Читать книгу Her Montana Twins - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 9

Chapter One

“I tell you it was rigged.” Lilibeth Shoemaker tucked her cell phone in the back pocket of her snug blue jeans and rested her elbows on the waist-high wooden counter separating Hannah’s desk from the large open waiting area of the town hall. Light from the mullioned window above the large double doors created a halo out of Lilibeth’s blond hair. However, the effect was negated by narrowed blue eyes enhanced by dark eyeliner and pouting red lips. “There is no way Alanna Freeson should have won that and not me.” This last word was emphasized with a slap of the hand on the divider.

Hannah Douglas gave Lilibeth what she called her Customer Care smile while she typed a quick note on the application for a booth for the county fair Hannah was helping to organize. This year the fair was to be the biggest ever in honor of Jasper Gulch’s hundredth anniversary and Hannah was already behind. All morning she’d been fighting a headache, juggling her attention between her increasing workload and her concerns over her mother, who was babysitting Hannah’s twins. This morning her mother had shown up looking drawn and pale but, as usual, insisting everything was fine.

Lilibeth tapped a long zebra-striped fingernail on the counter as if to get Hannah’s attention. “I was told I had to talk to you about it.”

Hannah hit Enter, then turned her chair to devote her entire attention to Lilibeth. The young girl had flounced into the town hall a few minutes ago exuding an air of long suffering that Hannah knew masked a simmering frustration with losing the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Though the winner had been crowned at the Fourth of July picnic, launching the town’s centennial festivities two months ago now, Lilibeth had complained loudly since then to anyone who would listen that she had been robbed. She was determined to get to the bottom of whatever conspiracy she seemed to think had been hatched.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Hannah said. “The contest is over and the winner has been determined.”

As she reasoned with Lilibeth, the heavy doors of the town hall office opened and a tall figure stepped inside the foyer. Though the entrance of the converted bank building boasted ten-foot-high ceilings, Brody Harcourt easily dominated the space and Hannah’s attention.

He stood in the doorway now, his eyes skimming the interior as he swept his cowboy hat off his dark hair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up over muscular forearms and his ramrod-straight stance bespoke his firefighter training, but the sprinkle of straw on his brown cowboy hat probably came from working on the ranch he and his father owned. He glanced at the empty chairs lining one wall, interspersed with potted plants, but stayed standing.

“But you take minutes at the town council meetings, dontcha? Couldn’t you find out stuff for me?” Lilibeth’s question was underlined with a nervous tap, tap of her fingernail. As Hannah’s attention was drawn back to the young girl, she fought a yawn.

Chrissy, her thirteen-month-old daughter, was cutting teeth and she’d been up most of the night crying and feverish. Thankfully, her twin brother, Corey, had slept through all of the fussing. Unfortunately, Hannah had not. She’d spent most of the evening rocking Chrissy and walking the floor with her hoping her cries wouldn’t wake Miss Abigail Rose, who lived in the apartment beside Hannah’s above the hardware store. Miss Rose had been reluctant to continue subletting the adjoining apartment to Hannah precisely because of the twins. She had given in when Hannah’s mother had shamed Miss Rose by saying this was no way to treat the widow of a soldier who’d died for his country. Hannah knew she was only staying at the apartment on sufferance, widow or not, and as a result was hyperconscious of any noise the babies made.

“I’m taking care of organizing the fair this year and the picnic basket auction,” Hannah said. “I can help you if you want to donate a basket or if you want a booth at the fair. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest and neither can Mayor Shaw.”

Lilibeth pursed her lips, winding a strand of hair around her finger as she contemplated this information. “So you can’t get hold of the minutes of the meetings or stuff and let me see them? I need to find out if this was a setup or not.”

Why was she so intent on digging so deeply into this?

A movement from Brody distracted Hannah from Lilibeth’s questions. He was glancing at his watch, as if checking the time. Then he looked over at her, angled her a quick smile and raised his eyebrows toward Lilibeth, as if he was sympathizing with Hannah having to deal with the young lady’s self-indulgent antics.

