A Letter for Annie

He peered over her head into the interior. “All right. I’ll tell her no myself.” He stepped around her and strode into the living room.

Struggling for equilibrium, Annie sank onto the stairs, listening to the rise and fall of voices. After Kyle told her great-aunt he would be unavailable to do the repairs, she heard Geneva’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. After a few minutes, Kyle returned, his expression grim. He paused in the doorway. “Have your damn list ready. I’ll be here Wednesday morning.” He put his hand on the doorknob, then spoke again. “One more thing. Stay out of my way.” Then he was gone.

Slowly Annie released her death grip on the banister. Why had she ever thought she could hide out here? Avoid the disapproval, even hatred, of those in Eden Bay?

Her muscles tensed. She longed to leave this place. Now.

“Annie?”

She took a deep breath, then went into the living room.

Her aunt’s color had improved and her face bore a triumphant smile. “Well, everything’s settled. That’s a very professional young man.” She adjusted her nosepiece. “Did you know him when you lived here?”

Annie nodded, dreading further questioning.

“He seems nice. Maybe you should get in touch with some of your old friends.”

“No.”

The smile faded from Geneva’s lips. “It was a long time ago, dear.”

“They haven’t forgotten. Or forgiven.”

ADRENALINE PUMPING, Kyle gunned the truck down the driveway then onto the Coast Highway where he abruptly pulled into a scenic overlook. Oblivious to Bubba’s quizzical look, he gripped the wheel, stared at the ocean and swore at the top of his lungs. Finally, with the cab closing in on him, he climbed out and gulped in sea-fresh air, haunted by what that bitch Annie had done to Pete ten years ago.

As if it were yesterday, he was in Pete’s bedroom listening to his friend’s voice break with emotion. “She’s gone, man. Just like that. What did I do?” Pete clutched a crumpled envelope.

Kyle had thought to be supportive by telling him no girl was worth it. Wrong tactic. Pete loved Annie with an intensity that defied reason. They were the perfect couple, the ones who would be as crazy in love in their nineties as they were in their teens. That’s why her abrupt departure was so twisted, made no sense.

“You don’t get it, Kyle. I can’t live without her. I’m going after her.”

Kyle picked up the Dear John letter and scanned it. “Forget her. It says right here she wants a new life. Without you. Besides, you can’t go after her. We leave for National Guard training tomorrow.”

Pete howled Annie’s name. Kyle wrapped him in a bear hug, while Pete said, “Something’s not right. Something’s not right.”

The roar of the surf filled Kyle’s head. A lot of somethings weren’t right. Annie had no business coming back to Eden Bay and stirring up the past. Her presence would remind everyone of Pete, of his never-ending search for her—a search that bordered on desperate—of the way her disappearance had slowly drained the vitality from him.

Worse, she would remind Kyle of all the ways he’d let down his best friend and all the reasons why that sniper should have hit him, not Pete.

What a mess. And so typical of Kyle’s life. The chance to work on a gem of a house like he’d always wanted tainted by seeing her every day. Every time he saw her—still beautiful, damn it, despite the lack of makeup and the too-big clothes—he could remember how close he came to betraying Pete.

Kyle sighed. The least he could do was protect the Nemecs from her. The last thing they needed was her stirring up their grief. Man, she was trouble. He had hoped never to see her again because he was afraid of what he’d say to her, do to her.

Yet when she’d opened the door this morning, his breath had stopped. A part of him was glad to see her. And that’s the part of himself he damned to hell.

PROPPED UP on three bed pillows, Geneva stared at the ceiling, wide-awake. When she was younger, she’d hated such sleepless nights. Now they were a blessing. They meant more time to remember, to plan, to be. She’d asked Annie to crack the window so she could hear the waves lapping the rocky beach in a soothing lullaby. And smell the tangy salt air that transported her to so many of the places she’d visited—the Greek Islands, Australia, Tahiti. It had been a good life, full of adventure and fascinating people. And no small measure of success. For most people enough satisfaction for a lifetime.

But not for her until this one last thing was done—helping Annie live.

Geneva rued the fact she’d been halfway around the world when Annie had needed her all those years ago. Annie had fled Eden Bay in a panic, for reasons she had never shared. Geneva had been unable to help. The best she’d been able to do from so far away was direct Annie to Nina Valdez in Bisbee, Arizona.

