pretty, I might add.â
Annie rubbed her palms together and took a step toward the kitchen. âMarge and Olivia are in the backyard. Have a seat and Iâll get them.â
Turning, she hurried out of the room. The man made her as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
At the back stoop, she saw Olivia unenthusiastically raking grass clippings and depositing them in the trash can. While she hadnât outwardly complained about being grounded, it was plain that she would rather be elsewhere. Marge was pruning the shoulder-high hedge that separated their small yard from the property behind them.
The scent of freshly mown grass and cut cedar mingled with the aroma of someone barbecuing up the block. The sun disappeared behind a mass of dark clouds off to the west, and a cool breeze sprang up to cool Annieâs warm cheeks, but the sight of storm clouds piling up in the west only served to increase her nervous tension. Storms terrified her. She quickly crossed the lawn and stopped beside Marge.
âShane Ross is here and heâd like to speak to you.â
Pushing her hair out of her face with the back of one gloved hand, Marge frowned. âHe wants to see me?â
âYes. You and Olivia.â
âMe?â Oliviaâs eyes widened in concern as she propped her rake against the red picnic table that sat in the shade of the yardâs ancient maple tree.
Marge scowled at her daughter as she walked past the table and laid her clippers on the corner. âYou keep working. Iâll see what he wants.â
Crossing her arms over her chest, Annie waited anxiously for Marge to return. Away from Shaneâs overpowering presence, Annieâs mind started working again, and she tried to figure out why he had come. When she first saw him at the door, she had assumed he had come to see herâto take up where he had left off trying to convince her that he had as much right as she did to be involved in her babyâs future. But he hadnât so much as mentioned the baby except in a roundabout way when heâd asked how she was feeling. So why had he asked to see Marge and Olivia? What was he up to?
She glanced toward the clouds as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Were they moving this way?
âI wonder what he wants. Do you think Iâm in trouble with the Army?â Making only a halfhearted attempt to continue raking, Oliviaâs eyes were glued to the back door.
Annie shook her head. âI donât think so.â
Olivia frowned at her. âHow can you be so sure?â
âBecause if you were, they would send someone with a higher rank than a corporal to talk to your mother.â
âYou mean, like a general?â
âI think a sergeant at the very least.â
âIâd really hate to be thrown in the brig.â
Annie kept the smile off her face with difficulty. âI might be wrong, but I think you actually have to be in the Army to spend time in the brig.â
âOh, well, thatâs a relief.â
The back door opened and Marge emerged from the house with Shane close behind her. They crossed to where Annie and Olivia stood. Marge said, âOlivia, this is Corporal Ross.â
âI remember youâsort of.â
âYou werenât feeling your best when we last met. With your motherâs permission, I have a few questions Iâd like to ask you.â The gentleness of his smile made Annie wish he were looking at her.
Marge said, âWeâll be in the house if you need us.â
He nodded once. âThank you, maâam.â
Taking Annie by the elbow, Marge steered her toward the back door. Once they were inside, Marge went to the kitchen sink. Annie joined her, pulling the blue-checkered curtain aside so that she had a view of the pair taking a seat at the picnic table. Marge began to wash her hands. The fragrance of lemon soap vied with smell of ham baking in the oven.
Annie
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia