Annabelle's Angel (6 page)

She waited. The silence seemed an affirmation, so she went on.

“But You let Faith tell me I need to start living a bit for myself. Not completely for myself. But maybe if I don't, one of the kids will start to think it's his or her job to take care of me, and then it'll interfere with Your plans for him or her.”

She imagined Liam giving up his dreams to become an actor. If he could stay close to God and achieve those dreams, think of all the good he could do. But if he believed, because of Annabelle's example, that his job was to give up the opportunity to positively influence people just to take care of her—

Any one of the kids could get the idea that self-sacrifice was more important than doing God's will. She had to prove to her family that she was capable of living.

So who was so helpless in Annabelle's life, that she'd believed she had to give up her dreams?

The kids?

Well. She pulled the cake, steaming with sweet fragrance, out of the oven and set it on the wire rack. Soon she'd make a buttercream frosting and then head out to start picking up everyone.

She had to fetch her grandmother first, in twenty minutes.

Grandma.

Annabelle brushed the hair away from the scars, tucked most of it behind her ear. The air on her skin felt off, made her want to let the hair fall back in place. She fought the urge.

She checked the roast in the crockpot, pulled out everything she needed to start the vegetables cooking as soon as she got home, and found her purse.

And she still didn't know what she'd decided to do when she picked up her grandmother. She just knew she'd come to some sort of decision. Maybe when Grandma got in the car, the answers would come to her.

“Why don't we ever talk about the accident?”

No hello, no asking if her grandmother had found everything she'd gone looking for, no warm fuzzies. Just a stark, almost accusing comment.

Grandma gave her narrow-eyed look. “Because I never wanted to make you feel bad.”

“Me? Why me? The other driver was the one at fault. And I was in the backseat.”

“But you saw him coming, and you didn't say anything. You told me so.” When Annabelle didn't answer, her grandmother went on. “Right after I had to tell you your parents hadn't made it. Don't you remember? You said, ‘If I'd told you the truck was there, they would have lived.'”

“No, I don't remember.”

Grandma nodded. “I just thought it was kinder to not make you feel any guiltier.”

“I don't feel guilty, though.”

Grandma pulled her wallet out of her purse and started sorting receipts. “I got some very good deals on some gifts for the kids—”

“If we're talking about guilt, why did you stop driving after the accident?”

The older woman's hands shook. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“I don't want to wait another five years.”

“Annabelle.” The agony in her grandmother's whisper was almost enough to make Annabelle back down. Almost. The agony in her own heart made her press forward.

“I'm not saying you
should
feel guilty. Everyone knows it was the other driver's fault. I just want to know why you stopped.” She glanced at her grandmother, appalled at how many years she seemed to have aged in the few minutes since she'd gotten in the car.

“I don't want to hurt anyone else. Because I never was sure—”

“The witnesses told the cops—”

“If I'd gone down a different street. Or left the parking lot five minutes later. If I'd done something different—”

“You're not in charge of the world, Grandma. You couldn't have known. You couldn't change things.”

Grandma wiped a hand across her mouth. “I kept thinking how, now, raising seven kids was going to be my sole responsibility. And I was too old to deal with that.”

“But I always thought it was my job.” Annabelle glanced at her. “You kept asking me what I was going to do about everything. It was always my decision, what to do with the kids, where they'd go if we didn't keep them. It was always up to me.”

Grandma nodded. “I couldn't.”

“I was barely twenty years old.”

“You grew up fast.”

“Who says I wanted to?”

She pulled up to the high school where Faith waited with two of her friends. All three climbed into the car, saying hello. Faith asked if they could drop the others off before picking up anyone else.

“No problem.” Annabelle put on her signal, checked traffic, and pulled away from the curb.

It wasn't a problem. Doing her sister a favor was a privilege.

Taking care of her family was a privilege. Not a job, nor an obligation, nor a burden. Nor a reason to stop living.

She didn't seem to have gotten any answers or directions.

Just a new point of view.

Maybe that was enough.

 

~*~

 

Three days later, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time, Annabelle all but skipped as she entered the church hall for dance practice. What could be better than spending time in Rick's arms? They had two more rehearsals before their final performance, and she planned to make the most of every minute.

Oh, the things that hope could do to a person's heart.

But rather than lead them in any new steps, Mrs. Veragas started talking about costuming, makeup, and hairstyles. “I have some dresses we can alter for the women,” she finished. “Men, do any of you have a coat with tails?”

Of the three, only Rick knew what tails were. And he didn't have any.

“Shame,” Mrs. Veragas muttered. “Still, we'll make do. And ladies, upsweep hairdos. None of these modern styles, you hear? All right, now, take your places. Today, we're going to learn the waltz.”

Annabelle would have been delighted if Mrs. Veragas had left out the instructions about hair. She'd have thrown herself into the dance, and into Rick's arms, and enjoyed every touch. But now, she had to fight down panic; in less than a week, she'd be showing off her scars to the world. And just because she'd planned to do so someday didn't mean she wanted to be forced into it so soon. She wanted it to be on her schedule, not someone else's.

Rick put one hand at her waist and clasped her free hand with his other. “You OK, little angel?”

“What?” She shook her head. “I'm no angel.”

He chuckled. “Everyone in your family is an angel. Even the ones who keep dropping sticky, sparkly things in my hair.”

“Your hair?” She looked up, let go of his hand to make sure her own hair covered her cheek. But she wasn't supposed to do that anymore. She'd promised herself, not to mention God, and the memory made her blush with shame.

“Oh, it's no big deal.” Rick must have taken her red face as anger at the kids. “They think I'm a snow angel. Or they're trying to turn me into one. I haven't exactly figured out which.”

“I'm not surprised,” Annabelle murmured. Louder, she asked, “I remember the baby powder, but what else have they used?”

“So far, just sugar and baby powder. I'm waiting to be doused in flour.”

“At least they haven't resorted to marshmallow fluff.”

“Oh. Ah.” His eyes widened. “You don't happen to have any at home, do you?”

She shook her head and held back a laugh at the look on his face. “Never buy the stuff.”

“Good.”

Mrs. Veragas interrupted with a vigorous replacing of hand and foot positions. “The waltz is the most elegant of the dances I'm teaching you, but also, the most scandalous. It took years before it was accepted as a proper dance because the couples not only don't change partners, they dance close together.”

Even Rick laughed at that.

Annabelle felt herself blushing again. She'd been born in the wrong time. She really had. She belonged to a gentler, more circumspect era.

When they came back together, Rick's expression nearly made her lose her breath. What right did he have to look so fond, so sweet? At her?

Wait—this was what she wanted, right? Whenever she thought of really living, wasn't this what she imagined? His arms, around her, always, his sweetness hers, always—

Being bold and brave was far too scary for her.

Maybe she really needed to crawl back into that shell Faith disliked and protect herself.

“So, what's for dinner tonight?”

She stared, her mouth hanging open. Finally, she managed, “Pardon me?”

“Oops. Sorry. That sounds like I'm inviting myself and I never—I mean—”

She really liked the way pink stole into his cheeks. It made her feel slightly less conspicuous. “Grandma is making a stew. And you're always welcome.”

He raised his chin. “I appreciate that. But I was thinking of inviting you out to dinner.”

“All of us?” She stopped, and in that huge room, with only two other couples circling round, one couple bumped into them.

“No.” He grimaced at the others and steered her to a quieter corner. “I mean, just us two.”

Everything she wanted—everything she'd dreamed of—for years—watching him across the church—everything—

“No. I ca— No, I'm sorry. The kids—I mean—I'm not—”

“Yeah, OK. No problem.”

If she judged by his expression, it was a problem. A huge one.

He'd just asked her on a date, and she'd refused.

