A Letter for Annie (12 page)

“My pleasure, Auntie G.” Then, as if she were light as a feather, he cradled her in his arms and started down the stairs.

It felt so good to surrender to his strength, to let herself be carried against his warm chest and rest in the steady beat of his heart. In that moment, she knew it with overpowering relief. All would be well. She could go now.

E
ARLY
T
HURSDAY AFTERNOON
Annie perched on a kitchen stool chopping onions for the casserole Carmen was preparing. As the older woman worked, she hummed a sweetly mournful tune under her breath. The shared quiet, while companionable, was also fraught with the unutterable. Each day since Auntie G.’s trip upstairs, she
had grown frailer, her breathing more erratic and difficult, her wakeful periods shorter. On Tuesday Annie had called the doctor and the social worker, making arrangements for full nursing care, beginning Sunday when Carmen was to leave. So long as Carmen was here, comforting in her concern and efficiency, Annie could cope. But with strangers under the roof? She didn’t know how she could bear it. She sniffled, lying to herself that the onions were responsible for the moisture clouding her eyes.

“Is soon,
mi niña.
”

Annie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I know.”

“I pray for peaceful end. Your
tia,
she had a good life. Sunshine, friends, love, beauty. And you.”

Setting down the knife, Annie pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Thank you, Carmen. I like hearing about how happy she was. She makes other people happy, too, just being around her. Like Kyle Becker.”

Where had that come from? She had stored Monday’s bittersweet memory of Kyle showing Auntie G. the house, afraid to draw it out and examine it too closely. Because in the moment when he’d picked up the old woman and held her close, Annie had fallen in love with him. When had that playful, teasing guy she’d known in high school turned into a kind and gentle man who knew intuitively what her great-aunt needed?

“Señor Kyle, he made this home a palace for her.”

“And for me.” Then, out of the blue, Annie was struck by what would happen next. After…after…She wouldn’t let her mind form the words. Would she be able to stay here? Or was it time to go in a different
direction? But could she bring herself to sell the family cottage? A feeling of rudderlessness swept over her, matched only by that May morning when she’d fled Eden Bay and all that was familiar. Now, paradoxically, it was that very familiarity that confused her. In subtle ways with each passing day, she was feeling more at home here, even with all its difficult memories, than she did in Bisbee.

Carmen resumed her humming. Annie slid from the stool and went to check on her great-aunt. Tiptoeing into the darkened room, she inspected the oxygen level in the tank. Fine, for now. Then she stood at the end of the bed, trying to memorize each detail of Auntie G.’s face. Yet this was not the face she wanted to remember. She turned to the bureau and studied the framed photograph of a younger Auntie G. sitting at a Parisian outdoor café, her short dark hair curling around her face, her delighted smile welcoming someone off camera. One of her lovers? It was this vibrant creature Annie could remember swooping into town once in a blue moon, bringing with her the most exotic gifts from places with strange-sounding names—Istanbul, Kuala Lumpur, Nairobi. No matter the occasion or how much time had elapsed since Annie had seen her, Auntie G. always had a knack for making her feel special.

She didn’t know how long she’d stood there, as if by doing so she could stave off the inevitable, when the phone ringing in the kitchen drew her attention. Reluctantly, she left the bedside.

“For you.” Carmen met her in the hall, handing her the portable phone.

“Annie, it’s Carolee. I was wondering about your aunt.”

As she filled Carolee in on Geneva’s condition, Annie walked toward the stairs and sat on the third step, clinging to this sympathetic voice from the outside world.

“It sounds as if you’re doing all the right things. I’m glad you’re having home care. Those nurses are great and will be a big help. Besides, my friend, you need to tend to yourself. It’s pretty easy for the caregiver to get run-down.”

“I appreciate your call, Carolee. I needed a reality check. It’s easy to lose track of the days.”

