Sweet Annie (4 page)

No
one had ever addressed the situation bluntly in her presence before, and
secretly, she took delight in Luke's words.

Returning
with their orders, Miss Marple fussed over them. Luke had asked for black
walnuts for his vanilla ice cream, and she supplied him with a bowlful. He
shared with the ladies.

"My
Daddy says you're quite a businessman, Mr. Carpenter," Charmaine said,
delicately nibbling a walnut meat. "He says that's a right fine livery
you built there and that you know your horses."

"Your
daddy would be the one to know," he replied, pleased with the compliment
from a man he respected. "He takes good care of his animals and runs a
fine ranch."

Charmaine
giggled as though he'd complimented
her.
He
couldn't help but smile at her obvious flirtation.

Annie,
with cheeks as pink as the peppermint swirls in her ice cream, kept her gaze
lowered to the frosty dish. She wasn't as flattered by his attentions as her
cousin, and he wondered how to rectify that.

"Do
you still live on your Uncle Gilbert's ranch?" Charmaine asked.

"No.
I have a couple of rooms in the back of the livery for now."

"For
now?"

"Eventually I'll build a house."

"In
town?"

The
silly girl was full of questions, while he was still trying to think of
something to say to Annie. "Probably just outside town," he replied
distractedly.

“Do you still have
Wrangler?''

The
softly spoken question came as a surprise. Even Charmaine turned to look at
Annie.

Luke
jumped on her first sign of interest and nodded in reply. "He's at
Gil's."

"Do you still ride
him?"

"Yes.
He's fifteen now, but I still take him out for exercise."

Her
lashes rose. She looked right at him. And smiled. Her gray eyes were filled
with a passionate yearning he wanted to fulfil. If only he knew how. If only
her family didn't think of him as the scourge of the earth.

Maybe
he hadn't been born under the same affluent circumstances as the Sweetwaters,
but he'd worked long and hard to save and start his own business. As soon as he
rebuilt his savings, he would build a house—a home. One he could bring a wife
to.

But
money was only a secondary reason for her family to scorn him. He'd lost their
favor the day he'd taken their little girl for a ride.

He had never decided if it
had been worth it or not.

She
didn't say she'd like to see his horse—or that she'd like to ride him again.
Her disturbing eyes said the words for her. She lowered her lids as if to hide
the longing reflected in their depths.

"I
could bring him out to your cousin's," he offered.

Annie
blanched at his suggestion. "Oh, no, you mustn't!"

"Wouldn't
you like to see him?"

"Yes,
but, I couldn't—I mean, you shouldn't— well, it's just not possible."

Annie folded her hands in
her lap and looked down at them. She couldn't bear for him to endure any more
harm because of her. That one time had been enough to give her nightmares for
years. "No," she affirmed, with a certain shake of her head.

Luke's name had been an
unmentionable profanity in her home for as long as she could remember. She
didn't want to imagine what would happen if her family discovered she'd
encouraged him.

The last bites of ice cream
sat melting in the bottom of her bowl. Annie didn't look up to see Luke's expression.

After
an awkward stretch of silence, Charmaine piped up, "Will you be at Lizzy
and Guy's wedding, Mr. Carpenter?"

"I
wouldn't miss the event of the season," he replied, his tone still
good-natured. “We're having a little prewedding celebration at the Red Garter
tonight, as a matter of fact."

"What
do gentlemen do on those occasions, anyway?" she asked, curiously.

"Would
your mother want you to know?" he asked.

Annie
couldn't help looking up to catch the mischievous lift of his ebony brow.

"Probably not,"
Charmaine said with a matching grin. "Tell me anyway."

“We drink whiskey and smoke
cigars and tease the groom mercilessly."

"That doesn't sound
like much fun." Charmaine's forehead creased.

"I'd say it's as much
fun as sipping punch and giving feminine presents is for you ladies."

"Now, that's a lot of
fun."

"It
wouldn't be fun for the men unless you spiked the punch and passed out
stogies."

Charmaine
laughed and Annie couldn't help joining her at the thought of their prissy
girlfriends smoking smelly cigars.

"I'd
better see you on your way now," Luke said, standing. "I promised
that you'd be home in time to help with the meal."

"This
was a delightful idea," Charmaine said. "Thank you for the
invitation."

"My pleasure."

Annie
made herself speak, but she kept her eyes averted. "Yes, Mr. Carpenter,
thank you."

"You're
welcome, Miss Sweetwater." He paid their bill, then took charge of her
chair, wheeling her out the door.

She
focused all her attention on not thinking that he'd be lifting her
again—holding her close against his chest. She stood and took a step to hang on
to the corner of the wagon while he helped Charmaine up to the seat.

"You're
standing!" he said, returning to her. The surprise in his voice
embarrassed her.

"I
can stand," she replied.

He
remained a few feet away. "Can you walk?"

She
lifted her chin. "Yes."

"Well,
come over here to me then." He reached a hand toward her.

His
words froze her to the spot. Face burning, she shook her head. "Charmaine
will help me up if you don't want to."