“The contest was run separately from town business.” Hannah kept her smile intact as she turned her attention back to Lilibeth. “And even if the council was involved, I wouldn’t be at liberty to give you the minutes of the meetings.”

As Hannah spoke, Robin Frazier entered the foyer from the office she and Olivia Franklin worked in. She clutched a sheaf of papers and had a pencil behind one ear holding her blond hair back from her face. Probably seeking more information for the genealogy study she had come to Jasper Gulch for. She and Olivia had been working together on the history of the town as part of her studies.

“Are you going to donate a basket for the auction?” Hannah asked Lilibeth, trying to distract the girl and hurry her on.

Lilibeth gave Hannah a confused look as if not certain of this sudden switch in the conversation. “I’m not sure I could organize a basket. What would I put in it?”

“Food. Snacks. Treats. Sandwiches. Be creative,” Hannah said, handing her a paper. “Here’s a submission form to fill out. We’re doing something different this year. Instead of just food baskets, we are asking for some people to consider making a themed basket instead.”

“Themed basket?”

“Yes. You could make a basket of books. A basket of bath products. Snack foods. Baby stuff. The form will give you some ideas. You can choose which one you prefer.” While the young woman puzzled over the paper, Hannah turned her attention to Brody.

“Can I help you, Mr. Harcourt?”

Brody Harcourt gave her an affronted look as he came to the counter. “Whoa, what’s with the mister? I’m twenty-nine. That’s only four years older than you.”

In a town the size of Jasper Gulch, anyone who was four years older than you in high school seemed to stay in that exalted position until you got to know them. And Brody moved in different circles than she did, so she never got to know him well.

“Sorry. Just trying to be respectful of the age difference.” Hannah didn’t know where that little quip came from, but the twinkle in Brody’s eye and the way his mouth curved upward in a half smile created a curious uptick in her heartbeat. He really was quite attractive.

And still single, which surprised her. She thought someone like Brody would have been snatched up years ago.

“Glad to know I get some respect around here,” he said, setting his hat on the wide counter between them.

Lilibeth looked up from the form she still held. The frown puckering her forehead shifted in an instant, and her smile made a blazing reappearance.

“Hey, there, Brody,” she almost purred. “How are things at the Harcourt ranch?”

“Fall’s coming, so it’s busy,” Brody said, giving the young girl a grin.

“You going to enter in the demolition derby going on in Bozeman this year?”

“Don’t have a vehicle to enter and I don’t have time.”

“You did real well the last time you entered,” Lilibeth continued, laying her hand lightly on his arm in a distinctly flirtatious gesture. “Couldn’t believe how you smashed up the competition. Fearless. Living up to your nickname, Book-it Brody.”

Hannah knew Brody’s high school nickname had less to do with academics than it had with his penchant for driving fast trucks and outrunning the sheriff of the day. Though that was in his past, he still held a reputation for being a risk-taker, not the kind of person Hannah could allow herself, a widowed mother of two, to be attracted to. The admiration in Lilibeth’s voice at Brody’s apparent recklessness only underlined Hannah’s previous assessment of Brody Harcourt.

In spite of that, when he turned back to her and his smile deepened, she was unable to look away from his dark gaze.

Again Hannah pushed down her foolish reaction, not sure what was wrong with her these days. It seemed that she’d had romance on her mind lately. She wanted to blame it on her friend Julie’s recent engagement or the plans for the Old Tyme wedding coming up next month, but the truth was, she’d been feeling lonely the past few months. The first year after David’s death, she had been on autopilot, trying to absorb the reality that her husband of only a couple of months was killed so soon after shipping out to Afghanistan. She had often felt that their brief marriage was an illusion, even though the twins that came of that marriage certainly weren’t.

“I understand you’re the person I need to talk to about reserving a booth at the fair?” Brody said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning closer. “It’s for the firefighters.”

