the front stairs to the right. It was quite a grand staircase, Annie thought, skimming her hand along the smoothly varnished wood of the carved banister. It was a sturdy affair with thick balusters. The risers were bare wood, no carpeting. She could see Ray favoring one leg as he went up them. Maybe his knees were getting old. It was that way of climbing. Arthritis. At the top of the stairs, he led her to the right and down a long hall. She saw an equally long hall going off in the other direction, as if the house were split in halves, with an east wing and a west wing. Fancy.
Sconces lined the walls here too, casting golden pools of light on the wood floor.
Ray opened the last door without entering himself. Annie went in, listening with half an ear as he stood awkwardly in the doorway, pointing out the bathtub, steaming gently, and some clothes that had been laid out on the bed. He said something about the room beside hers being Mae’s.
Nothing about Jem’s.
“All right then... Soon as you’re ready you can throw that dress out into the hall, and I’ll get it washed.” Ray’s voice had grown gruff, as if he was a mite embarrassed about telling her to undress.
Annie just kept nodding, her attention fixed on the room. It was huge compared to her small attic room back in Tennessee. There was a big double bed in the center, big enough for two people with space to spare. A soft-looking quilt was spread out over it, done out in bright blue and white, with little touches of buttercup gold in the patterns—flowers and stripes and such. All interlocking squares and rectangles. Very comfy looking, like a grandmother had made it many years ago. It was nicer than anything even the Ruskins had owned, and they’d had a lot of nice homemade things because Mrs. Ruskin was an excellent seamstress. Or she had been, Annie thought with a pang.
She also saw there were two pillows on the bed, but she knew without too much looking around that none of Jem’s things were here. So he truly didn’t mean to sleep here, just as he’d said earlier. That was well and good. They hardly knew each other. At least not yet.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Ray said, closing the bedroom door without a sound.
Annie gave him a little wave over her shoulder, but he was already gone.
She stepped onto a colorful rag rug that lay just inside the doorway. There were several strewn over the wood floor, placed around the bed to cushion bare feet and ward off the chill on wintry mornings. Annie tested the rug with her toes—pure bliss—and let out a sigh. Then realizing her bath wasn’t getting any warmer, she quickly pulled her dress over her head, stripped off her undergarments, and rolled the lot into a bundle which she pushed out into the hall with one hand while using the door as a shield.
The bath was as deliciously warm as it looked. Ray’s doing, she suspected. He’d left her a bar of soap and two towels, which was nice of him. She soaped herself up five times and washed her filthy hair about as many times. Much as she hated being so dirty—and hated making such a poor impression on everyone she’d met here—she couldn’t regret her efforts to keep Danny away.
At a certain point the bath water went tepid. It had turned murky from all her dirt, and her fingertips had started to wrinkle. She caught a whiff of beef stew or something equally hearty, reminding her she hadn’t eaten much in the past few weeks.
Annie quickly dried off, wrapped one of the towels around herself and another around her wet hair, and went looking for a dress to change into.
She hadn’t taken much interest in the clothes on the bed until now. All her attention had been focused on getting out of her dirty clothes and slipping into that welcoming tub.
Ben must have brought the clothes, as Ray had asked him to do. She’d gathered that Ben was Jem’s younger brother-in-law. And Jem’s wife had been called Lorelei, a pretty name. It sounded like
Sconces lined the walls here too, casting golden pools of light on the wood floor.
Ray opened the last door without entering himself. Annie went in, listening with half an ear as he stood awkwardly in the doorway, pointing out the bathtub, steaming gently, and some clothes that had been laid out on the bed. He said something about the room beside hers being Mae’s.
Nothing about Jem’s.
“All right then... Soon as you’re ready you can throw that dress out into the hall, and I’ll get it washed.” Ray’s voice had grown gruff, as if he was a mite embarrassed about telling her to undress.
Annie just kept nodding, her attention fixed on the room. It was huge compared to her small attic room back in Tennessee. There was a big double bed in the center, big enough for two people with space to spare. A soft-looking quilt was spread out over it, done out in bright blue and white, with little touches of buttercup gold in the patterns—flowers and stripes and such. All interlocking squares and rectangles. Very comfy looking, like a grandmother had made it many years ago. It was nicer than anything even the Ruskins had owned, and they’d had a lot of nice homemade things because Mrs. Ruskin was an excellent seamstress. Or she had been, Annie thought with a pang.
She also saw there were two pillows on the bed, but she knew without too much looking around that none of Jem’s things were here. So he truly didn’t mean to sleep here, just as he’d said earlier. That was well and good. They hardly knew each other. At least not yet.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Ray said, closing the bedroom door without a sound.
Annie gave him a little wave over her shoulder, but he was already gone.
She stepped onto a colorful rag rug that lay just inside the doorway. There were several strewn over the wood floor, placed around the bed to cushion bare feet and ward off the chill on wintry mornings. Annie tested the rug with her toes—pure bliss—and let out a sigh. Then realizing her bath wasn’t getting any warmer, she quickly pulled her dress over her head, stripped off her undergarments, and rolled the lot into a bundle which she pushed out into the hall with one hand while using the door as a shield.
The bath was as deliciously warm as it looked. Ray’s doing, she suspected. He’d left her a bar of soap and two towels, which was nice of him. She soaped herself up five times and washed her filthy hair about as many times. Much as she hated being so dirty—and hated making such a poor impression on everyone she’d met here—she couldn’t regret her efforts to keep Danny away.
At a certain point the bath water went tepid. It had turned murky from all her dirt, and her fingertips had started to wrinkle. She caught a whiff of beef stew or something equally hearty, reminding her she hadn’t eaten much in the past few weeks.
Annie quickly dried off, wrapped one of the towels around herself and another around her wet hair, and went looking for a dress to change into.
She hadn’t taken much interest in the clothes on the bed until now. All her attention had been focused on getting out of her dirty clothes and slipping into that welcoming tub.
Ben must have brought the clothes, as Ray had asked him to do. She’d gathered that Ben was Jem’s younger brother-in-law. And Jem’s wife had been called Lorelei, a pretty name. It sounded like
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