Sweet Annie

by Cheryl St. John

  Charmaine nodded to the two young ushers and they opened the polished doors. Annie's father secured her hand in the crook of his arm and gave her a reassuring smile.

  He proceeded slowly and Annie raised her chin and took step after step, feeling every critical eye on her awkward advance. Step-limp. Step-limp.

  Luke came into sharp focus, a half-smile slashing his handsome cheek, his blue eyes intent on her ap­proach. From that moment on, no one else mattered, nothing mattered, not even the fact that she would never be graceful, nothing except that from this day forward she would be Luke Carpenter's wife.

  He wore the same proud expression he'd worn the night she'd crossed the dance floor and asked him to teach her to dance. Her heart fluttered crazily at the devotion in his eyes.

  Eldon took her gloved hand, kissed the back, and placed it in Luke's waiting palm, gave the younger man a cautioning glance, then took his place in the first pew beside his wife. Annie's gaze moved from her parents to her almost-husband.

  The rest of the ceremony progressed in a blur of prayers and vows and tears and kisses. Taking Luke's hand, she walked beside him up the aisle to the door and, once outdoors, good-naturedly ducked a shower of rice.

  Bending his knees, he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the social hall. Grateful for the rest, she wrapped her arm around his neck and smiled into his face.

  "We did it, Annie," he said. "We really did it."

  With tears blurring her vision, she nodded, and they shared a moment of silent pleasure. Annie laid her head against his shoulder and sighed.

  He carried her into the building and found her a chair.

  "The musicians are already setting up," she ob­served.

  He crouched before her and took her hand. "You are so beautiful."

  She gazed into his earnest blue eyes. "And your eyes are so blue."

  He grinned. "I reckon we'll have beautiful blue-eyed children, won't we?"

  Her heart missed a beat. She glanced around at the women busily uncovering food and arranging cups and silverware, at the pile of gifts on a lace-draped table. "All this is really happening to me—lame Annie Sweetwater. I had a wedding and a cake and I have a husband just like any normal girl."

  Luke raised her hand and his thumb touched the gold ring he'd placed on her finger.

  Casting her attention back to the man before her, she corrected her words: "Better than any normal girl—because I've married the handsomest, kindest, bluest-eyed man in all of Copper Creek."

  He grinned and she touched his cheek.

  "Come on, you have lots of time for that," Char­maine called. "You two have to fill your plates first."

  "I'll get yours," Luke said, releasing her hand and standing.

  While Luke was gone Burdell approached. He took a seat beside her and watched Luke at the food table. After a minute he said, “If he ever hurts you—''

  "He would never hurt me, Burdy."

  "I'm just telling you. If he ever does, you come to me. I'll kill him."

  Remembering who had pounded who during their last scuffle, Annie held back a smile. "I would come to you," she said somberly.

  "Okay." He placed his hands on his knees.

  "Okay," Annie agreed.

  Burdell sat a moment longer, then got up and strode away.

  Later, when the newlyweds opened gifts, Annie ex­claimed over the generosity of her neighbors. Of course her father was the local banker and she had to wonder how much effect that had on people's pocketbooks.

  Glenda and her girls had sewn aprons and dishtow-els. The Renlows gave them a mantel clock, and Bur­dell and Diana bestowed a set of silverware that Annie knew had been of Diana's choosing. Among the other gifts were blankets and barrels, skillets and dishes, fabric and a rocking chair. Mrs. Krenshaw gave them books, and Lizzy and Guy had purchased them a painted glass lamp.

  Annie was overwhelmed at the amount of house­hold items they now had to take to their little house. From time to time she thought about leaving the party tonight and going to that new house with her new husband, and a wave of nerves would make her hands cold.

  A tall, handsome man with black hair graying at the temples shook Luke's hand and then gave him a hug, clapping him on the back.

  "Annie, this is my Uncle Gil," Luke told her, step­ping back.

  "Gilbert Chapman," his uncle said with a friendly nod.

  Annie extended her hand. "I'm pleased to officially meet you. I do remember seeing you the day you came to my birthday party."

