Laurel and Sally both nodded in approval as he spoke. "You're good at math, huh?" asked Sally. "I'm having this problem in my bookkeeping class."
Doug listened carefully to Sally's problem then explained clearly what she needed to know.
"Oh," she said, "I never looked at it that way. Thanks."
Annabeth sat back in her chair, eating quietly, listening to the conversation which wasn't anything remarkable or even that interesting compared to the witty banter that some families must surely enjoy, but it was so different. Normally on holidays, R.J. monopolized the table talk, and usually he was boasting about some plan that he was about to put into effect while Will sat silently glaring, a disapproving look on his face. Tonight everyone was talking, and it all seemed so harmonious. Doug fit right in and she was glad she'd included him.
Later, her father took Annabeth aside and whispered, "About time you found someone like him. You keep this one."
And Ginger managed to corner her in the kitchen and say, her eyes glowing, "What an excellent sense of humor. He laughed at my dinosaur joke, you heard him. And that beard. So sexy!"
Sally said, "He sure is smart. And so warm and friendly. Thank God you dumped that sleazeball."
Jackson said, "Great dinner. I'm stuffed. And Doug is a great guy. He knows every sports statistic there is."
Laurel whispered, "The way he looks at you. Makes me want a boyfriend."
Each time Annabeth paused, thinking about the comments made by her family and wondering why they were so confused. Doug was her friend, just a friend, well a good friend, but a friend. Later when she saw him to the door, she commented, "You made a lot of conquests tonight. Everyone loved you."
Doug wrapped his arms around Annabeth in a long, warm hug, then loosened his grip slightly, still holding her in his arms and said, "It was nice to be part of a family again."
"Yes, you fit right in."
He hugged her one more time, then said, "Thanks so much for inviting me. It really was wonderful." Then he turned to walk through the door.
"You mean you're leaving without propositioning me?" Annabeth laughed.
Swiftly, Doug turned, pulled her tightly to him, and leaned down, his mouth just inches from her own. "Come home with me Annabeth," he whispered, his warm breath making her lips tingle, "I want you now, say yes, come home with me."
Feeling his mouth so close to hers, his arms so strong around her back, Annabeth's head started to swirl, those old feelings rising up inside her, and she leaned in even more tightly, and parted her lips, ready to kiss Doug, who leaned in toward her, tantalizing her, making her want that kiss more than she thought possible. It was an instant, a space of time so brief, a distance between them so infinitesimal, the electricity unbearable, the magnetic pull impossible to resist, until Doug stood back and grinned wickedly at her. "You were going to give in. I'm good!"
Annabeth's eyes opened wide in pretend shock, her blood still moving a bit too fast, but a smile on her face. "Yeah, Doug, keep thinking that. Don't you wish!"
Doug laughed at her protests, then leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I can have you anytime I want."
"Ha!" Her eyes met his with defiance and good natured humor, and she waved as he walked through the door to his car, then turned around and sank back against the closed front door, pressing her hand to her throat and trying to catch her breath. Oh! He was good!
16
"Daddy what were you thinking," whispered Sally to her father as he and Linna walked through the door and into the living room.
"You're plannin' a wedding. She wanted to help. She has great ideas. So much style. You should be glad I brung her."
Not betraying any of her feelings, Annabeth placed on the coffee table a large painted tray containing a carafe of hot fruit punch, some glass mugs, and a platter of cookies. Sally and Jackson sat on the couch, her small hand clenched in his huge one. Next to them sat Linna, holding an enormous three-ring binder of the type used by high school students. In an overstuffed chair, sat R.J., surprisingly sober and dressed in clean clothes. Annabeth sat in a straight chair once she had poured the cranberry-orange punch into the glass mugs.
"Now, don't worry, Daddy, we're not planning anything elaborate," said Sally, looking nervously at each of her parents in turn. It was touching the way Sally always came to her rescue, but surprisingly Annabeth didn't feel so badly to see R.J. or his little girlfriend.
"We just want a simple afternoon wedding," said Jackson.
"Yes, maybe right here in a tent outside, just punch and cake really. Maybe a few hors d'oeuvres. That's really it."
