by Sweet Annie
“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 grin 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?”
“Mama has sewn me dish towels and my great aunt Elsbeth made me a quilt before she died. Last year Papa bought me a set of dishes from a catalog.”
This was the first Annie had considered the notion. Lizzy had mentioned her hope chest, too, but Annie hadn’t given it any thought at the time. Now here she was thinking about marrying Luke and she had nothing packed away for married life.
Of course her mother wouldn’t have started or encouraged any such collection for Annie, since she didn’t believe she’d ever be married. Not much hope there. But Annie’s hopes had soared over the past months.
Her interest in the table tripled and she selected two pairs of pillowslips, one embroidered with purple pansies, the other with delicate pale-green ivy, both edged with crocheted lace. She added a set of dish towels and a baby bib to her pile and paid Mrs. Krenshaw.
Charmaine’s brows rose into the middle of her forehead, but she only grinned and carried Annie’s purchases with her own.
> Occasionally throughout the afternoon Annie glimpsed Luke, watching games, tasting pies, drinking beer with the men. Before the sun started to set behind the mountains, people cleared the street to stand along the sides and horse races commenced.
Annie hadn’t expected to see Luke on one of the horses that shot past in a cloud of dust, but when she recognized him, she worked her way to her feet and cheered with the rest of the boisterous crowd.
“Did he win? Did he win?” She jumped up and down in excitement, holding her cousin’s arm for support.
“I can’t see with you bouncing in front of me,” Charmaine replied, and they laughed.
After the races Lizzy and her new husband, Guy Halverson, greeted them. A glowing Lizzy stood beside her young husband with adoration, clinging to his arm and giving him coquettish smiles as they shared talk of the day’s fun.
“That’s enough to make you sick,” Charmaine commented after they’d moved on.
“I thought it was sweet,” Annie replied. “You had that same look on your face when Wayne spoke to you.”
“I did not.”
“Did so. How do you know? I was looking at you. You were making goo-goo eyes at him.”
“You’re making it up.”
“Am not.”
“Take it back or I’ll push you into a pile of horse dung.”
They were still bantering, and Annie had started to edge out of her chair just in case Charmaine got serious, when Luke found them.
“Ladies. Are you having a good time?” He wore the hat again, and Annie wished his eyes weren’t shaded.
“Oh, a wonderful time!” She sat back down in her chair. “Did you win the race? There were too many people in the way for me to see.”
“Sure did. Georgette is the fastest mount I’ve ever owned.”
“Georgette?”
“She’s a mountain pony I bought a couple of summers ago.”
“I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”
“I’ll have to introduce you.”
“Now you have the look,” Charmaine said out the side of her mouth.
Annie ignored her.
“See you at the dance later?” Luke asked.
“We’ll be there,” Annie replied.
He touched the brim of his hat and moved away in a loose-hipped ramble she couldn’t help but admire. His movements were always sure and graceful. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen anyone do such simple things with such riveting ease.
“You still have the look, but now a line of drool is hanging from your lip.”
Annie took a swat at Charmaine’s rump. “It is not!”
“Is so.”
“Push me and hush up, or you’re going to be the one in the pile of poop!”
Annie couldn’t remember a day that she’d had so much fun. She felt almost free, almost unrestricted, almost normal. Almost.
“We don’t go home to change or anything?” she asked Charmaine after their parents found them and they all got into Uncle Mort’s wagon and headed for the barn where the dance was being held.
“It’s not fancy,” Charmaine replied. “Just a simple barn dance.”
That was fine with Annie, because she’d worn her favorite dress.
The same musicians who had played for Lizzy’s wedding were there, as well as a few more. People came from all over the county for this celebration, so the throng packed the Stevensens’ barn and flowed out the doors into the deepening twilight.
Tables of food and drinks had been set up along one wall, but the dense crush of attendees prevented Annie from getting anywhere close. Her mother brought her a plate and a drink, and Annie thanked her.
“I had a wonderful time today,” she told her.
Mildred looked her over, studying her hair and face, the green brocade of her now rumpled skirt. “Where did you get that dress?”
“Aunt Vera showed me how to cut it out and baste it together. I did the sewing myself.” Annie ran a loving hand over the white chiffon bodice, the only ruffle on the entire garment.
“And you’re feeling well?”
Annie returned the perusal. It was almost as if she didn’t know this woman who’d cared for her her entire life. “I’m just fine.”
Mildred raised her chin, but said nothing.
“Did you have a nice day?” Annie asked.
Her mother gave a curt nod.
Glenda’s girls found her.
“Mother, do you know Gwen and Gerta?”
