Cheryl St. John - [Copper Creek 01]
Page 21
The women drifted toward the kitchen and dining room, leaving Luke with Annie’s father, uncle, brother and little Will. The child played with a set of carved horses he’d brought from home—a gift that morning. Burdell set up checkers on an inlaid drum table and asked Eldon to play.
Eldon declined, wanting to read a newspaper while the women were gone. Mort declined, as well, closing his eyes where he sat.
Burdell glanced at Luke.
Luke glanced at the board.
Their eyes met.
“Want to play?” Burdell asked finally.
Luke wasn’t sure if he did or not, but he wasn’t going to decline this first measure of truce. “Sure.”
He seated himself across from Annie’s brother and Burdell said, “You move first.”
The game progressed slowly. Burdell played intensely, and Luke didn’t know if the man was always fiercely competitive or if he just couldn’t stand to lose to Luke. Having spent many a winter night playing checkers before a fire with his uncle, Luke held his own. The aromatic cooking smells drifted to them, and Luke’s mouth watered.
He glanced up to find Burdell studying his face. His gaze went to Luke’s mouth and Luke raised a concealing finger to his lip, self-consciously hiding the scar.
“Dinner is served,” Charmaine called from the doorway. Annie stood beside her cousin, and her eyebrows shot up at the checker game underway. “Who’s winning?” she whispered to Luke, when he took her arm.
“Nobody yet,” he replied.
All the food had been placed on the table and the marble-topped buffet, the ham having been sliced before it was carried out, so everyone helped themselves and ate. Luke marveled at the bountiful feast.
“Shall we have our dessert later?” Annie asked.
The men agreed with that suggestion, and Burdell followed Mort and Eldon to the parlor.
Luke stayed to help, scrubbed a roasting pan and a kettle, and went for wood and fresh water as he was accustomed to doing at home, and dried a stack of plates that Annie had washed.
Mildred kept her distance, covertly watching him. Charmaine questioned Luke about the amount of snow in the foothills. Vera handed him a jar of her fudge sauce and asked him to unscrew the lid. Vera was a ranch wife, he realized, accustomed to doing her own cooking and laundry, so perhaps Annie didn’t think it was so awful going without.
Mildred appeared to want to dry and sort her silverware herself, so he excused himself.
“Thank you for the help, Luke!” Vera and Charmaine called. Annie gave him a sweet little wave with her dish towel.
“Does he always help you like that?” Charmaine asked as he left the room.
“You wanna finish that game?” Luke asked Burdell, and the man rose to take his place at the game table.
They both had three kings left when the women returned from the kitchen with fresh coffee.
“Shall we save it for later or call it a draw?” Burdell’s dark gaze bored into Luke’s purposefully.
Luke knew he was referring to more than the checker game. The man’s eyes were serious, his expression intense. “Let’s call it even,” he replied.
Something flickered in Burdell’s eyes. He gave a curt nod and placed the game pieces back to their original starting positions.
An old score had been settled here, without so many words, without apology or accusation. Luke thought of the baby, frustrated that his and Annie’s excitement had to be dulled by their fear of this family’s reaction. He was averse to opening any new wounds right away.
“Can we open presents now?” Annie asked, and she and Charmaine gave each other wide-eyed looks of excitement. He discovered quickly that Annie’s eagerness was over the gifts they’d purchased and that she’d made for her family rather than expectation of what she would receive.
Luke remained astonished that she’d turned out so many handsomely made garments in such short time. Her father opened his gift and examined the shirt she’d sewn for him.
“This is a finely tailored shirt,” he said. “Did you find someone out East to make it?”
“I made it myself, Daddy,” she told him.
“You what?” He looked at it again.
“I made it myself.”
Speechless, he turned it over, examined the cuffs and the collar and the exquisite stitches. “Why didn’t I know you could do this?”
“I guess I never had the opportunity before. I’ve always done needlepoint, but never had a chance to sew. It comes easily for me. Besides, it’s fun.”
“It’s an extraordinary gift,” her father said.
Annie’s face glowed with his simple praise. Her eyes were shining when she glanced at Luke. He gave her a smile and offered Eldon an appreciative glance. Could the man possibly know how much his approval meant to his daughter?
For Vera she’d chosen a bottle of perfume, for Charmaine a pair of gloves with pearls and lace sewn across the knuckles. Mort received a horse book Luke had selected.
Annie had made Burdell a vest and Diana a lace-edged pillow as well as a baby blanket. They’d chosen a wooden train pull-toy for Will, and he dragged it across the floor making choo-chooing noises.
Mildred watched the interaction with mild interest, the package Annie had handed her still on her lap.
“You haven’t opened yours, Aunt Mildred,” Charmaine said.
Annie cast her mother an openly hopeful look, and Luke took a deep breath.
Annie’s mother steadied the heavy gift on her lap. Expressionlessly, she untied the silver bow and let the paper fall back, exposing a flat wooden hinged box.
Unfastening the catch on the front, she raised the lid. Inside lay two rows of small tubes and an array of long slender brushes.
