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A pained look claimed his face. He squinted and wrinkled his forehead.
"She will if she wants to be my wife," he said angrily, despising the wife who wasn't me. He was so handsome and dangerous-looking when he lost his temper. Instead of turning crimson, his skin darkened and his eyes grew dazzling. "Besides, your mother returned to Winnerrow after living in a very rich and sophisticated world. If it was good enough for someone like her . . ."
I didn't want to tell him then what her real reasons were for returning.
"She was brought up here and she was coming back to a wonderful old house and a huge new business enteeprise. But off in a college like Harvard, you're going to meet girls who come from cities and towns much larger and livelier than Winnerrow. They might think it's quaint, but they'll want to be where they can go shopping in fine, expensive stores, eat in fancy restaurants, and see theater and opera and other glamorous things." I hated to say these things, but I
wanted him to confront the inevitable with me.
"I'm not interested in those kinds of girls," he snapped. "Besides, the same can happen to you. You'll meet a man who will want to take you away from here, a man who will be bored with this simple life."
"I know that, Luke," I said softly. It was so painful to think these thoughts, much less to say them aloud, but keeping them locked in our hearts was even more painful. It was one thing to fantasize and pretend, but it was another to lie to yourself. My short, horrible, painful and tormenting stay at Farthy taught me that.
"I know what," he chirped, suddenly looking bright and happy again. "Let the girl you think I'm going to marry and the man I think you're going to marry, marry each other. Then they'll be happy."
I laughed and shook my head. Luke wasn't ready to face the truth. Perhaps he felt he had to go on protecting me, that I was still too fragile.
"But Luke, what will happen to us then?"
"Us? You'll . . you'll stay a spinster and stay a bachelor and we'll grow old together in Hasbrouck House."
"But could we be happy that way, Luke?" I asked, wondering myself if we could.
"As long as I'm with you, Annie, I'm happy," he insisted.
"I feel as if I'm holding you back from a normal life, Luke."
"Don't ever say that," he pleaded. He stopped pushing my wheelchair. I looked back and saw the pain return to his eyes. He scowled like a little boy who was being teased and teased by older boys and was frustrated because there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Okay. I'm sorry," I apologized, but he still looked as though he might cry. He shook his head.
"I mean it, Annie. I couldn't marry anyone unless she was just like you. And . . ." he added slowly, "there can't be anyone just like you."
He gazed at me so intently I felt my pulse begin to race. I quickly became aware that passersby and people in cars were looking our way.
"Well, when you find someone close, send her around and I'll give her lessons," I said, trying to lighten things up. But in my heart I couldn't help being selfish, wanting our lives to turn out just the way Luke predicted . neither of us finding anyone else and the two of us being together, forever and ever, being close and loving, even if we could never have what other lovers had--a marriage and children of their own.
We continued on toward the beauty parlor. They must have been waiting by the windows, watching for us, because just before we arrived, the owner, Dorothy Wilson, and her two assistants came rushing out to greet me.
"We'll take her out of your hands now, Luke," Dorothy commanded, getting behind the wheelchair.
All three of them fussed over me. While they worked on my hair, they gave me a pedicure and manicure and jabbered away, filling me in on all the local gossip. Luke went off to see some of his old friends and returned only moments after I was finished.
The girls didn't simply want to change my hair color; they talked me into a French braid as well. The sides of my hair were pulled back tightly and the back of my hair was woven into a thick rope of a braid. When Luke first stepped in and saw me, I could see that he liked it very much. His eyes widened and there was that smile that rippled slowly up his cheeks and settled around his eyes, that special smile I could remember on wonderful occasions like the time he gave me the charm bracelet and I gave him the ring.
"How do I look?"
"You're so very beautiful," he blurted. He looked at Dorothy and blushed because of how enthusiastically he had responded. "I mean . . . you look so much better in your own hair color.
Everyone's going to agree, I'm sure. Well," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "we had better get back before my mother sends Gerald looking for us and he gets lost."
"You really like it?" I asked him as we started for Hasbrouck House.
"Very much. It makes you look like your old self again."
"I do feel so much better since I came home, Luke. I feel like I'm coming back to life after a long, long sleep. I want to try to walk again, Luke. When we get back, fetch the walker and see if I've become any stronger or if it's all just in my imagination." My enthusiasm made him smile.
"Sure. Where do you want to try?" He slowed me down and I looked back at him. I didn't have to explain. Our eyes did all the talking. He nodded and we continued on.