Linna looked around the room, took a breath and smiled, beginning to speak in her usual high-pitched, nasal whine. "I have a lot of wedding information right here." She held up the notebook as both Annabeth's and Sally's eyes widened. "I've wanted a big wedding all my life," she continued, hearing no protests, "And I've been collecting this information since eighth grade."
"We really just want something simple," insisted Sally, "More like a party than some flashy event." Jackson nodded in agreement and squeezed her hand.
"Of course you don't want anything too elaborate. I mean nothing like Di and Charles with all those horses or the quarter-million dollar wedding of Delta Burke and Gerald McRaney." She flipped in the book to a category titled celebrity weddings and showed all present photos and other documentation.
"Something simple," Sally said.
Linna nodded. "But of course you'll want a wedding dress. Every girl wants that." She sighed a poignant sigh then looked down happily at her left hand. On it was a rather large diamond ring and Annabeth wondered if R.J. really had sprung for a diamond that large or was it zirconium. Even zirconium was more than he'd given her….
Sally nodded, reaching into her purse for a clipping of the sort of dress she had in mind, but before she could speak, Linna had turned to the wedding gowns section of her notebook and was busy sharing information. "You have to go to Atlanta or New Orleans you know, though New York would be better. Los Angeles even better. Now look at this gown. The beading is exquisite, don't you think." Nobody in the room flinched, although all but Linna realized she had pronounced exquisite ex-kwis-ITE.
"That's very fancy," said Sally.
Linna nodded, "No not so much. About five thousand I think."
"Dollars?" asked R.J., then he became silent.
"Well, Buzz, a wedding is a once in a lifetime thing. It has to be just right, doesn't it Sal?"
Sally, growing irritated, said, "Just something simple, Lin."
Linna smiled, clearly pleased. She had missed Sally's disdain and mistakenly thought she'd been accepted. There was something kind of poignant about her and it was impossible for Annabeth to hate her. She smiled brightly then continued, "I just know you wouldn't be caught dead in one of those tacky five-hundred dollar wedding gowns at the mall."
"Actually I was thinking of something like this, Lin, if you don't think it's too tacky." Sally held up a clipping of a simple gown, tailored and straight, a bit of lace at the throat, no beading.
R.J., in the grandiose manner he used when trying to impress someone, spoke up, "That's a beautiful dress, but why not get somethin' a little better."
Linna beamed on hearing this then looked around her. "After all, you're important people in this town. You live in this beautiful house, practically a historic landmark and all. You can't get married in some crappy gown."
"And me spending more is all right with you, Daddy? I mean you are going to pay for the wedding, right? Mom certainly can't."
Annabeth, still silent, blushed on hearing this.
"You betcha I'm paying. My baby gets married. Just call me Daddy Warbucks," said R.J., smiling at Linna, who returned his grin. Annabeth probably should have felt jealous; it had been a long time since her husband had smiled at her like that, but R.J. and Linna just seemed too comical for jealousy.
"Now, for the food," said Linna. "You can't expect people to come on out to a big
event like this--and you know they will all be in new clothes--so you have to give them a nice meal. Maybe have it catered. Of course in big cities people get married in hotel ballrooms, but we don't do that here."
"Maybe that's because we don't have any hotels with ballrooms," said Jackson.
"A shame isn't it?" asked Linna, oblivious to everything.
"Well, you hire a caterer then. Have a nice buffet." R.J. nodded like the generous dad he had never been. "Whatever you decide is fine with me."
"Remember, Sal, I'm here for you. Whatever you need, just give me a call," offered Linna.
Annabeth watched Linna silently, noting how earnest she was, how she yearned to belong, to be somebody. Linna must make R.J. feel important in a way she never had. What next? Would Linna start talking about how much she wanted to be a grandmother--to Annabeth's grandchildren?
"Don't worry, Mom," said Sally after her father had left, "I'll make sure that Daddy never brings her here again."
"Oh don't worry about it. You just plan a wonderful wedding. Sal." Annabeth broke down then and began laughing, and so did Sally and Jackson.
