A Letter for Annie (6 page)

Kyle abandoned the roofing project, ran to his truck and followed the little Honda to the physicians’ offices near the hospital.

A
NNIE SIGHED
gratefully when she pulled into the circular driveway and parked by the handicap access ramp. Already they were five minutes late for the appointment. She heaved the wheelchair from the trunk, unfolded it and positioned it by the passenger door, making sure to lock the wheels.

“Before, I could always walk in,” Geneva said with a hitch in her voice, as she lowered herself into the waiting seat.

“Would you like me to bring your walker?”

“Please.”

“Here it is.” Startled by the deep, familiar voice, Annie wheeled around. Kyle waited at the rear of the trunk with the walker in his hand. “Got everything?”

Annie nodded mutely, and Kyle closed the trunk lid. Then he said, “Give me your keys. I’ll park your car and bring the walker in. Just tell me which doctor.”

Completely flustered by the fact Kyle had followed them, Annie mumbled, “Dr. Bari Woodruff,” and handed him her keys.

Hooking the oxygen tank over the back of the wheelchair, Annie pushed Geneva toward the door. Even in her weakened condition, though, Auntie G. mustered the strength to say in a loud voice, “I think Mr. Becker is sweet on you, missy.”

“You have an overly active imagination.”

“I know what these old eyes tell me.” Geneva raised her arm in a forward-march signal. “Now, for heaven’s sake, let’s get this over with.”

Thankful for the reprieve from a conversation she didn’t want to pursue, Annie pushed as fast as she safely could. Several people occupied chairs in the doctor’s waiting room and the receptionist told them they would have to wait a few minutes. After a nurse came to take Geneva for some lab work, Annie collapsed onto a vinyl-covered sofa.

When the door opened and Kyle looked around the room, Annie waved. Spotting her, he set the walker against a wall and sat down beside her. Annie was both irritated and appreciative. It was getting more difficult to maneuver Geneva from place to place, but she didn’t want anything from this man, especially not kindness.

“What exactly are you doing here?” she asked to break the awkward silence.

He put his arm on the back of the sofa and turned sideways to look at her. “The truth? Damned if I know. You just looked like you needed someone to lean on and I was there.”

“I could’ve managed.”

“I’m sure you could have. You enjoy your independence, don’t you?”

There was an edge to his voice that made his meaning
clear: you liked it so much you walked away from Pete without a backward glance.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Look, Annie, I didn’t come here to get into a verbal sparring match with you.”

“Then back to my original question. What
are
you doing here?”

Before he could answer, a nurse called Annie’s name. He gestured toward the wall. “Do you want the walker?”

Annie gathered it up. “Thank you. You don’t need to wait.” Eyes fixed on the nurse, whom she followed down the hall, she didn’t look back.

If she had, she would have seen Kyle shrug, then pick up a dog-eared magazine and sit back down on the sofa.

The headlines swam: Middle East Violence Escalates, Six Panoramic Highway Drives, Male Menopause: Fact of Fiction?

Disgusted, Kyle threw down the magazine and leaned his head back. Annie had cut right to the quick. What was he doing here? He didn’t normally think of himself as impulsive, but this was edge-of-the-cliff stuff. The woman haunted him—in his thoughts, in his dreams and, most especially, in the flesh. He could no more have stayed away when he’d seen her struggling with Geneva and all her paraphernalia than fly. And even as his gut clenched, he admitted to himself that it wasn’t gallantry that had brought him here. No, something stronger and scarier. He wanted to protect Annie from the pain he knew was coming. Geneva Greer had returned to Eden Bay to die, and that would be a crushing blow for her great-niece.

He closed his eyes, oblivious to the conversations around him and to the comings and goings in the reception room. He could rationalize that he was doing this for Pete, knowing that his friend would have done anything to make life easier for Annie. In fact, thinking of Pete should help him get a grip on his inappropriate attraction to Annie.

But this wasn’t about Pete. And it wasn’t about the past. This was about Annie and him and now. Damned, though, if he knew what to do about any of it.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. “Kyle?” Annie stood in front of him, her lip trembling, her voice ragged.

He rose to his feet. She stood mere inches from him. “It’s Auntie G.” She paused, unable to go on. “They’re…they’re hospitalizing her. Dehydration, the doctor said. And other complications. Fluid buildup and…” She was unable to finish.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and cradled her ravaged face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

A sob choked her and she flung herself into his arms, dampening his shirt with her tears. “Oh, Kyle, what am I going to do?”

