A Change of Heart (40 page)

"Something simple," Sally said.

Linna nodded.
 
"But of course you'll want a wedding dress.
 
Every girl wants that."
 
She sighed a poignant sigh then looked down happily at her left hand. On it was a rather large diamond ring and Annabeth wondered if R.J. really had sprung for a diamond that large or was it zirconium.
 
Even zirconium was more than he'd given her….

Sally nodded, reaching into her purse for a clipping of the sort of dress she had in mind, but before she could speak, Linna had turned to the wedding gowns section of her notebook and was busy sharing information.
 
"You have to go to Atlanta or New Orleans you know, though New York would be better.
 
Los Angeles even better.
 
Now look at this gown.
 
The beading is exquisite, don't you think."
 
Nobody in the room flinched, although all but Linna realized she had pronounced exquisite ex-kwis-ITE.

"That's very fancy," said Sally.

Linna nodded, "No not so much.
 
About five thousand I think."

"Dollars?" asked R.J., then he became silent.

"Well, Buzz, a wedding is a once in a lifetime thing.
 
It has to be just right, doesn't it Sal?"

Sally, growing irritated, said, "Just something simple, Lin."

Linna smiled, clearly pleased. She had missed Sally's disdain and mistakenly thought she'd been accepted.
 
There was something kind of poignant about her and it was impossible for Annabeth to hate her.
 
She smiled brightly then continued, "I just know you wouldn't be caught dead in one of those tacky five-hundred dollar wedding gowns at the mall."

"Actually I was thinking of something like this, Lin, if you don't think it's too tacky."
 
Sally held up a clipping of a simple gown, tailored and straight, a bit of lace at the throat, no beading.

R.J., in the grandiose manner he used when trying to impress someone, spoke up, "That's a beautiful dress, but why not get somethin' a little better."

Linna beamed on hearing this then looked around her.
 
"After all, you're important people in this town.
 
You live in this beautiful house, practically a historic landmark and all.
 
You can't get married in some crappy gown."

"And me spending more is all right with you, Daddy?
 
I mean you are going to pay for the wedding, right?
 
Mom certainly can't."

Annabeth, still silent, blushed on hearing this.

"You betcha I'm paying.
 
My baby gets married.
 
Just call me Daddy Warbucks," said R.J., smiling at Linna, who returned his grin.
 
Annabeth probably should have felt jealous; it had been a long time since her husband had smiled at her like that, but R.J. and Linna just seemed too comical for jealousy.

"Now, for the food," said Linna.
 
"You can't expect people to come on out to a big event like this--and you know they will all be in new clothes--so you have to give them a nice meal.
 
Maybe have it catered.
 
Of course in big cities people get married in hotel ballrooms, but we don't do that here."

"Maybe that's because we don't have any hotels with ballrooms," said Jackson.

"A shame isn't it?" asked Linna, oblivious to everything.

"Well, you hire a caterer then.
 
Have a nice buffet."
 
R.J. nodded like the generous dad he had never been.
 
"Whatever you decide is fine with me."

"Remember, Sal, I'm here for you.
 
Whatever you need, just give me a call," offered Linna.

Annabeth watched Linna silently, noting how earnest she was, how she yearned to belong, to be somebody.
 
Linna must make R.J. feel important in a way she never had.
 
What next?
 
Would Linna start talking about how much she wanted to be a grandmother--to Annabeth's grandchildren?

"Don't worry, Mom," said Sally after her father had left, "I'll make sure that Daddy never brings her here again."

"Oh don't worry about it.
 
You just plan a wonderful wedding.
 
Sal."
 
Annabeth broke down then and began laughing, and so did Sally and Jackson.

She had so much on her mind, yet Annabeth was most obsessed with the attic and she couldn't wait to get up there every day.
 
She opened the bottom drawer of the armoire.
 
There, wrapped in tissue paper and gently folded was a baby blanket.
 
Hand crocheted of blue yarn, and trimmed in ecru ribbons, it was in perfect condition.
 
There was not a stain on it, no pulls in the yarn, no sign of use or abuse.
 
Annabeth held the blanket to her face, burying her nose in its softness, taking a deep breath, yearning for one sniff, one olfactory memory of the soft, sweet baby smell that had once been on it, but if it had a scent at all, it was of the special laundry soap used for babies' clothes.
 
She stood for a long while, inhaling the scent of the blanket, feeling the softness against her cheek, a gentle river of tears falling from her eyes and being absorbed into the yarn.

Mother Welner with her arms around me, holding me hugging me, a mother holding me, been so long, three years.
 
"I had three sons, one dead in Vietnam, one gone away, and R.J., no daughters, now I have you."
 
Mother Welner hugging me, looking at me, think she knows about the baby?
 
She'll find out.
 
"I wanted a daughter all my life," Mother Welner, her arm around me, "Someone just like you, pretty, quality, a stabilizing influence."

"My mother died three years ago."
 
So hard to say that without tears in my eyes.

Mother Welner hugging me, "So you need me just as much as I need you."
 
Mother Welner tugging me toward the back of the house, toward her bedroom, Buzz watching and smiling.
 
He thinks we're silly.
 
"R.J., go get us some lemonade," Mother Welner ordering Buzz around and he does what she says.
 
He must want to make a good impression on me.
 
Is that possible?

Mother Welner gently pushing me down on the end of the bed, "Here, sit," and reaching in a drawer at the bottom of her double dresser.
 