“I’ll get the form you need,” she said as the door of the hall opened again and Rusty Zidek came in. He pulled off his worn, brown, cowboy hat, smoothed down his gray hair and brushed his impressive cookie duster of a mustache. In spite of being ninety-six years old, Rusty managed to keep his finger on the pulse of what happened in Jasper Gulch. He and his Mule were often seen putt-putting down Main Street as Rusty sought out people to talk to and things to find out. Hannah wondered what he wanted from her today.

Rusty settled himself slowly into a chair beside Robin. She turned to him, asking him questions about Jasper Gulch. From the way Robin scribbled notes as he talked, Hannah assumed they would be busy awhile.

The phone rang just then and with an apologetic look toward Brody, Hannah answered it and set the application form for the booth on top of the counter, next to Brody’s hand.

As she did, she noticed Lilibeth had captured his attention again by batting long, thick eyelashes that Hannah suspected were glued on rather than natural. Lilibeth had her head cocked to one side, her finger resting on her cheek, her eyelashes fluttering, her smile showing off perfectly spaced teeth.

And for a moment, Hannah was surprised herself that Lilibeth hadn’t won the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. But what surprised Hannah even more was the faint uptick of jealousy Lilibeth’s flirtation created in her.

“So I hope I filled this out right,” Brody said, looking back at Hannah when she was done with her phone call. As he handed her the paper, their fingers brushed. A spark of awareness tingled down her arm and then his eyes locked with hers. His smile seemed to soften and deepen and her heart did a goofy little dance in her chest.

Then reality hit. She couldn’t help comparing herself, a harried mother of two toddlers who barely had time to run a brush through her hair, let alone apply makeup, to fresh-faced Lilibeth, who looked put together enough to be in a fashion magazine. Though she doubted Brody would be attracted to a nineteen-year-old, the comparison still made her feel old and worn-out.

“Looks good, Mr. Harcourt,” Hannah said, pushing down the futile emotions. “I look forward to seeing what the firefighters come up with.”

“And if I have any questions?”

“Just come to me.” Hannah hoped she sounded businesslike and not like a breathless schoolgirl in the presence of her crush. “Have a good day.” Then she looked past him as Robin got up to walk toward the counter.

“Can I help you, Robin?” Hannah asked, effectively dismissing both Brody and Lilibeth.

Brody paused a moment as if he did, indeed, have a question. But then Robin stepped up to the counter and he turned and stepped aside, smiling at a joke Lilibeth was telling him.

“Nice-looking couple,” Robin said as she set her folder of papers on the divider.

They’re not a couple, Hannah wanted to say, but she stopped herself. What did it matter to her that Robin thought Brody and Lilibeth were together?

“I returned those papers you lent me,” Robin continued, handing an envelope back to Hannah. “Though the documents were interesting, I was hoping to find out more about some of the occupations of the extended Shaw family. Olivia said to talk to you.”

Hannah bit her lip, thinking. “I’ll see what I can find. Mayor Shaw might have that information, as well.”

“I don’t want to bother him,” Robin murmured.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Hannah assured her, then had to apologize as she answered the phone again. Her day didn’t look as if it would be slowing down anytime soon.

Or her life. She gave another quick glance at Brody, holding open the door for Lilibeth, then turned her attention back to her work. She had no space in her life for a man like him.

* * *

Well, that didn’t go as well as he had hoped.

Brody Harcourt dropped his hat on his head and heaved out a sigh as he held the door of the town hall open for Lilibeth Shoemaker. He had been the one to pitch the idea of setting up a booth for the firefighters at the fair precisely because he had hoped he could spend some time with Hannah Douglas.

Brody had been a senior in high school when he and his parents first moved to their new ranch in Jasper Gulch, and already then Hannah Douglas, with her gentle smile and perky demeanor, had caught his attention. But other than one summer when he was graduated and she and David had briefly split up, she had always been David Douglas’s girl.

Now she was David Douglas’s widow and the mother of his twins and, from the way she had just treated him, still not interested in him.

“If I make a basket, you’ll have to make sure to bid on it,” Lilibeth was saying to him. “I’ll let you know what it looks like.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?” he said as he tugged his cell phone out of his pocket.

