A Letter for Annie (11 page)

“There, there. Take your time.”

“He was the love of my life.” A dirge could not have sounded more mournful. “Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s gone. We met sophomore year. In geometry class. He sat across the aisle, one row in front of me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He had thick black hair and beautiful brown eyes that were so full of life and humor. And he was smart, too. He was studying theorems and me? Well, I was studying him. I thought he’d never notice me. I mean, he was a football player, even made varsity that year. Just looking at him, I’d forget what I was about to say.”

“Then one day he noticed you?”

She nestled against Geneva, her fingers curled into the fleece of her robe. “One day…the best day. He followed me out of class to my locker. He leaned against the door so that I couldn’t open it. ‘What’s the password?’ he said. Password? I didn’t know what he was talking about. I asked him what he meant. ‘A yes will do.’ He gazed at me with those dreamy eyes of his and I’d have said yes to anything. ‘Will you go to the Homecoming dance with me?’” She rolled over and sat up, once more hugging her knees. “We were inseparable from that day on. I spent a lot of time at the Nemecs’ house. They were such a special family. On some level I think I knew that what they shared was more genuine than what I had with Mother and George.”

“Things at home must have changed after your mother died.” Geneva winced inwardly. Liz’s funeral. Another time she’d been halfway around the world. She waited, wondering what images were playing through her great-niece’s mind.

“At first, I was numb. Her death felt unreal to me. One day I went into her room, you know, just to try to feel her presence, smell her smells. Everything was gone. Without telling me, the housekeeper had packed up her things and given them to charity. George’s orders, she said. That’s when I got angry. I screamed at her, at George, at my mother for leaving me, at the fact I was helpless and alone. I stayed up in my bedroom and refused to come out for several days. The only person I wanted with me was Pete. He brought me a bouquet of daisies and simply sat with me, saying little, just holding my hand. I cried as I never had before, and he seemed
to know to let me sob to my heart’s content. When I finally stopped and could breathe again, he cupped my face in his warm hands and he looked deep into my eyes. He said, ‘I love you, Annie. I always will. I promise to take care of you, no matter what.’” She turned to Geneva. “And he always did. All but once.”

The overwhelming sadness in Annie’s voice was pitiful. It was that “once” that had transformed a bright, lovely young woman into a shell of her former self. “What happened that Pete couldn’t keep his promise?”

Annie drained her teacup, but continued holding it as if clinging to its warmth. “It wasn’t Pete. I knew I could count on him. It was me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want Pete involved.”

The story was Annie’s to tell. Geneva knew her role was limited to gentle prodding. “When…?”

Setting down the cup, Annie raked both hands through her hair, then turned to her great-aunt, her voice brittle. “George raped me.”

Even though Geneva had been anticipating the words, the sound of them uttered aloud cracked her in two. She reached out to Annie, who sat rigid, lost in her own hell, her hazel eyes expressionless. Impotent, Geneva let her hands drop to her lap, searching desperately for the right thing to say. But there could be no “right” words because nothing would ever change the hideous reality.

“Graduation night. Afterward,” Annie said tonelessly. She shifted her position, as if winding up the motor of her memory. “During my senior year, George kept
watching me. One time when I came home from swimming, he tried to hide it with a newspaper, but I could see he had an erection. I tried to rationalize that it was something he was reading that caused it.”

Geneva groaned.

“He’d make these comments about how nice it was now that it was just the two of us and how we needed to get closer since we were each other’s only family. All the time he was telling me how beautiful I was, how ‘foxy.’ I hated that word and hated how it made me feel. Soiled. Toward spring when he kept talking about how I could make my own decisions when I turned eighteen in May, I got really scared, but I never thought he’d do what he did. I planned to leave home before anything happened. But then sometimes I wondered if I was imagining it all. Or if in some way I was doing something to encourage him.”

Geneva interrupted. “Annie, no. None of it was your fault. Don’t think that for one minute.”

Annie smiled sadly, then continued. “Anyway, I deliberately started wearing baggy clothes and avoided him whenever I could. But then he started coming into my room to say good-night, sitting on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. I’d close my eyes because I couldn’t bear the sort of breathless way he looked at me.”

“Child, you must have been terrified.”

“I kept thinking that I could outlast him. After graduation, I would go off to summer school at the university and never come back.”

“So…you told Pete?”

“Only that something about George made me feel weird. Pete knew me well enough to know something was wrong. One night in the spring, I was taking a shower. Getting ready for a date. George walked into the bathroom, and when I turned around, there he was. Just staring at me. I had no idea how long he’d been there. It freaked me out. That night Pete saw that I was upset. He kept asking me why. So I told him.”

