Part 35 (2/2)

In a short time I was bathed and dressed and Luke returned to help bring me downstairs.

”Ready?” he asked. Both Mrs. Avery and Aunt f.a.n.n.y turned to me in antic.i.p.ation. Would I back out and ask to have my meals brought up, or would I face the world without Mommy and Daddy? I turned to Luke. His eyes were full of determination for me. I knew he would be at my side.

”Yes,” I said. ”I'm ready.”

And Luke moved forward quickly. He put his hand over mine and got behind the wheelchair.

”It's going to be all right,” he whispered, and when Aunt f.a.n.n.y and Mrs. Avery turned their backs to us, he kissed me on the cheek quickly.

TWENTY-TWO.

By Love Blessed, or Cursed.

As soon as we entered the dining room, my eyes s.h.i.+fted to my father's and mother's places. The empty seats stared back at me, and my heart folded in and shut itself away like a clam. For a moment no one spoke; everyone, including Luke, gazed down at me with faces soaked in pity.

And then everyone started talking at once . Aunt f.a.n.n.y giving orders, Mrs. Avery complaining about this or that, Roland slapping his hands together and promising the best breakfast in Winnerrow. Even George, usually quieter than a storefront Indian, asked unnecessary questions like should he get another napkin holder? Was that the right pitcher for the juice?

”Everyone, please,” I cried, ”let's just enjoy the breakfast. It's not so important that everything be perfect. It's wonderful just to be back here with you all. I love you and missed you all very much.”

They all looked down at me again, this time their faces full of love and affection.

”Well, then, let's eat,” Aunt f.a.n.n.y declared, ”fore it all gets colder than a spinster's bed.”

”Oh my,” Mrs. Avery said, pressing the palms of her hands against her bosom, and we all broke out into laughter and set ourselves around the table to begin.

”I made ya an appointment at the beauty parlor first thing this mornin',” Aunt f.a.n.n.y announced.

”Well,” Luke beamed. ”It's a beautiful day. Why don't I wheel you down there.”

”I'd like that.”

Breakfast was cheerful. I couldn't remember ever eating as much, but Roland kept coming out of the kitchen with something else for me to try.

Right after breakfast Luke wheeled me slowly toward downtown Winnerrow, taking the same route we had taken all our lives: past the magnolia trees that lined the street, past the houses and other families I knew so well. It was a beautiful day, one of those rare late summer days when the sun was bright, the sky was crystal blue, and the air wasn't uncomfortably hot because a soft, cool breeze wafted down from the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. People waved from their porches; some came out to say h.e.l.lo and to express their sorrow over my parents' deaths.

”I feel a hundred years old and like I've been away seventy-five of them,” I told Luke.

”Funny how different it looks once you go away and come back,” Luke remarked. ”I never realized just how small our Main Street really is. When I was little, it was as grand and as bright as Times Square, New York City, to me.”

”Disappointed?”

”No. I rather like it. I think I'd like to come back here to settle down someday. What about you?”

”I suppose. First, I'd like to travel and see the world.”

”Oh sure, me, too.”

”Maybe your wife won't want to live in such a small town, Luke,” I said, testing him with the painful reality I would wish to deny forever. But we were half brother and sister. Someday we would have to find someone else to love. Once Luke returned to college, I would have to face the fact once again that he wasn't always going to be here with me.

A pained look claimed his face. He squinted and wrinkled his forehead.

”She will if she wants to be my wife,” he said angrily, despising the wife who wasn't me. He was so handsome and dangerous-looking when he lost his temper. Instead of turning crimson, his skin darkened and his eyes grew dazzling. ”Besides, your mother returned to Winnerrow after living in a very rich and sophisticated world. If it was good enough for someone like her . . .”

I didn't want to tell him then what her real reasons were for returning.

”She was brought up here and she was coming back to a wonderful old house and a huge new business enteeprise. But off in a college like Harvard, you're going to meet girls who come from cities and towns much larger and livelier than Winnerrow. They might think it's quaint, but they'll want to be where they can go shopping in fine, expensive stores, eat in fancy restaurants, and see theater and opera and other glamorous things.” I hated to say these things, but I wanted him to confront the inevitable with me.

”I'm not interested in those kinds of girls,” he snapped. ”Besides, the same can happen to you. You'll meet a man who will want to take you away from here, a man who will be bored with this simple life.”

”I know that, Luke,” I said softly. It was so painful to think these thoughts, much less to say them aloud, but keeping them locked in our hearts was even more painful. It was one thing to fantasize and pretend, but it was another to lie to yourself. My short, horrible, painful and tormenting stay at Farthy taught me that.

”I know what,” he chirped, suddenly looking bright and happy again. ”Let the girl you think I'm going to marry and the man I think you're going to marry, marry each other. Then they'll be happy.”

I laughed and shook my head. Luke wasn't ready to face the truth. Perhaps he felt he had to go on protecting me, that I was still too fragile.

”But Luke, what will happen to us then?”

”Us? You'll . . you'll stay a spinster and stay a bachelor and we'll grow old together in Hasbrouck House.”

”But could we be happy that way, Luke?” I asked, wondering myself if we could.

”As long as I'm with you, Annie, I'm happy,” he insisted.

”I feel as if I'm holding you back from a normal life, Luke.”

”Don't ever say that,” he pleaded. He stopped pus.h.i.+ng my wheelchair. I looked back and saw the pain return to his eyes. He scowled like a little boy who was being teased and teased by older boys and was frustrated because there was nothing he could do to stop it.

”Okay. I'm sorry,” I apologized, but he still looked as though he might cry. He shook his head.

”I mean it, Annie. I couldn't marry anyone unless she was just like you. And . . .” he added slowly, ”there can't be anyone just like you.”

He gazed at me so intently I felt my pulse begin to race. I quickly became aware that pa.s.sersby and people in cars were looking our way.

”Well, when you find someone close, send her around and I'll give her lessons,” I said, trying to lighten things up. But in my heart I couldn't help being selfish, wanting our lives to turn out just the way Luke predicted . neither of us finding anyone else and the two of us being together, forever and ever, being close and loving, even if we could never have what other lovers had--a marriage and children of their own.

We continued on toward the beauty parlor. They must have been waiting by the windows, watching for us, because just before we arrived, the owner, Dorothy Wilson, and her two a.s.sistants came rus.h.i.+ng out to greet me.

”We'll take her out of your hands now, Luke,” Dorothy commanded, getting behind the wheelchair.

All three of them fussed over me. While they worked on my hair, they gave me a pedicure and manicure and jabbered away, filling me in on all the local gossip. Luke went off to see some of his old friends and returned only moments after I was finished.

The girls didn't simply want to change my hair color; they talked me into a French braid as well. The sides of my hair were pulled back tightly and the back of my hair was woven into a thick rope of a braid. When Luke first stepped in and saw me, I could see that he liked it very much. His eyes widened and there was that smile that rippled slowly up his cheeks and settled around his eyes, that special smile I could remember on wonderful occasions like the time he gave me the charm bracelet and I gave him the ring.

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