Lilibeth simpered at him, then shrugged. “My sisters do it all the time.”

“I might be too busy to bid anyway,” Brody said, giving a quick glance at the screen. A text from his friend Dylan. He was already at the café and waiting for him.

“Well, you set some time aside for me,” Lilibeth gave him a coy smile, then sashayed down Main Street.

“She’s quite the spitfire, isn’t she?”

Rusty Zidek’s gravelly voice behind Brody made him spin around. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, looking back at Lilibeth, who shot him one last look over her shoulder as she stepped into her car.

“She seems overly upset lately about not winning the Miss Jasper Gulch contest,” Rusty continued, stroking his mustache, his grin showing the glint of a gold tooth.

“Her pride probably got bruised. Two of her sisters won before and I think she’s feeling the sting of sisterly competition.” Brody gave the elderly man a quick smile. “I have two sisters. They’re always one-upping each other. Clothes, boyfriends, jobs.”

“So was she nattering to Hannah about the contest, then?” Rusty asked, his voice nonchalant. But Brody caught a flicker of intensity in his eyes and was curious about his furtive movements.

“All I know is that she wanted to find out more about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Claimed it was rigged. She was asking if Hannah could access the minutes from the council meetings.” Brody felt like a tattletale, but he was curious where Rusty was going with this.

Rusty nodded slowly, as if digesting this information. “Well, we’ll need to discuss that later.” Then he looked up at Brody, his expression serious. “And I heard that you’ve said you would be willing to be part of the Time Capsule Committe.”

“Yeah, about that...” Brody paused a moment, thinking of the work ahead of him and his father on the ranch. They had just expanded and were busier than previous years. “Not so sure I can do it.”

“We could use your help trying to find the town’s missing time capsule. Deputy Calloway had his concerns about your being on the committee, but he did say if you were willing, he would overlook them.”

Brody knew exactly what those concerns were. He and Deputy Calloway had had a few run-ins during Brody’s wilder years. But Rusty’s comment made him uncertain, his pride battling with his ongoing desire to prove himself trustworthy.

“Hannah is the new secretary,” Rusty added with a little nudge of his elbow.

Brody held Rusty’s gaze, his piercing blue eyes nestled in a valley of wrinkles, a road map of his years and experience. Rusty had seen a lot coming and going in this town, and Brody knew the older man didn’t miss much.

“Well, that has a certain appeal,” he admitted. No sense being less than straight up with someone like Rusty.

“Kind of thought it might,” Rusty said with a smug look. “We started meeting in the late afternoon, to accommodate Hannah’s schedule. Our next meeting is Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Dylan at Great Gulch Grub.”

“See you later,” Rusty said, then turned and walked across the street to the bakery where Brody saw his camouflage-colored Mule was parked.

Brody followed him but ducked into Great Gulch Grub. He saw Dylan sitting at a table toward the back of the noisy café, his hands clasped on either side of his shaved head, glowering at a large manual lying on the scarred, Formica-covered table.

“Can I please get a coffee and a piece of Vincente’s amazing apple pie?” Brody asked Mert, who stood behind the counter. Behind her he could hear Vincente singing snatches of an unfamiliar song. Probably some opera thing that he seemed to enjoy.

Mert’s hair was pulled back in her perpetual bun, but this late in the day a few hanks of hair had come loose and hung around her narrow face.

“What am I, your wife?” she quipped, giving the empty counter a wipe with the cloth she held.

“I still live in hope,” Brody said, sweeping his hat off his head and placing it on his chest.

“You should get your own in time for the Old Tyme wedding going on next month,” Mert teased. “I thought a romantic like you would be all over that event.”

Brody just laughed, Mert’s innocent comment making him think of Hannah. “Not yet, Mert. Not yet.”

“Don’t worry, cowboy, I know your future bride is out there. And if she’s not ready, we’ll find someone for you.”

“That makes me worry,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “I can find my own wife, thank you very much.” Then, before Mert could carry the conversation any further, he strode to the back of the café, greeting a few of the people he knew and dropping into an empty chair across from his friend.