“And?”

“He listened to the whole story. Then he took me by the arms and stared at me. ‘So help me God,’ he said, ‘if that son of a bitch lays one hand on you, I’ll kill him. I promise.’ Pete was intense, and I believed him. He knew all about guns. You know how you can tell when somebody’s telling the truth? So if I had ever let on that George raped me, Pete wouldn’t have wasted a minute thinking about the consequences. I truly believe he would have shot George in cold blood.” She snugged her hands up into the sleeve of her sweater. “I couldn’t let that happen. So I left. Before Pete could kill him.”

She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment before going on. “And before I did something I’d regret. I felt so violated and angry, I might have murdered him myself if I’d had the means. All I could do was run. I had no options. I had to get away from George, and I had to keep Pete from ruining his life. He and Kyle were leaving two days after graduation for National Guard training. They’d both always wanted to serve in the military. I figured no one would ever have to know about the rape. Early that next morning, I cleaned myself up and went to the bank first thing to cash my
graduation gift checks. Then I called you. I was on the bus to Arizona before anyone realized I was gone.”

“But Pete?”

“He and Kyle were leaving early the following morning. I stuck a note on the window of Pete’s car. Said I was breaking up with him. He never knew where I went.”

“Never? Didn’t you write him later?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know where I was. I couldn’t run the risk of George finding me. Or of Pete going AWOL.”

“So that’s why you never came back to Eden Bay?”

“When George finally died, I could have, I suppose.” She was silent for several minutes. “By then, though, Pete was gone. Killed in Afghanistan. There was nothing here for me anymore. Not a single thing.”

The sound of the oxygen machine intruded on Geneva’s thoughts, providing a powerful reminder of Annie’s sacrifice in returning to care for her. “It must’ve been extraordinarily difficult for you to come here to be with me.”

“It was. But it was something I had to do.”

Only then did Annie relax, nestling close. She laid her head on Geneva’s shoulder and they stayed that way for a long time without speaking. Geneva caressed Annie’s arm, wishing with all her heart that she could turn back time, reverse the results of that night and restore innocence to her precious great-niece.

Somehow Annie needed to move beyond the crippling effects of a damaged past.
But I will not be here to help her.
A wrenching sigh tore from Geneva’s lungs. In the dark of this night, with wind and rain lashing the
house, there had to be a ray of hope, something or someone to cling to.

Was it too much to ask of the young man who had been Pete Nemec’s best friend?

K
YLE STRIPPED OFF
his tie, hung up his suit, tossed the dress shirt into the laundry basket and strolled in his skivvies to the refrigerator. He reached for the lone beer on the shelf, popped the top and took a long draft. Walking to the front window, he looked out at the rain-water coursing down the street and trees battered by the wind. Finally he turned away and sank onto the sofa, hardly aware that Bubba had joined him. This evening had been a disaster, and Monday, when he had to face the Nemecs again, would be even worse. It was as if an unknown hand had taken a nearly completed jigsaw puzzle of his life and dumped the pieces on the floor. He didn’t know where he stood with anyone.

Had the Nemecs shared Rosemary’s expectations? Margaret had always been the protective big sister, both of Pete and Rosemary. After tonight, she’d probably never speak to him again. Ever since he was a kid, Bruce and Janet had been more parents to him than his own. And how was he repaying them? He drained the beer. By rejecting their daughter, that’s how.

Bubba nuzzled Kyle’s chest, then laid his head in his lap. No matter what Kyle’s sins, the dog remained faithful, affectionate. But he couldn’t expect that of people, people whom he’d hurt and betrayed. Next week would be pure hell. Would he even still have a job?

He laid back his head. Could he have done anything
differently? Played along until Rosemary could see they had no future together? Hell, he’d known the answer to that one before he even formed the question.

Would anything have changed if Annie hadn’t come back to Eden Bay? He sighed. Certainly not as it concerned Rosemary. Was anything really different now?

He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. Not when Annie’s name caught in his throat and caused him six degrees of discomfort. Restless, he stood up, dislodging Bubba, and crushed the beer can in his hand. Damn it. He’d broken Rosemary’s heart and now was coveting Pete’s girl. None of it made any sense. He’d spent ten years cursing Annie, furious over her cavalier treatment of his friend.

Bubba tugged at the hem of his boxers, as if to urge him to bed. Kyle resisted. He was exhausted, but no way was he going to lie there in the dark waiting for the nightmare to come, as he knew it would. Especially tonight.

