Yours Truly

Two

TWO

Annette's fingers shook as she sat in front of her typewriter. At her father's request, she had left the office and returned home. For now, nobody but the two of them was to know the true identity of the writer.

Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer that the good Lord would guide her mind in the direction she needed to take in order to succeed in this endeavor. She had to prove her father wrong. She must make him see that she was a great writer!

As she stared at the blank page in the typewriter, her mind spun in several directions, but all road led back to one topic. Love.

She frowned and tapped her fingernails on the desk in her bedroom. Love? Although the topic appealed to women, would it appeal to men as well?

Groaning, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk as she pushed her fingers through her hair. Think Annette! Was it the timeline stress that had caused her mind to go blank and a throb to beat against her skull?

A noise coming from the main floor of the two-story house brought her out of her thoughts. She snapped upright and listened closer. Although they had one maid and one cook, they didn't stay in the house constantly, and this was not the time of day when they came to work, either.

She moved away from her desk and walked to her door. As she slowly opened it, she heard the footsteps on the stairs. Her heartbeat quickened in fear and she closed the door so that whoever had entered her home couldn't see her right away. She continued to peek through the small space left open, holding her breath.

The footsteps grew closer until a shadow passed in front of her door. When she recognized the man's tall frame, wide shoulders, and black hair, she expelled a relieved sigh. She opened the door and stepped out of the room, startling Peter Fletcher. He jumped and stopped suddenly. His eyes widened as though he hadn't expected to see her.

"Annette," he gasped.

"Sweet nublets, Peter. You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing here at this time of day?"

"Your father sent me. Since we'll be working late tonight, he wanted me to fetch the ointment he rubs on his fingers when they ache."

"Oh, yes. He does need that, especially for long days." She stepped past him. "Let me show you where it's at."

He followed behind as she made her way toward her father's room, which was just down the hall.

"I'm surprised that you are here," Peter said. "I thought you would have been out on some buggy ride with Henry Peck."

She stopped and met Peter's stare, her heart crushing once more just thinking about that man.

Peter grinned and bumped his elbow against hers. "He's sure been sweet on you lately."

Not knowing what to say to keep the tears from reappearing again, she quickly entered her father's bedroom and to the bed stand. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she hoped they'd not make an appearance. She wasn't prepared to tell Peter why she was crying. He wouldn't care anyway, she was sure.

Taking a steady breath, she calmed her uprising emotions as she grabbed the ointment. When she turned, she noticed Peter stood out in the hallway. It surprised her that he hadn't followed, but she was relieved to know he was a true gentleman and knew not to be in a bedroom with an unmarried woman, even if she was a spinster.

She returned to his side and set the ointment in his hand. As she raised her gaze to his face, she hesitantly peered into his eyes. He looked at her differently as if he actually cared that her eyes were still watery.