“Troubles with the motorbike?” he asked, glancing over the pages Dylan was studying.

“Yeah. Something with the manifold.” Dylan sighed. “Sure wish you hadn’t sold yours. I could’ve scammed some parts from it.”

“Everything has its season and the motorbike’s was over.”

“We sure had some good times with them,” Dylan said.

Brody’s thoughts ticked back to those trips with Dylan, roaring through the countryside, carefree and foolish. He also remembered how happy his parents were when he sold the bike.

“So, thoughts about the booth for the fair?” he asked, changing the subject. “I already picked one out.”

“Me and the other guys were thinking we should get a corner one so we can park the fire truck behind it. Kids can sit in it. They love that kind of thing.”

“Here you go, cowboy,” Mert said to Brody, setting his pie and coffee in front of him. “Enjoy, and let me know when you’re ready to go wife shopping.”

“I’m fine,” Brody said with a grin. He picked up the fork and dug into his pie, his mouth watering. “I’ll have to go back and talk to Hannah again and change the booth if you want a corner one,” he said to Dylan between mouthfuls of cinnamon-laced apple pie.

The idea appealed, but he wanted to take a day to regroup and find another way to turn on the charm.

“You could talk to her now,” Dylan said, raising his chin toward the door.

Hannah came in, glanced around the café, then seemed to hesitate when she saw him, the smile on her face fading away. Brody knew the only empty table in the café was beside him and Dylan.

Her hesitation stung. A little. Though he knew she was a widow, he had nurtured a faint hope that maybe, eventually, he could let her see there were other fish in the sea. Him being one of the fish.

Then, with a gentle smile for Dylan and a polite one for him, she sat down at the empty table, her back to Brody.

Dylan raised his eyebrow, as if in question, and nodded toward Hannah again. “Here’s our chance.” He leaned over to look past Brody. “Hey, Mrs. Douglas. Brody needs to talk to you.” Then Dylan nudged Brody under the table with his foot and Brody had no choice but to deal with this.

With a glare at his friend, Brody wiped the piecrust crumbs off his face, put on a smile and turned around in his chair.

“Hi again,” he said, leaning his arm across the back of the wooden chair. “So. About that booth. Could we make a change?”

Hannah held his gaze and then looked down at the cell phone she clutched as if she needed to do something with it. “Depends on what you want to do.”

Still not too eager to talk to him, he noted. He pulled in a breath and pushed on. “Dylan and I were just talking. Could we snag a corner booth instead? We were hoping to set up a fire truck behind it if there’s room.”

That caught her attention. Her subsequent smile and excitement reignited a glimmer of hope. “That would be a great idea,” she said.

“We thought the kids would like that, too,” Brody said, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “We could get some little fire hats to give away.”

“What do you think of getting someone to take pictures of the kids with their hats on standing by the truck?” Her infectious smile increased her appeal. Her dark eyes lit up, and the light from the window behind her made her brown hair shine. She wore it loose and it flowed over her shoulders. Like melted chocolate.

“I think Scottie Sawchuk at the station has a good camera. We could get him set up. What do you think of selling people the pictures?”

“As part of the fund-raiser. Great idea.” Her eyes sparkled with eagerness and a full, genuine smile curved her soft lips.

And dived into his heart and settled there.

“Perfect. If you could get us that corner stall, we’re in business.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” she said.

Brody nodded, unable to ignore the knock of awareness he felt. She blinked, and her smile slowly faded. A cloud slid across the sun and the light left with her smile, followed by an awkward silence. Brody felt his brain seize up as he tried to find something clever to say.

“If there’s nothing more...” Hannah let the sentence hang, giving him the perfect opportunity to capitalize on the moment, but nope. Still nothing.

Since when was he tongue-tied in the presence of a woman?

Since it was Hannah Douglas. And though his mind was blank, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“No. I think that’s it,” he said finally.

“Then I’ll let you get back to your dessert,” she said.

