Annie is horribly damaged by life.
She believes she cannot be loved.
Then Bud becomes her pen pal
and love finds them both...
in one way or another.
Every few days I will post a little more.
Soon you will be able to read it all.
If you absolutely can't wait to find out
what happens between Annie and Bud,
(and I hope you can't!)
you are welcome to click a link and buy an e-book or a paperback copy.
And now, today's post:
CHAPTER 8Friday, July 1, 2005
“Annie was a great kid,” Paul said, “with tremendous promise. She
was our flower girl at our wedding. Cutest thing you ever saw. So full of life,
you wouldn’t believe it. She played piano, loved to dance, had dreams of being
in the New York Ballet, and she wanted to be a baby nurse. A baby nurse for
cripes sake! She could have done it, too - all of it - but then both her
parents died and she came to live with us. She was only fourteen. It took the
wind right out of her sails – in a big way. She stopped dancing, quit taking
piano lessons, stopped talking about nursing. For quite a while, the only thing
she wanted to do was to sit in a corner and read, let the books take her away.”
He paused, reflecting.
“It took three years,” he continued. “Three years – but she
started getting her spark back. Don’t know why, she just did. Enough time had
passed, I guess. Whatever. She started dancing again, started talking about
nursing. Her grades were top notch, so she applied to several schools, was
accepted at most of them. She chose Eastern Washington University. In Spokane!
Why? Because it had a great nursing program and it was on the other side of the
world. She said she wanted to be independent, said it made her feel more alive.
“We hated to see her go, but she was eighteen and had her mind
set. What’re you going to do?
He wasn’t really wanting an answer, so I stayed quiet and he went
on.
“In the middle of her second year – she was going for a four-year
nursing degree with a minor in dance – she was driving home from a rehearsal
when some drunk ran a red light, plowed into her car. That’s where Bennie comes
in. He saved her life. If I remember the story, you were there too.”
“I was,” I admitted, “but Bennie was the hero. I just called
9-1-1.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “Well, anyway, we flew out as soon as we heard
and Linda stayed with her until she could be transferred safely across country,
then we took her back to Boston. She was a mess. There were times we didn’t
think she’d make it. Didn’t think she’d want to make it. Thousands of rehab
hours and God only knows how many surgeries later, she was as healed as she was
going to get, at least physically, but that’s not saying much. Truth is, the
accident…”
His face suddenly clouded over, and I saw again the man who
pinned me against the door.
“Accident!” he sneered. “It wasn’t no accident, it was an assault
by a selfish, drunken piece of…”
Another flash of fury, then he willed himself into calmness and
continued.
“She was left with severe disabilities. Crippled – bad – for
life. Her right arm is all but useless, which is too bad because she’s
right-handed. She’s had to learn to do everything left-handed, and that arm
won’t straighten out. It’s fixed at a permanent angle. And it shakes horribly.
You’ve seen her handwriting.”
“Yes. It’s not too good.”
Paul snorted. “It’s dang near indecipherable!”
“I’ve learned to read it,” I said, coming to Annie’s defense.
“Yes, you have,” Paul said, “and I thank you for it. That’s one
of the reasons I’m talking to you instead of shooting you.”
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