“Understandable. I, uh, have another reason for calling. I thought maybe you could use a change of scene. If I came by later this afternoon, would you be able to join me for a walk on the beach? So often when I get home from my shift at the hospital, there’s so much to do that my exercise routine suffers, as you could undoubtedly tell from my, shall we say, ample body. Anyway, I’d love your company.”

Carolee’s unpretentious chatter provided a sorely needed tonic. “I think I could leave Auntie G. for a while and, frankly, right about now a walk on the beach sounds better that a full-blown spa treatment.”

They settled on a time, and when Annie returned the phone to its cradle, her mood had lightened.

K
YLE HAD SUCCESSFULLY
avoided coming into contact with Rosemary for the better part of the week. With time, he supposed, their relationship would become less awkward. Particularly if Margaret would stop fueling
the fire. Bruce had been in and out of the office, preoccupied with getting municipal approval for the condominium development. Likewise, Kyle himself had been mostly out of the office the past few days, so there had been no time to talk with Bruce. Delaying the inevitable conversation wasn’t an option. Kyle needed to find out where he stood.

He’d stayed late on this Thursday to work up a bid on a huge home renovation, one where the new owner had said, “Spare no expense.” If he could pull it off, the project would be a showcase for AAA Builders. Before last Friday night with Rosemary, it might even have been a stepping stone toward eventually taking over when Bruce retired.

Rita and the office staff had left for the day when he heard the front door open. Stepping into the lobby, Bruce was balancing rolled-up sets of plans. “Here, let me help.” Kyle stepped forward and relieved the man of his burden, and then followed him into his darkened office where he set the plans on a conference table. “How’d it go with the planning commission?”

Bruce turned on the desk lamp and sank into his leather desk chair. “As usual, we hit a few snags, but I’m hopeful it’s something that can be addressed.” He let out a sigh. “Construction I enjoy. Red tape is another matter.” Then, as if remembering his manners, he looked up and said, “Have a seat.”

Bruce filled him in on the problems with the condo project and they brainstormed possible solutions. When they’d exhausted the subject, the worry lines had eased
around Bruce’s eyes. “Thanks, Kyle. I appreciate those suggestions.”

Kyle felt his stomach muscles tighten. “If you have the time, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Janet’s off at bridge club, so I have nothing but time. Shoot.”

“This is a ticklish subject, one I’m not real comfortable with.”

Bruce leaned forward, clasping his hands on his desk. “You can talk to me about anything, son.”

“It’s Rosemary.”

The older man nodded. “I thought so. You won’t be surprised to learn the Nemec females are pretty upset.”

“I figured as much. What about you?” Kyle felt perspiration gathering between his shoulder blades. “Your opinion matters a lot to me. I want you to know that I never intended to hurt Rosemary. That would be disrespectful to you and would dishonor Pete.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. Your personal life and the business are two separate things. If you’re worried about your job, let me set your mind at ease. You’re too valuable to me and to the company to let something like a failed romance stand in the way.”

Kyle’s grip on the chair relaxed. “I appreciate that.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “You were never in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think the world of Rosemary. She’s been like a kid sister. But love? No.”

“She has a romantic streak. I’ve been wondering if fixating on you wasn’t one way she tried to hold her brother close.”

Kyle couldn’t overlook the sadness coloring the man’s eyes. “Maybe. I imagine we all try to do that. There isn’t a day that I don’t think of Pete.”

“She’ll get over her disappointment. Sure, I don’t like seeing her upset, but she deserves to be loved.”

“I couldn’t agree more. In some ways, I wish it could’ve been me. Your family means so much.”

“And that isn’t going away. We’ll ride out this storm. All of us. I love my daughter. However, I suspect any heartbreak is more due to her wishful thinking than to any fault of yours.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for clearing the air, son.”

In that moment, the man’s fairness and affection reminded Kyle so much of Pete that he found it difficult to speak. All he could do was nod before retreating to his cubicle.

