His fingertips grazed her cheek. She gasped. “Oh please, sir, how forward you’re being! You mustn’t . . . mustn’t . . .” She gulped as his firm, cool hand curved along her jaw.
“I cannot resist,” he whispered. His breath stirred the errant curls falling across her forehead. “Your exquisite beauty, my darling, is”—
“Hello, Elisabet!”
The cheerful greeting sent the imaginary characters in Libby’s head scrambling for cover. Libby slapped down her pencil, whirled on her seat, and glared at her roommate.
Alice-Marie’s bright smile faded. She dashed to the desk and perched on its edge. “Why, what’s the matter? You look so cross.” Her focus flitted to the pad of paper on Libby’s desk.
Libby smacked the pad of paper facedown and rested her linked hands on it. “I was . . . busy. You startled me.” She nudged Alice-Marie’s leg lightly with her elbow.
Alice-Marie missed the hint. She folded her hands in her lap and beamed at Libby. “Oh, I do apologize most sincerely. Mother says I really must stop rushing into rooms and calling out, but I can’t seem to stop myself!” She hunched her shoulders and tittered. “I’ll try, though, so I don’t keep you from . . .” Once more, she turned a curious look toward the pages.
Libby scooped the pad off the desk and dropped it into the desk drawer. She closed the drawer with a firm snap. “What time is it?”
Alice-Marie glanced at her dainty wristwatch. “A quarter to six.”
Libby jumped up. “I’m meeting my friends for supper.” After missing lunch with Bennett, she shouldn’t keep him waiting.
Folding her arms over her chest, Alice-Marie affected a pout. “Oh, but I hoped you might eat with me. That’s why I came up here before going to the dining hall.”
“You’re not eating with Kate and Myra and . . . ?” Libby couldn’t remember the name of the third girl from breakfast.
“Margaret,” Alice-Marie supplied. Her lip poked out farther. “I’ve made no plans with anyone . . . except you.”
Libby nibbled her lower lip. She and Alice-Marie were roommates, but she didn’t fancy forming a friendship with the girl. Yet, looking into her disappointed pale blue eyes, Libby couldn’t refuse. She knew how it felt to be rejected.
“Well then,” she said through gritted teeth, “why don’t you join my friends and me?”
Alice-Marie’s bright smile returned. She bounced up and slipped her hand through Libby’s elbow. “Oh good! I hoped you might introduce me to your friends.” Her giggle rang as they headed down the hall to the stairway. “So which one is your beau? I wouldn’t want to accidentally flirt with the one you’ve already claimed.”
Was it possible to flirt accidentally? Libby gently disengaged her arm from Alice-Marie’s hold. “Neither Petey nor Bennett is my beau. We’re all just good friends. Since childhood.”
Alice-Marie caught Libby’s arm and drew her to a halt in the dormitory lobby. “Since childhood? They’re orphans, too?”
Knowing whatever she said would be repeated, Libby chose her response carefully. “One is. One isn’t.” Sometimes Libby thought Petey carried deeper scars from being abandoned than she did from losing her parents. But Alice-Marie didn’t need to know the details. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss supper. Let’s go.”
Petey and Bennett were waiting on the lawn outside the dining hall. The pleasant aromas wafting out the open doors stirred Libby’s hunger. She skipped the last few steps to join her friends and jammed her thumb at Alice-Marie. “This is my roommate, Alice-Marie. She’s eating with us.” Then she gestured to the men by turn. “Alice-Marie, this is Bennett Martin and Petey Leidig.”
“Pete,” Petey corrected.
“Pete,” Libby repeated, offering him a grin, which he returned. He’d been pestering her for two years to drop the childish nickname, but to her, he’d always be Petey.
Alice-Marie bustled forward and shook Petey’s hand. Then she reached for Bennett and clung. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet Elisabet’s good friends from childhood. I hope you won’t find my presence an unwelcome intrusion. I wanted to have supper with Elisabet, but she said she already had plans to meet you. I was so very, very disappointed that she relented and said I could come, too.” She giggled, covering her lips with her fingertips. “And I must say, it isn’t often a girl gets to dine with two such dashing men. I feel so very honored.”
