Sweet Annie Part 6

"I baked you an apple pie," she said abruptly. "Wait here and I'll bring you a big slice."

Surprised, he agreed and held the screen door while she rolled her chair into the house. Several minutes later, she returned with a small tray in her lap. "I couldn't fill the gla.s.s, because I spill when I cross the doorway," she apologized, handing him a partially full gla.s.s of milk.

"I don't mind," he said, taking the cold tumbler from her.

"The pie tastes pretty good. I tried a bite earlier."

He accepted the plate and seated himself on the wicker chair, placing the gla.s.s on a small table. He tasted her offering, the apples still warm from the oven. Cinnamon sweetness melted on his tongue. "No one has ever baked me a pie before."

"No?"

He shook his head and enjoyed another mouthwatering bite.

"It's my first one. I just followed a recipe."

"It's better than the pies at Dora Edgewood's cafe. You could give her a tip or two."

Annie laughed, a delicate ear-pleasing sound of delight. "Are you flattering me?"

"Yes, but it's true." He finished the slice of pie and drank the milk.

"Mother says it's improper to welcome flattery." She set the empty tray on the floor, and Luke placed his dishes on it.

"I guess your mother'd know about things like that."

"A lady may accept a delicate compliment, but she should not appear to expect or encourage them."

"I hardly think you expect compliments, Annie."

She folded her hands in her lap. "I want to go write the telegram, but I don't want to miss another minute with you."

Her honesty warmed him. "Why don't you just tell me what it should say then, and I'll remember."

"But I'll have to find the doctor's address."

"Will it take long?"

"No."

He placed the tray on her lap and opened the screen door for her. "Hurry."

Precious minutes ticked by before she returned with an envelope and handed it to him. He folded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "How will I get the reply to you when it arrives?"

"Glenda comes every afternoon. You could catch her on her way here and give it to her. She promised to keep my secret when I sent you the note this afternoon. I trust her."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Distant piano music drifted on the night air.

"Luke?"

"Yes."

"It's probably highly improper, but would you mind holding my hand, so I can move over there and sit beside you on the glider?"

"That would be my pleasure," he replied.

She took his hand for support, and using it and the arm of her chair, pushed herself up. Then, with only a few awkward steps, she made it to the padded glider and sat.

Luke lowered his weight to the seat next to her, unwilling to release her hand. She smelled wonderful, an enticing combination of vanilla and lilacs and starched cotton. Her voluminous skirts draped across his knee. He closed his eyes and joyfully inhaled her presence.

"I've thought a lot about the night of the wedding," she said softly.

Thoughts of her kisses had driven him crazy every night since. Even today, he'd found himself staring off into the forge, letting a piece of iron cool, and having to heat it over again. "Me, too."

"Good thoughts?" she asked.

He smiled at her delightful frankness. "Very good thoughts. Was that a delicate enough compliment?"

She smiled and nodded. "Would you mind-kissing me again?"

The question was laughable. "Let me think about it. Hmm. No." He pulled her hand, which brought her face to his, and leaned toward her. She met his lips with hers, a sweet, eager union that immediately had his blood pounding.

He released her hand, and she placed it tentatively on his shoulder. He'd never known she returned his feelings; he'd only hoped, maybe just dreamed. Finding out like this that she was drawn to him, too, gave him so much pleasure, his heart swelled to bursting.

Their lips parted and Luke remembered to draw a breath.

"You taste like cinnamon," she said.

"You smell like lilacs," he replied.

She leaned closer, placing her nose against his neck. A wispy curl grazed his cheek. A shudder pa.s.sed through his body. "You smell like..." she said, her breath against his neck exquisite torture, "...I don't know...heaven. You smell like heaven."

He turned his face, so that his lips and nose were a scant breath from her ear. "You think there are horses in heaven?"

She moved as though to see his eyes, though it was dark and she couldn't possibly read his expression. "You don't smell like a horse."

"I must. I even sleep in the livery."

"Well, you don't. You smell like...like you shaved."

"Mm-hmm," he agreed. He had shaved before he'd come to see her. "And how would you know what that smells like?"

"My father shaves. But he doesn't smell nearly as good as you do."

"Your mother probably thinks so."

Annie sat up straight and her eyes widened in the moonlight. "What a thought! Don't you ever place another thought like that in my mind! Goodness, if I imagine my mother sniffing my father, I'll die of laughter and you'll never get to kiss me again."

"Well, we can't have that, so forget all thoughts of your parents. They probably don't even sleep in the same room."

"Luke Carpenter, you're incorrigible!" She laughed out loud that time, however. Lord, she was fun.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, felt her delicate bones beneath the fabric of her dress, and pulled her toward him. She came willingly, eagerly, all softness and sighs.

Luke nuzzled the springy curls at her temple, the delicate skin behind her ear, and placed a kiss there. She leaned more fully into him, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest, and he tried to feel and taste and smell every vivid sensation and press it into his mind for later.

