Annabelle's Angel (8 page)

And there weren't any more dance rehearsals to use as an excuse to see her. Soccer season was over for the holidays. No more giving the boys rides home and stopping in to see her afterwards. No more looking up from the sidelines of a game and seeing her with her hair, and sometimes a hat, pulled over her face, until she got distracted cheering for the team.

Though now he thought of it, that hair hadn't been covering her face so much lately. Yeah—it hadn't, because he'd seen those scars. Funny. Until just that moment, he hadn't even noticed himself noticing them.

They did look as if they'd hurt, though, a long time ago.

He pulled up to the curb in front of the Archer house, wondering what made him think that Annabelle would be there waiting for him to show up. He hadn't bothered to call ahead, and of course, the van was gone. Twisting his mouth with disappointment, he reached to start the engine again when several small bodies burst from the house.

“Don't go!” Mattie slammed against the passenger door, and Brody yanked on his brother's sweater. “We're here. Don't leave.”

Rick had no objections to seeing the kids while he waited for Annabelle. But his mind was so full of issues and problems and solutions that he didn't think he could postpone discussing things with her.

He didn't think he could wait any longer, either, to give her at least one of the packages he'd piled into his car.

He glanced behind him at the flat, red-wrapped and green-ribboned package on the backseat before he patted his shirt pocket. Yup, everything was still there.

“Hey, kiddo. Peel yourself off the paint job, OK?” Laughing, he got out of his car and scooped up two of the kids. He trudged to the front door where Faith and Liam waited for him.

“Where's Annabelle?”

“She took Grandma to the church parking lot so Grandma can practice driving again. She's gonna try to renew her license. If she does, Annabelle's gonna have lots more time.”

Rick stared at Liam. “You're kidding, right?”

“Nope. Want to take us over there so we can watch?”

“No.”

After a second, Liam nodded. “Yeah, maybe it's better we don't know how bad she is. No point in giving everyone nightmares.”

Faith smacked Liam's shoulder. “Nobody's gonna have nightmares.”

Rick deposited the two kids on the porch before he loped back to his car and opened the door. “Can I bring this in? It's a present for Annabelle.” He pulled out the huge package, and Mattie burst into tears.

“What?” He stared as Matt, followed by Brody, raced into the house. “What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing.” Faith, looking as though she'd lost her best friend and her cellphone all on the same day, shrugged. “We were just talking, you know, and Joe said how he bet you were gonna give her a ring. So I guess Mattie's kinda disappointed.”

“Is that all?” Rick had to pretend to a protracted sneezing fit to keep any of the kids from seeing his grin. OK, they were
all
going to be surprised.

Twenty minutes later, he held the front door for Annabelle and her grandmother. The impulse to give Annabelle a kiss as she walked in nearly made him crack apart, but he held himself together. Just a few more days—
if
he could make himself wait. Half of him argued that he couldn't, that the timing wasn't important. The other half pointed out how attached Annabelle was to all things Victorian, and that his silly little plan was the best. With a sigh, he gave in to that half, and left the box in his pocket.

But the other gift would not wait.

“Rick brought you a present,” Brody told her.

Mattie, who should have been right next to his brother, urging Annabelle to rip off the wrapping, stood in the corner of the stairs and sniffed.

Grandma looked up as she stumped inside. “We need some mistletoe, don't you think?”

“Pagan practices,” Annabelle muttered, but her eyes twinkled.

“Come open it!” Brody grabbed Annabelle's hand.

“No one wants to know how I did?”

Annabelle laughed. “Grandma did great, you guys. I bet pretty soon she'll have her own car. She's going places.”

“As long as she takes some kids with her,” Rick said, but low enough that only Joe heard him and laughed.

“Come on, A'belle. Only Mattie's crying 'cuz it's too big for a ring.”

“Brody.” Rick gave the boy a one-eyed glare and then patted his bottom. “Lead on, kiddo, and don't embarrass me anymore.”