Libby shook her head. Would Alice-Marie stop talking long enough for them to eat? She grabbed Alice-Marie’s elbow and gave her a little push toward the door. “Let’s go.” She sent an apologetic look over her shoulder as Petey and Bennett fell into step behind them. They joined the line that snaked along the wall from the serving table all the way to the door. The line moved slowly, but they chatted about their chosen courses of study—to Libby’s surprise, Alice-Marie hoped to become a nurse one day—and filled the time.
When they reached the serving table, Bennett zipped around the girls and handed them each a tray. “Here you are, ladies.”
“Oooh.” Alice-Marie tipped her head and fluttered her thick lashes at Bennett. “Aren’t you the gentleman?”
Libby rolled her eyes. If Alice-Marie only knew. Instead of gesturing the ladies forward, Bennett retained his spot ahead of them and began filling his plate. Libby looked at Petey, and they exchanged a grin. In his blue eyes, she read her own thought: –Bennett just wanted to be first.
When they’d all made their selections, Bennett led them to a table along the south wall. He pulled out Alice-Marie’s chair for her, earning another simpering look, and then quickly sat down beside her. Libby plunked down her tray and reached for her chair, but to her surprise Petey pulled it out and held it for her. Embarrassed yet pleased, she slid into her seat.
Petey started to sit, but his peg leg slipped on the smooth tile floor. He tilted sideways, banging his elbow into Libby’s shoulder.
“Petey!” she cried in alarm and grabbed his arm with both hands.
He caught the table edge and lowered himself into the chair. “Whew.” He flashed a grin around at the others. “I’m all right. Just clumsy.” He looked at Libby’s hands. “You can let go—I’m safe now.” Although his tone was mild, she sensed irritation in the firm set of his jaw.
Rebuffed, she jerked her hands back. Her fingers trembled slightly as she needlessly lined up her cutlery next to her plate like soldiers at attention. “W-would you bless the food for us, Petey?”
Immediately, Alice-Marie bowed her head. Bennett released the salt shaker he’d just picked up. Petey folded his hands and closed his eyes. Libby did likewise. Petey’s low voice was nearly swallowed by rowdy conversations, clanking silverware, and squeaking chairs in the crowded dining hall. But by leaning sideways slightly, Libby was able to hear his simple prayer of thanks for the food.
He said amen and Libby straightened. Her shoulder lightly bumped against his arm, and he sent her a quick smile. Whatever had irritated him earlier seemed to have fled. Relieved, she grinned back and then turned her attention to her food.
While they ate, Alice-Marie plied them with questions. Before long, she directed every question to Bennett, ignoring Petey and Libby. She seemed particularly enamored with Bennett’s tales of caring for himself on the streets. The girl had seemed dismayed— even repulsed—by Libby’s orphan status, yet she offered only admiration and sympathy to Bennett. Libby jabbed her fork into the mound of mashed potatoes on her plate and tried not to seethe.
Bennett scraped up every last crumb on his plate and headed for seconds. Alice-Marie watched him go, her expression rapt. Then she leaned forward and fixed Libby with a scolding look. “Elisabet Conley, I could throttle you!”
Libby jolted, her spine connecting with the back of the chair. “What on earth for?”
“You didn’t warn me what a charmer Bennett is. Had I been warned, I would have prepared myself. I must look a mess in the same dress I wore all day. And I didn’t take the time to apply rouge or brush my hair . . .” She pinched her cheeks and then smoothed her wavy blond hair behind her ears, her gaze seeking Bennett across the room.
Libby held back a huff of annoyance. “You look fine, Alice-Marie.”
Alice-Marie heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. “Oh, I’m so relieved you haven’t laid claim to him. I should hate to have a man come between us, but I’m positively smitten!”