  "None of us will ever forget that day, will we?" he said with a wry grin that reminded Annie of Luke's devastating smile.

  "I certainly never forgot," Annie said. "Luke takes after you. Were you his father's brother?"

  Gil nodded. "He was a few years older. We were close as young'uns, but didn't keep in touch much after we had our own lives. I was sorry about that after he died. But I was glad to have Luke here come to live with me. He was good company for a lot o' years. I guess you're going to find that out."

  What a likable man. No wonder Luke thought so highly of him. "I guess I am."

  "I'll bring your present by next week," he told Luke. "I couldn't bring it here today."

  They visited a while longer until Gil spotted some­one he wanted to talk to. She didn't have time to won­der why he couldn't bring their present.

  Annie was truly the belle of the ball that afternoon. Everyone wished her well and spoke to her, and when the dancing began she declined a dozen offers, want­ing to dance only with Luke, who compensated for her lack of agility and made her feel competent.

  "Are you getting tired?" he asked during one of their turns around the floor. "Are your legs holding up?"

  "I'm all right," she assured him, not wanting to hold him back from enjoying their wedding celebra­tion.

  "You know," he said against her hair, "it's cus­tomary for the bride and groom to leave a little early. We can go anytime."

  Glancing over his shoulder, she spotted her mother seated between two other wives, but not participating in their conversation. Mildred's attention was focused unhappily on Annie and Luke. Her ominous predic­tions rang in Annie's head.

  Annie blocked them out and concentrated on Luke's suggestion and her joy over this new life for which she'd been so eager. "I guess I'm a little tired," she told him. "I didn't sleep last night."

  "Let's start saying our goodbyes, then."

  Luke worked them to the edge of the floor and in­conspicuously told a few people they were leaving.

  "Do you want to come back for your presents to­morrow or shall we bring them to you?" Guy Hal-verson asked Luke.

  "Burt's taking care of the livery tomorrow," Luke replied. "I appreciate the offer, if you don't mind."

  "Are you kidding? Lizzy's been dying to see your house."

  Luke shook Guy's hand.

  Annie caught her father's eye and waved. Eldon strode toward her. He and Luke stared at each other, neither of them speaking. Finally Annie stepped for­ward and hugged her father.

  His arms closed around her convulsively. "You were a beautiful bride, Annie," he said, his voice sounding choked.

  She released him, moved back and took Luke's hand, noting that her mother deliberately turned aside and folded a tablecloth.

  Charmaine brought their coats and Annie slipped hers on, but carried Luke's. At the door, he picked her up and carried her to the area where the horses and buggies waited and lifted her to the seat. “Want your coat?"

  He glanced at the sun still high in the sky. "In a minute."

  She arranged her voluminous skirts as he hitched the horse and climbed up, slipping on his coat and urging the horse forward. He stopped at the livery and loaded the trunks and boxes containing Annie's per­sonal items.

  "I told you I didn't have much," she said.

  "And I told you all I wanted was you." He leaned to kiss her nose.

  She pulled her coat around herself, a chill envel­oping the countryside in the s
hade of the mountains. The beauty of the scenery was lost on her this time, as she thought ahead to the afternoon and evening that lay before them.

  It was midafternoon when they reached the house at the bottom of the foothills. Luke carried her to the door and she tamed the knob.

  "Welcome home, Mrs. Carpenter."

  She touched his face, but realized how cold her hand was and pulled it back. He carried her inside and set her down.

  Quickly he moved to the fireplace and lit the kin­dling that had been placed at the ready. Going back out, he made several trips with her belongings, car­rying the heavy trunks into the bedroom. He stopped beside her and bmshed his palms together. "I have to put up the horse and wagon."

  "Go ahead."

  "I'll be right back."

  She nodded and managed a weak smile. "I'm fine."

  He left and she kept her coat on, walking carefully across the bare floor to the empty mantel. They would have a clock, she thought idly. Her gaze drifted to the open door to the bedroom, and she made her way over and peered in.

