NINE
Annette sat at the dining room table early the next morning, waiting for her father to come down for breakfast. He never missed this meal with her, even though a few times he'd been late. Obviously, this morning would be one of those few times.
She was too nervous to eat, and still too upset, but she sipped her tea until it turned cool. She tapped her fingers on the table, but that only made her more agitated. As she lay in bed last night, she prepared in her mind what she'd say to him. Although she was still very upset at him for not trusting her enough to tell her the truth, she didn't want to hate him as she did the other men who lied to her.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead, wishing the ache in her skull would leave. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. If she wasn't crying over the issues with her father, she was dreaming about what she and Peter had one. It was difficult to go from one wonderful memory to one that broke her heart.
The creaking floor snapped her alert just as her father walked into the dining room. He was dressed in one of his brown suite, ready to start the day. His light-brown hair was slicked back off his forehead, and a few more silver hairs were noticeable. She studied his face and for the first time, noticed the twinkle in his eyes and the satisfied grin he tried not to show. He had indeed been with a woman last night because after kissing Peter, she was sure she had that same dopey expression.
"Good morning, Annette."
"Good morning, Father."
He sat and reached for the trays of fruits and scones. "Did you and Peter have a nice evening?"
"Yes, we did." She folded her hands in her lap. "I even think I figured out who Shy Nellie is." When he gave her a confused look, she added, "The one who had written the Lovelorn."
"Oh, yes."
Matilda hurried out of the kitchen, bringing a teacup and a pot of coffee for her father. She set the cup in front of him before pouring. He gave the cook a nod and she left.
"It was Janette Ramsey. Her mother always calls her Nellie."
"How interesting." He bit into a scone.
"I found it interesting, too."
He opened a newspaper from one of their competitors and skimmed the front page. She fisted her hands, wishing he'd give her as much attention as he did to that newspaper.
She cleared her throat. "I also think I discovered the identity of another person who had written to the newspaper." She paused, waiting for his reaction, but apparently, he was too wrapped up in what he was reading. She wanted to scream at him or cry, but she would do neither. Instead, she would force him to listen to her.
She cleared her throat loudly. Finally, he pulled his focus away from the newspaper and looked at her. "Did you hear what I said, Father?"
"Oh, forgive me." He took a drink of his coffee. "Tell me what you said."
"I think I discovered the identity of another person who'd written to the newspaper."
Her father scowled. "Annette, you really shouldn't do that. Some of these people don't want you to know who they are."
"Especially, if they are related." She arched an eyebrow. "Am I right, Mr. Lonely?"
His eyes widened and the newspaper in his hands fell to the table. "Pardon me?"
She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Father, why didn't you tell me that you have met a woman and you want to marry her?"
"Where did you hear such nonsense?"
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "Are you saying you're not in love? Are you saying that you're not worried about your child and what she might think of the new woman in your life?"
"I still demand to know where you heard such foolery."
He kept his scowl, but as she stared deep into his eyes, she could see the underlying truth. Father was stubborn, and she would have to coax it out of him. "Father, it's all right." She sighed. "Mother has been gone for ten years. I understand that you want someone in your life to love. I will not think less of you – or of her – if you want to remarry."
After a few uncomfortable seconds, his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. "You're right. I'm Mr. Lonely. I wrote to the paper in hopes of getting your opinion on the subject."
"Now that you know how I truly feel, will you stop lying to me?" The tears she'd been trying to hide slid down her face. "All the men who have courted me have lied about their feelings. They love my father's money more than me." She wiped away the tears. "Father, that's what hurts the most is that you couldn't tell me the truth."
He moved from his seat and to the empty chair beside her. He pulled her into his arms and she pressed her face against his shoulders as more tears fell.
"I'm so sorry. You are correct. I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't understand. I know you miss your mother, as do I, but the time has passed and I need to have that kind of love in my heart again."
She breathed slower. "Father, I'm a grown woman now, entering into spinsterhood. I think you should give me the respect I deserve to understand adult problems."
He chuckled and pulled back. Smiling, he dried her cheeks. "Yes, you are a grown woman, and from now on, I'll stop treating you like a child. From here on out, I promise to be truthful with you."
"Will you introduce me to her?"
He nodded. "I think you know her. It's Mrs. Chadwick."
Annette gasped. "The school teacher?"
"Yes."
"She was my teacher."
"That's how I had gotten to know her."
She smiled and hugged her father. "Mrs. Chadwick is a wise choice. I think you'll be very happy with her."
"I already am, my dear."
* * * *
Annette anxiously opened the new batch of letters addressed to the Lovelorn. Her cheeks hurt with how wide she was smiling. She was now a journalist. Although she wanted people to know it was her, they probably wouldn't be able to handle a female writer just yet. Father promised her that one day he'd announce who the mystery writer was, but for now, she was just happy to do what she loved.
Dear Lovelorn, I think I've fallen in love but the situation is complicated because we've known each other for years and we've only been friends. I can't stop thinking about her, and I want her to be my wife. How can I change friendship into love? Dare I hope she feels the same about me? Signed – Hopelessly in Love.
It thrilled Annette that she could finally relate to some of these feelings readers were experiencing. Now, more than before, she felt more qualified to write responses to these letters.
Dear Hopelessly in Love, I'm so very happy that you have found the one thing most of us go through life trying to find. I also understand your dilemma, but I believe there is a fine line between friendship and love. After all, you love her as your friend, so all you need to do is strengthen that love until it grows into something more. If you want to know her feelings, look deep into her eyes. Does she gaze upon you as her knight in shining armor? Do you find her studying your face wistfully? Does she dress differently when the two of you are together? You'll also be able to tell by the way she hangs on your every word and the way she laughs when you are with her. I encourage you to search for these hints, and if she has them all, then don't be afraid to tell her how you really feel, because chances are, she will say those meaningful three little words you're eager to hear – I love you. Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
She smiled and sighed dreamily. Perhaps she should take her own advice. While typing this response, she had been thinking of Peter. She had studied him and felt that he liked her for more than a friend. Heaven knows there had been many times she'd looked at him as her knight in shining armor. She also wanted to look her best for him, mainly because she enjoyed seeing the way he looked over her with that tender smile on his face. Not to mention, the steamy kiss they'd shared last night, was indeed a hint that he wasn't thinking of her as a friend any longer.
Perhaps she should also tell him the identity of the Lovelorn. He would keep a secret, she was sure of it. She trusted him, which was something that she couldn't do with the other men who had courted her.
Tonight. She'd do it tonight!
Dear Lovelorn, I cannot believe in love. I've been hurt too many times. I want to know what makes you such an expert on the subject, especially when you are handing out advice as if it was peppermint sticks for children. Signed – Disbelieving Old Fart.
Annette snorted a laugh. Although it wasn't a request to find love, she would respond to this letter anyway. Maybe it might help other disbelievers out there.
Dear Disbelieving Old Fart, I understand your reluctance in trusting my word, which is why at the beginning of this column there is a disclaimer to readers that they can take or leave my suggestions. However, I feel I must address your worry about my expertise on the subject of love. Unless one was born with a cold heart, I believe all of us have had their share of falling in love and getting hurt. We all have experienced that glorious feeling as if we are floating on air and can't stop smiling and sighing with happiness. Because of this, I don't feel that I need documentation showing that I am qualified to hand out advice since there are just my suggestions. However, I do know one thing – everyone needs love. It doesn't matter if the advice comes from me or your neighbor, or some stranger, love is everywhere, and if you want to be happy, you should grab hold of the love-train and don't let go. Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.