Annie handed her something she’d hidden behind the divan. “These, too, Mother.” She lifted brown paper away and showed Mildred the blank canvases.
“A paint set,” Charmaine said, and glanced at Annie.
“Your aunt used to paint years ago,” Mort told Charmaine.
Annie’s mother looked up, her eyes dark and unreadable.
“Do you like it, Mother?” Annie asked. Her vulnerability tore at Luke’s heart.
“Why did you buy this?” Mildred asked. “Where did you get the money?”
“Well, I worked for the money,” Annie explained, as if the fact should have been obvious, and as if the question in itself wasn’t rude.
“Worked for it?” Her mother arched one eyebrow.
“Yes, I—I’ve been sewing. For the ladies in town. I have a lady in Fort Parker now, too.”
“When you mentioned sewing, I thought you meant lady’s work. Not hiring yourself out as a common seamstress.”
“There’s nothing shameful about honest work,” Luke said. “I’m proud of Annie’s sewing.”
Annie tried to change the subject by answering her mother’s other question. “I bought supplies for you because you told me you liked to paint at one time. I thought you would like to try it again.”
Mildred closed the wooden lid. “I’m not living in a fantasy world, Annie. I have learned to accept my life the way it is, and not to foolishly pine for things that cannot be.”
Her words brought silence to the room. No one seemed to move or breathe.
“I don’t see why you can’t still paint,” Annie said in a cajoling voice. “Just because you haven’t done it for a while, doesn’t mean you can’t start again.”
“A person needs tutoring to be any good,” she said. “Techniques must be learned.”
Annie’s father had grown still. He studied his wife and daughter with a pained expression.
“Well, I think you could still try it for fun,” Annie said.
“Not everyone’s life revolves around fun,” Mildred countered, her words obviously hurting Annie. “Some of us take our responsibilities seriously.”
Annie’s once gay smile had already faded. She turned luminous eyes to her father, who looked away, and then toward Luke.
“I’m very impressed with your sewing skills,” Charmaine added.
Annie gave her a halfhearted smile.
“There are more gifts to open,” Luke said, trying to sound cheerful, and wishing instead he could stuff a wool sock in Mildred Sweetwater’s mouth and give her a good shake. “Annie hasn’t opened hers.”
Annie opened gloves and perfume and a tea set and books. Luke received a pipe and tobacco from the Renlows, a belt and handkerchiefs from Diana and Burdell. Eldon had purchased them an oval Florentine design gold-framed mirror. Burdell and Diana got one just like it.
Charmaine gave Luke and Annie an unusual dinner-plate-size round picture of two horse heads in a circular ebony frame. “I thought you’d like something for your mantel, and the horses made me think of you.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” Luke told her. “It will look perfect on the mantel.”
Annie hugged her cousin.
“And it’s a reminder,” he heard Charmaine tell her softly, “that the next too-good-to-be-true man is mine.”
Eldon made a big production over Annie’s pies next, as though he wanted to make up for her mother’s cold responses.
They sat about with full stomachs, the scents of coffee and cinnamon and evergreen in the air, and Luke brought up the subject he and Annie had agreed to share this day. Might as well get it out and deal with it. “Annie and I have something exciting to tell you,” he said.
Heads turned their way.
“Do you want to?” he asked her. She was seated on the upholstered footstool in front of him.
Her eyes let him know she was still uncertain. She seemed to think a moment before she nodded and reached back for his hand.
He tried to reassure her with a firm, but gentle grasp.
Without preamble, she spoke the words. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Poignant silence prevailed.
“We’re incredibly happy, and we want this more than anything,” she rushed on. “I’ve been to the doctor and he says there’s nothing to prevent me from having a healthy child.”
Mildred’s hand came up to cover her mouth.
“What doctor did you see?” her father asked, finally speaking out.
“Dr. Martin in town.”
“Perhaps you should see a doctor back East—” he began.
“Dr. Martin has always been perfectly capable of caring for me,” Diana spoke up. “He delivered Will and he’s going to deliver this baby.” She placed a hand on her slightly protruding belly.
“Your babies have always been normal,” Mildred interrupted. “This is Annie’s baby!”
Annie’s whole body jerked. “My baby is normal, too!” she cried, sitting up straight and facing her mother. “Don’t you say such a cruel thing! Don’t you dare spoil this, too!”
Luke leaned forward and placed his arm around Annie’s shoulder. She trembled with obvious hurt and anger. “It’s all right, Annie, my sweet,” he said softly against her hair to calm her.
“Mildred, there’s no cause for upsetting Annie,” Eldon said logically.
Will, having heard the voices, came to stand at his father’s knee. “Nanny cry?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with concern.
“Nannie’s just fine,” Burdell told his son and pulled him onto his lap. “Nannie’s going to give you a cousin to play with.”
Annie’s head turned toward her brother, and Luke felt the tension ease from her body. Burdell’s gaze went from Annie’s to Luke’s and Luke silently thanked him for this change of heart and support.
Diana touched her husband’s arm as though he’d justified her belief in him.
Mildred stood, kicking aside the paint box, straightened her silk skirts and her spine and left the room with her chin high.
