A Letter for Annie by Laura Abbot Page A

Auntie G.
     

    D AMN IT , damn it, damn it! Kyle knew he was hammering with more force than necessary, but physical activity had always been his emotional release. Annie was so friggin’ independent. He didn’t expect her to fall into his arms or gush with gratitude, but somebody needed to be there to help her through these next few days, and it looked as if fate had elected him. He sat back on his feet and rolled his eyes skyward. Pete, if my relationship with Annie is one of your jokes, it isn’t funny.
    But it would be just like Pete to arrange this—to see that the love of his life was taken care of. Pick somebody else, please. I’m getting in too deep.
    He resumed nailing, wondering how much longer he could keep his hands off Annie. A sympathetic hug was one thing; the sexual stirrings she aroused in him were quite another. He had spent way too much time imagining what was hidden under her baggy shirts andbib overalls—round, pert breasts and firmly rounded buttocks. Crap! He was getting hot just thinking about it. The soulful quality of her expressions and the elfin grace of her movements were irresistible. Everything about her made him want to protect her and, at the same time, to explore all that lay beneath the surface.
    But resist he must. Just as he’d told Bubba this morning, women were too damn much trouble!
     

    T UESDAY AFTERNOON Geneva lay back in her own bed relishing the comfort of familiar surroundings. She’d take just a little snooze and then rally to sit in her chair by the living room window. She could breathe just as well—or just as poorly—there as lying here. Every day was a gift, despite the coughing fits and shortness of breath.
    Dr. Woodruff had done her best with nutrients and medications, but Geneva could feel herself slowly drying into a husk of a person. Yet her thoughts raced. So much to remember. So many good times and interesting people, most of them dead now. Hers had been a rich and full life. Once a friend had asked if she’d ever regretted not having a husband. She’d come close to marrying a time or two, but reason had prevailed. Her feet were too itchy and her curiosity too vast to be confined for a lifetime by another’s, even a beloved’s, expectations. Each man in her life had brought different gifts—drop-dead handsome Pablo, the crazy Spaniard, with his easy laugh and sense of mischief; Reggie, dear Reggie, a public school Brit through and through, whose quick mind fascinated her; and then Whit, anAmerica’s Cup–caliber yachtsman who spared no expense in providing her with beautiful things. She’d had her share of lovers and had enjoyed their minds and their bodies. All in all, not a bad life. One she was content to leave…except for Annie.
    She must’ve slept for a while because the next thing she knew, Annie was standing by her bed, holding out the telephone. “Who is it?”
    “I think you’ll be pleased. It’s Carmen.”
    Hearing the soothing accent of her housekeeper and companion was a tonic. Even better was the news that Carmen was coming for a visit the first of the week. When Geneva offered to pay for her airline ticket, Carmen demurred. “No, no, señorita. My daughter and her husband thank you so much for letting me come to help take care of the little one. They want to do this for me and for you.”
    “Please tell them thank you. I shall so look forward to our time together.”
    They talked a bit further, then hung up, but not before Carmen’s mellifluous voice uttered words that suddenly carried far more significance than ever before. “Vaya con Dios, amiga,” she said at the end of their conversation.
    Annie took the phone from her, a smile brightening her face. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”
    “The best, petunia.” She levered herself up in bed. “Now, I’m getting up.”
    “But don’t you think—”
    “I am not an invalid. I want to sit by my window and watch the birds and the clouds and the sea.” She swungher legs