"I
didn't say I didn't want to." Stepping forward, he swept her up so
quickly, her breath caught. "I just wanted to see you walk."

"I'm not a side
show," she said, bristling.

He
climbed into the back of the wagon and knelt to lower her to the blankets.
Without standing back up, he knelt before her, reaching out to catch her chin
on his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I'm a friend, remember?"

Lord,
those eyes were blue. And filled with compassion. She hated his pity. "My
friends don't ask me to humiliate myself."

"Is that what I
did?"

She nodded best she could
with him holding her chin.

"I'm sorry then. I
would never hurt you, Annie."

He
wouldn't. Of that she was certain. And he was a friend—or he had been—for a
wonderful fleeting afternoon long ago. "I know."

He
released her and sat back on his haunches. "See you at the wedding."

She
lowered her gaze to her gloved hands in her lap and nodded.

He
jumped down from the tailgate, raised and latched it. "Afternoon, Miss
Renlow," he called to Charmaine.

"Bye!" she
called. "Thank you for the ice cream!"

At her urging, the horse
pulled them away.

"Why
are you so prickly around him, Annie?" she called over her shoulder.

Annie
moved to sit behind her cousin. "I wasn't prickly."

"You were almost
rude."

"I was not."

"Were so."

“You know how my parents
feel about him.''

"And I don't know why.
He's charming."

"I
know
you
think so. You're going to
have bruises on your cheeks from pinching them every time he looked away. And
where did that dreadful accent come from? You forgot it part of the time."

Charmaine
groaned. "He probably thinks I'm an idiot."

"He wouldn't think
that."

"No,
he wouldn't, would he? We'll see him again at Lizzy's wedding—and at the
reception. Maybe he'll ask me to dance!"

Annie's
heart fluttered, then sank at the thought of seeing him again—of watching him
dance with Charmaine. She cast the hurt firmly aside. Annie loved her cousin.
Charmaine was a lovely young girl, and she deserved someone nice—someone
handsome and thoughtful. As much as it disturbed her to think it, Luke and
Charmaine would make a lovely couple. Both were strikingly attractive, both
graceful and energetic and good with people.

She had no right to feel
possessive about Luke Carpenter. Just because he'd been kind to her on more
than one occasion didn't mean anything. Quite likely, he felt sorry for her.

And that thought broke her
heart.

"Annie,"
Mildred Sweetwater said in her most discouraging tone.

Two
weeks had passed and Annie was standing before her dressing table, a dozen
ribbons scattered across the top, searching for just the right shade of blue.

"Oh,
Mama! I need your help with some of these buttons." She turned and glanced
over her shoulder at her lower back in the mirror.

"Your
dressing table is made so you don't have to be bothered with getting out of your
chair," her mother said, gliding forward.

"I
can't do things from that chair," Annie complained. "And no one can
see me in my own room."

“Make
certain you stay seated throughout the wedding and the reception," her
mother admonished her.

Annie
sighed heavily at her reflection. "I always do."

Her
mother buttoned her dress and kissed her cheek. "You're my good
girl."

Annie
handed her the ribbon she'd selected and seated herself in her chair.

Her
mother wound the length of satin through the curls Annie had artfully arranged.
She found a lap robe that matched Annie's periwinkle blue dress and draped it
over her knees.

Annie looked at the Persian
blanket with disappointment. "It hides half of my dress."

"It
keeps you warm as well as covers the outline of your limbs. Don't be obtuse,
Annie."

"It's May, Mama."

"May evenings are
cool."

"Then
let's take it along and save it for evening." Annie folded the robe and
handed it to her mother, then readjusted her skirts.

With
a sound of exasperation, her mother tucked the blanket under her arm and pushed
Annie's chair from the room.

"You
look lovely, my dear," Eldon Sweetwater said to his wife as she pushed
Annie's chair down the ramp beside the front steps. Dressed in a dark-brown
serge suit and a starched white shirt, he came forward to assist. “And Annie,
you're the prettiest little girl a father could ever have."

"Thank
you, Daddy."

He
lifted her from her chair to the rear seat of their carriage, where she caught
her weight with her hands and arms and swung herself onto the upholstery. It
was a well-rehearsed routine, one with which they were all accustomed. Her
chair took up space beside her, and her mother sat on the front seat with her
father.

Side
curtains enclosed the vehicle and blocked much of the view, but if she
complained, she would be told that they prevented the wind and weather from
making her ill, so she peered out the flaps at the scenery and appreciated the
much-awaited outing.

The
church had been decorated with pink azaleas and delicate baby's breath. Wide
bows of gauzy white tulle draped the altar and the end of each wooden pew, and
Annie smiled with satisfaction over the hours of preparation in which she'd
taken part.

Charmaine
located her and bent to give her a hug. "Isn't everything beautiful?"
Her pretty face flushed with excitement and yearning. “Come this way, Uncle
Eldon, Mama and Papa are already seated and we saved room for you. Annie, your
chair can go on the end by the wall."