Part 5 (1/2)

”Yes. Why not?” Libby folded her arms over her chest and glared at Bennett.

”Come on, Lib. Think about it. Pete's gonna be a preacher. He'll need a wife who's . . . docile. One who's willing to stay home and cook soup for sick people and things like that. Libby couldn't do it. She hates cooking. And when it comes to being docile . . .” He chuckled, shaking his finger at Alice-Marie. ”You're wrong on this one. Libby with Pete would never work.”

Libby wanted to argue with Bennett, but she couldn't. She could never be a good wife to a minister for the reasons he'd listed and so many more. To her surprise, it pained her to acknowledge it. ”You're right, Bennett. Petey and I could never be anything more than friends. To expect more would be ludicrous.”

Bennett suddenly looked somewhere behind her shoulder. The sheepish look on his face sent a tingle of awareness down Libby's spine. She turned to peek, but even before she looked, she knew what she'd find. Petey was standing behind her. The sadness in his eyes turned her heart upside-down.

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Pete took an awkward side step and held tight to his dessert as Libby jumped from her seat. She captured his hands, which curled around the plate bearing a large wedge of apple pie. He'd been looking forward to the cinnamon-laden treat, but with Libby's comment, his appet.i.te fled.

”Petey, I didn't know-”

”-that I was here?” Pete forced a chuckle. He swallowed the lump of anguish her words had created. ”It doesn't matter, Libby.

You didn't say anything dishonest, did you?”

”No, but . . .”

He took one shuffling step forward and placed the plate in the center of the table. ”Bennett, I hope you're still hungry. I brought the biggest piece of pie left in the pan.” He sensed Libby's troubled gaze following him, but he managed to keep his tone light. ”The cake looked dry, so-”

”Petey, please.” Libby tugged at his arm, as she'd done dozens of times over the years. In an instant, they were eleven years old again and she was begging him to join her in a game of marbles or to push her on the wooden swing that hung from the tallest tree behind the orphans' school. But whatever she wanted this time, he couldn't offer it. His heart felt so bruised, he was amazed it continued beating.

Very gently, Pete disengaged Libby's hands from his arm. He looked at Alice-Marie, who didn't quite meet his gaze. ”I enjoyed meeting you, Alice-Marie. I'm sure there will be other chances for us to have a meal together since you're Libby's roommate and Libby and I are . . . such good friends.” He even managed to smile. ”I hate to rush off, but my first cla.s.s is at eight tomorrow morning, and I'd like to do a little reading before I turn in. So . . .” He moved backward a few inches, cautious that his peg leg didn't slide.

Libby gripped the back of her chair, looking directly into his face. ”I'll see you tomorrow?” Her eyes begged forgiveness.

”Sure. Tomorrow.” He nodded good-bye and made his way out of the dining hall. Slowly. Aware that one misstep could send him toppling. If only he could run. His body strained against the restriction of his wooden appendage. If he could break into a run on the expansive gra.s.sy lawn between the dining hall and his dormitory, maybe he could expend this overwhelming frustration.

”To expect more would be ludicrous.”

Yes, ludicrous. How could she possibly see him as anything other than Petey, her childhood buddy? How could any woman- especially one as bright and beautiful and alive as Libby-see a crippled man as whole and desirable?

He reached Landry Hall and, unconcerned about disturbing any other students in the building, hopped up the stairs on his good leg as quickly as possible. Ignoring the handrail, he put every bit of effort into launching himself, one step at a time, to the second floor. His muscles burning and lungs heaving, he reached the landing. Without a pause, loath to use the despised peg leg, he continued hopping until he arrived at the door to his room. With a vicious twist on the crystal k.n.o.b, he threw the door open and stumbled inside, finally allowing his artificial leg to touch the floor.

Sinking onto his cot, he rolled up his pant leg and wrenched the form from its leather bracing. For a moment, he considered throwing it out the window. But he hated using crutches even more than he hated the wooden leg. Releasing an agonized groan, he pummeled the mattress with the turned length of wood, swinging it with all of his strength again and again and again.

Finally, exhausted, he flopped sideways on the mattress with the peg leg still gripped in his trembling hand. He stared at the empty pant leg dangling over the edge of the bed. Odd how his body still believed a foot was there. A dull, never-ending ache did its best to convince him he had two feet instead of just one. But the drooping fabric exposed the truth-he was a cripple.

Closing his eyes, he whispered a halting prayer. ”G.o.d, I know I can't grow another leg, but please . . . please . . . won't You help me feel complete?”

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Alice-Marie slipped her hand through Libby's elbow as they neared the women's dormitory. ”Elisabet, may I call you Libby, the way Bennett and Pete do?”

Libby, only half listening, shrugged.

”Very well. Libby from now on.” She drew back on Libby's arm, bringing her to a halt. ”Libby, please don't be sad. This is an exciting time! Just think”-she leaned close, her blue eyes sparkling- ”tomorrow our cla.s.ses start, we can begin pledging to Kappa Kappa Gamma and make many friends, the college campus is swarming with handsome men, there are no parents with watchful eyes keeping us from having fun . . .” Alice-Marie's voice rose in enthusiasm with each addition to her list of reasons to celebrate.

Libby heaved a huge sigh.

Alice-Marie shook her head. ”. . . and yet you sigh and frown.” She took hold of Libby's hands. ”Tell me-why are you so downhearted?”