She had so much on her mind, yet Annabeth was most obsessed with the attic and she couldn't wait to get up there every day. She opened the bottom drawer of the armoire. There, wrapped in tissue paper and gently folded was a baby blanket. Hand crocheted of blue yarn, and trimmed in ecru ribbons, it was in perfect condition. There was not a stain on it, no pulls in the yarn, no sign of use or abuse. Annabeth held the blanket to her face, burying her nose in its softness, taking a deep breath, yearning for one sniff, one olfactory memory of the soft, sweet baby smell that had once been on it, but if it had a scent at all, it was of the special laundry soap used for babies' clothes. She stood for a long while, inhaling the scent of the blanket, feeling the softness against her cheek, a gentle river of tears falling from her eyes and being absorbed into the yarn.
Mother Welner with her arms around me, holding me hugging me, a mother holding me, been so long, three years. "I had three sons, one dead in Vietnam, one gone away, and R.J., no daughters, now I have you." Mother Welner hugging me, looking at me, think she knows about the baby? She'll find out. "I wanted a daughter all my life," Mother Welner, her arm around me, "Someone just like you, pretty, quality, a stabilizing influence."
"My mother died three years ago." So hard to say that without tears in my eyes.
Mother Welner hugging me, "So you need me just as much as I need you." Mother Welner tugging me toward the back of the house, toward her bedroom, Buzz watching and smiling. He thinks we're silly. "R.J., go get us some lemonade," Mother Welner ordering Buzz around and he does what she says. He must want to make a good impression on me. Is that possible?
Mother Welner gently pushing me down on the end of the bed, "Here, sit," and reaching in a drawer at the bottom of her double dresser. A little lap blanket of some sort, looks homemade, so pretty. "My mother-in-law gave me this. She made it herself, for R.J., and now it's for you."
It seems so small for a man. It barely covers my lap, oh I see, it's a baby blanket. Blushing, and she sees my embarrassment. So she knows. I feel like such a slut. Pregnant. Not married. My mom would have died.
Mother Welner taking my hand in hers, watching me, so quiet. "You'd probably never have agreed to marry him if you weren't pregnant. Quality girl like you. Father a lawyer." Blushing. Listening to her talk. "He pretends he's a pilot or he was a pilot, what is it? Named Buzz." Buzz pretending, she's saying, he isn't a pilot. Is his uniform make believe then? "He's a mechanic, works on the planes, for the Air Force, you know don't you?" Mother Welner looking into my eyes.
Stuttering. So confused. Uncomfortable. "I didn't know but I don't care. I really love Buzz--um--R.J.--ma'am."
Mother Welner hugging me, so tight, so long. "I love him too."
Five boxes of junk, hauled down from the attic and piled up for the trash men to take away. Annabeth stood back and nodded. She was getting rid of a ton of crap and it felt so good. She walked into the kitchen and sank down at the table. Her back ached, her arms ached, her feet ached, but Annabeth felt wonderful. All she did was work, and she'd never felt so satisfied. She was never hungry; she rarely ate, instead it was enough to gobble some fruit and race back to whatever work she was doing. Must be adrenaline. She reached for her datebook, noting all the information for shows she'd attended with Becky and for all the shows yet to attend. She was making a lot of progress. And plenty of money. She could live on her own income; that plus what she got from R.J. was more than enough to live just fine. It felt great to be making her own money; someday maybe she wouldn't need money from R.J. at all. But Christmas was coming soon and there wouldn't be many shows after that. Would she still have enough money then?
Reaching for her paints, Annabeth resumed work on her series of cottages. She had done so many already and there were many more in her head. She closed her eyes briefly, envisioning exactly what she intended to paint, then like a slide show, she saw the next painting and the next. It was odd, but she didn't think about knick knacks as much any more; she thought about paintings, about the cottages with all their flowers, but also about other things, homey little pictures, cheerful people, families, things to make you feel good when you looked at them. It was comforting to paint them, the world the way it ought to be, what she didn't have any longer. She dipped the brush into the paint and in broad strokes, outlined the cottage, then the places where flowers would blossom. Then there was the detail to add, to bring it all to life.