Geneva had first met Nina at a women’s consciousness-raising retreat in Mexico where they’d struck up an enduring friendship. Nina owned a small café and herb shop, and under Nina’s wing, Annie had found sanctuary, but not the happy, fulfilling life Geneva wished for her. The way Nina described it in a letter, Annie was simply doing what people expected of her. Making no waves. Forming no close friendships. Calmly and dispassionately existing. Annie deserved more. Needed more. Needed to live.

For a brief time this morning, Geneva had thought the appearance of Kyle might offer Annie a connection to the town. But Annie had made it perfectly clear that she wanted no part of him or anyone else she had once known.

Something continued to eat at Annie. Something that had happened here. And until she faced it directly, she was doomed to a half-life.

Geneva closed her eyes. Give me time, please, to help this lost girl. Then, lulled by the wash of the ocean, she drifted to sleep.

WEDNESDAY MORNING Kyle parked his pickup beside Annie’s well-used Honda, wishing he had not let the old lady get to him. She had skillfully used both flattery and her failing health as inducements for him to take on this work. Ever since, he’d been cursing his gullibility and stupidity. He did not need this job. He did not want this job. And, especially, he did not want to be on the same planet with Annie Greer, much less in the same house.

He let Bubba out for a brief run, then had him hop into the truck bed. “Stay. Be a good boy, fella. Stay.” As if sensing the undercurrent in his master’s voice, Bubba’s ears perked up. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the happiest camper.” Kyle grinned wryly, then picked up his tool chest and plodded toward the cottage, noting, without conscious effort, the loose guttering on the ocean side. Hopefully there wouldn’t be that much on the repair list. But the sagging front door, the weatherworn shingles and the loose shutters were not good omens. He set down the chest, took a deep breath and rapped on the door.

When Annie answered his knock, she stood aside and directed him to the living room. He nodded coolly, then brushed past her. Geneva sat before the bay window. Two chairs faced her and on the table between them was a typed list. Without a word, Annie indicated he should take the chair closer to the window. Then she perched on the other, as if poised for a quick getaway.

To Kyle’s relief, Geneva broke the tension. “Well, young man, I’m delighted you’re here. My niece has gone over the house thoroughly and prepared a list.”

As he read, the silence was broken only by the melodic tinkling of an outdoor wind chime and Geneva Greer’s oxygen tank. Beside him, Annie sat primly, back straight, fingers laced, jaw rigid. Yeah, well, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here.

Still, the house lured him. He took in the crafted mantel and staircase, the patina of the hardwood floors, the high ceilings, the beveled glass in the built-in break-front. This house was a woodworker’s paradise.

“Well?” Geneva studied him with alert blue eyes.

“It looks like a complete list, although I’ll have to inspect everything myself.”

“I would expect that. I’m prepared to pay well for you to complete this job quickly. As you know—” she paused, as if summoning strength “—I have little time left to enjoy your handiwork. And it is your handiwork I want.”

He heard Annie’s quick intake of breath, but still she said nothing.

“I’ll have to leave occasionally to check on my men. Yours isn’t the only project we’ve got going.”

“Understandable, but I want the best, so I’d prefer that you do the bulk of the work.”

“I’ll try.” He rose to his feet, wondering if he’d lost his senses. “Perhaps Annie will give me a tour and point out what needs to be done.”

When Annie stood, a fragrance like summer roses engulfed him, taking him back to senior prom and the two dances he’d had with her. The two dances Pete had grudgingly relinquished to him. And if Pete had known what was going through Kyle’s head, he would have never let Annie within ten miles of him.

“We’ll start outside,” she said, as she led the way to the front door.

OUT ON THE PORCH, her turtleneck sweater offering little protection against the raw wind, Annie wanted to push Kyle away, avoid the man who represented her demons. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, somehow release the panic welling in her. Yet her loyalty to Geneva took precedence. “This is on the list,” she said, indicating the rickety porch railing.

Hugging herself against the chill, she waited while he tested each post. When he finished, she walked around the side of the house and pointed at the guttering.

“I saw that earlier,” he said.

She was grateful when the tour continued in this manner: him carefully appraising each flaw, her accommodating him only so far as was necessary. When they came to her bedroom, though, she stopped in the doorway, blocking his entry. She didn’t want him in her space, violating her privacy. Just thinking of his having personal knowledge of her worktable, her bed, her toiletries laid out on the dresser made her feel exposed.

He came up beside her, crowding her with his hard, toned body. “Excuse me,” he said, “but isn’t this where the ceiling leak is?”