Annie's Gift by Barbara Bretton

Author:Barbara Bretton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Spirit Press

Chapter 5

They finished the dishes – Annie washed, Harry dried – then he carried in logs from the mudroom and built a fire.

How long had it been since he had enjoyed this simplest of pleasures?

How long had it been since Annie had been with him, really with him, surprising him with her keen observations, humbling him with her compassion and understanding?

He had already lost her twice: once to disease and once to death. He couldn’t lose her again.

“Don’t leave me,” he said as they snuggled together on the sofa, watching the flames leap and dance in the grate.

“I told you this wasn’t forever.” Her voice was soft.

“It could be.”

She shook her head. “One day it will be, but not now.”

“I have nothing keeping me here.”

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

And just like that they were standing by the window in a large, high-ceilinged room, watching as a platoon of girls gathered around a battered old piano in the opposite corner.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” Annie asked, her arms wrapped around his waist.

He shrugged. “You seem to know everything,” he said, with more snap than he’d intended. “Why bother asking?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she persisted. “As Martha would say, ‘It’s a good thing.’”

He smiled despite himself. “The best thing of all would be staying with you.”

“You still have unfinished business here.”

A beautiful noise drifted toward them from the knot of girls. Young voices raised in song to celebrate the holiday. They listened, singing along, secure in the knowledge that nobody could hear them, until one voice rose above the others. A magnificent voice, untrained but true, filled with the kind of joy and enthusiasm that only the very young possessed.

“Is that Riley?” Annie asked as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

He nodded. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

“You’ve heard her sing before.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Guilty.”

“Does she know?”

“Nobody knows,” he said. “Only you.”

“When?”

“At a recital, two months after you passed.”

“Did you see Sam and Sharon?”

“I didn’t look. I wasn’t there for them. I was there for Riley.”

Annie muttered something under her breath, and then said, “She looks a lot like Erin.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he lied.

His wife shot him a look. “Really?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, Harry, when are you going to stop being such a jackass?”

“It is what it is,” he said. “Let it go.”

“So now you’re quoting The Sopranos. Great way to mend fences.”

“I don’t give a damn about mending fences. I’m okay with the way things are.”

“Sneaking around, hanging at the edge of crowds like a stalker, so you can hear your only grandchild sing?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you want more,” she shot back. “That Riley deserves more.”

“She’s doing fine.”

“She would be doing even better if she got to know her grandfather.” She paused. “So would you, for that matter.”

He wanted to argue the point, but the words stuck in his throat. Or, more precisely, somewhere in the region of his heart. She was right. He

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