A
NNIE WAITED
for Carolee on the porch, enjoying, as best she could, the mild spring evening. When Carolee pulled up in an older-model Toyota and parked, Annie noticed she was still wearing her pink scrubs. “I didn’t have time to change,” Carolee said, approaching the porch. Her flyaway hair blew in the wind and Annie could see a hint of the girl she used to know beneath the matronly exterior.

Smiling, Annie stood. “I wasn’t aware there was a beach dress code.”

Carolee returned the smile. “Well, thank God for that. Ready?”

“I’ve been looking forward to it. Let’s go.”

On their way down to the beach, Carolee asked more
questions about Geneva, and Annie shared her concern about her great-aunt’s weakening condition.

“That’s often the way it is with congestive heart failure,” Carolee said sympathetically. “At some point breathing puts too much stress on the heart. It must be difficult to stand by, feeling helpless.”

Carolee’s understanding moved Annie deeply, and for a few moments they walked in silence. Matching each other stride for stride, they’d gone about half a mile down the beach when Carolee spoke.

“What are your plans? Will you stay in Eden Bay?”

Annie appreciated that Carolee had not added
after your great-aunt’s death.

“I-I’m not sure.” It had been one thing to ponder this question for herself, but to be confronted with it by another brought her uncertain future front and center.

“You always seemed so happy here.” Carolee stopped, studying the waves crashing along the shoreline. Then she faced Annie. “What happened to that happiness?”

“Happiness is sometimes in the eye of the beholder. My life was not always what it seemed to others.”

“It must’ve been hard for you after your mother died.”

“Yes, it was.” Annie started walking, familiar dread spreading through her. She would never again be ready to talk about George.

“You might be surprised how many friends you have here.”

Two that I can count. Carolee and Kyle.
“I left, Carolee. Abruptly. Without any explanation. I imagine that’s hard for some to forget. There are bound to be questions, and I’m not strong enough to face them.”

“Nobody’s asking, Annie. At least I’m not. Whatever happened that caused you to leave happened in the past. This is now.” She linked her arm through Annie’s. “I’d love it if you stayed. I could use a friend like you.”

The invitation spread a warm glow through Annie’s body. To be wanted in Eden Bay. Accepted with no strings. It was a heady prospect. “Thank you, Carolee. I appreciate your friendship. Especially right now.”

At the breakwater, they turned and reversed their steps. Heading up the hill toward the cottage, Carolee drew ragged breaths. Bending over and placing her hands on her knees, she rested momentarily. “See how out of shape I am? Gotta make myself do this more often.”

“Anytime. I’d enjoy your company.”

Carolee straightened. “Me, too, Annie. Me, too.”

They had made it to Carolee’s car when Carmen burst out the door and ran to the edge of the porch. “Annie, please to come quickly.” Above the wind, her next words made Annie momentarily dizzy. “It’s
Señorita.
”

Carolee sprinted with her to the house where they followed Carmen into the bedroom. Geneva’s face was waxen and her breaths came in shuddering rales. Carolee quickly examined her, then drew Annie into the hall.

“Honey, you have a choice here. My experience tells me she won’t linger much longer. We can call an ambulance to take her to the hospital or check with the doctor about comfort measures we can take here. Does she have a DNR order?”

Annie’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly take in the question. “You mean a Do Not Resuscitate?”

Carolee nodded.

“Yes.” Annie’s thoughts were going in a million directions. It was too soon. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. She struggled to hold on to her emotions. “She…” Her throat constricted. “She…wanted to be here. For the end.”

“Then that’s the way it will be. Let’s phone the doctor. Then I’ll call home and let them know I’m staying with you.”

Annie was stunned. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. What are friends for?”

Then the tears came, gushing from aching places Annie hadn’t known existed.