  A bed with an iron headboard had been placed in the room since she'd last see it. A plain wool blanket covered the mattress. Luke's clothing and hats hung on a few of the pegs. A chest of drawers held a lantern, and a shiny bucket and several towels sat on a stack of crates.

  He'd done all he could to prepare a home for her. None of it was fancy, none of it was anything like her parents' home. But it was theirs. And he'd done it all himself. For her.

  Eyes smarting she turned back to the outer room, hung her coat on a peg inside the door and holding her veil well away, she used a poker to help the fire along. After a few minutes, she added a split log from the stack beside the rock hearth.

  The door opened and closed and the draft sucked the flames and sent sparks up the chimney.

  Luke removed his coat and hung it. "You got the fire going. You should have waited, you might have gotten your dress dirty."

  Annie looked down at the yards and yards of white satin. "I'll never wear it again."

  "Our daughter might."

  There he went, making her blush again.

  He moved to stand before her. "It's a beautiful gown. I still can't believe you made it yourself."

  She glanced away and back.

  "When I saw you walk into church, my heart just leaped inside my chest."

  She laughed nervously. "You were probably won­dering if I was going to trip over the hem and fall headlong down the aisle."

  He raised a hand to touch her, but drew it back. "No, I didn't think that at all." He looked at his hands. "I have to wash up. I brushed down the horse."

  "I don't mind that smell on you, you know."

  "It's a good thing, you're going to smell it a lot." He started a fire in the stove. "You know how to do this?"

  "Glenda showed me."

  Taking a kettle from a back burner, he pumped wa­ter and placed it on the stove. "If you bank the coals, so they're just warm, the water will stay warm in the reservoir. I thought that would be nice for you in the mornings."

  "It will be."

  He removed his dark wool jacket, revealing sus­penders crossed over a white shirt with a day's worth of wrinkles. The cotton stuck to his lean ribs and back where moisture from his body had adhered it.

  He raised his head and gave her a questioning look. "I'm going to take off my shirt and wash. Shall I go in the other room?''

  Goodness no! She didn't want to miss a moment of this. She shook her head slowly.

  His fingers raised to his tie and loosened it, yanking it free of the collar and tossing it over the back of a chair. Next he unbuttoned the top two buttons, but he paused and met her gaze.

  Perhaps he was uncomfortable with her staring at him. "Do you mind if I watch?" she asked.

  He swallowed, but shook his head, and his fingers continued their journey down the line of buttons until he shrugged out of the suspenders, letting them drop to dangle at his thighs. He tugged the hem of his shirt from his trousers. The shirt gaped open. His chest was covered with hair as black as that on his head.

  Annie stared. Her knees trembled. "Do you mind if I sit?"

  "No."

  She folded onto a chair.

  His collar came off separately, and he placed it on the table. With a fluid movement, he tugged one arm from the garment and then the other, and laid the shirt over the chair with his tie.

  He was all muscle and sinew, chest, neck, arms, belly, and she could see now that the ebony hair grew in a triangle shape with the widest area across his chest and the narrowest point arrowing into the waistband of his black trousers.

  His skin glowed in the sunlight from the curtainless window, dark and supple, nothing like her fair white skin with its dusting of freckles.

  Annie swallowed, realizing her throat had gone dry.

  He turned and poured hot water into an enamel ba­sin, pulled a cup and bar of soap from a shelf near the stove and scraped soap off with his razor. Stirring with a brush, he made a lather, and, looking in the small square mirror on the wall, he spread it across his cheek, chin and neck.

  "What are you doing?" She'd never seen anyone wash their face like that.

  "Shaving."

  "Oh." Of course.

  "Didn't you ever see your father or brother shave?" "No."

  His hand lowered. "Maybe it's ungentlemanly of me to do this here—with you watching. Where does your father shave?"

  "I have no idea." But she didn't want him to go somewhere else. "But I like it. Didn't you shave this morning?''

  His hand came up with the brush. “My beard grows fast." He finished lathering, tipped his head back and guided the razor up his neck in even strokes.