Because there was one more sin he had rarely admitted, even to himself…something he’d tried to suppress ever since high school. The long and the short of it was this. He had been in love with Annie from the first time he’d seen her.

All he could do at the time was stand by and watch helplessly as Pete lost his heart to Annie and she to him. And do his damnedest to be their friend. But friendship was tough duty when he wanted so much more and spent sleepless nights dreaming of the girl he couldn’t have.

And then in one lonely, desperate moment on that beach, he’d let down his guard and embraced Annie—and felt guilty ever since. Had Pete known? He hoped to God not.

Tossing the beer can in the trash, he resumed his post by the front window, watching a storm that was insignificant compared to his own emotional turmoil. When Annie left town and disappeared abruptly, devastating Pete, it had been all too easy for Kyle to channel his deep feelings into outrage. Outrage that had increased in intensity after the one glance at her photograph that had cost Pete his life.

Who had Kyle been kidding? He’d never forgotten that girl with the warm eyes and dazzling smile. Annie, who made his heart burn in his chest. And…he’d never forgiven her.

Could he now?

Bubba nosed Kyle’s leg and looked up with pleading eyes. “Go on to bed, buddy. I can’t sleep.” Instead the dog hopped onto the sofa and curled into a ball.

Kyle turned off the lights and sat in the darkness questioning everything, especially the fact that he loved a woman who had turned her back on his best friend with no explanation. How could he put his trust in her? Everyone he’d ever loved had abandoned him. Why should she treat him any differently?

W
HEN
A
NNIE FIRST BECAME
aware of the shafts of sunlight assaulting her closed eyes, she stirred. Her head felt like a bowling ball—thick and heavy; her mouth, sour. The sharp crick in her neck finally brought her to a sitting position. Beside her, Auntie G. lay on her back, snoring shallowly. Annie massaged the nape of her neck, the reality slowly dawning on her. She’d spent the night in her great-aunt’s bed. Then, with the suddenness of a lightning bolt, she remembered why. And felt sick all over again.

She hung her head, once again reliving the shame of her violation, the heartbreak of leaving Pete. It was a Pandora’s box she had hoped never to open, even as she had understood all along that one day she might be compelled to. Auntie G. had let her talk, rambling here and there through the ghosts of the past. Yet even so, Annie knew with a terrible realization that last night she had barely tapped the surface. She’d shared nothing of the bereavement she’d endured when Pete had been lost to her that morning after graduation. Nor of the burden of wondering if she’d done something to bring the rape on herself, just as she must have unknowingly done
something to encourage Kyle to hug her that evening at the end of their senior year. And certainly nothing of her ongoing fear of being touched in any kind of sexual way.

That was one more reason she needed to keep her distance from Kyle. So far he’d only comforted her, but she couldn’t allow herself be lulled by her need for soothing. Maybe she was overreacting or misreading the signals. All she knew was that her own body deceived her when she was around him. And that wasn’t fair to him, not when the mere thought of anything more intimate turned her blood to ice water.

With a shake of her head, which did nothing but send BB’s cavorting inside her skull, she scooted to the end of the bed and stood up. The thought came to her that an emotional hangover was every bit as debilitating as a liquor-induced one.

Gingerly, she made her way to the kitchen to put on the coffee, then indulged in a long, hot shower, which made her feel minimally better. After throwing on a pair of faded jeans and a baggy Arizona Diamondbacks T-shirt, she went downstairs and poured a cup of coffee. The jolt of heat and caffeine helped restore minimal function to her brain. Cradling the mug in her hand, she tiptoed to Geneva’s bedroom door. Her great-aunt’s wrinkled, blue-veined hands rested on her chest, which rose and fell sporadically. Her puffy eyes and pale complexion gave her a wasted look. Guiltily Annie reviewed the evening’s conversation. What toll had her unburdening taken on Geneva’s limited reserves of strength?

Deciding to let her sleep for as long as she needed, Annie ate a bagel smeared with cream cheese and then
set about cleaning the house in preparation for Carmen’s return Sunday evening. Sadness welled in her heart as Annie reflected on how difficult Geneva’s imminent death would be for Carmen as well as for herself. No matter what the personal consequences, Annie was grateful to Carmen for summoning her back to Eden Bay and for the blessing of spending these last precious weeks with Auntie G.

Bent over the counter, a soapy sponge in her hand, Annie crumpled. She couldn’t imagine a world without Geneva Greer. Who would ever come to her rescue now? Love her unconditionally?

