Sweet Annie

by Cheryl St. John

  "Have you told Gil...about us, I mean?"

  He shook his head.

  "Oh."

  "But I think he suspects something. A single man getting a house ready is pretty suspicious."

  "So," she glanced around, wishing she could see better. "This is the...sitting room?"

  “The kitchen is the other end down there—all one long room really."

  The space seemed adequate. Another doorway led to a separate room. "The bedroom?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Annie released his hand and stood in the center of the wooden floor, wrapping her arms around herself. This would be her home soon. She would live here with Luke. They could be alone together, have all the time they wanted to talk and kiss and whatever else they pleased. "No one will monitor my time or my activities here. No one will tell me what I can and cannot do in this house of ours. Oh, it's almost too good to be true."

  "It's more than that," he said softly from beside her. "Isn't it?"

  She caught his hands. "Of course it is! Oh, yes, Luke, so much more. I'm sorry I sounded selfish just then. I'm excited about us being together. I can't wait until we don't have to leave each other and go our separate ways at night."

  Luke caught her against him and hugged her fiercely. Her enthusiasm buoyed his spirits for another week of dawn to dusk work. She was worth every minute, every hour and every day and every aching muscle. He didn't ever want to disappoint her. She deserved so much happiness and love and he wanted to give it to her.

  Every swing of the hammer, every stone and nail and peg was one step closer to them being together. He'd worked his whole life toward this goal, though he'd never recognized it until lately. School, ranching, learning his trade, those had all been steps toward win­ning Annie. Beneath his hands and in his arms she seemed so feminine and fragile. But so real, finally.

  He enjoyed the scent of her hair, the glide of her silky dress against his thighs, the sound of her sigh against his heart. Out of all the men who could have ridden into her life and received her favor, he'd been the one she'd wanted. He would do anything for her, anything to please her, anything to see her smile, hear her laugh, win her kiss.

  Bending his knees, he dipped to scoop her into his arms. Beneath the canopy of stars, he spun in a circle, her skirt billowing, her laughter floating toward the mountains. He revolved until it seemed the heavens smeared into streaks of light and Annie placed her head on his chest.

  Sinking to the floorboards on his knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck while the world continued to spin, slowing, slowing.

  "Thank you, Luke," she whispered.

  "Thank you, Annie."

  "Let's do this again on our wedding night. And on every anniversary for the rest of our lives. Let's be just this happy."

  "Okay," he promised.

  She lifted her head. "Maybe you'll get tired of car­rying me."

  "Never," he denied.

  "Maybe I'll grow fat and you'll hurt yourself."

  "Look how big I am," he said. "Look how tiny you are. I could carry two of you."

  She placed her palm along his cheek. "I'm gonna hold you to that promise."

  "You do that."

  In the weeks until the Fourth of July party, Annie only saw Luke on two occasions. Once when her par­ents rented a rig and took her for a Sunday ride, and the other a night like the last, where she met him and he showed her the progress on their house.

  "I should be doing something to help," she'd told him.

  "You're giving me the strength," he'd assured her. "Besides, there will be plenty to do when it's finished and needs a woman's touch."

  A woman's touch, he'd said, and she'd held that close to her heart since. The only man who'd ever seen her as a woman, and he was the man her parents de­spised.

  She'd helped the girls with their hay wagon float and the decorations for the party, but when time came for the parade and for the girls to perch atop the crepe paper flowers and ride through town, she asked Char­maine to push her to the boardwalk and go on without her.

  "Not a chance," her cousin refused. "In fact, look at what the girls came up with!"

  Doneta Parker and Mary Chancelor held out an apron of red, white and blue felt roses. "It's for you, Annie," they chorused. "You have the place of honor on our float."

  Annie'd never ridden on the float before. She'd al­ways watched and waved from the side of the street as the floats passed. "You're sure?"

  "Positive. Up you go!"

  She took Charmaine's and Mary's hands and climbed the stack of crates to the back of the bed, which no longer resembled a hay wagon, but a flut­tering mass of vivid crepe paper.

