A Letter for Annie Read Online Free PDF

seen only the serious Kyle. It was the hurt she saw. Unexpectedly, that made her feel sad—and guilty. Pete’s death clearly haunted them both.

CHAPTER THREE

    B Y F RIDAY AFTERNOON Kyle and Annie had settled into a kind of compromise. So long as he worked outside, she stayed inside. The two times he’d had to work in the house, Annie had pulled on a shapeless gray crewneck sweater and headed for the beach. They only communicated when necessary.
    By contrast, the more he was around Geneva, the greater his respect for her. So few home owners really knew what they wanted, and he often spent as much time undoing their decisions as he did on the actual work. No such problem with Geneva. Insofar as was possible, she wanted the house restored to its original splendor, and she knew exactly what that would look like. Best of all, she was willing to pay.
    This morning she had shown him photos of the exterior, circa 1936. Built to withstand the coastal weather, the cottage was functional yet beautiful in its New England simplicity. The design had been lovingly executed, and Kyle wanted it to be lovingly preserved. Some jobs were merely that—jobs. The rare few, like this one, stirred something deep in his soul.
    As he was leaving for the day, he met Annie returning from the beach. He couldn’t just ignore her, but what came out of his mouth was sarcastic. “Got big plans for the weekend?”
    She looked straight through him. “I’m not here for fun,” she said, and continued to the house.
    No, in a real sense, she wasn’t here for fun. But the way she frowned and kept to herself suggested she didn’t know much about fun anymore. Not that it was any of his business.
    Bubba gave a short bark of greeting, happy to run around for a few minutes before hopping into the cab. Kyle watched him, but his thoughts were on his senior year in high school. They’d all had fun then. Pete the quarterback, him the running back. Annie, in her short-skirted cheerleading outfit, her shining hair caught up in a big blue bow. Postgame parties on the beach, sparks from a bonfire spiraling into the starry sky, beer flowing freely. Sometimes Pete brought his guitar and, accompanied by the rat-a-tat of makeshift driftwood bongos and the cadence of the surf, they would all sing along until gradually, one by one, the couples slipped off into the darkness.
    Almost as a self-protective device, he realized now, he’d cultivated a devil-may-care, bad-boy image, and there had been no shortage of willing girls climbing all over him. But none of them had been Annie.
    A burning sensation filled Kyle’s throat. He fought the disturbing images.
    And what about his own weekends these days? Compared to Annie, he had only minimal bragging rights. How many alcohol-buzzed evenings could a personspend at the Yacht Club playing pool and flirting with the barmaids? Or, big deal, watching ESPN until his eyes glazed over?
    At least tonight he had the softball game to look forward to. That was the good news. The bad news? Rosemary’s birthday party, where subtly and not so subtly the matchmakers would be zeroing in on him.
    “Bubba, I swear to God, I’m gonna die a bachelor.”
     

    A NNIE PULLED a deck of cards from the pocket of her overalls and sat down across from her aunt. “Gin rummy tonight, Auntie G.?”
    “No, petunia. I want to start on the family history.” From the chest, which had remained by her chair, she reached for a stack of photographs. “We’ll begin with my father and mother.” She drew out a picture of a handsome, dark-haired young man, wearing a World War I uniform and looking directly into the camera. “This is my father. He went over to France with the first wave of Yanks. In all the years I knew him, he never once talked about his war experiences. Only about the fine friends he’d made, many lost in the trenches.” She paused, thinking of all those soldiers who never returned home. “One of those friends gave my father a wonderful