So much for living.

 

 

 

 

8

 

On the way home from the next practice, Liam gave Rick a sad, accusing stare as he climbed into Rick's SUV. “You promised to take us shopping for Annabelle.”

“You're right, I did. And I forgot. I'm sorry.” How could he have forgotten that? But then, he'd been too focused on her rejection. Which probably had as much to do with her own insecurities as it did with how she felt about him. Rick checked the rearview mirror and looked over his shoulder at Joe. “What's a good time for you two?”

Joe glanced at Liam. “It's not just the two of us.”

“Who else? Does Faith want to go?”

“Yeah. But so do the little kids.”

Rick felt his eyes widen, and the car speed slacken. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and forced himself to concentrate on driving. “All of them?”

“Well, yeah. She's everyone's sister.”

“OK.” Rick put on speed and caught up with traffic. Sister or not, Annabelle deserved everything Rick could arrange for her. And it might make her accept his next offer of a date.

Especially if he could make it sound like he wasn't asking for a date.

“Sure. Why not? When do you want to go?”

“She's got another one of those committee meetings tomorrow right before your last dance rehearsal. We could go then.”

“We could, but we wouldn't have much time. I have to be at the rehearsal, too, you know.”

“We know.” Liam nodded. “Annabelle really likes practicing with you.”

That was good to hear. Since Rick really liked practicing with Annabelle. Especially now that they got to spend some of that time waltzing and not changing partners. And got to dance, as Mrs. Veragas kept telling them, scandalously close. He grinned. “All right, then. I'll pick you all up at four. Make sure everyone is ready. I don't want to be late getting back.”

“We'll be sure.”

 

~*~

 

Seeing all six kids lined up on the porch, dressed in red or green sweaters or jackets, and even, in Victoria's case, a poppy-red knit hat with a jaunty bobble on top, brought the whole Christmas spirit crashing down on Rick.

He'd missed it. He really hadn't felt it in years, and now, just when he'd decided he'd gotten too old for it, there it was.

Laughing, he opened the car doors and supervised the kids as they piled inside. Good thing he had an SUV, because he had just enough seatbelts. He'd even borrowed a car seat for Victoria.

“We going to the mall?” Joe asked.

“Sure. But you guys have to promise to stick together and choose fast. We don't have much time.”

They promised.

Too bad they couldn't keep their promise. At the mall, Christmas songs, several going at once, bombarded them. Matt and Brody started a contest of who could outshout the other's verses. Rick separated them and paired Matt with Joe and Brody with Liam. Faith already held Victoria's hand, but Rick wouldn't have minded that job. He had an unholy urge to bounce her hat bobble back and forth just for fun.

“Clothes first.” Faith lead the way to a small boutique.

The seven of them would barely fit inside.

“Clothes are boring.” Matt jerked his hand free and crossed his arms. “I'm not getting her dumb clothes.”

“She likes clothes,” Faith pointed out.

Rick squatted in front of the little boy. “So what do you want to get her? Toys?”

“Yeah!” Mattie took off across the mall.

Joe recaptured him and together with Rick, towed him into the store where Faith had piled Liam's arms with her choices.

Rick checked the time. They were already running behind. He sighed.

“Annabelle doesn't play with toys anymore.” Victoria wrinkled her nose at Matt.

“She plays with
our
toys.” Matt's eyes went narrow and mean.

Rick angled himself closer just in case he needed to intervene. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“That's only 'cuz we make her.” Brody scrunched his nose. “Anyway, we're gonna get plenty of our own.” He started bouncing.

Rick could just imagine the chaos in their living room on Christmas morning. He couldn't wait.

But Victoria and Matt were still facing off like contenders, so Rick separated them. “Clothes first. Other stuff in a bit.”

Faith shone in picking out styles and colors that Rick was sure would make Annabelle glow. After they loaded the younger kids down with packages, they managed to corral them more easily.