Her words were polite and her voice cool and once again Brody got the impression she was trying to get rid of him. Then she turned away and Brody returned to his pie.

“So I guess we’ve got that settled then,” Dylan said, closing his book and looking up at his friend, thankfully unaware of Brody making unsuccessful googly eyes at Hannah Douglas. “You stopping at the hall before you go to the ranch?”

“I need to pick up a shirt I left behind there after our last call to Alfie Hart’s place.”

“Still can’t believe you were about to go into that barn for his dog.”

Brody just shrugged as he took another bite of pie. The fire Dylan talked about had been straightforward until Alfie called out that his dog was inside the barn. Alfie was a bachelor and he and his dog were inseparable. Alfie had run to the barn with the idea of getting the dog out himself. Brody had pulled him back and had promised he would check it out. But as he put on his mask and headed into the building, the dog came charging around the other side.

“Someday you’ll have a reason not to be such a daredevil,” Dylan said, closing the manual and leaning back in his booth. “Like a girlfriend.” He gave Brody a smirk as if he knew that Brody was far too aware of Hannah sitting right behind him.

Brody just ignored him, wolfed down the last of his pie, chased it with coffee and stood.

“Let’s go.” Brody pulled out his wallet, fished a few bills out and dropped them on the table.

But before he left, he chanced another look at Hannah. And was surprised to see her looking at him, her eyes holding a question.

Then she turned away, effectively dismissing him.

Again.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Dylan asked Brody as they walked down Main Street back to the fire station.

“Who?”

Dylan nudged him with his elbow. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Hannah Douglas. I know you’ve always liked her.”

Brody shrugged off his friend’s comment, preferring not to go back to that time. “That was many years and a lot of experiences ago.”

“Just as well. Those twins are a big responsibility. You want to date that woman, you’ve got huge shoes to fill.”

“David had big feet?” Brody asked, deliberately misunderstanding what Dylan was saying.

Dylan seemed to ignore his remark. “David Douglas was a good guy,” he said, his voice quiet. Almost reverent. “A man that good shouldn’t have died on some Afghani field by a roadside. Lousy bombers making Hannah a widow and single mother.”

“Only the good die young,” Brody murmured.

“He was always the first to volunteer for stuff. Always helping people.” Dylan was quiet a moment, as if remembering all the good things David Douglas had done. “Remember that summer when I was thinking of quitting my job as a carpenter? Leaving Jasper Gulch?”

“Was that the summer we cruised down the Oregon coast on our motorbikes?” Brody sighed. “I don’t think we drove under ninety that whole trip.”

“Yup. That summer. I never told you what happened when I came back from that trip because I felt embarrassed.”

“About what?”

Dylan shrugged, then crossed over the street. “You and I were pretty wild then. Neither of us attended church anymore.”

Though his relationship with God was an integral part of Brody’s life now, for many years the faith he had been born and raised with had been relegated to the “someday” corner of his life. The same place the wife and the three kids were always put. Somehow, in his wilder years, he had always assumed when he was ready for God, the rest would fall into place, as well.

Now he was twenty-nine and still no closer to finding a wife than he had been then.

“Well, I was feeling down,” Dylan was saying.

Brody punched him in the shoulder. “That was why we went on the trip. To get you out of that funk.”

“Trouble was, it didn’t help. I didn’t know what I wanted. David came over when we got back from our trip. He said he was concerned about me. Said he wanted to pray with me. It felt a little funny, especially after all the goofing around you and I had done, but I said yes.” Dylan shrugged, as if still self-conscious about what had happened. “Anyhow, praying with him gave me such peace and comfort. He came once a week just to talk and see how things were with me. He encouraged me to start coming back to church.”

Brody felt a flash of guilt at the memory. What a contrast. One friend who figured going crazy was the way to fix the problems in Dylan’s life. The other, who wasn’t even as close to Dylan as Brody was, knowing the right thing to do.

“So that’s why you started going back to church,” Brody said quietly as he punched in the pass code to get into the fire station. “I always wondered.”

