Laura Abbot - A Letter for Annie

Annie stood in front of him, her lip trembling. He rose, mere inches from her.

“It’s Auntie G.” She paused, as if unable to go on. “They’re…hospitalizing her. Dehydration, the doctor said. And other complications. Fluid buildup and…”

He couldn’t help himself. He reached for her. “I’m so sorry.”

A sob choked her and she pressed herself into his arms, dampening his shirtfront with her tears. “Oh, Kyle, what am I going to do?”

He held her in his embrace, breathing in her floral scent, thinking of all that had happened between the two of them. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Because he knew the answer to her question. This. Simply and inevitably this.

Dear Reader,

Recently I spent a week with our youngest grandchild. Eight years old, she told me, “Nana, I want to be an author.” As we chatted about writing, I suggested that every story needs to give a sense of place and every protagonist should undergo a positive change. She was off and running, filling pages with the fruits of her fertile imagination.

A Letter for Annie came from several trips to Oregon. The ruggedly beautiful Pacific Coast inspired the setting of this book. As for change in the main characters? Initially, Annie is simply marking time in her life. When circumstances force her to return to Eden Bay, she is not prepared to meet former classmate Kyle Becker. Remembering how Annie broke his best friend’s heart, Kyle resents her presence.

Good storytelling involves a journey that betters the main characters, and good romances focus on the redeeming power of love. I hope you will find both Annie and Kyle become better people and deserve the love they share.

Enjoy,

Laura Abbot

P.S. I always appreciate hearing from readers. You may write me at P.O. Box 373, Eureka Springs, AR, 72632-0373, or at LauraAbbot@msn.com.

For our talented, motivated and loving

grandchildren.

You give us constant joy, fill us with pride and

promise us a hopeful future.

May your lives be forever blessed.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Afghanistan

Early 2003

BORED AND CHILLED, Sergeant Kyle Becker huddled in the driver’s seat of the Humvee, watching a watery sun sink behind the rugged, snow-covered peaks. As soon as the guys finished securing the last pontoon of the river crossing, they could head out of this godforsaken wilderness back to base. They’d been lucky this time. No Taliban guerrillas harassing them. No toothless mountain men glaring at them or big-eyed children begging for chocolate. Just another friggin’ mission.

The first of the Guard engineers loaded their gear and climbed in. The rest followed quickly. Kyle turned on the ignition so they could hightail it as soon as the stragglers were aboard. Pete brought up the rear. He opened the passenger door to ride shotgun, then paused and reached into the pocket of his parka.

“Save it, Nemec.” Kyle revved the motor. “We’re getting the hell out. Now.”

“Just one peek while it’s still light.” Pete turned his head to get a better look at the photograph of a smiling girl with reddish-brown hair and soulful hazel eyes. It took only a fraction of a minute. One fraction too long.

Before any of the Guardsmen could react to the movement behind the rock, Pete lay on the ground, blood from a temple wound pooling in the dirty snow.

“Shit!” Heart thundering, Kyle slid from the truck, shouldered his weapon and crawled to his friend’s side. There was no sign of the sniper, a crumpled body the only evidence he had ever been there.

With his lifeless buddy’s head resting against his shoulder, the drive back to base seemed interminable.

Eden Bay, Oregon

Early April, 2009

FOG VEILING the rugged Oregon headlands and an angry ocean were unmistakable omens: Turn back. You don’t have to do this. Ignoring her internal voices, Annie Greer pulled in front of her great-aunt Geneva’s seaside cottage and sat for a long moment in her battered Honda, gathering herself to face what lay ahead.

Only Auntie G. could have compelled Annie to return to the town she’d fled a decade earlier. Out of the blue the call had come to Bisbee, Arizona, where she earned her living waiting tables and creating individually crafted handbags. On the day she celebrated her first sale to a pricey boutique in Scottsdale, the telephone had shattered her euphoria. Carmen Mendoza’s summons had been brief and urgent. “Your tia Geneva, she has put off asking me to call. But now I think I must. She has not so long. I am with her, of course. But I am not family. She should not die without family. She has only you. Please to come home.”

A gull shrieked overhead, and Annie gathered her windbreaker closer to ward off a sudden chill. Home. She snorted. Once, Eden Bay had been exactly that. Once, she had imagined a future here. But on a cloudless May night ten years ago, her dreams—and her innocence—had died swiftly, mercilessly. She had hoped never to set foot in Eden Bay again, never to confront painful memories.

However, she couldn’t turn away from her great-aunt Geneva, now that the elderly woman was suffering from congestive heart failure. Not after all Geneva had done in those days when Annie had desperately needed to hide where no one from this town could ever find her. Although Carmen had been her aunt’s faithful caregiver and companion for years, she was right. She wasn’t family.

Only Annie was family.

After the death of Annie’s mother the summer following her junior year in high school, Auntie G. had become Annie’s sole living relative. Even so, because of Geneva’s frequent world travels, they had seen little of each other in the past few years. It would be good to share this precious time.

Annie continued staring at the cottage, fending off memories that filled her with shame.

Finally, knowing Auntie G. needed her, she opened the car door and stood gazing at the roiling ocean, licking sea salt from her lips. She loved her great-aunt, but returning to Eden Bay was the second most difficult decision she had ever made in her life.

GENEVA GREER SPREAD the afghan over her legs and adjusted the nosepiece of her portable oxygen tank. She had been reluctant to uproot Annie, but the truth was, Geneva didn’t want to depart this world without seeing her great-niece again. Without making one more attempt to help Annie come to terms with the past.

Glancing around the room, she hoped Annie would find solace in the familiarity of the Greer family beach house. The fireplace with its hand-crafted mantel and built-in wood box, the brass telescope on the window ledge, the ship’s model on top of the bookcase—all of these things had been here since Geneva’s father built the Cape Cod–style cottage in the mid-1930s. Some of her happiest childhood memories were of carefree days with her younger brother, running wild on the beach, wading into the surf, studying marine life in the tide pools.

Now the house was nearly as weathered as Geneva. The railing on the front porch was dangerously loose and a water stain marred the ceiling in one of the upstairs bedrooms. She wondered what Annie would think of her legacy. Whether it would tether her to Eden Bay. Or provide her with the means of leaving the place behind, once and for all.