T
HE SUN SHIMMERED
. Puffy whiter-than-white clouds floated lazily across an azure sky. Like an invitation, the songs of seabirds sounded more plaintive than raucous. Geneva smiled, relaxing into the scene. If only she could reach out her hand, she could surely touch the cottony substance of the clouds or skim over the tops of the blue-green waves rolling, rolling toward the shore. The sound came again. Hoarse and insistent. From somewhere inside her?

She struggled to open her eyes. But her lids were so very heavy. The foam-tipped breakers meeting the shore played lulling music, almost impossible to resist.

“Auntie G.!”

Warmth. A caress. She flailed, summoning consciousness. Someone. Someone important. A spasm shook her. When she opened her eyes, the seascape vanished. For a moment she considered closing them again, giving in to the siren lure of the majestic ocean. But the call came again.

“Auntie G.! It’s Annie.”

A hand clasped hers. Fingers lightly brushed her forehead. In a voice she didn’t recognize as hers, she whispered, “Petunia?”

The dear, dear face of her great-niece nearly filled her range of vision, those hazel eyes overflowing with love. Behind Annie, she barely made out other faces. One lined and familiar. Carmen. Tears leaked from Geneva’s eyes.

In the distance, the cry of gulls. The lap of water on sand.

“Señorita.”

Geneva turned her head. The companion of her days. Why did these women look so sad? Couldn’t they see the clouds or hear the wash of waves swirling through tide pools?

“Auntie G., you’ve been my anchor. I love you so.”

“Love.” With great effort she found the next word. “Too.”

She tasted salt air on her lips. Then, borne on the sea breeze, another voice summoned her, lilting, joyous. “Geneva! Sis! I’m waiting.”

Across the beach he came, running toward her, his arms flung wide in welcome, his hair tousled, a cherubic smile lighting his features. She knew him. She started running, slowly at first, then faster and faster. “Caleb!” She couldn’t contain herself, laughing with delight as the space between them narrowed.

For the flicker of an instant, she thought she heard someone say, “She’s gone.” Then, in a miracle, her brother’s arms enclosed her and the two of them floated weightless high above the sea.

A
FTERWARD
, Annie had no recollection of how long she sat by Geneva’s bedside. Not even when Carolee finally led her into the kitchen, wrapped her in a blanket and
set a cup of piping-hot tea in front of her. Through the night her tears had dried to dust, making it nearly impossible to speak.

Carmen was doing what she always did—taking care of others. She rolled biscuit dough on the breadboard, occasionally dabbing at her eyes with her apron. Under her breath, she intoned the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish. After encouraging Annie to drink the tea, with a nod toward Carmen, Carolee picked up the phone and disappeared into the living room. As if from a very great distance, Annie could make out snippets of Carolee’s conversation. The doctor. The mortuary. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t make it in for my shift today,” she heard Carolee explain, she supposed to her nursing supervisor.

Tea. She took another mouthful. The drink she had always shared with Auntie G. Even though Carmen worked quietly just a few feet from her and Carolee was taking care of the necessary details, Annie felt totally alone. She shivered, drawing the blanket closer around her shoulders. She had lived in dread of this moment, but never had she imagined the depth of her grief. Of course, she had mourned before, but this time, she had been present when death came with overwhelming immediacy.

And yet…with such beauty. Such dignity. Through these few weeks, Auntie G. had put up a valiant fight, saving her energy to expend on Annie’s behalf. A last gift. The end itself had been…spiritual. That was the only word for it. In that final moment of recognition and farewell, Geneva had expressed love, her face infused with color, all stress fading, a beatific smile gracing her
lips. As bereft as Annie felt, she could not begrudge her aunt such a swift, serene passage.

Carolee came into the kitchen, pulling a stool next to Annie’s. “I’ve phoned the doctor and the funeral home.” She went over the thrust of those conversations. “Is there anyone else you’d like me to call?”