“Shh,” he crooned. “Just let it go, Annie. Let it go.”

As he stood there holding her in his embrace, breathing in her floral scent, feeling her chest heaving in the effort to take in air, he knew the answer to her question.

What was he doing here?

He held her even more closely.
This.
Simply and inevitably
this.

T
HE NEXT FEW HOURS PASSED
in a daze of bureaucratic and clinical red tape. After waiting while Dr. Woodruff made arrangements for a bed at the small Eden Bay Hospital next door, Kyle helped Annie move Geneva to the medical facility before heading out. The forty-minute admission process grated on Annie’s nerves and tired her great-aunt. When a room was finally available, Annie and a nurse undressed Geneva and helped her into bed. “I don’t like this!” she complained. Further objections were cut off by a fit of coughing, administration of oxygen, insertion of IVs and attachment of monitors.

At a loss, Annie stood by as the nurses fussed over her aunt. Once they had her settled, one of them asked if Geneva had eaten dinner. Although the frail woman waved her hand dismissively, a tray arrived with a turkey sandwich, applesauce, butterscotch pudding, cranberry juice and a roll. “Hospital food. Bah.”

Annie struggled to control her emotions. “You’d prefer to be fed intravenously?”

Auntie G. had the grace to appear contrite. “No, but—”

“No buts. You’ll be hooked up to tubes if you don’t do what you’re told.”

A wan smile crossed Geneva’s lips. “Obedience. Not my strong suit.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Geneva managed the applesauce, half her pudding and one small bite of the roll. “I’m done.”

“Try the juice.”

Shooting Annie a disgusted look, she set about sipping from the cardboard container. “Where’s that young man?”

“Kyle? He went home.”

“It was nice of him to help us.”

Annie tried not to think about just how nice he’d been, holding her protectively as her world fell apart. “Yes, it was.”

“He likes you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ve been around the block a few times, remember? I know what I know.”

Annie removed the meal tray and smoothed the sheets around Geneva, trying not to think about what her great-aunt had said. “Here’s what I know. You need to rest. Let me lower the bed a bit.”

“All right. Maybe I could sleep awhile.” She closed her eyes for a minute or two, then opened them. “Go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

Momentary panic cut off Annie’s breath. “I want to be with you.”

“Go home. Get some dinner. You could stand some rest yourself.”

No matter how drained she was, Annie had every
intention of spending the night at the hospital. “All right. I’ll grab a bite and change clothes, but I’ll be back.”

Geneva put up no argument—she was fast asleep. Annie watched her for several moments, thinking how frail she looked. Then, picking up her purse, she stole quietly from the room. When she passed the waiting room on the way to the elevator, she was stunned to see Kyle sprawled in a chair, a
Sports Illustrated
open in his lap. She paused in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

He set the magazine aside and rose to his feet. “Isn’t that question getting a bit repetitious?” He moved across the room and put an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the elevator. “I figured you hadn’t eaten. Ms. Greer isn’t the only one who needs to keep her strength up. I’m treating you to the best dinner the hospital cafeteria has to offer.”

“I thought you went home.”

“I did. Had to feed that dog of mine. But now I’m back.”

The elevator pinged and she turned to face him. “Why?”

Standing with his back against the open elevator door, he let her enter first. He hesitated, his eyes fixed on hers. “You need me,” he finally said. “Besides, against all the odds, I like you.”

Annie lowered her head and focused on the waxed floor of the car. Kyle’s words merely added to the confusion she was already feeling about him.

T
HE CAFETERIA FARE
wasn’t half-bad, Kyle thought, as he spooned up another forkful of lasagna. Annie had already
finished half of a barbecued pork sandwich and was starting on her coleslaw. She caught him studying her and said, apologetically, “I was hungrier than I thought.”

“You’ll be of no use to your aunt if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“She’s getting worse,” Annie said quietly. “I don’t know how much longer—”

“Whoa. One day at a time.”

“I know, but it’s so hard. She’s all I have.”

Tears flooded her eyes and, setting down her fork, she tried to hide her face behind her paper napkin. He knew Geneva Greer’s condition justified Annie’s concern, but sitting here, not being able to change things, made him feel helpless. He tried to lighten the mood by changing the subject. “Where did you come from when you returned to Eden Bay?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. I’ve lived there…for a long time.”