  She took her seat where instructed. The other girls, chattering and checking their hair and gloves, seated themselves all around her.

  The volunteer fire department's three-piece band sounded more like they were warming up than playing a patriotic tune, but they energetically led the gaily decorated procession toward the main street and through town.

  Ahead, the floats were cheered by townspeople along the sides of the street, and the girls' anticipation heightened. Annie's heart fluttered nervously, though she was having a grand time. A small black dog barked at the wagon ahead of theirs and a man in a hat picked it up and placed it in an empty flower pot in front of Miss Marples' Ice Cream Emporium.

  Annie laughed at the sight, and then their float came into view of the crowd. The onlookers cheered and clapped and Annie waved as hard as the schoolgirls.

  She scanned the crowd, seeking one shiny black head and devilish smile, and after straining to find him, finally recognized the smile, but his hair was hidden beneath a straw hat. Grinning, Annie waved and blew a kiss. He caught it and pressed it to his heart.

  The float had moved several feet forward, and An­nie let go of the image she'd been seeking and the next person she spotted was Burdy. Will sat on his shoulders, waving like mad, so she waved back. Burdy, however, scowled as dark as a thundercloud. From his side, Diana cast him a wary glance.

  Beside her brother's family in the crowd stood her parents, her mother in a cream-colored silk dress and white gloves, her father in a lightweight suit and tie.

  Her mother brought her hand to her mouth and flut­tered like a cattail in a stiff wind. Eldon immediately reached to support his wife, his angry eyes never leav­ing Annie.

  Had they seen her wave at Luke? Had they seen the kiss she'd blown and his reaction? Would Burdy stomp through the crowd and wallop him? She could say she'd been waving at one of the children—or Lizzy's little sisters, yes, that was it.

  A sick sensation rolled in her stomach.

  The parade had another few blocks to travel, so she pasted on a smile and endured the ride, waving ab­sently when Charmaine pointed out Uncle Mort and Aunt Vera.

  The wagons came to a halt in an open lot at the east end of town, and a few owners came to get their rigs and horses.

  "This one goes back to the livery," a woman from the church Ladies' League's float called. "You girls need a ride back?"

  The girls swept Annie along with them, and as long as Charmaine stayed with her, Annie didn't mind. Luke had returned to the livery and met the returning crowd, leading the rigs inside, unhitching horses and turning them into the corral beside the building.

  He stayed busy and Annie didn't dare approach him in public, so she took a seat beside her cousin on a bench inside the stable. The others left a few at a time, obviously not thinking that Annie's chair had been left behind at the start of the parade and she would have no way back without help.

  Annie hadn't thought of it herself, she'd been so caught up in the excitement of the moment.

  "Something wrong?" Charmaine asked.

  She shook her head, not wanting to express her worry.

  "The Ladies' League's float was beautiful, wasn't it? I hope ours wins, though. We worked harder and longer, we deserve to win."

  After several minutes of Charmaine's chatter, Luke appeared, the straw hat
shading his eyes.

  “You ladies need a ride back now?''

  "Why, yes," Charmaine said, jumping up. "Can we ride one of your horses?"

  "Charmaine, Mama and Papa would have a fit of apoplexy if I came riding down the street on a horse!"

  "Oh." She looked down. "I forgot. Sorry."

  “The choir just returned the buggy they borrowed and it's cleared off, so I'll take you in that," Luke offered.

  "Okay." Charmaine walked beside Annie out into the sunlight.

  "That's sure a pretty dress," Luke said.

  "I made it myself," Annie said proudly. "Well, Aunt Vera helped, but I did most of it alone."

  “The color makes your eyes as green as new spring grass," he said quietly, and she blushed.

  Luke helped them both into the back seat of the buggy and climbed on the front seat to guide the horse. Annie recognized the vehicle as one of the finer rigs her father sometimes rented.

  "You must have made a lot today, renting all these rigs," Charmaine said.

  "No, I loaned them."

  "For free?"

  "Yes, it was for the town's celebration, after all."

  Charmaine glanced at Annie and raised a brow.

  "That was kind of you," Annie said.

