'm not. He accepts me and loves me just the way I am. Why can't you?”
”You are trying to be someone you're not,” her mother returned. ”You are trying to be the woman you think he wants. But you're not. You're not capable of being that woman. I don't want to see you regret your impetuousness later, but you will.” She turned and stormed into the house.
Eldon seated himself slowly, his expression full of sorrow.
”It's not your fault, Daddy,” she a.s.sured him softly. ”You've done the best you could-always. And I know you care about me-truly about me and what I want.”
”I will not let her keep you away from this house,” he told her with conviction. ”He has to properly court you, and that means calling on you here. And after you're married, we will still have Sunday dinners every other week.”
An irrepressible smile spread across her face at the idea of Luke properly courting her, but disappeared at the thought of Sunday dinners. No way could she picture anyone in their right mind handing Luke and Burdell croquet mallets. ”We'd better let time work on that.”
Her mother's impenetrable mind on the subject didn't give her much hope, either. But there, above the hurt of her mother's lack of acceptance, was the unspeakable joy of knowing once and for all that she and Luke would be together.
No more hiding. No more secrets.
They could be together. The concept was as liberating as being free of her chair.
And now she had real plans to make.
Chapter Eleven.
”Luke is calling this evening.” Annie read the note Glenda had handed her in front of her mother and made the announcement.
It was cleaning day, and Annie had dressed in one of the work dresses Glenda had given her in exchange for the dresses Annie had cut down and sewn for her daughters.
Mildred said nothing, going about her dusting as though she preferred to pretend Annie didn't intend to go through with this courts.h.i.+p.
Because of his work on the house, he'd visited only once a week for the past few weeks. Each evening that he'd arrived, Mildred had gone upstairs with a headache while Annie entertained him on the porch. Soon it would be fall, and Annie didn't plan to sit outdoors on brisk evenings.
”Did you have much in your hope chest when you married Tim?” Annie asked the young housekeeper.
”Oh, yes, I had tea towels and ap.r.o.ns my grandmother made, and a cast iron skillet my father bought from a traveling salesman. I do love that skillet.”
”Does a man expect his bride to have those things?” This trousseau thing had become a worry on her mind. She understood she was supposed to be bringing something to contribute to the household, and so far it didn't look like she had much to offer.
”You'll have wedding gifts,” Glenda reminded her.
”Yes, of course.” They had set a date, a date her father had frowned at and her mother had met with stony silence because it wasn't a year or two away. Neither Luke nor Annie wanted to wait any longer, so they'd chosen the last Sat.u.r.day of October.
Her mother rarely spoke to her anymore, as though Annie had done something to deliberately hurt her. It grieved her that the woman could be so cold to her own daughter, that she refused to share in her happiness or simply get past her objections and treat Annie kindly. Annie watched Mildred polis.h.i.+ng the bra.s.s candlesticks that sat on the mantel.
”Where did those come from, Mother?” she asked, an attempt to spark some communication.
”Your father brought them from a trip East when you were a baby,” she replied.
”He's often brought you gifts, hasn't he?”
Mildred's expression took on a faraway look.
”Was he terribly handsome and charming when you first met him?” She'd never asked her mother anything so bold or personal, and she didn't know what kind of response to expect.
The woman rubbed the base of a candlestick vigorously. ”He was the man my father preferred.”
Annie's parents had moved here with her widowed grandfather only a few years after their marriage. Mother's father had been a banker, too, and had the vision to move to Colorado and invest in real estate during the early days when land was cheap and lumberjacks were free with their pay.
”What do you mean? Didn't you have a say-so in who you married?”
”Young women did what was best for their futures when I was a girl,” she said.
Annie looked at her with growing understanding. ”Was there someone else you would have preferred to marry?”
”No.” Mildred glanced at Glenda, who was occupied with the sooty task of cleaning the fireplace.
”Something you would have preferred to do?”
”I had some talent,” she admitted. ”I might have liked to study the arts.”
”What kind of talent? Acting?”
”Goodness, no. Painting.”
”Really? Why didn't you pursue it?”
”Our future was here, in Colorado. I wasn't one to waste frivolous thoughts on things that couldn't be.”
”Or things you were told couldn't be.”
Mildred's lips pinched shut and the conversation was over.
That evening, sitting beside Luke on the wicker love seat, a warm breeze blowing across the porch, Annie related what she'd learned that day. ”She didn't come right out and say it,” Annie told him. ”But I got the impression that she would have preferred to wait for marriage.”