“You have friends there?”

“A few.”

“Somebody special?” He cursed himself for caring about her answer.

“A man?” She shook her head. “No. After Pete, I…” Like a cloud suddenly obscuring the light, a wounded expression came over her face and she stopped.

He knew they were skirting uncomfortably close to topics she didn’t want to discuss—and which he desperately wanted to know about. “Pete was a pretty special guy.”

“Could we please not talk about him?”

“Okay, but if we’re trying to be friends again, we’ll have to sometime.”

“Not now!” Her shrill answer caused the nurses at the next table to turn and stare at her. Annie seemed to shrink within herself. “Please, Kyle, just leave it.”

He nodded and then, without another word, finished his dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Annie finally said, her tone conciliatory. “I know you’re trying to help.”

“How about I help some more by running you home to get whatever you need. I assume you plan to spend the night here. That way you can leave your car in the parking lot and I’ll bring you back.”

He was surprised when she didn’t put up an argument. And even more surprised when she grabbed his arm as they walked to his truck, holding on as if to a lifeline. She said nothing on the way to the house. Only when he parked in the driveway did she turn to look at him. Then in a squeaky voice, her eyes wide and beseeching, she spoke, so quietly he had to strain to hear. “I’ve never talked about Pete. Ever. I think maybe—” she lowered her eyes, hesitating “—maybe I could. Just not now. Perhaps one day.”

He picked up her icy hand and warmed it in his two. “I understand. Whenever you’re ready.”

Later, after he’d dropped her at the hospital and was driving home, he wondered what sorcerer’s spell she had cast on him. Damn right, he’d wanted for years to talk about Pete and about her callous and ultimately fatal effect on him; but when he was with Annie, those angry thoughts deserted him, and he fell under the enchantment of her fragile beauty and vulnerability. She had gotten to him again. Big-time!

W
IDE-AWAKE
, Geneva lay listening to the rhythmic clicks and clacks of the equipment dedicated to keeping her alive. In the darkness, brightened only by a low-wattage lamp at the head of her bed, she could barely make out the IV stand and monitor, looming like robotic sentinels of death. Incredulity and rage flooded through her. She couldn’t be dying now. And most certainly not in the impersonal confines of this hospital. That was not her plan.

Fumbling in the folds of her blanket, she located the remote control and raised the head of the bed a few notches, hoping to relieve the heaviness sitting on her chest like an anvil. Across the room, she noticed a cramped, pretzel-like body curled into a recliner. Annie. She should’ve known the child would insist on staying with her.

For over a year, she had known her days were numbered. Dying itself wasn’t the problem. Annie was. The niece she adored was imprisoned by a past Geneva had yet to unravel. For that reason alone, she had to hang on. Getting at the truth would be painful for them both, but it had to be done. If that meant forcing down food, enduring respiratory therapy and conning her way out of the hospital, Geneva would do it.

As a little girl, Annie had been a ray of sunshine, flitting from flower to butterfly to abalone shell in sheer delight. John had doted on his daughter, and Liz loved having a little girl to dress in bows and ruffles. After her father’s untimely death, Annie, with the intuitiveness of the young, had devoted herself to making her mother’s life easier, happier. At a young age, she’d come home
from school and prepared supper. She’d understood that excelling was a way to coax a smile from her mother. Geneva used to worry about the strain such efforts put on the girl. Dance recitals, cheerleading competitions, tennis matches—it didn’t matter. In Liz’s eyes, Annie had to be a star.

And what had been her reward? Her shallow mother’s grudging approval, tainted by unrealistic expectations. Yet Annie had never stopped trying and somehow, through it all, never stopped being that ray of sunshine. Until…

Geneva would go to her grave wishing she had been in Eden Bay for Annie’s high school graduation and regretting she had been unable to alter whatever events had scarred Annie so profoundly.

She glanced again at her great-niece, still sleeping, her head on her forearm. Soon. She would ask Annie soon. Force some answers from her. While she still could.

A
NNIE WOKE
to the early-morning bustle of the nurses’ shift change. She straightened up in the chair and stretched her arms above her head, yawning. Then, realizing where she was, she hurried to Geneva’s bedside. Her great-aunt lay with her head elevated, breathing raggedly, her eyes closed. Annie had never been much of a one for prayer, especially to a deity who had failed her before, but in the half-light filtering into the room, she raised her eyes to whatever god might be looking down on them, and whispered, “Please. Not yet.”