  Annie'd never been so captivated, not even by one of the adventure stories she'd read from the library. What a fascination Luke Carpenter was. Without con­scious thought, she stood and moved a little closer, leaning on the back of the chair, his cotton shirt be­neath her fingers, the smell of him bringing moisture back to her mouth.

  From this close, she could see his eyes in the mirror. He met hers. "I can see that fire in your eyes, Annie," he said hoarsely.

  Now he drew the razor down his cheek, across his chin, then down the other cheek and stroked beneath his nose while he made a comical face that gave him access to the whiskers.

  Bending forward, he rinsed the remaining streaks of lather from his face while Annie observed the flexing muscles in his back and shoulders, noted the absorbing manner in which his spine separated the corded mus­cles.

  Picking up the basin, he moved past her, opened the door and returned a moment later with it empty. He poured more water in, and taking a cloth, he soaped it and washed his chest and under his arms.

  Water splashed as he rinsed. He grabbed a towel to dry his face and arms. Straightening, he turned toward her. A damp wave fell over his forehead. Droplets glis­tened in the thick curls on his chest where her attention riveted. Annie reached for a length of toweling.

  Luke lowered his arms.

  Annie took a step forward. He watched her.

  She raised the towel and blotted at the drops on his chest, taking her time, inhaling the scents of soap and man. She wiped his ear, his shoulder, dropped the towel to the floor and stretched a tentative hand to touch the black curls matting his chest, finding them surprisingly soft.

  Annie ran her finger across his collarbone, tested the smoothly shaven skin on his throat, then used her palm to test the skin of his shoulder and biceps. His flesh seemed alive beneath her touch. "You are so beautiful," she whispered.

  He expelled a breath and raised his eyes to the ceil­ing.

  Annie wanted to press her cheek against that chest. She stared at it hard. Embarrassed by her boldness and the odd quaking in her abdomen, she took a step back.

  Luke lowered his gaze. Intense blue heat raked her face and hair, the veil. "You must be uncomfortable after being in that dress all day. Do you need help taking it off?"

  Wa
s he thinking fair was fair—time for her to bare herself to him? Her heart hammered up into her throat. She raised her fingers to the pulse there, found the warm pearls.

  Watching Luke do anything was like watching a ballet or listening to music. His perfect body moved fluidly and gracefully, each motion a synchronized harmony of muscle and flesh.

  She was clumsy and imperfect and would never be called graceful. Luke would never watch her move or see her without her clothes and be able to call her beautiful.

  Annie swallowed humiliating self-doubts, knowing he loved her. Never would she be here if he didn't love her.

  "Yes," she said, finding her voice, but it sounded as though it came from far away. "I need help un­buttoning my dress."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "But it's—" her gaze went to the window "—it's not dark yet."

  "Not yet," he said, puzzling over her words. "Should it be dark?"

  "Well, I just thought, I mean I imagined..."

  The reason for her hesitation dawned on him. "An­nie, we're not gonna do anything at any time that you're not comfortable with. I was only suggesting that you might want to change clothes. If you want to dress in somethin' else until bedtime, that's fine."

  Her gaze lifted, and the fire wasn't gone, but other emotions were crowding it. "Luke," she said.

  He tossed his toweling aside and took her by her upper arms. "Yes?"

  "Could you just kiss me? I'm feeling awkward, but everything feels right when you kiss me."

  He smiled and drew her close. "I'd love to kiss you."

  Her satin dress was cool against his warm skin as he drew her into his arms and lowered his face to hers. Lace and seed pearls pressed against his aroused flesh. He recalled the ludicrous admission when she'd told him he'd be the first. Annie was as pure and innocent as a newborn babe, but a banked fire glowed deep inside, waiting for fuel and air.

  Perhaps it was to his benefit that she'd never been coached in the ways of "womanhood"—that her mother had never expected her to become a wife, be­cause she hadn't been instilled with the foolish ideas of what was ladylike and what wasn't. She'd been thoroughly engrossed by his body and her indulgence aroused him beyond belief. He'd learned already just how sensuous and eager and warm-blooded his new wife could be.