Annie’s body shook with the force of her sigh. “Not right now.” Later she would notify the attorney, Nina Valdez, and Geneva’s publisher. She picked up the mug, slipped from her seat and walked to Auntie G.’s favorite bay window. Dawn was streaking the eastern sky. Looking to the west, she watched the ocean become more and more distinct as morning sunlight slowly dappled the water. Auntie G. had loved this view with its constantly changing elements—light and shadow, calm and storm. The Pacific. For the first time this morning, Annie smiled. Pacific. Peaceful.

She took another sip of tea, relishing the warmth. A new day. One full of arrangements and legalities. But in this moment, all was quiet. Carolee had asked if there was anyone Annie wanted her to call.

There was one. But that was a call she had to make herself. And only when she could control her own need to have Kyle’s arms around her.

G
ENEVA HAD NOT WANTED
an organized religious service. “I’ve traveled the world, Annie,” she had explained, “and so far as I’ve seen, no one religion has a corner on the spiritual path. I’ve been in cathedrals, synagogues, mosques, ashrams and temples. The Creator is everywhere. Please don’t invite a horde of
people. A simple sunset gathering of friends on the beach will be the perfect send-off.”

And so, two days after Geneva died, on a beautiful May evening, a small group gathered—Carmen, Nina, Kyle, Carolee and her husband, Frances and her daughter, Dr. Woodruff, Geneva’s attorney, her New York editor, a few elderly townspeople and Annie. A friend of Carolee’s husband brought his guitar and played softly as people gathered at the water’s edge. Draped around her shoulders, Annie wore a colorful Indian shawl Geneva had favored. In her hands, she cradled a tall, delicate vase Auntie G. had purchased in Tokyo—one she had selected to hold her great-aunt’s ashes.

When the last haunting notes of the guitar faded, Annie welcomed everyone and invited those who wished to offer a special memory of Geneva Greer to speak. She was touched by the doctor’s remarks concerning her respect for Geneva’s courage in the face of death, by Frances’s tribute to the enduring quality of Geneva’s friendship, by the uplifting comments of her editor, and, most especially, by Carmen’s words. “
Señorita,
she love me like a sister. How would I, a poor woman, have ever seen so much of this world without her? For me, it was privilege to serve such a one. Unselfish. Steady. And so I say to my beloved sister,
vaya con Dios.
”

After a long silence, Annie, too choked up to utter a word, simply nodded to Carmen, who began, “Our Father…” The blended voices, as others joined in, lifted Annie as if on wings. After the “Amen,” she slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot to the water’s edge. The
others followed, forming a semicircle around her. “My aunt Geneva was a traveler. More than anything she loved the smells, the sounds, the sights of exotic places. She never met a stranger and shared her joy of living with all whom she met. Now she is on her last, great adventure—a voyage to the most beautiful place of all. She asked that we scatter her ashes in the vast and boundless ocean that she loved so passionately. And so now we commit our precious Geneva to the sea.”

With a heavy sigh, Annie waded knee-deep into the water, which swirled around her legs, the sandy ocean bottom shifting slightly beneath her. Hesitating, she took in the scene—the dear ones gathered around her, the splendor of the sunset, the sparkle of the waters that would embrace the ashes and carry them to distant lands. Then she plunged her hand into the soft powder, the essence of a life, and cast the particles into the air, finally upending the vase to send the last of Auntie G. to the four corners of the globe. She stood quietly, anticipating the end of the service. But instead of raised voices, the one she heard was much deeper and achingly familiar. Kyle’s rich baritone.

“Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea.”

Incredulous, she slowly turned, listening to the words of Tennyson’s immortal “Crossing the Bar.”

He glanced up from the book he held in his hands,
and their eyes met. In that moment it was as if Auntie G. stood beside her smiling and saying, “See, I told you he’s a good man.”

The words of the poem washed over her.

“Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark.

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.”

When Kyle finished, he closed the book and walked toward Annie, stopping beside her and gently relieving her of the vase.

At that moment the guitarist spontaneously began singing. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” As others joined in, the golden orb of the sun slipped beneath the horizon. “Safe travels, Auntie G.,” Annie whispered.