Finally, needing caffeine, she left Geneva. At the courtesy station, she fixed a cup of coffee, thankfully
fresh and strong. Reentering Auntie G.’s room, Annie found two nurses hovering over their patient, one of them changing the IV, the other reviewing the chart.

With a start, Geneva awoke, her eyes frantically scanning the room. “Annie?”

“I’m here, Auntie G. It’s all right. The nurses are checking on you, that’s all.”

“Tell them not to bother. I’m going home today.”

“Now, Ms. Greer,” one of the nurses said, “That’s for Dr. Woodruff to decide.”

Geneva blew a disgusted raspberry. “Like hell,” Annie thought she heard her mutter.

When the nurses finished their duties, one of them, a plump, redheaded woman dressed in a purple flowered scrub suit, lingered. “Excuse me,” she said, laying a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “You must be Annie Greer.”

Annie looked into the nurse’s sympathetic blue eyes. There was something familiar in the lines of the woman’s face. “Yes. Do I know you?”

“It’s been so long, I don’t know if you’ll remember me. I’m Carolee Huxley. Well, I used to be. Now I’m Carolee Nordstrom.”

In her mind, Annie flipped the pages of her high school yearbook, and then memory clicked in. “Wow! It’s been a few years since Mrs. Cole’s dance classes.” They’d met in ninth grade when she and Carolee had performed a duet for their recital. The pleasure of recognition faded as soon as Annie realized that in Carolee’s mind, she was probably still not welcome in Eden Bay.

Carolee nodded toward the bed where Geneva had gone back to sleep. “I’m so sorry we have to reconnect
under these circumstances. Rest assured, Ms. Greer will get the best possible care.”

Was that the nurse’s way of dismissing her ties to Annie? “I appreciate that.”

Cocking her head, Carolee said, “You’ve been gone from here a number of years, right?”

“Since high school graduation,” Annie murmured, hoping Carolee would not recall her abrupt departure.

“Have you been in touch with any of the gals in our class?”

More than anything, Annie wanted this conversation to end. “No.”

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but maybe you could use someone to talk to.” Her glance took in Geneva. “This is a difficult situation. If you’d let me, I’d like to help. Would you be available to meet me in the cafeteria for a quick lunch, say, around one-thirty?”

If you’d let me?
Surely Carolee wasn’t trying to befriend her. Or maybe she was ignorant of what had happened with Pete. What if she didn’t know? Would she still want to renew their acquaintance when she found out?

Carolee stepped back. “If you’d rather not—”

Annie recovered her manners. “No, it’s not that at all.” She hesitated, wondering whether to risk the connection. When she looked at Carolee, the woman’s eyes mirrored both confusion and understanding. “Yes. Thanks. I’ll be there at one-thirty.”

“Great, see you then. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s back to the Florence Nightingale routine.”

When Carolee left the room, Annie wandered to the window. A fog bank hung low over the ocean and beaches,
but sunshine dappled the buildings and parking lot below. She knew the sun would eventually win, burning off the fog. The metaphor hit close to home. If only the fog in her life could be so easily and naturally dissolved.

After a few moments, she returned to Auntie G.’s bedside. Pulling up a chair, she sat quietly holding Geneva’s hand.

“A friend?”

Annie stood, leaning closer. “Who?”

“That nurse.”

“Someone I used to know. That’s all.”

Auntie G.’s eyes flew open. “No! That’s not all. You need a friend. Never turn your back on such an opportunity.”

Annie smiled weakly, “I won’t,” she said, even as she wondered whether she could trust the friendship of anyone in Eden Bay.

Dr. Woodruff made rounds midmorning. After reading the chart and examining Geneva, she beckoned Annie to follow her into the hall. “She’s insisting on going home.”

“I know.”

The doctor’s expression reflected her concern. “We’re better able to care for her here. On the other hand, I have to take her wishes into consideration.”

Annie’s heart thumped in recognition of what the doctor wasn’t saying. “How long does she have?”

“That’s hard to predict. Cases vary. But even given that window of uncertainty, not long. We can keep her a few days and build up her strength. If she insists on returning home, how would you feel about having
twenty-four-hour nursing care when it all becomes too much for you?”