Back in the attic the next day, Annabeth removed from the armoire drawer a black teddy and laughingly held it up to herself. It was a size petite, something she had never been, for even if she were thinner, she was never quite that short. It was trimmed in red ribbons, really quite sheer and not at all subtle. Although there are teddies that are glamorous and sensual, this wasn't one of them; this was merely provocative. Annabeth looked in the mirror, the teddy pressed to her body. Imagine wearing that! She had been cleaning out R.J.'s closet when she'd found the thing, not long after he'd begun his route.
What a jumble; dirty clothes, clean clothes; shoes; he's worse than the girls. Look at this--why doesn't he just toss this crap? I've asked him about it a million times. He'd never miss them if I just ditched these old things. I just ironed this shirt and here it is on the bottom of the closet. So careless! There! Better! All the shoes in order, clothes neat again. What's this? Fancy box…hmm…. I shouldn't look maybe. Just a peek. What? Ah look, a teddy. Must be a present. Oh I've spoiled his surprise. Smiling. After all these years. So romantic, even if it is kind of tacky. So see-through! Maybe if the lights were very dim. Let's see. Oh…it's tiny! What size is this? Petite! I've been a fourteen for years. Petite! Imagine trying to squeeze into that! R.J., so cute of him to do this, even if it is the wrong size. Think he just thinks of me as that small or thinks it'll be sexy to see me squeeze into it?
"Annabeth! What are you doing?" R.J. walking into the bedroom suddenly.
Flinging my arms around his neck. "Oh honey, that's so sweet of you! I love it, really, it's beautiful."
R.J. gulping, funny look in his eyes, so uncomfortable I spoiled his surprise. "I'm glad you like it." R.J. patting me on the backside like he always does.
"It's a petite! Did you think I was that tiny?"
R.J. scowling, stammering, looking out the window, back at me, away from me, mumbling, "Damn salesgirl. I told her your size. Lemme take it back."
Blushing shyly, "For a moment I thought you planned it that way--so it's tight and sexy."
R.J. kissing me, pushing me toward the bed, not talking, not answering. Not talking, pushing me down, fast and hard like he always does. Concentrate. Oh there it is, I can do it. Oh there it is. Oh there.
"No man has ever cooked supper for me," said Annabeth to Doug, hours later when they stood together in his kitchen, preparing a meal. "Your house is beautiful. So gracious here right on the water. And what a kitchen."
"I wo
rk too hard and don't cook often, but when I do, I like nice equipment." Doug winked at her, squeezed her hand, then said playfully, "Like you, baby."
Annabeth smiled, but her look was distant. Seeing him observe her, she knew what his next question would be, so she answered it before it was asked, "I've been cleaning out the attic."
"Oh?"
Feeling sad and nostalgic about R.J., yet conflicted; something was there under the surface and Doug could help her unravel it, she was certain, so Annabeth continued, "I found this black teddy."
"Yes?"
"Years ago, I had been cleaning out R.J.'s closet--I used to do it every month or so--he's a terrible slob. Anyway, at the very bottom in a fancy box was this black teddy with red ribbons."
Doug's expression gave nothing away. He listened intently, but made no remark.
"It was a size petite." She laughed. "I was never a petite. Always too fat. And too tall."
"You're not fat at all. In fact I was thinking that you seem to be losing weight."
"Well, I'm no petite. That's like a size four."
"I know."
"Anyway I thought it was so sweet of R.J. I held it up to myself and thought how sweet it was of him to be hiding this gift for me. Things couldn't have been so bad between us. It wasn't even my birthday or an anniversary or anything."
"Hmm," said Doug.
"And he walked in and found me with it. Looked so embarrassed. Then he pushed me down on the bed and made love to me. So fast. He was always so fast."
"And I suppose the sex was great?"
Annabeth nodded. "I concentrate, and it's always fine."
Doug smiled then became serious. "What did he say about the size?"
"Oh he got all flustered then blamed the salesgirl. Probably didn't want me to think he was some sort of bozo who didn't know what sizes mean."
"Could be," said Doug, clearly implying that there was more.
A Change of Heart Page 24