Читать книгу In a Heartbeat - Carla Cassidy - Страница 9

She stood in her backyard, tossing a big, colorful ball up in the air, then catching it. Although she pretended to be interested solely in her game of catch, Caleb felt her gaze lingering on him with interest.

It had been the same for the past three days. Each afternoon, the little girl came out to play. The first day, she’d remained close to her house, eyeing him across the distance of her yard and his.

The second afternoon, she’d moved to the center of her yard, playing with the ball and watching Caleb as he worked to replace the rotten railings on the porch of his new home.

Today, she was playing near the fence that separated the two properties, and Caleb had a feeling this time she would talk to him.

The thought of connecting with her filled him with incredible anticipation and an equal amount of dread. Everything he’d done in the past month had been in the hope of making contact with Hannah Marie Clemmons.

When he’d arrived in St. Louis two weeks ago, he’d rented a motel room, only intending to drive by the house where she lived, hoping to see her alive and well, playing like any other normal, healthy five-year-old. He’d thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

It had been on one of his drive-bys that he’d noticed the big old two-story house next to the one where the little girl lived, was for sale. His reasons for buying it were twofold. First and foremost, it offered immediate proximity to Hannah. Secondly, his hands had itched to turn the handyman’s nightmare into something regal and wonderful again. In the past year, he’d gotten so caught up in the running of his business, he’d forgotten how much he loved to build…to do the physical labor of transformation.

He’d needed a vacation from the business, had needed to get back to what he loved. And this house, neglected and in total disrepair, offered such an opportunity. He figured he’d renovate the house, and sell it when he decided it was time to return to his life in Chicago.

“Hey, mister.”

Caleb looked up from the four-by-six he’d been measuring.

She stood at the fence. “Could you get my ball?” She pointed to the ball, which rested near where he’d been working.

“Sure.” Caleb’s fingers trembled as he picked up the bright red globe. This would be his first, really up-close look at her. He walked to where she stood at the fence.

Brown eyes. He’d hoped they’d be blue…as blue as the spring sky overhead…as blue as his Katie’s. Hannah was a pretty little girl, with gamine features framed by a curtain of long, dark hair. The utter antithesis of blond-haired, blue-eyed Katie.

As he handed her the ball, the familiar weight of grief crushed against his chest. What he wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms, breathe deeply into her hair, see if she smelled like Katie…that wonderful blend of sunshine and little girl.

“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile, then she turned and ran back toward the tiny house where Caleb knew she lived with her mother.

The agony inside his chest expanded as he watched her go. The little girl who lived because his little girl had died.

Caleb wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the renewal of the anguish of loss. He stumbled through the back door of the house, half-blinded by tears he’d thought he no longer had the capacity to cry. Sinking into a chair at the table, he drew in deep, steadying breaths, wondering if this all wasn’t an incredible mistake on his part.

He hadn’t realized it would be so hard. Where was the healing, the closure he’d come here to find? Maybe his expectations had been too high. After all, grief was a long process. Surely he couldn’t expect to be healed by a single meeting with Hannah.

Time. That was what he needed. Time to get to know Hannah, who was forever bound to him through a miracle of modern medicine.

He didn’t want to tell Hannah or her mother about his connection to them. His grief was private, and far too big a burden for them to bear.

He’d come here to meet them with two goals in mind. The first was his need to witness that Hannah Clemmons’s life was good, that she had all the things he’d ever wanted Katie to have.

The second reason was his longing to find out what the heart remembered. When the doctors had taken Katie’s heart and placed it into Hannah’s chest, had any memories been transferred, did pieces of Katie’s soul somehow migrate into Hannah? He knew the very idea was probably crazy, but it was a hope he hadn’t been able to let go of until he discovered the truth for himself.

The next afternoon he was once again working on the porch when Hannah came out into her backyard. She didn’t even pretend to be playing catch, but rather walked right up to the fence and offered him a sunny smile.

“Did you buy that house?” she asked.

Caleb nodded. “I sure did.”

“It’s a wreck,” she said with childish candor.

He smiled. “Yes, it is. But, I’m fixing it.”

“It’s a big house. It’s gonna take lots of fixing.” She smiled again. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb. Caleb McMann.”

“I’m Hannah. Hannah Marie Clemmons. And my mommy’s name is Erica.”

Caleb walked over to where she stood at the fence. Just like yesterday he felt a curious mix of interest and anxiety. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Hannah.”

She giggled, and the sound of girlish joy wrapped around Caleb’s heart and squeezed painfully tight. Did all little-girl laughter hold that special timbre of gaiety, that sense of utter elation?

She sobered and eyed him curiously. “Are you going to build a tree house in that tree?” She pointed to the old oak that towered over his backyard.

Caleb tilted his head and looked speculatively at the tree. “Now that you mention it, those thick limbs make a perfect place for a little tree house, don’t they?”

Hannah nodded. “One with real windows and pink curtains, and you’d let me come over and play in it anytime I wanted.”

A burst of laughter erupted from Caleb, surprising him. Maybe he would build her that tree house she dreamed of. After all, he had time on his hands and it would obviously make Hannah happy. And that was what this was all about, right? It had been almost a year since he’d had anything to laugh about. It felt good…natural.

“Hannah.”

They both looked toward Hannah’s house, where a young woman stepped out the back door. The first thing Caleb noticed about her was her hair, a long curtain of dark strands that gleamed with red highlights in the afternoon light.

“That’s my mommy,” Hannah explained.

As the woman drew closer, Caleb saw the immediate physical resemblance between mother and daughter. Like Hannah, Erica Clemmons had petite features and large eyes, only unlike Hannah’s, Erica’s were the blue of a summer’s day.

“Hannah, you shouldn’t be bothering people,” she admonished as she approached.

“I’m not bothering people,” Hannah protested. “I’m just talking to Mr. Man.”

“Hi. Caleb McMann.” Caleb held his hand out over the top of the fence.

She hesitated a moment, then shook the hand he offered. “Erica Clemmons.” She dropped her hand and placed it on Hannah’s shoulder. “I hope she hasn’t been bothering you.”

“Not at all,” he said hurriedly. He smiled at Hannah. “She’s been very neighborly.”

Erica looked at his tools strewn about, then at the towering house. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she observed.

“Yeah. It’s going to take a lot of time, but it’s mostly cosmetic. The structure is sound.”

“Mommy said if she had a million dollars she’d buy that house,” Hannah quipped.

Erica blushed and Caleb realized she was quite pretty. “If I had a million dollars, I’d do a lot of things, sweetheart.” She turned and Caleb knew she was about to leave. He didn’t want her to go…not yet.

“I’ll bet your place used to be a part of this house,” he said.

She looked at the small structure she and Hannah called home. “I think somebody told me at one time that it used to be the carriage house of your place…or maybe it was the gardener’s cottage.”

Once again she placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “It’s time for you to come inside.” She looked at Caleb. “Good luck with your work, Mr. McMann.”

“Thanks.” Caleb watched them go, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he wanted…what he needed. But he knew his brief interaction with both Hannah and her mother wasn’t enough.

“Belinda says her mommy lets her stay up until real late, and she gets to go to bed whenever she wants,” Hannah complained when her mother told her it was bath and bedtime.

“Belinda is older than you,” Erica reminded her. “And Belinda is full of beans.”

Hannah giggled. “What kind of beans?”

“Lima beans.” Erica laughed as her daughter’s face wrinkled in disgust.

“Hi, Peaches.” Hannah greeted the apricot poodle who bounded across the kitchen floor, her toenails clicking across the linoleum. She scooped up the dog and laughed as a little pink tongue licked her cheek. “Peaches doesn’t want me to take a bath. She wants me to play with her.” Hannah looked up at her mother with big brown, appealing eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Erica took the dog from Hannah’s arms. “You aren’t about to get out of taking a bath.” She put Peaches on the floor and the poodle instantly sought refuge beneath the table, obviously thinking the bath was for her.

They went into the bathroom, where Erica started the water in the tub while Hannah undressed. “Lots of bubbles,” she commanded, watching like a miniature drill sergeant as her mother fixed the water to her liking.

Once Hannah was happily ensconced amid the bubbles and warm water, Erica left the bathroom, knowing her daughter would dawdle, playing with bath toys until the water cooled.

Walking back into the kitchen, Erica silently listed all the errands she needed to run the next day. Before she got halfway through them, she was mentally exhausted. It seemed like exhaustion had been a part of her life forever, but more so lately than ever before.

It was odd. She’d functioned so well for so long, and now that Hannah was finally relatively healthy, Erica felt particularly fragile.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, gave Peaches a biscuit, then stood at the kitchen sink. Peering out the window that offered a view of the house next door, she fought against the sadness of another dream lost.

She’d hoped the big old house would remain empty until she could afford to buy it. It had been a silly, unrealistic dream. She owed enough money that she and Hannah would probably never live in a house that had their names on the deed.

Caleb McMann. She thought of the man who’d bought her dream house. Nice-looking man. With his dark hair and blue eyes, those wide shoulders and lean hips, he was what Sherry would call a hunk. Probably a very married hunk, she thought. Not that she cared.

With a rueful smile, she turned away from the window and went back into her bedroom. Yes, he was probably married and had a half dozen kids. It would be nice if one of them were Hannah’s age. Friendships had been difficult while she’d been ill, and no children her age lived in the neighborhood.

“Mommy, I’m done.”