“I didn’t know their names. Mrs. Harper’s daughters, I believe.”
The girls told Annie and her mother about a sack race they’d run in that day. Mildred watched them as they spoke, but didn’t comment. Later, when they moved off into the throng, Annie studied her mother’s face.
“Did you ever feel robbed because you didn’t have a healthy, whole daughter?”
“Of course not,” her mother replied. “Don’t disparage yourself.”
“I’ve thought a thousand times, and berated myself for it, that you liked having me this way so that you could control me. But of course, you would have rather had a normal child. What mother doesn’t want a perfect child?”
Her mother’s features tightened and she brought her hands together over her chest.
“And isn’t that what I’ve always been?” Annie asked. The music had started, but she paid no attention to it. “All these years, submissive, obedient, staying where I’ve been placed and wearing what I’ve been given and not causing any problems? I’ve been the perfect child.”
The idea came as a revelation to Annie. The friction between them had only started when Annie had become dissatisfied with her situation, when her frustration had mounted to an unbearable level and she’d begun expressing it. Now it seemed as though her mother didn’t know how to handle the change—how to relate to the more mature, more opinionated Annie.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been upsetting you, Mother,” she said softly. “It’s not because I don’t love you and Daddy or that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me and how well you’ve taken care of me. It’s just that I’ve grown up. I’ve grown up and you haven’t let me.”
Tears had formed in her mother’s eyes, and she blinked them back, keeping her face composed. A few dancers moved in graceful motions on the sawdusted floor several yards away. “Don’t be foolish. You need us, Annie.”
“I’ll always need you. It just might not be in the same way, or to the same extent.”
Mildred looked at her daughter as though she didn’t recognize her.
Annie handed her the empty plate she’d been holding. “Thank you.”
Her mother accepted it, looked at it for a full minute, then gracefully walked away.
Annie watched the dancers, thinking about all the enjoyment in life she’d missed, reflecting on all the times she’d wanted to do things but had kept silent, not wanting to cause a problem, always keeping peace and being acquiescent.
Dozens of imagined scenes flashed in her mind: School. Dances. Parades. Friends. Horseback rides. Will. Luke.
Luke.
The only time she’d ever defied her parents, ever allowed her own wants and wishes to prevail had been to see Luke. And even then she’d done it in secret. As though it was wrong. Or dirty.
Studying the dancers, she spotted Charmaine with Wayne, and she admired her cousin’s confidence and polish. Glenda danced with Tim, and she looked ten years younger in his arms. He smiled down at his wife, and Annie wondered how she’d missed his handsome smile.
Levi Cutter took a turn around the dance floor with one young lady after another; right now Doneta Parker was his blushing partner. Doneta’s steel-gray-haired father appeared on the side of the floor and watched with stern attention.
Letting her gaze scan the bystanders, Annie found Luke in a cluster of young men, a metal cup in his hand. His piercing blue gaze touched on the dancers, flitted to her, and a moment later one of his friends spoke and he replied, turning his face away.
>
He was as aware of her at all times as she was of him. They craved being together. They were missing out on something new and wonderful—the beginning of forever—because she was a coward. Because she didn’t want to ripple the waters. Because—her heart convulsed—because she feared Burdy doing something harmful to Luke.
He’d told her a dozen times he wasn’t afraid of her brother—never had been, and finally the reason dawned on her. Luke had been raised on a ranch, worked in a livery, pounded iron and trained horses for a living. Burdy sat in a bank. Luke could hold his own in a match with just about anybody, she figured, even Burdy. Especially Burdy. Luke was still younger, but now youth was in his favor.
He feared her parents would send her away.
That would never happen. Not now. Not now that she knew what she wanted and had stopped being afraid to voice it.
Annie thought long and hard, the music thumping through her veins. She made a decision and acted on it before she had second thoughts, before she had time to think about people staring at her, before she pictured the horrified look on her mother’s face.
Pushing herself up with her arms, she moved her feet in front of the rest on her chair and gathered her balance to stand. That part was easy, she’d done it a hundred times lately.
She brushed the wrinkles from her skirt, confident of how she looked in the new green dress, and took a step toward the dance floor. The next step took a little more convincing, but she ignored the doubts in the back of her mind and moved ahead.
One step. Two steps. Slow, awkward. Her gait was a clumsy kind of step-limp, step-limp that was neither graceful nor agile nor any of the things she imagined it could be. But it got her where she was going—and it got her there on her own.
Her mother had made her so self-conscious of what people thought, that she had to fight the urge to turn and look at faces.
The only face she kept in her line of vision was Luke’s. His was the only regard that mattered.