Smitten? With Bennett? Libby almost laughed. She looked over her shoulder at Bennett, who was busily loading his plate with slices of roast beef. Turning back to Alice-Marie, she asked, “But why?”
Alice-Marie stared at Libby. “Why? Oh my!” She fanned herself with one fluttering hand, her lips forming an O of astonishment. “That unruly red hair; those boyish freckles; his broad shoulders and dimpled chin . . . Elisabet, my dear, he’s simply darling!”
Bennett . . . darling? Libby opened her mouth to protest, but Petey interrupted.
“I’m going to get some dessert.” He pushed against the table with both palms, rising. “I saw apple pie and a white cake. Do you want something?” He looked back and forth between the girls.
“No thank you,” Libby said.
Alice-Marie shook her head. Petey ambled away in his hitch-legged gait. Libby turned to Alice-Marie again. “I suppose one might consider Bennett . . .” She couldn’t quite bring herself to use the word darling. “Appealing,” she finished.
Alice-Marie sighed dreamily, resting her chin in her hand. Then she sat upright. “And how wonderful it would be, Elisabet, if he and I were to begin . . . well, keeping company.” She giggled. “Especially if you and Pete did the same.”
Libby dropped her fork. “What?”
“Oh, silly girl, if you could only see your face! Don’t look so shocked.” Alice-Marie released another scale-running giggle.
Libby carefully closed her mouth and flicked a glance over her shoulder. Had Petey heard? To her relief, he was already several tables away.
Alice-Marie continued, “You and Pete would make a striking couple—you so petite and him so tall; you with your spirit and him with his calm demeanor; you with such dark hair and him with hair as pale as moonlight . . .”
Hair as pale as moonlight? Maybe she could use that line in her romance story.
“You and Pete seem opposites in every way.” Alice-Marie yanked Libby back to reality. She toyed with a lock of hair coiling along her neck. “But Mother says opposites attract.”
To Libby’s relief, Bennett returned. “Sorry it took me so long. Ran into a couple of fellas from Beta Theta Pi. I’m thinking about pledging to their fraternity.”
“Oh really?” Alice-Marie beamed up at him. “The sorority I plan to pledge is the sister group to Beta Theta Pi.”
Bennett plunked into his chair and picked up his fork. “Well, that’d be something if we both got in, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed.” Alice-Marie could melt butter with the sultry look she offered Bennett. Libby wanted to throw her roll at the flirtatious girl.
Bennett pointed at Libby with his fork. “If you want seconds, Lib, you better hurry. They didn’t make nearly enough potatoes tonight.” Bennett grinned. “So what did you ladies discuss in my absence?”
Motioning toward Petey’s empty chair, Alice-Marie laughed. “I’ve been doing my utmost to convince Libby that she and Pete would make a darling couple.”
Bennett covered his mouth with his napkin and coughed. Then he dropped the napkin, yanked up his glass, and took a noisy drink. He snickered. “Libby and Pete?” He threw his head back and laughed, holding his stomach.
Alice-Marie’s brow puckered. “What is so funny?”
More irritated than she could understand, Libby snapped, “Yes. Why is that so funny?”
Bennett cleared his throat several times, bringing the laughter under control, but his eyes continued to sparkle with suppressed humor. “Sorry, ladies. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just trying to imagine Lib and Pete as a couple.” He laid his arm on the back of Alice-Marie’s chair but looked toward Libby. “You and Pete are great friends—always have been—but it could never go beyond that.”
Alice-Marie tipped closer to Bennett. “Why not?”
“Yes. Why not?” Libby folded her arms over her chest and glared at Bennett.
“Come on, Lib. Think about it. Pete’s gonna be a preacher. He’ll need a wife who’s . . . docile. One who’s willing to stay home and cook soup for sick people and things like that. Libby couldn’t do it. She hates cooking. And when it comes to being docile . . .” He chuckled, shaking his finger at Alice-Marie. “You’re wrong on this one. Libby with Pete would never work.”