The tension seemed to leave with her, especially now that Burdell had become an ally of sorts. Luke wouldn’t bet money that the man would spit on him if he caught fire, but at least he’d shown some mercy toward his sister’s feelings, and for that Luke was grateful.
Charmaine moved over to Annie and Luke released her so that the two could embrace. Annie surely needed comfort and assurance from the women in her family now more than ever. He was her husband and he would do everything he could to make her happy and protect her, but she needed her family, too.
Charmaine touched Annie’s cheek and gave her a watery smile, amazing Luke at the tenderness and love the two shared. He’d never seen a similar display of affection, and had to wonder how Annie’s mother could hold herself apart from people who had so much love to give. Since he didn’t have much family, he was thankful now that the Renlows would be a good example for his child.
After several minutes, Charmaine got up and helped Diana clear away wrapping and dishes. Burdell knelt in front of Annie. Luke kept his face hidden behind Annie’s shoulder, so as not to interfere.
“Your baby is just fine, Annie. We all know that,” he said to his sister, his voice softer than Luke had ever heard it. “You will be a wonderful mother. Remember, this is all new, and sometimes new things take some getting used to. I’m seeing a whole different person than the Annie I knew.”
“It’s still me, Burdy,” she said. “Still the same Annie. But I’ve been able to grow up and live—really live for the first time. Why can’t Mother accept that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she thinks you don’t need her any more. Maybe she’s jealous of your new life without her. You were her whole life for a lot of years.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But why can’t she see that I don’t want a life without her? She’s the one closing me out.”
“I don’t know,” he said again, and Luke understood his inadequacy to come up with an answer for Annie when she asked those questions that ripped into a man’s heart. Annie was still the apple of this family’s eye.
Burdell got up, meeting Luke’s eyes in a brief exchange, then left the room.
Eldon and Mort had taken seats at the checkerboard, and Will napped on the divan.
“I want to go now,” Annie said, turning to face Luke.
He gave her his most encouraging smile. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I just want to go home.”
“I’ll go get the buggy. I’ll need to feed and water the horses, so it will take me a while. You’ll be all right?”
“I’ll watch their game until you come back. They never call a draw.”
Mildred had gone to her room without returning, so Annie hugged and kissed and thanked the rest of her family. Her father put on his coat and carried her out to the buggy and Luke, understanding his need to take care of his daughter once in a while, trudged behind.
“Thank you for the shirt, Annie,” he told her, waving from the curb.
“Thank you for the mirror, Daddy!” she called.
Luke prodded the horse forward.
She snuggled against his side, and he wrapped his arm around her for warmth and security. “You sure impressed them with your sewing,” he said.
“Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”
“Their little Annie can make shirts and pies…and a baby. No wonder they need some time to get used to things.”
She chuckled. “Let’s stop by your Uncle Gil’s. I hope his shirt fits him.”
Gil’s ranch house was obviously a man’s domain, furnished for practicality alone. Annie had saved a pie for him, and he thanked her. His astonishment over the shirt she’d made him was a pleasure, and he congratulated them on the news about the baby.
“I don’t have any children, so some little Carpenters are mighty welcome around here,” he told Annie.
Annie was glad they’d stopped, but eager to get home, so she was grateful when Luke made their goodbyes and helped her into the buggy.
He carried her into the house, brought in all their new gifts and took the rig to
the barn. When he returned, Annie had started a fire and placed the round horse picture on the mantel beside the satin box her jewelry had come in. Luke hung his coat and hat and glanced at the plain tree sadly lacking glass balls or candles or beads, thinking again of the material things he hadn’t been able to supply.
Annie sat in her chair watching the firelight dance on the tree. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.
“It’s just a tree,” he said. “Your family’s is nicer.”
“Fancier, maybe, but not nicer,” she disagreed. “Glenda probably decorated it as part of the household chores. But nobody loved it. Not like we love this one.”
He couldn’t help but be amazed by her joy in simple things, her pleasure in doing routine tasks and owning the barest minimum of possessions. Annie made all things new and lovely by her pure childlike enjoyment of life and its simple pleasures.
And now with a baby on the way, life would only get better. They had withstood the tests of her family thus far, weathered their disapproval by showing them that their love was greater than the obstacles. Gradually her family was being won over by Annie’s enthusiasm and obvious joy. Eldon had softened, and today even Burdell had shown his support.
Nothing could get in the way of their happiness now.
Chapter Sixteen
Luke had lost weight over the winter, she noticed, though she fed him well. He was always working—always cutting wood or shoeing horses or breaking ice from the stock tanks—between the livery and the house he barely rested. Part of his labors was to make things easier for her, and she worried that she was a burden. He grew leaner and more muscled and Annie grew fatter and lazier.
Sometimes she was so tired, she would try to sew and wake up an hour later, the fabric wrinkled in her lap. Other times she’d make up her mind to complete a task and end up beneath her quilt in front of the fire. Luke had made her a thick pallet and instructed her to rest whenever she felt the least bit weary. And that was always. Or so it seemed for most of the winter months.