Their lips met again, this time more forcefully, and when he touched her lip with his tongue, she intuitively allowed him access. Her whole body stilled and her breathing grew shallow, as though she were concentrating fully on this exploratory kiss.

Luke had to bracket her face with his palms and end the torture before he allowed himself more liberties. Because she was willing. And he was weak.

"I'm going to leave, Annie," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"But we still have time."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"What are you afraid of?"

"If I don't go, I might do somethin' very ungentlemanly. And I think too much of you to let that happen. So I'm leaving."

He stood, swept her up into his arms, and deposited her in her chair. He leaned over her, his palms on the armrests.

She placed her soft hands on the backs of his, and slowly, he backed away until only their fingers were touching, even that tentative contact a tactile pleasure.

"There will be a next time," he promised.

"It'll seem like forever."

"I'll be thinkin' of you."

"And I of you."

"Good night, sweet Annie."

"Night, Luke."

He released her fingers, moved to the stairs and disappeared into the night. Annie placed her empty palms over her racing heart. Adrift in heavenly sensations and riotous feelings, she slowly came back down to earth, the chair beneath her a cold reality.

But Luke didn't care. He didn't see her and this chair as one. He saw her as she saw herself, as she dreamed to be. A whole, unfettered person.

How would she ever sleep again?

For a week, Annie antic.i.p.ated Glenda's daily arrival. The weekend seemed endless and unbearable, because the housekeeper didn't come on Sat.u.r.day, and it wasn't her Sunday to help with dinner. But on the following Monday, as Annie sat waiting on the shady porch, Glenda climbed the stairs with a sly smile.

Annie's heart fluttered. "Do you have something for me?"

Glenda glanced through the open doorway. "Where's your mother?"

"She's upstairs packing. I'm to be shipped off to my aunt and uncle's again while Mother and Daddy travel to Denver."

Glenda slipped folded papers from her pocket and handed them to Annie.

Opening them quickly, Annie discovered there were two pages to the missive, the first a Western Union telegram from Dr. Mulvaney: "I wager that the benefits of exercise would greatly strengthen muscles. Stop. To my knowledge there is no damage that can be done by walking. Stop. I should be interested to know results after an adequate period. Stop. Regards to your family. Stop."

Giddy at the encouragement, Annie pressed the papers to her chest and grinned. She hadn't been wrong. She could walk and not harm herself as long as she was careful.

Remembering the piece of brown paper, Annie opened it and read the words scrawled in black ink: "Sweet Annie, I should be interested to know the results, too. I believe you can do anything you put your mind to. The scent of lilacs fills my dreams. Luke."

She must have been grinning foolishly, because Glenda chuckled. "Your cheeks are pinker than the snapdragons beside the porch, Miss Annie. Your mother will suspect something for sure."

"She'll just think I'm still put out over our argument about letting Charmaine come here and stay with me for the week, instead of me going to their house. I lost-again." Annie quickly tucked the papers beneath the folds of her dress. "You won't tell?"

"What's to tell?" Glenda removed her bonnet. "You and Luke Carpenter exchanged letters. Nothing scandalous about that. Besides, your folks are far too protective. Pretty thing like you should have been courted by now."

"Did your husband court you?" Annie asked.

"Lands, yes. He brought me flowers and trinkets of all sorts. My mama liked him right off, but my father took a while to come around."

"What convinced him?"

"I think it was the fact that Tim plucked him from the midst of a saloon fight and brought him home without my mama being any the wiser."

"I doubt my father will be in a saloon fight any time soon," Annie said dejectedly.

"I 'spect not. Well, I have ch.o.r.es to do."

"Thank you, Glenda."

Glenda patted her arm. "You're welcome. Now you'd better get in there and pack your things before your mother starts doin' it for you."

Glenda held the door and Annie wheeled herself into the house. She hid her note and the telegram in between the pages of the Bible on her night table.

She would be staying at the Renlows' until Friday. Surely she could find an occasion in those three days and nights to see Luke. Perhaps Charmaine would want to go into town again, like they'd done the last time. Charmaine loved to shop, or Annie could suggest a visit to the public library. It was open every week-day. Packing took on more excitement at the hope of seeing Luke soon.

That evening she sat at her aunt and uncle's table, a more relaxed affair than dinner at her home, and joined her uncle in a conversation about the man who was running for governor.

"How do you know about such things, Annie?" Charmaine asked.

"News of the upcoming election has been in the newspaper every day," she replied. "I can't talk about it at home, though. Mother has a fit."

"Does she have something against one of the candidates?"

"No, you know Mother. She thinks ladies are supposed to avoid pretentions of learning."

"My friends had instructions on that, too," Charmaine offered. "Young women aren't supposed to let on that they know as much as gentlemen. It's pedantic, they say."

"So you're supposed to pretend to be dumb?" Uncle Mort asked the girls. "What kind of man wants a dumb wife? Or daughter for that matter?"

"A gentleman, I guess," Charmaine said with a sigh.