Libby wanted to argue with Bennett, but she couldn’t. She could never be a good wife to a minister for the reasons he’d listed and so many more. To her surprise, it pained her to acknowledge it. “You’re right, Bennett. Petey and I could never be anything more than friends. To expect more would be ludicrous.”
Bennett suddenly looked somewhere behind her shoulder. The sheepish look on his face sent a tingle of awareness down Libby’s spine. She turned to peek, but even before she looked, she knew what she’d find. Petey was standing behind her. The sadness in his eyes turned her heart upside-down.
Pete took an awkward side step and held tight to his dessert as Libby jumped from her seat. She captured his hands, which curled around the plate bearing a large wedge of apple pie. He’d been looking forward to the cinnamon-laden treat, but with Libby’s comment, his appetite fled.
“Petey, I didn’t know—”
“—that I was here?” Pete forced a chuckle. He swallowed the lump of anguish her words had created. “It doesn’t matter, Libby.
You didn’t say anything dishonest, did you?”
“No, but . . .”
He took one shuffling step forward and placed the plate in the center of the table. “Bennett, I hope you’re still hungry. I brought the biggest piece of pie left in the pan.” He sensed Libby’s troubled gaze following him, but he managed to keep his tone light. “The cake looked dry, so—”
“Petey, please.” Libby tugged at his arm, as she’d done dozens of times over the years. In an instant, they were eleven years old again and she was begging him to join her in a game of marbles or to push her on the wooden swing that hung from the tallest tree behind the orphans’ school. But whatever she wanted this time, he couldn’t offer it. His heart felt so bruised, he was amazed it continued beating.
Very gently, Pete disengaged Libby’s hands from his arm. He looked at Alice-Marie, who didn’t quite meet his gaze. “I enjoyed meeting you, Alice-Marie. I’m sure there will be other chances for us to have a meal together since you’re Libby’s roommate and Libby and I are . . . such good friends.” He even managed to smile. “I hate to rush off, but my first class is at eight tomorrow morning, and I’d like to do a little reading before I turn in. So . . .” He moved backward a few inches, cautious that his peg leg didn’t slide.
Libby gripped the back of her chair, looking directly into his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her eyes begged forgiveness.
“Sure. Tomorrow.” He nodded good-bye and made his way out of the dining hall. Slowly. Aware that one misstep could send him toppling. If only he could run. His body strained against the restriction of his wooden appendage. If he could break into a run on the expansive grassy lawn between the dining hall and his dormitory, maybe he could expend this overwhelming frustration.
“To expect more would be ludicrous.”
Yes, ludicrous. How could she possibly see him as anything other than Petey, her childhood buddy? How could any woman— especially one as bright and beautiful and alive as Libby—see a crippled man as whole and desirable?
He reached Landry Hall and, unconcerned about disturbing any other students in the building, hopped up the stairs on his good leg as quickly as possible. Ignoring the handrail, he put every bit of effort into launching himself, one step at a time, to the second floor. His muscles burning and lungs heaving, he reached the landing. Without a pause, loath to use the despised peg leg, he continued hopping until he arrived at the door to his room. With a vicious twist on the crystal knob, he threw the door open and stumbled inside, finally allowing his artificial leg to touch the floor.
Sinking onto his cot, he rolled up his pant leg and wrenched the form from its leather bracing. For a moment, he considered throwing it out the window. But he hated using crutches even more than he hated the wooden leg. Releasing an agonized groan, he pummeled the mattress with the turned length of wood, swinging it with all of his strength again and again and again.
Finally, exhausted, he flopped sideways on the mattress with the peg leg still gripped in his trembling hand. He stared at the empty pant leg dangling over the edge of the bed. Odd how his body still believed a foot was there. A dull, never-ending ache did its best to convince him he had two feet instead of just one. But the drooping fabric exposed the truth—he was a cripple.
Closing his eyes, he whispered a halting prayer. “God, I know I can’t grow another leg, but please . . . please . . . won’t You help me feel complete?”