A Change of Heart (37 page)

"No, it was wonderful.
 
I meant that."

"Then why would you want not to continue?"

"I almost said yes.
 
But I just can't.
 
I don't know why."

Charles, now fully dressed, glanced again at Annabeth, who was wrapping herself in a robe.
 
"I feel as though I've been tricked, cheated of all my dreams," he said and sank back down on the bed.

Taking a big gulp, Annabeth answered, "I'm sure you can make your dreams come true--if you really want them," and then seeing the misery on his face, she continued, "I should probably not come back to work.
 
I don't belong behind an ice cream counter anyway, and it would be easier for you if I weren't there."

"Fine--have it any way you want."

The last words she said to him were "I'm sorry," but he did not turn back to look at her when he left her front door and walked to his car.
 
It was but a moment and then the sound of the car faded and the night was once again silent.
 
Annabeth looked up at the sky.
 
Where before it had been a brilliant electric blue with a faint pink glow along the horizon, now it was inky, partitioned by a sliver of a moon and Venus, dwarfing all the other stars.
 
She sank down into one of the porch rockers and gazed for a long while at the heavens.
 

He would have come through for her; she could have trusted him.
 
He would have given her everything she'd ever wanted and more.
 
Maybe he was her last chance. Facing that fact was hard and from her eyes a steady stream of tears began to flow, but she did not sob. Instead Annabeth sat there, thinking about her past, and about the future, the blank slate that she would have to fill on her own.
 
She had quit her job. What would she do with her time? How would the rest of her life take form?
 
Annabeth did not know.
 
Now she couldn't get the mortgage to save her house.
 
They wouldn't count her crafts earnings for two years and she didn't have two years. Would her painting be enough to sustain her?
 
For a brief moment she thought of going to see Charles at work and accepting his offer, if he still wanted her, yet something in her knew she could not.

At the end of that deserted street, on her lonely porch she sat, and all she heard was the scraping of the chair's rockers against the base of the porch.
 
Each movement caused a little squeak and it was a comforting sound whose rhythms soothed her.
 
She looked out at the night, at the bayou flowing near the house, at the trees surrounding it and Annabeth's breath remained steady for a long, comforting moment.
 
Eventually she grew chilly in the evening air, and she rose to walk back inside, gazing wistfully up at the moon and the evening star.

There was always something comforting about entering the door of her home, but tonight the house was just still.
 
Annabeth looked around.
 
In every corner it seemed that a ghost from the past sprung up, playing out a scene from long ago, from the life she had led which now was over.
 
There was where the girls had tea parties, and there where Sally slipped and broke her arm, there where Laurel had the first of many fights with her father, there where R.J. had kissed her under some mistletoe, there where they'd carved the Halloween pumpkins, hid the Easter baskets, spread the Christmas presents, photographed the girls in their prom gowns, where they'd lived and laughed and been a family.

It was all gone now, completed and done, she thought, then realized, no it wasn't gone at all, it was alive in her, in all of them, as real in memory as it was in fact.
 
She cast her eyes about the house, a place she'd loved since the first moment she'd seen it and Annabeth came to a realization.
 
It wasn't the house she wanted to preserve, but the life she led there, a life she would never lead again.
 
The house contained nothing more than things, the stuff of a lifetime but not the lifetime itself.
 
"Oh!"
 
she spoke aloud to the empty rooms,
 
"I could leave this house or keep it, what matters is in me, not inside these walls."

15

"She should have done this years ago.
  
Annabeth climbed the attic stairs, determined to start at the top and work down.
 
There was probably a ton of stuff up there for no reason at all anymore, stuff she should have dumped ages ago.
 
The stairs creaked in their familiar way, but Annabeth didn't take notice.
 
A box of large plastic bags in her hand, she was ready to confront whatever lay upstairs.
 
She would keep just the treasures and the fondest of memories, and let go of all the rest.
 
That way the past was no burden and there was room for the future.

Annabeth surveyed the attic.
 
It was chockablock with the castoffs of everyone in the family, items too good to part with, too useless to be kept downstairs.
 
Where to begin?
 
There were many boxes, a couple of filing cabinets, the huge table she had painted, its designs covered by the things piled on top of it, a couple of trunks, also painted but now rather dusty, and a huge decorated armoire with a couple of drawers at the bottom and elaborately painted doors and which featured mermaids swimming inside and out.
 
Thinking clothes would be easier to manage, she walked first to the armoire and gently opened its doors.

"Oh my," sighed Annabeth, flooded with memories.
 
Halloween costumes she had sewn for the girls--one silver lamé costume looked like it belonged in Las Vegas!
 
Annabeth touched it, marveling at the work she had done, at the image of Laurel ringing doorbells in it.
 
Sally's majorette outfit--and the baton!
 
And smaller yet, the tutus the girls had both worn for a ballet recital.
 
Annabeth allowed her hands to float over the garments, knowing that they were ordinary things, yet in seeing and touching them again, she felt herself transported back through time, back to the days when she was oh so much younger and life was simple.
 
She was the mom and they were young girls and it was all so terribly sweet and poignant, time floating past so swiftly there was no sense of its fleeting ways, just life being lived in the moment and passing to the next, no time for reflection, but all the time in the world for love and good feelings, for the girls to flourish and for Annabeth to nurture them, day after day, year after year.