F
ROM HIS FIRST LOOK
at Rita on Monday morning, Kyle knew the day was headed south. The receptionist greeted Bubba with her customary warmth, but when she turned to Kyle, her lifted eyebrow and sad shake of the head let him know that he, not Bubba, was the one in the doghouse. “Way to go, Romeo,” she muttered as he passed her on his way to his cubicle. A quick glance in the direction of Rosemary’s empty office gave him some relief. At least he wouldn’t have to run into her yet. He figured he’d be doing the walking-on-eggshells dance around the office for quite a while. Although he was worried about the females, it was Bruce’s reaction that most concerned him. No father enjoyed seeing his daughter get hurt, even if it was for the best in the long run. Was it a serious enough situation that Kyle’s job was in jeopardy? Only time would tell.

Things went from bad to worse when he reached his desk. There lay a phone memo in Rita’s unmistakable
printing. “Call Margaret immediately.” He groaned aloud. A typical firstborn, Margaret had always been protective of Pete and Rosemary. Often that protection came across as controlling. He crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it toward the wastebasket, missing completely. Damn. Was this the day from hell, or what?

Checking the work schedule, he saw that he had to meet a home owner about a bedroom addition, check on a crew laying tile and finish staining some window trim at the Greer cottage. If he talked to Margaret now, his obligations would give him a reason to cut short their conversation. Might as well get it over with.

But when he phoned her, Margaret had other ideas. She insisted he come by her house.
Bite the bullet,
he told himself. Bubba trailed him out of the building and sat quietly on the passenger seat, as if fearful of invading his master’s space, which, indeed, was heavy with self-loathing and irritation.

O
NE LOOK AT
M
ARGARET
and Kyle knew he didn’t want to be here. Coolly polite, she ushered him into the living room and indicated he should take a seat on the sofa. “I just fixed some coffee. You take yours black, right?”

“Yes, but I can’t stay long.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a nine-o’clock appointment.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

While she was in the kitchen, Kyle glanced around the neat, comfortably furnished room. Then he noticed the photographs on the end table. Pete’s graduation picture, a family photo with Pete proudly wearing his National Guard uniform and one of Margaret and Pete
hugging and clowning for the camera. A sort of mini-shrine, he thought sadly, willing himself to look away.

Entering the room, Margaret handed him a coffee mug. “Here,” she said, then perched on an overstuffed chair, balancing her cup on her knees.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Kyle began. “What’s on your mind?”

“My sister. How could you hurt her like that? You have to have known she’s had a crush on you for years. Yesterday we went for a long walk on the beach and all she could talk about was what happened Friday night after the two of you left the club. She’s too trusting, but surely you’re not so dense that you didn’t pick up on her feelings. Leading her on the way you did—”

“Just a minute.” Kyle set his coffee on the end of the table. “I never led Rosemary on. I have too much respect for her ever to do that.”

“You could’ve fooled her. And me, for that matter.”

Sarcasm didn’t become her, but he had to respond. “I have always been fond of Rosemary and have tried not to give her any false hopes. You know, there’s the fine line I’m walking here. I have great affection for your entire family. Hell, Pete was the best friend a guy could have. And your folks have always made me feel welcome in their home. But I never suggested to Rosemary that I felt more strongly about her than about the rest of you.”

“Well, you must’ve done something. She practically had the wedding dress picked out. You can’t have been so totally oblivious.” She stood, hands fisted by her sides. “I don’t get it, Kyle. How could you repay all my
family’s done for you by punting Rosemary? My father gave you a job and this is—”

“You’ve gone far enough, Margaret.” Kyle, too, rose to his feet, barely containing the anger coursing through him. “There never was a good way for this conversation to end. Obviously, there’s little I can say that will change your mind about me. But get this. Never, in word or action, did I encourage Rosemary to think we had a future, and I certainly would never have used her as a means of advancing my career with Nemec Construction.” He moved toward the door, eager to escape her glare. “You can take my explanation or leave it, but if you think I would ever deliberately hurt anyone in Pete’s family, then you don’t know me very well.”

At the mention of Pete, indignation seemed to drain out of Margaret, and Kyle could see she was close to tears. He found himself softening toward her. On some level, she was entitled. He’d failed Pete once, and now in his sister’s book, he’d failed Rosemary.

“I just love her so much,” Margaret said.

“I know,” he said, moving to the door.

“There’s one more thing.” He turned, sensing the steel returning to her voice. “Rosemary thinks you’ve found someone else.”

He stared at her. “And if I have? Am I so indebted to the Nemecs that I can’t have a life?”