Erica set her cup down on the counter and hurried back into the bathroom. Grabbing a thick, fluffy towel from the linen closet, she opened it wide to welcome the wet, sweet-smelling child.

“Hmm, you smell like a giant, ripe strawberry,” Erica exclaimed, rubbing Hannah dry as she giggled and wiggled like an eel. “Now, let me see your boo-boo.”

Hannah stood still as Erica gazed at the scar that bisected her little chest. Every day it seemed to fade just a bit more. “It’s looking good, munchkin.”

Hannah nodded solemnly. “But it will never, ever go away.”

It was a nightly routine, one they had begun almost ten months before, right after Hannah’s lifesaving surgery. “No, it will never, ever go away completely.” Erica kissed the puckered skin. “But, it’s the best kind of boo-boo to have. Now you have a new strong, special heart.” Erica knocked on her daughter’s chest. “Hello in there.”

Hannah giggled as Erica tickled her ribs. “You’re silly, Mommy.”

“I am, and your silly mommy says to scoot into your room and get your pajamas on and get into bed.” She smiled as her daughter ran naked down the hallway and disappeared into her bedroom.

It was hard to believe that in just a couple of weeks Hannah would be six years old. There were times when it seemed like she’d been born only yesterday, and other times when it seemed an eternity ago. She took the towel and swiped at the bubble-bath residue on the sides of the tub.

Six years. All thanks to a miracle of modern science. Erica intended to have a huge party, bigger than any Hannah had ever celebrated before. It would be one of the few birthdays Hannah hadn’t spent in a hospital room.

“Okay Mommy, come tuck me in.”

Tossing the towel into the hamper, Erica hurried into the small bedroom where Hannah was already beneath the colorful sheet on the bed. “Before you tell me good-night, you have to say good-night to Harry,” Hannah commanded.

Erica groaned. She hated Harry. But she loved Hannah, and so walked across the room to the hamster cage and leaned down to tap on the glass. “Good night, Harry,” she said to the gray hamster who poked his head out of a pile of pine shavings and wiggled his nose in greeting.

“He says good-night and he loves you,” Hannah interpreted.

“Oh good, I’ll sleep much better tonight knowing Harry loves me.” Erica sat down on the edge of the bed. “But I’d sleep wonderfully better with a Hannah hug.”

With a grin, Hannah reached up and hugged her mom around her neck. Erica returned the embrace, her heart swelling with her intense love for the child. At the quick, immediate sting of tears, she realized again how fragile she was, how afraid she was to hope that finally the fears for Hannah’s very life were behind them and only normal childhood experiences lay ahead.

“Mommy?”

“What, sweetie?” Erica sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked Hannah’s dark hair.

“I liked Mr. Man. He has daddy eyes.”

“Daddy eyes?” Erica frowned. She distinctly remembered Caleb McMann’s eyes. Sharp blue, with a slight silvery shine that was in direct contrast to his dark hair.

“Yeah, you know, all shiny and smiley and nice. Daddy eyes.”

Erica smoothed her daughter’s hair one last time, then stood. “It’s time for little brown eyes to go to sleep. Good night, munchkin.” She kissed Hannah’s forehead, then tucked the sheet beneath her chin. “Sleep tight.”

As Hannah murmured a drowsy reply, Erica turned off the light but hesitated at the door.

She smiled as her gaze lingered on the sleeping child. Peaches padded into the room and curled up on the dog bed in the corner, but the act didn’t fool Erica one bit. She knew the moment she moved away from the door, Peaches would jump up in the bed with Hannah.

Leaving the bedroom, Erica went into the kitchen and refilled her coffee cup, her daughter consuming her thoughts.

Born with a malfunctioning heart, Hannah had been a weak, frail child whom the doctors had said would not live to see her first birthday. But Hannah had been a fighter, and defying the odds seemed to be her specialty. Hannah’s father, Chuck, had stuck through the first year with the sickly baby, but eventually he’d left, incapable of dealing with the situation.

She sipped her coffee, realizing she’d finally managed to get beyond the hurt and betrayal Chuck had left behind. He was the loser. He’d missed out on so much.

Smiling, she sat down at the kitchen table. Hannah might not have been given a good heart at the beginning of her life, but she’d been blessed with the spirit of a warrior. Courageous and brave, she also possessed a loving, optimistic attitude that often awed and humbled her mother.

Yes, her ex-husband had been the loser. Oh, he’d escaped the frantic worry, the enormous debt left by medical bills. He’d run from the responsibility and the fear of raising an ill child, but he’d lost out on the wondrous gift of knowing…and loving Hannah.

“Daddy eyes.”

Lately, Hannah had become obsessed with the idea of a daddy. It was as if now that her heart was fixed, she felt the empty space that her father had left when he’d abandoned her.

