A Letter for Annie by Laura Abbot Page B

over the side of the bed. “And where is that young man?”
    “Kyle?”
    “Yes. I want him to show me everything he’s done so far. I like that boy. He’s a hard worker.”
    “He’s gone for the day, but he said he’ll be back in the morning. He’s done good work, I think.”
    Geneva shoved her feet into her slippers and hoisted herself to her feet. “Please bring me the wheelchair.”
    As Annie lowered her into the seat and draped a blanket over her knees, she said, “You’re sounding pretty feisty this afternoon.”
    “I’m feeling better. Maybe I’ll lick this thing yet.” The words were brave and, for the moment, true. She did feel better than she had several days ago. But she knew it was a temporary reprieve.
    Annie settled her by the window, fixed her a cup of tea and then disappeared into the kitchen to start dinner. The setting sun glared into the window. In earlier days, Geneva would have pulled the shade, but not today. Now she wanted to soak up every single ray of that incandescent ball slowly descending toward the horizon, before it sank into the sea, leaving behind only darkness.
    It was right that Carmen was coming. She had been an integral part of Geneva’s life for nearly twenty years, traveling with her, laundering, cooking, generally making her life easier. They knew each other’s habits and understood when to give the other privacy. Their friendship had been choreographed by habit and proximity, but the time had come to say their goodbyes.
    Geneva managed to eat most of the chicken breast,potatoes and peas that Annie had fixed and then held on for one game of gin rummy, which her great-niece won handily. However, her mind wasn’t really on the game, but rather on choosing a time to talk with Annie about the reasons for her flight to Bisbee all those years ago. She was too tired tonight, and tomorrow Kyle Becker would be here. She acknowledged to herself that as much as this conversation needed to happen, she’d been delaying it. Making Annie any more miserable than she already was was going to be hard. But ignoring her niece’s pain and emotional paralysis was irresponsible. And so few days remained.
     

    K YLE MOVED carefully through the living room, not wanting to disturb the old woman dozing in her chair. Adding a coat of stain to the mantelpiece was relatively quiet work. Settling down to the task, he became aware of movement from the work area in Annie’s bedroom. He imagined her hands playing over fabrics. He’d been impressed by her purses. As she’d told him about them, he’d recognized the enthusiasm that had been so much a part of her when they were younger. She’d had a spark back then—a spark he would love to ignite again under his own fingers. He shut his eyes briefly, willing away that distracting line of thought.
    Half an hour later he put the lid on the can of stain and carried his materials into the hallway, where he set them down, pausing there to watch the rise and fall of Geneva Greer’s labored breathing and wishing he’d gotten to know her sooner. Lost in his thoughts, hedidn’t hear Annie come down the stairs. When she brushed past him bent on checking on Geneva, his gut clenched. Soon, too soon, Annie would be alone in the world. How had this happened? Why wasn’t Pete here to soften the blow? Could anyone ever fill the void Geneva would leave? Could he?
    He watched Annie adjust the blanket around Geneva’s legs, then stand back, silent, as if willing her great-aunt to keep breathing. When she turned back toward him, eyes filled with tears, she seemed surprised he was still there. When he held out his arms, she swiped away the tears and shook her head, whispering fiercely, “No, Kyle.”
    He should have obeyed her, should have left the room. But a force beyond his control took over. “Annie, love, please.” He drew her into his arms, holding her tight, running his hand over her head. “I know, I know,” he murmured.
    She stilled within his