  "Where we headed?" he asked. The streets were filled with people and makeshift stands selling fudge and popcorn balls and lemonade.

  "Annie's chair is at the school where we started," Charmaine replied.

  The closer they came to the school, the harder An­nie's heart thudded. And there, standing in the side-yard as Luke pulled the buggy to a stop, was Annie's family.

  Chapter Nine

  "Oh, dear," Annie gasped.

  "It's all right," Charmaine said. "They saw me. They saw me smile and blow him a kiss."

  "Easy, Annie," Luke said over his shoulder. "Nothing's going to happen that we can't handle."

  Ignoring his assurance, she wobbled to her feet and started down the carriage steps.

  Burdell rushed toward her. "What are you doing? Wait for help!"

  "Annie!" her mother said, hurrying forward. "What has gotten into you, child?" She stared agape at her daughter. "And where did you get that dress? You left before I could see you this morning."

  "He hasn't done anything!" Annie said, rushing to get the words out before trouble started.

  “It was me who talked Annie into joining us on the float, Aunt Mildred," Charmaine said, taking the blame. "None of us thought ahead to how we'd get her back to her chair, and Mr. Carpenter was kind enough to give us a ride in his buggy."

  Eldon moved forward with Annie's chair. Burdell plucked Annie from the step of the buggy and carried her toward her seat. Diana stood nearby with Will in tow and gave Annie an apologetic shrug.

  "Is that correct?" her father asked Annie.

  "Yes," she replied quickly. "But it wasn't Char­maine's fault. In all the years I was tutored I some­times got to help on the school float, but I never got to ride on it. I wanted to, Daddy. It was my decision."

  "You could have fallen and been badly hurt," her mother scolded. "I was terrified when I saw you up there. Where's your regard for your parents?"

  Diana stepped forward then, just as Luke descended. “Thank you for seeing her safely back here, Mr. Car­penter." She extended a gloved hand and Luke took it briefly. "I know her parents appreciate your atten­tion to their daughter's safety. And I'm sure you went out of your way to bring her here."

  "My pleasure, ma'am," he returned politely.

  After that, there really wasn't much Burdy or her father could say about Luke bringing Annie home. Charmaine and Diana had made it look like he'd done them a favor. And he had. Suddenly they were obli­gated to the man they'd detested for so many years.

  "Yes, thank you, Mr. Carpenter," Annie added and Charmaine murmured her thanks as well.

  Luke tugged the brim of his straw hat politely and turned to leave.

  "You haven't thanked the man," Diana whispered to her husband and father-in-law.

  Annie cringed. It had been enough that they hadn't beaten him flat, couldn't Diana leave well enough alone?

  Seated again, Luke shook the reins over the horse's back and the buggy pulled away from the schoolyard.

  "We should take her home," Mildred said to her husband.

  Her father turned toward her. “Do you want to go home, Annie?"

  She almost fell out of her chair.

  Her mother placed her hand on her hip and glared at him.

  He'd never before asked what Annie wanted. She didn't care why he had this time, she just knew she wasn't going to let the opportunity to express her choice pass. "No. I want to see the contests and the displays and watch the dancing tonight."

  "Very well," he said. "But you'll inform us if you get tired."

  She nodded. "I will."

  "Eldon," her mother said in a disapproving tone.

  Charmaine shared a look of astonishment with An­nie while Annie's parents had an angrily whispered exchange.

  "Glenda entered her pickles in a competition. I want to go see if she's won a prize yet," Annie said cheerfully.

  "I don't think that's wise," her mother objected.

  "Annie said she'd let us know when she got tired," Eldon said. Then, more quietly as he stepped behind her chair and pushed, he added, "And I've never seen her tired yet."

  Annie twisted to look at her father. His face didn't reveal his thoughts, but he gave her a nod and pushed her toward the activities. When no one was watching, he slipped several dollars into her hand.

  Annie had never enjoyed herself more. The only thing that would have given her more pleasure would have been if she could have gotten out of her chair and stood beside the townspeople playing games—or maybe played a few herself. But she'd been allowed to attend, even over her mother's objections, and for that she gave silent thanks.