The phone rang, the shrill sound splintering the silence of the house. Erica jumped up from the table and grabbed for the receiver, not wanting the unexpected noise to awaken Hannah.

“Hey girl, what’s going on?”

Erica settled back in her chair, warmth suffusing her at the sound of her best friend’s voice. “Hi, Sherry. Not much going on here. I just put Hannah to bed and I’m relaxing for a few minutes before I follow her example.”

“Good grief, Erica. It’s just a few minutes after nine on a Saturday night,” Sherry protested. “Hon, you definitely need to get a life.”

Erica laughed. “I have a life. It’s just not as exciting as yours.”

“Compared to yours, a monk’s life would be exciting,” Sherry retorted dryly. “And that’s why I’m calling. I’m having a little dinner party next Friday night and…”

“No,” Erica interrupted.

“You haven’t even heard me out yet.”

“I heard you last week, and the week before that. You’ve got to stop trying to fix me up with men. I’m not interested.”

There was a long pause from Sherry. “Erica, Hannah’s last operation was almost a year ago. She’s doing terrific, getting healthier every day. It’s time for you to stop worrying so much about her and start thinking of your own happiness. It won’t hurt to leave her with a baby-sitter for the evening.”

“I’m happy,” Erica interjected. She rubbed her forehead, where a headache danced light fingers of pain across her brow.

Sherry sighed impatiently. “You can’t be happy. You’re alone.”

Again Erica laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, some women can be happy without a man in their life. Besides, I’m not alone. I have Hannah.”

Again there was a long pause and Erica sighed, knowing the pause didn’t indicate Sherry was giving up, only that she was regrouping. “Don’t you ever miss it?” she finally asked.

Erica frowned, again rubbing her forehead. “Miss what?”

“Sex.” Sherry sighed impatiently. “I know it’s been a long time, Erica, but surely you remember sex.”

Erica’s headache intensified. “Sherry, I refuse to have this discussion.”

“Ah, the ice maiden has appeared, hiding behind that cold exterior that keeps people at bay.”

Erica said nothing, silently admitting that Sherry knew her only too well.

“Erica, I worry about you. You work at home, you don’t go out. You don’t allow anyone in your life. You keep yourself so isolated from others.”

Sherry sighed. “Okay, I’ll stop now. I know this lecture is having about as much of an effect on you as a raindrop in the ocean. Are we on in the morning?”

“Sure,” Erica agreed. It was customary for the two friends to share coffee early every Sunday morning. “I’ll see you then.”

After hanging up, Erica shut off the coffeemaker, thinking of the woman who had been her best friend since they had been freshmen in high school.

However, as close as the two women had been over the years, their life-styles were far too different for Sherry to ever understand Erica.

Sherry Burnett had been raised in a loving, supportive family, and five years ago had married a wonderful man who adored her. She and her husband, David, had decided not to have children. David was a high-powered lawyer, and Sherry enjoyed an exciting job as an investigative reporter for an alternative newspaper in town.

Sherry was smart and savvy, but she didn’t understand loving a child. She couldn’t understand the commitment of a mother to a child in need.

After shutting off the kitchen light, Erica checked on Hannah—who slept peacefully with Peaches curled up next to her—then went into her small bedroom.

As she undressed and got ready for bed, her thoughts raced. Unlike so many of Erica’s friends, who’d drifted away, not knowing what to say, unable to deal with Erica’s grief and Chuck’s anger over Hannah’s heart condition, Sherry had remained the one constant source of support Erica so desperately needed.

She pulled her nightgown over her head and turned out her light. In the faint illumination filtering through the curtains from the street lamp out front, she crawled into bed.

Sherry’s question came back to haunt her.

“Don’t you ever miss it?”

Well, she could honestly say she never gave much thought to sex. She didn’t have the time or the energy to think about it.

However, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she’d admit that she did miss somebody holding her through the night. She missed the lingering scent of cologne on the pillow next to hers, the warmth of shared body heat on a cold, wintry night. But she could always buy a bottle of men’s cologne and an electric blanket would take care of her cold feet.

Erica had learned her lesson well. First from her father, who had walked out on them when Erica had been twelve, then from Chuck.

Men were great when the good times rolled. But, when trouble reared its ugly head, when the road of life got bumpy, men cut their losses and ran. Erica now knew that she only had herself to depend on.

No, she didn’t need a man, or anyone else in her life. Not in any way, shape or form. She just needed Hannah, and Hannah needed her. They were a unit, a family. She wasn’t willing to ever open her heart again to any male.

She’d done everything she could for the past six years to heal and protect Hannah. She wasn’t about to bring a man into their lives. She wasn’t about to allow a man to ever again steal a piece of their hearts, then ride off into the sunset without them.