A little lap blanket of some sort, looks homemade, so pretty.
 
"My mother-in-law gave me this.
 
She made it herself, for R.J., and now it's for you."

It seems so small for a man.
 
It barely covers my lap, oh I see, it's a baby blanket.
 
Blushing, and she sees my embarrassment.
 
So she knows.
 
I feel like such a slut.
 
Pregnant.
 
Not married.
 
My mom would have died.

Mother Welner taking my hand in hers, watching me, so quiet.
 
"You'd probably never have agreed to marry him if you weren't pregnant.
 
Quality girl like you.
 
Father a lawyer."
 
Blushing.
 
Listening to her talk.
 
"He pretends he's a pilot or he was a pilot, what is it?
 
Named Buzz."
 
Buzz pretending, she's saying, he isn't a pilot.
 
Is his uniform make believe then?
 
"He's a mechanic, works on the planes, for the Air Force, you know don't you?" Mother Welner looking into my eyes.

Stuttering.
 
So confused.
 
Uncomfortable.
 
"I didn't know but I don't care.
 
I really love Buzz--um--R.J.--ma'am."

Mother Welner hugging me, so tight, so long.
 
"I love him too."

Five boxes of junk, hauled down from the attic and piled up for the trash men to take away.
 
Annabeth stood back and nodded.
 
She was getting rid of a ton of crap and it felt so good.
 
She walked into the kitchen and sank down at the table.
 
Her back ached, her arms ached, her feet ached, but Annabeth felt wonderful.
 
All she did was work, and she'd never felt so satisfied.
 
She was never hungry; she rarely ate, instead it was enough to gobble some fruit and race back to whatever work she was doing.
 
Must be adrenaline.
 
She reached for her datebook, noting all the information for shows she'd attended with Becky and for all the shows yet to attend.
 
She was making a lot of progress.
 
And plenty of money.
 
She could live on her own income;
 
that plus what she got from R.J. was more than enough to live just fine.
 
It felt great to be making her own money; someday maybe she wouldn't need money from R.J. at all.
 
But Christmas was coming soon and there wouldn't be many shows after that.
 
Would she still have enough money then?
 

Reaching for her paints, Annabeth resumed work on her series of cottages.
 
She had done so many already and there were many more in her head.
 
She closed her eyes briefly, envisioning exactly what she intended to paint, then like a slide show, she saw the next painting and the next.
 
It was odd, but she didn't think about knick knacks as much any more; she thought about paintings, about the cottages with all their flowers, but also about other things, homey little pictures, cheerful people, families, things to make you feel good when you looked at them.
 
It was comforting to paint them, the world the way it ought to be, what she didn't have any longer.
 
She dipped the brush into the paint and in broad strokes, outlined the cottage, then the places where flowers would blossom.
 
Then there was the detail to add, to bring it all to life.

Back in the attic the next day, Annabeth removed from the armoire drawer a black teddy and laughingly held it up to herself.
 
It was a size petite, something she had never been, for even if she were thinner, she was never quite that short.
 
It was trimmed in red ribbons, really quite sheer and not at all subtle.
 
Although there are teddies that are glamorous and sensual, this wasn't one of them; this was merely provocative.
 
Annabeth looked in the mirror, the teddy pressed to her body.
 
Imagine wearing that!
 
She had been cleaning out R.J.'s closet when she'd found the thing, not long after he'd begun his route.

What a jumble; dirty clothes, clean clothes; shoes; he's worse than the girls.
 
Look at this--why doesn't he just toss this crap?
 
I've asked him about it a million times.
 
He'd never miss them if I just ditched these old things.
 
I just ironed this shirt and here it is on the bottom of the closet.
 
So careless!
 
There!
 
Better!
 
All the shoes in order, clothes neat again. What's this?
 
Fancy box…hmm….
 
I shouldn't look maybe.
 
Just a peek.
 
What?
 
Ah look, a teddy.
 
Must be a present.
 
Oh I've spoiled his surprise.
 
Smiling.
 
After all these years.
 
So romantic, even if it is kind of tacky.
 
So see-through!
 
Maybe if the lights were very dim.
 
Let's see.
 
Oh…it's tiny!
 
What size is this?
 
Petite!
 
I've been a fourteen for years.
 
Petite!
 
Imagine trying to squeeze into that!
 
R.J., so cute of him to do this, even if it is the wrong size.
 
Think he just thinks of me as that small or thinks it'll be sexy to see me squeeze into it?

"Annabeth!
 
What are you doing?"
 
R.J. walking into the bedroom suddenly.

Flinging my arms around his neck.
 
"Oh honey, that's so sweet of you!
 
I love it, really, it's beautiful."

R.J. gulping, funny look in his eyes, so uncomfortable I spoiled his surprise.
 
"I'm glad you like it."
 
R.J. patting me on the backside like he always does.

"It's a petite!
 
Did you think I was that tiny?"

R.J. scowling, stammering, looking out the window, back at me, away from me, mumbling, "Damn salesgirl.
 
I told her your size.
 
Lemme take it back."

Blushing shyly, "For a moment I thought you planned it that way--so it's tight and sexy."

R.J. kissing me, pushing me toward the bed, not talking, not answering.
 
Not talking, pushing me down, fast and hard like he always does.
 
Concentrate.
 
Oh there it is, I can do it.
 
Oh there it is.
 
Oh there.