"Oh no," she sighed softly, her heart awash in tenderness, "I can never part with these things.
 
No, never."
 
There should be a time every day, every hour, when we stop life from whizzing by and just pause to appreciate these moments that will never come again, but they flow so fast, so freely, one piling upon the other, leaves torn off the branches of thousands of trees and fluttering spent to the ground, each covering over the last until there are a pile of them all mingled together in rosy autumn hues, fading swiftly and soon to be blown away.

Annabeth let these sentiments flow over and through her, and she knew it was the right thing to do.
 
She hadn't lived in a vacuum.
 
She had been there day after day with her girls and she hadn't missed a moment of their youth; nor was she missing anything now; she was right there for it all, and oh so glad of it.
 
One by one she examined the garments and pushed them aside, leaving them in the armoire.
 
Dresses worn in school plays, first sewing attempts, a special outfit now long out of style but still beloved by its owner, even the simple minidress she'd worn when she and R.J. eloped, and on and on until she found the last dress, one pushed almost to the back.

Lifting it out of the armoire, Annabeth closed one door, and standing in front of the mirror, she held the dress up to herself.
 

I look so grown up in this, just like an adult, well maybe someone in college, at least a senior, not a junior, not at all.
 
Front…back…side….
 
Thinner too! Twirl…. Oh!
 
Look how it floats.
 
How did they do that little flip to the hem…Hmm…let me see…no, I probably can't do that at home…not without Mom to help me figure it out…

 
Oh…she's been gone such
 
a short time but it seems forever….She would have loved this dress.
 
Lean over…cleavage?
 
No!
 
Oh, I wanted a little cleavage.
 
Oh! Wicked thought…just a slight vee...that lovely sapphire I have…my eyes will really sparkle….
 
Oh! Twirl!
 
Dancing with someone…with who?
 
Oh
 
dancing…will someone ask me?
 
I wish I could ask them the way Maggie does…I could never...could I?
 
No.
 
What about these?
 
How many?
 
Six!
 
Six fit me…no this one…this is the one…I love this dress.
 
Careful…careful…don't want to mess it up...back on the hanger, don't catch the fabric…so soft...plastic shoulder cover thingy…get it on straight…keep the dress perfect….
 
I have the credit card, right…silly…I checked five minutes ago...credit card…just like a grown up.
 
Oh!
 
I love this dress.
 
Hope Dad doesn't think it's too expensive…no, he won't…he'll say my eyes sparkle and I look thinner…no…Mom would have said that…maybe…no she would have said sort of thinner, not bad… Mom …Mom….Oh…Mom…Hold it high, no silly, it's not long, it's above my knee, it won't drag.
 
"I love this dress," silly talking outloud to myself.

"Annabeth!" Maggie squealing at me from the next stall….
 
"I didn't know you were coming today.
 
We could have come together."

"I thought you were babysitting."
 
Wait 'till she sees my dress.
 
She'll love it.
 
Opening the door...walking
 
out…"Look, Maggie, for the spring dance."

"No!
 
Can't be!"
 
Maggie holding up her dress--the same dress.
 

I was here first.
 
I love this dress.
 
Look at Maggie, she loves it too.
 
Oh…no…oh…..
 
I have the blue eyes.
 
Hers are brown.
 
She could wear pink.

 
"I have to have this dress," Maggie, whining at me.
 
"When the Hawk dances with me, I want my skirt to twirl and swirl."

"I have the blue eyes."

"Look over there.
 
They have tons of blue dresses.
 
Though I think we shouldn't both be wearing the same color since we'll be standing next to each other."
 

"Let's flip for it.
 
Have a quarter?"
 
I don't want to be fair about it, but what can I do…here's a quarter…flip…oh please….

"Heads," Maggie, always so confident, so sure, so strong….

Oh…please…opening my hand…Tails!
 
I win!

Maggie snatching the quarter and flipping it over, looking for the head side.
 
"You win I guess.
 
He probably won't even notice me in any of these other dresses."

"Come on, I'll help you look."

Annabeth snapped back to attention, her reverie fading.
 
She folded the pale yellow dress and dropped it into one of the big black bags, remembering Maggie's joy when she had finally said, "Oh Maggie, you get the dress.
 
I like this yellow one just as well."
 
Maggie had thrown her arms around Annabeth and sworn allegiance for all the rest of time.

How long afterwards when her father announced he was bringing someone to dinner?
 
Not too long.

"You don't have to cook every day.
 
We never have any fun any more.
 
All you do is housework."
 
Maggie complaining, wanting to go out, have fun.

"I promised Dad, says he's bringing home some intern at his office.
 
Help me, peel a carrot, come on."

Maggie scowling but helping.
 
"I hate to cook.
 
Just open a can.
 
All the same you know."

"I promised my dad."

The dinner was perfect, what was it I cooked…can't remember… meat… chicken...can't remember.
 
Watching Dad come in the door with Hugh, tall, nice boy, older than me, of course an intern at the firm.

"Look," Maggie squealing, "Cute!
 
Let me stay to dinner, please."

"Sure, why not."

Maggie flirting at the table with Hugh…don't they look cute together…he's cute…he likes her….
 
I'm glad for them….Look at the way she twinkles and laughs and tosses her head.
 
Could I do that with someone?
 
No…maybe…no…I don't think so.
 
Giggle…like tee hee hee…like in the movies…I could tee hee hee…no….