A Letter for Annie. Laura Abbot

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      AFTER SUPPER Annie undertook the task she’d been putting off—making an inventory of food supplies. Although Carmen had left a well-stocked pantry and some frozen casseroles, Annie would have to make a trip to the supermarket, even if a raging case of cabin fever was preferable. For a change of scene and to work off tension, she’d been walking on the beach each afternoon while Geneva napped.

      Annie was compiling a grocery list when the phone rang. The warmth of Nina Valdez’s voice was a balm. “Your friends are missing you. So am I. And the customers? They’re always asking after you.”

      Annie doubted she had left such a void in the lives of Bisbee residents. Maybe in Nina’s, though. “I miss everyone. I wish I were there.”

      “How is she, honey?” Nina’s voice registered concern.

      “I’m not really sure.” As she talked, Annie carried the phone onto the front porch and curled up in the swing. “She isn’t giving me all the details and for now, she’s holding her own. But I can see it’s a struggle for her, and one day she’ll have to give in.”

      “Do you have help?”

      An onslaught of loneliness blindsided her. “Mmm, not really. Not now. But Carmen will be back soon.”

      “Have you considered hospice care?”

      Nina might as well have socked her in the stomach. Hospice. The word floated in her awareness like a circling vulture.

      “Annie?”

      “I’m here,” she whispered.

      “I didn’t mean to upset you. But I don’t want you facing this on your own.”

      “She’s really dying, isn’t she?” Annie had known that intellectually, but she’d avoided saying it aloud. Somehow verbalizing made it real.

      “Yes, honey, she is. You know that’s why I encouraged you to go home to Oregon.”

      Tears rolled down Annie’s cheeks. “She’s…she’s…” Her voice caught. “My family.” My only family was left unsaid.

      From that point, she couldn’t focus on the conversation, but she did hear the empathy and love in Nina’s voice.

      After Annie hung up, she stayed on the porch to pull herself together. Then she went into the living room, where she and Geneva played two games of gin rummy. At nine, after a fit of coughing, Geneva declared she was ready for bed. Annie helped her undress. When Geneva was finally tucked in for the night, she reached up and grabbed Annie’s hand. “Thank you for making the list for Kyle Becker. I can’t wait to see how the renovation turns out.”

      Hearing the delight in her aunt’s voice, Annie realized this house project had given Geneva a purpose. But when it was completed…?

      As she gently squeezed her aunt’s hand and leaned over to kiss her, she wished she could ask Kyle to take all the time in the world to finish his work.

      Oddly, when she was finally in her own bedroom, it seemed as if the man himself were there. His scent lingered in the air and the memory of his presence made her pulse race. She found herself remembering the fun-loving eighteen-year-old jock who had been Pete’s best friend. Her friend, too, teasing her unmercifully about her studious ways, about the glints of red in her hair, and, of course, about how gaga she was over Pete. Most of the time Kyle had been full of laughter and jokes, but every now and then she had sensed that beneath his cheerful facade lay a serious side, even a vulnerable one, possibly a result of his troubled home life.

      Today she’d seen only the serious Kyle. It was the hurt she saw. Unexpectedly, that made her feel sad—and guilty. Pete’s death clearly haunted them both.

      CHAPTER THREE

      BY FRIDAY AFTERNOON Kyle and Annie had settled into a kind of compromise. So long as he worked outside, she stayed inside. The two times he’d had to work in the house, Annie had pulled on a shapeless gray crewneck sweater and headed for the beach. They only communicated when necessary.

      By contrast, the more he was around Geneva, the greater his respect for her. So few home owners really knew what they wanted, and he often spent as much time undoing their decisions as he did on the actual work. No such problem with Geneva. Insofar as was possible, she wanted the house restored to its original splendor, and she knew exactly what that would look like. Best of all, she was willing to pay.

      This morning she had shown him photos of the exterior, circa 1936. Built to withstand the coastal weather, the cottage was functional yet beautiful in its New England simplicity. The design had been lovingly executed, and Kyle wanted it to be lovingly preserved. Some jobs were merely that—jobs. The rare few, like this one, stirred something deep in his soul.

      As he was leaving for the day, he met Annie returning from the beach. He couldn’t just ignore her, but what came out of his mouth was sarcastic. “Got big plans for the weekend?”

      She СКАЧАТЬ