The mourners then turned and walked silently toward the cottage where a supper, lovingly prepared by Carmen, awaited. Near the porch, Annie hung back, letting the others go ahead. She reached out and stopped Kyle, her hand on his chest. “How did you know? Who…?”

“Your aunt and I had several private conversations before she died. Last week she sent me a letter. She must’ve sensed the end was near. In it, she enclosed the poem and told me how much it would mean to her if I read it today. When Carolee told me Geneva had passed
away, she also said you weren’t accepting calls. But, Annie, I want you to know something.” His gray eyes, now tinged with a blue so like the sea, fixed on hers. “I would have been at the service. For you.”

Her hand lingered on his chest, as if the connection grounded her. For the first time in these past few days, she knew peace.

“She left the cottage to me,” Annie said softly.

He nodded. “That must be why she was so anxious to have the repairs made. Will you keep it?”

Her hand dropped to her side and she turned to look at the house, the soft lights in the windows welcoming. “I don’t know.”

The spell was broken when Kyle stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. “I, uh, I’ll be going now. You have my card, my numbers. If you need anything, anything at all—”

She finished for him. “I’ll call.”

B
UT SHE DIDN’T
. Kyle rationalized that Annie had Carmen and others to help her or that when they’d bid Auntie G. farewell, his work with the Greers was finished. But in his heart he knew better. Without an excuse to show up at the cottage, he was forced to turn the spotlight on his true motives. He needed to see that she was all right. But it was more than that. Much more.

He went through the motions at work, then lost sleep at night debating what to do. He’d sit in his darkened living room, holding Pete’s letter in his hand, as if its mute testimony was an indictment. Why couldn’t he give it to her? Get it over with? The answer came from
his gut. Would whatever Pete wrote turn Annie’s thoughts to the past? Ruin any connection between Annie and him? Bottom line, he was in love with her and terrified of breaking the fragile bond they’d forged.

Like flames licking at kindling, guilt curled around him, a hot blaze. Had Pete known about the stolen embrace? About Kyle’s mute adoration of his friend’s girl? Could he have been more encouraging and helpful in those years when Pete tried so hard to locate Annie? And, for God’s sake, why hadn’t he been more alert, instead of sitting there in that Humvee looking at the mountains when that Afghani sniper was sighting Pete in his crosshairs?

Mornings were no better. He’d tuck the letter back in his drawer, then, red-eyed from lack of sleep, he’d head for work, preoccupied. Miserable.

Saturday came, yawning before him, empty of purpose. Not that he hadn’t had offers. Wade Hanson had invited him to go fishing. Bruce had suggested a round of golf. Bubba seemed to be avoiding him and his foul mood, slinking under the kitchen table or dozing on the sofa.

Stepping out of the shower that morning, he knew he couldn’t continue living in this purgatory. What could it hurt to check on Annie? A neighborly gesture. He pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a navy-blue long-sleeved knit shirt. The morning was cool, so he grabbed a windbreaker and whistled for Bubba. “C’mon, sport. We’re going for a ride.”

Bubba leaped from his perch on the sofa and padded eagerly toward the door.

“Yeah, I know I’ve been a surly bastard. It’s time to do something about that. Cross your paws, buddy. Nothing’s certain where women are concerned.”

A
NNIE HAD BEEN UP
since dawn, determined to box up Auntie G.’s clothes and personal belongings. Carmen had delayed her departure until the day after the memorial service, and Carolee had been faithfully checking in on Annie after work. But, oddly, the solitude she had feared was a blessing. Surrounded by the furnishings and treasures she had loved ever since she was tiny, she felt Auntie G.’s comforting presence. Annie had given herself time before determining the course of her future. The house was hers. She could stay. The attorney, however, had told her it was Geneva’s wish that it be sold if that was what Annie wanted. He said she’d called it “Annie’s seed money.”