“You have high hopes.” Annabelle loosened her red scarf and followed the rest into the living room. “Wow. It's big.”

“Yeah. It really is too big for a ring. And it's heavy, too.” Brody pouted.

Rick gave Brody another glare, with both eyes this time, and then took Annabelle's coat. “It's an early Christmas present. Actually, Victoria gave me the idea to give it to you early.”

“Me?” Two shining blue eyes stared up at him and melted him all over again.

“Yeah, you said we were already all snow angels, so I thought I'd better give it to her now.” He took Victoria's hand and hugged her.

With a puzzled look at him, Annabelle turned to pull the paper from the package.

The others crowded around, jostling but not arguing.

Rick stepped back a little, suddenly shy. What if she didn't like it? What if she thought he was—well, presumptuous—to use a very Victorian term?

“Oh, Rick. Oh, it's perfect. It's absolutely perfect.” Her eyes glowed, and her cheeks had gone a delicate shade of pink.

Ah, well, that was all right. Because he thought it was perfect, as well.

He'd taken a picture with his cellphone of the line of snow angels, enlarged it in print, and framed it. Maybe the quality didn't match the pictures she'd taken with her fancy camera, but he hadn't seen anything developed.

With her forefinger, Annabelle traced the snow angels, her finger going slower as she got to her own image, and then to his.

His heart swelled. She liked his gift.

“You should put it in the dining room so we can all look at it,” Brody said.

“No, she should put it wherever she wants.” Faith crossed her arms and frowned at their little brother.

“But she'll put it in her room, and then we can't never look at it.”

“Brody—”

“Faith—”

Struggling not to laugh, Rick met Annabelle's gaze. Really, right then wasn't the time to tell her about the phone calls to his relatives. But she'd be just as happy to hear about it later that evening, after he'd taken her for a quiet dinner.

 

 

 

 

10

 

Annabelle adjusted the ruffles foaming over the bodice of her cranberry colored dress. She avoided checking in the mirror again because she'd spent enough time studying the way the green and cranberry ribbons held her hair off her face, and exposed the scars.

You're used to it now
, she said silently, and forced herself not to argue back.

Right. She was used to it, but she had no idea what Rick thought of the scars.

I'm over that. Remember? It's all past stuff. Doesn't matter what he thinks. He's never mentioned it, so he must not think much of them.

Right?

She took a deep breath and moved out of the tiny bathroom tucked between the hall and the row of classrooms and hurried to the room set aside for the dance demonstration. Mrs. Veragas had brought in a collection of old-fashioned chairs, lots of lace to drape over tables and windows, and even a large and obviously fake fireplace, complete with tissue paper flames.

Annabelle brushed her hands over the satin dress and down her hips. Every time she passed someone she knew, she expected violent reactions. She got a few strange looks, once or twice an averted gaze, but for the most part, the only thing that met her were greetings and hugs.

OK, one test down. On to the final exam—Rick.

Maybe he wouldn't like to know she thought of him that way, but she couldn't help it. Once she passed, once she aced the test, she could go back to seeing him as a man—and what a man! But for now, she had to get past this hurdle.

If he was as loving as she hoped, he wouldn't mind.

He'd hold her hand while she got over it, but he wouldn't mind.

OK, enough of this masochistic procrastination,
she told herself. Go in there and get on with it.

She walked into the room and saw Rick across the dance floor. The look on his face said everything she wanted: you're beautiful; I'm enchanted; I think I'm falling in love…

He bounded to her and grabbed her hand. “Annabelle, you're beautiful.”

She could wait to hear the rest.

The music started. The three couples took their places and began the first country dance. Other than a faint awareness of an audience, and Mrs. Veragas's occasional announcements over a microphone, all Annabelle saw was Rick. All she felt was Rick. All she heard was the music that either led her toward or away from Rick. The waltz was an exercise in heaven.

During the first break, he brought drinks for them both. She took hers and grinned up at him.

“Oh, fetching punch, just as any proper Victorian gentleman would. I'm proud of you.”