  A crowd gathered around for the sheriff to announce the winning float, and the Ladies' League won again. "We'll beat 'em next time!" Doneta Parker called to Charmaine and Annie.

  Glenda invited the Sweetwaters to join her family's picnic at noon. Mildred declined, but Annie asked to stay. Finally, her father left her in Charmaine's care and the rest of her family moved into the crowd.

  Glenda's daughters were fair-haired darlings, Gwen nine and Gerta seven. They wore simple calico dresses that had seen much wear, but were clean and pressed. Annie thought of the wardrobe in her room filled with frilly dresses she detested and wondered if she could figure out how to use the material to make clothing that would fit them.

  Annie moved to sit on the quilt beside Charmaine and the girls. Glenda served them lunch, and they ate and visited and laughed.

  Glenda's tall, mustached husband, Tim, wasn't the most handsome man Annie'd ever laid eyes on, but he had a genuine smile and a way of making people feel special. His interaction with his wife and daughters touched Annie. She remembered Glenda's tale of how he'd courted her with candy and flowers, and her es­teem for him grew even more now that she'd met him.

  A pair of lanky young fellows joined them as they finished their lunch. Gwen and Gerta immediately pounced on the youngest, and he hugged them good-naturedly, though he blushed.

  "Annie, Charmaine, do you know my brother, Wayne?'' Glenda asked. “Wayne, Miss Renlow is Miss Sweetwater's cousin."

  Annie had never met Wayne, but Charmaine said, "I remember you from school before you graduated. You work on your ranch now?''

  Wayne nodded. "Always did."

  "And this is Wayne's friend, Levi Cutter," Glenda said.

  The young man she introduced removed his hat, bent to take each of their hands and gave Annie and Charmaine knockout smiles. He wore his fair hair a little too long, but it didn't detract from his compelling good looks. His blue eyes sparkled with humor and seemed to hold intimate secrets.

  "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cutter," Annie said po­litely.

  "You pretty ladies save me a dance tonight," he said with a gr
in and a wink, then settled his hat back on his head.

  The comment embarrassed Annie, and she turned her attention to helping Glenda pack away the dishes and silverware.

  The young men wandered back toward the busy street, and Charmaine grabbed Annie's forearm breathlessly. "Isn't he absolutely the handsomest devil?"

  She nodded. "Levi's very nice looking."

  "No, not Levi. Wayne!"

  "Oh—oh, yes, he's handsome, too."

  "Levi is a scoundrel and everyone knows it," Char­maine whispered. "He's ruined more than one girl's reputation. They say he lives on a ranch with a brother who is hideously scarred and never comes to town."

  "Oh."

  "But Glenda's brother is from a nice family, and he hasn't been seen courting anyone. Maybe he'll ask me to dance tonight."

  "I'm sure he will," Annie replied. "You'll be the prettiest girl there." She stood and stretched her legs after being seated on the ground for so long, then sat in her chair and waited for Charmaine to push her back to the festivities.

  They came upon one of the booths set up in the side yard of the church, and admired the prettily embroi­dered items for sale. Charmaine examined a pair of pillowslips with bright peacocks stitched in vivid col­ors and lace crocheted along the hem.

  "That's always a popular design," Mrs. Krenshaw said in her loud library whisper from behind the make­shift counter. "They'd be a nice addition to any young lady's trousseau."

  "You made these?" Charmaine asked.

  Mrs. Krenshaw nodded and turned to answer a ques­tion for a woman standing beside Annie.

  "Aren't they stunning?" Charmaine asked Annie, running her fingers over the embroidered stitches.

  "Yes, they're lovely." She pulled her cousin down close. “I never pictured her sitting and embroidering, did you?"

  Shrugging, Charmaine counted change from the coin bag in her reticule and gave it to the librarian.

  Annie thought the purchase an odd one for her cousin. "What are you going to do with those? Give them to someone?"

  "They're for my hope chest."

  "Oh." Annie's gaze flittered across the items on the linen-covered boards. Things for a young lady's trousseau, Mrs. Krenshaw had said. "Do you have much in your hope chest?''