“No, Kyle, by all means suit yourself.” Margaret shook her head as if chiding a misbehaving child. “Just don’t expect me to be happy for you.”

With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I care about you, Rosemary
and your whole family. I hope the time will come when we can move beyond this conversation today.” Then he quietly left the house, wondering how he could have made such a mess of things and what repercussions would follow when the Nemecs learned that it was Annie who was increasingly becoming his “someone else.”

I
T WAS LATE AFTERNOON
Monday before Geneva felt like moving from her bed to the wheelchair. Carmen had been hovering over her ever since her arrival the night before, pampering her with a hearty chicken-tortilla soup, sopaipillas and, best of all, her creamy, homemade flan. Even so, Geneva had trouble summoning any appetite.

“Your strength,
señorita.
Please to eat some more.”

In Carmen’s sad eyes and her own exhausted body, Geneva read the truth. She was much weaker. The simple act of breathing required enormous effort. Now, sitting in the ocean-view bay window, a pillow propped behind her back, she summoned the will to think about the future. The house was in order, or would be when Kyle Becker finished staining the trim. Her legal affairs had been attended to. More troubling was what to do about Annie. Nothing would change the past. The best she could hope for was that Kyle would help Annie through the next few months.

Friday night had been difficult for both of them—and emotionally it had taken more out of her than even she had supposed. Should she have confronted the girl earlier? Somehow helped her to get into counseling?
Hindsight is wonderful,
Geneva thought with a snort.

Drained of the energy to continue their conversation, Geneva had spent the day resting, drifting in and out of sleep. Even now, with sunlight frosting the waves, it was difficult to stay focused either on the scene before her or on her thoughts. Was this how it was? Dying? A gradual fading away. A dimming of the light. Fatigue weighing like a heavy blanket.

“Miss Greer, would you like to see the final results?” How long had Kyle Becker been standing there? Had she fallen asleep again?

“Mercy, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “No, I know you didn’t. And, yes, I would love to see what you’ve done with the house.”

He picked up the oxygen tank and wheeled her slowly through the downstairs, pointing out the floor-boards he’d replaced, the newly painted replacement Sheetrock, the refinished mantelpiece and the caulking around the windows. “Now for the upstairs.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. The wheelchair is heavy and—”

“Nonsense.” Then as if he’d done it all his life, Kyle leaned over, put one arm around her shoulders and another under her knees and lifted her, oxygen tank and all. Then, slowly and with great care, he carried her upstairs.

Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought never again to see the bedroom in which she’d spent such happy girlhood hours or to catch a glimpse of the panoramic seascape out the upstairs hall dormer window. With his elbow, Kyle rapped on Annie’s closed door.

The look on her face when she opened it was price
less—a combination of surprise, doubt and joy. “Auntie G.—”

“We’re having a building inspection,” Kyle said as he stepped into the room and lowered her to the rocking chair her own mother had used when Geneva had been a little girl.

Glancing around the room and up at the ceiling, she could see that Kyle had repaired the ceiling and refreshed the paint. Her eyes strayed to the double bed and to the quilt her grandmother had made and to the worktable where scraps of material lay in colorful profusion. She drew a deep, labored breath, and whether it was a result of memory or a newly restored sense of smell, the fragrances of lemon oil, salt spray and lavender drifted over her.

“Okay?” Kyle asked.

“Better than that. You’ve done exactly what I asked. You’ve restored my past.” She reached up and took the young man’s hands in hers. “Thank you,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “For everything.”

He nodded in understanding, holding the connection for a beat. That was when she became convinced. He would be there for Annie.

They continued the eye contact until Annie spoke up. “We were lucky, weren’t we, Auntie G., to find such a fine craftsman.”

Geneva smiled. “And such a fine human being.” Before sentiment took an even greater toll, she turned to Annie and nodded toward the worktable. “Now that I’m up here, show me some more of your creations.”

Kyle waited while Annie spread out an array of
purses, beautifully made and wildly distinctive. In her day, Geneva knew, she would not have hesitated to spend a small fortune for one.

The clatter of footsteps on the stairs interrupted the inspection.
“Santo Dios! Señorita.”
Carmen stood panting in the doorway. “I was worried. You disappear. I look and look.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “I should have told you I brought Miss Greer up here.”

“Please, young man, call me Auntie G.”

Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’d be honored.” Then he added in a raspy voice, “Auntie G.”

Geneva glanced from her beloved great-niece to Carmen, her faithful friend, and then to the strong young man to whom she had committed her dear Annie. “I love you all,” she said simply. “But I’m tired. Kyle, could you—”