His dimples showed. “Impressed, are you?”

“Very.” She took a sip, forcing herself not to gag on the overly-sweet mixture.

Mrs. Veragas appeared with a huge white fan, decked in flowers and ribbons to match Annabelle's dress. “Here you go, dear.”

Annabelle took it. “Already?”

“It's a performance. It's time we got with the show,” Rick pointed out. He took her glass and then leaned closer. “OK, I'm going to go talk to that group of ladies over there. They've been watching us. You do the ‘come hither' motion with the fan, and I'll come.”

Annabelle glanced at the women he headed toward. Three of her grandmother's friends watched her, and to her shock, she saw her grandmother just behind them.

Grandma hadn't come to a church function on her own in years. And where were the kids? Annabelle supposed the three older kids were watching the younger, but then, how would they get to the boutique? They'd all been looking forward to it.

Rick glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

With a sigh, she closed her fan and then touched the tip with her forefinger.

Rick excused himself from his conversation and came back to her.

“Very good.” She forced herself to meet his eyes and kept her voice just above a whisper. “What's up with my grandmother?”

“She brought the kids.”

Dismay filled her. “Oh, please tell me she didn't. She hasn't gotten her license renewed yet.”

“She didn't drive, no. Mrs. Weller did. They're picking out the last of their Christmas gifts at the boutique, and then they'll be in here to watch the dance.”

Annabelle hit his shoulder with the fan, signaling her impatience. “They've done enough shopping, don't you think?”

He looked like he was trying to hide a smile, and failing. “Just a few things, Annabelle. Don't worry.” He motioned to the fan. “I'm more interested in what you're going to tell me next.”

Opening it, she covered her mouth and nose. “I have no idea what this means, but it looks flirtatious, don't you think?”

“Sure.” His lips twisted.

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Well, if I remember right, you open the fan halfway—” His fingers, warm and tingle-inducing, covered hers as he separated the ribs. “And then you touch it to your lips.”

She opened her mouth and let the fan drop. “I'm not asking you to kiss me!”

“Ah. What a shame.” Just as the music started, he bent his head toward her as if she didn't have to ask.

Mrs. Veragas announced the next set of dances.

Rick straightened, his face a mixture of chagrin and playfulness.

Annabelle only felt the first emotion. Maybe she hadn't asked, but she wouldn't have complained about a kiss. Or several.

Even more people lined the walls, or settled into the provided chairs. Annabelle set her fan on a nearby table and took her place opposite Rick. When she glanced up, all six of her siblings had filed in and now flanked her grandmother.

All the nerves and worries that she'd brought into the dance with her disappeared. This was her family. They loved her, and she loved them. And Rick—well, Rick was Rick, and what he'd become was up to him.

She took his hand.

 

~*~

 

If Rick's nerves stretched any further, they'd all pop off him like buttons and ping around the room. He imagined stepping on slick, treacherous bits of nerves and falling smack on his face.

Ah, well, wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen.

He patted his vest pocket to make sure the box was there. It was.

And Annabelle was there. Annabelle, in a red, shimmery dress, her hair tied up with green ribbons. Annabelle holding out her hand to join him in the dance.

He wasn't exactly happy she hadn't asked him for a kiss, but he wasn't disappointed, either. They had time. Lots of time.

He glanced over his shoulder at her siblings. Lots of potential interruptions, as well, but never mind that. They were loveable disturbances.

He took her hand, and they stepped into the middle of the floor.

She moved closer and then away. He swirled her to her next partner and turned to his.

He couldn't wait for the waltz. It killed him that these country dances took half an hour each to complete. By the time they'd finished the second, he felt drenched, and not just from exertion.

The music for the waltz began.

He twirled Annabelle around the room for a few minutes, gazing into her eyes, almost forgetting—but not quite—the box in his pocket. Just as the last strains faded and the other couples had already drifted apart, he put one hand onto Annabelle's arm and stopped her.