With a little huff of impatience, Libby pulled free of Alice-Marie's light grasp. ”Didn't you see Petey's face when he left the dining hall? I . . . I hurt him.” She swallowed, regret a bitter taste on her tongue. ”He's been my best friend for . . . well, forever, it seems. He's the only one who's always accepted me just the way I am. And I've always accepted him.”

”You mean his wooden leg?”

Is that all Alice-Marie saw when she looked at Petey-a peg leg where a foot should be? Libby shook her head. ”Petey's special. He's not like other boys.”

She'd never forgotten her first conversation with Petey, less than an hour after being deposited at the orphans' school. She had climbed a tree and refused to come down, proclaiming the people at that dumb school didn't really want her and she didn't want them, either! While Aaron Rowley and his hired hand pleaded and cajoled and finally threatened, Petey calmly limped to the storage shed, dragged a ladder across the scraggly gra.s.s, and shocked her by hopping up the rungs to join her.

There, perched beside her on a st.u.r.dy branch, Petey had asked why she thought no one wanted her. Even after all these years, she remembered her angry response: ”My parents died an' left me, my uncle sent me away, an' all those people who came to meet the orphans on the train . . . none of 'em wanted me. All they wanted was a boy boy. So why should these people want me? I'm never gonna be a boy.”

She also remembered Petey's calm reply: ”But your folks didn't want want to leave you, not like mine who told me to get out 'cause they couldn't afford to feed me no more. As for all those others . . .” He scratched his head, leaving his thick blond strands standing in tufts like little shocks of wheat. ”Seems to me that's their problem, not yours, if they turned away a fine girl who can climb trees faster'n any boy I know.” Sticking out his peg leg, he'd added, ”Don'tcha think that if the folks here would take in a one-legged boy an' give him a good home, they'd be more'n pleased to have a girl like you?” to leave you, not like mine who told me to get out 'cause they couldn't afford to feed me no more. As for all those others . . .” He scratched his head, leaving his thick blond strands standing in tufts like little shocks of wheat. ”Seems to me that's their problem, not yours, if they turned away a fine girl who can climb trees faster'n any boy I know.” Sticking out his peg leg, he'd added, ”Don'tcha think that if the folks here would take in a one-legged boy an' give him a good home, they'd be more'n pleased to have a girl like you?”

Remembering the feeling of acceptance that had filled her in those moments, tears stung Libby's eyes. He'd made her feel wanted, something she'd desperately needed. And tonight she'd made him feel unwanted. Unworthy. Unloved.

But Petey wasn't the unworthy one, and somehow she had to find a way to tell him. Maybe she could write him a note. She always expressed her thoughts better on paper. Eager to make things right with Petey, she turned toward the dormitory. ”I don't want to talk anymore. Let's just go in.” But before she took a step, three girls rushed across the lawn and blocked her path. One of them grabbed Alice-Marie's hand.

”Alice-Marie! Did I see you eating with Bennett Martin?”

Alice-Marie lifted her chin, a haughty smile curving her lips. ”Why yes. He's a good friend of my roommate. Have you met Libby?”

”Elisabet,” Libby said quickly. Her nickname, bestowed by Maelle and adopted by everyone at the orphans' school, was too intimate for everyone's use.

Alice-Marie gave her a funny look. ”Oh yes, excuse me. Elisabet Conley. She and Bennett have been friends since they were children.”

To Libby's relief, Alice-Marie left out the part about Libby being raised in an orphanage.

The trio of girls t.i.ttered, ignoring Libby. The one holding Alice-Marie's hand nearly bounced in place. ”We met him at lunch. Isn't he charming? I adore his red hair and freckles. And do you know what he did? He sang to Caroline! Right there in the dining hall!”

”What?” Alice-Marie slapped her hand over her heart. ”He did no such thing!”

Libby surmised the middle girl with frizzy brown hair and plain features must be Caroline by the way her face flooded with color. She nodded so hard the bun on the back of her head flopped. ”He did. Oh yes, he did. Sang to me, and then . . .” She held out her hand and gazed dreamily at it. ”He kissed me.”

The other girls practically swooned, but Alice-Marie stomped her foot. She whirled on Libby. ”Is Bennett a masher? Because if he's one to toy with a woman's affections, you should have warned me.”

Libby gave Alice-Marie a firm look. ”I am not Bennett's keeper. Whatever he does, he does on his own. If he wants to kiss Caroline at lunchtime”-she ignored Alice-Marie's gasp-”and then flirt with you at suppertime, that's his doing. Don't hold me responsible.”

Libby stormed through the doors of the dormitory, shaking her head. Girls! She had no patience with their histrionics. Caroline, or Alice-Marie, or even Queen Mary of England was welcome to Bennett! Libby had more important things to do than giggling over some boy, such as writing Petey a note that would set things right again.

She charged to her desk and sat down hard enough to bounce the chair. She yanked out a pencil, slapped the notepad onto the desk, and started to riffle through for a clean sheet. But she glimpsed the story she'd begun that afternoon. The characters-Arthur and Arabella-called out to have their story completed.

Tapping her lips with the pencil, she waged a battle with herself. Finish the story so she could get it sent off to the magazine editor first thing in the morning, or set the story aside and write to Petey? Her gaze fell on the lines of print; they enticed her into reading. Within a few seconds, she was absorbed in another world. Her pencil flew across the page, the story flowing almost without conscious thought.