“It was. We talked about work and jobs and he told me being a carpenter was a good thing to do. That building houses was important. That maybe I should find a way to give to the community, as well. Step outside of myself. And that’s when I volunteered for this gig,” he finished, his wave taking in the fire hall as they walked up the stairs to the dorms where they slept and kept their personal gear.

Brody felt a moment of letdown. “I always thought you signed up because of me.”

“Kind of, but mostly because of David. He did a lot of good for a lot of people.”

And Hannah, as well.

The hardest fire to fight is an old flame, Brody thought, reality falling into his life like the thud of an ax. He always had a vague feeling Hannah was out of reach.

Now he knew for sure.

* * *

By the time Hannah locked the doors of town hall, the pain behind her eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache. Her feet ached and her back was sore and she generally just felt sorry for herself after such a busy day. But as she trudged across Main Street to her apartment, she stopped her moments of self-pity.

Forgive me, Lord, she prayed. Help me be thankful for what I have.

The twins were healthy and she had the support of her friends and family.

But I’m alone.

The taunting thought worried at her moment of peace. Truth to tell, her loneliness had taken on a new hue the past few months. Losing David so soon after they married had been difficult. He had been a part of her life since she was in grade school. They had dated since the ninth grade. He was all she had ever known.

When he had signed up for the army, she had tried to be supportive. But when he proposed marriage just before he had received his orders to ship out, she had struggled with his urgency to get married. Her parents had simply told her to go with her heart. If she had followed their advice, she would have put off the marriage. She would have waited, but when David’s parents had added their voices to his, they created a pressure she was unable to withstand.

Two months later, she was a widow and pregnant with twins, unable to indulge in second thoughts. Her life had been a whirlwind of uncertain emotions and busyness ever since.

And in the past few months, a sense of loneliness had been added to the emotional stew.

Her thoughts slipped back to Brody as she opened the door leading to the stairs up to her apartment. Was it her overactive imagination, or maybe her lonely heart, that thought he had been flirting with her?

No sooner did that thought form than she heard Chrissy’s wails growing louder as she walked up the narrow stairs. Hannah took the last flight two at a time, digging in her purse for the key to the door.

Inside her apartment her mother sat in a wooden rocking chair holding a sobbing Chrissy, Corey clinging to her denim skirt, also crying. Chrissy’s blond curls clung to her forehead, and as Hannah closed the door, the little girl leaned away from her grandmother and reached out for Hannah, tears flowing down her scrunched-up cheeks.

“Oh, honey,” Hannah said, taking the hot bundle of sadness from her mother and tucking Chrissy’s warm head under her chin. “You’re still not feeling good, are you?” Chrissy released a few more sobs then quieted. Hannah dropped to the floor, shifted Chrissy to one arm, then scooped Corey up with her other arm. As he snuggled into her, blessed silence descended in the apartment.

“How was your day?” her mother asked, still sitting in the chair, her head resting against the back. Her glasses were smudged and her hair mussed and Hannah suspected the orange stain down the front of her shirt was from lunch.

“You look tired, Mom,” she said, guilt falling like a familiar weight on her shoulders. “I should have come here at lunchtime instead of going to the café.”

Her mother waved off her objections and smiled. “You needed the break. Your father came and helped me with the children. We had fun, though I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean up.”

Hannah took in the toys scattered around the apartment with its mismatched furniture given to her by friends and people from the community. When she imagined becoming a mother and bringing grandchildren into her parents’ lives, this was not the picture she had envisioned.

“And how was your day?” her mother repeated.

“It was busy,” Hannah replied, nuzzling Chrissy, who lay quietly in her arms now, her chubby hands clutching at Hannah’s sweater. “We received far more people signing up for the fair than originally estimated.”

“That will be good. I just hope the committee doesn’t listen to all those people who want to fix the bridge,” her mother said as she folded her arms over her chest. “I much prefer to see the museum we had talked about for so long finally getting built. We don’t need that bridge,” her mother continued. “Some things are better left alone.”

Hannah pressed a kiss to Corey’s damp head, making a noncommittal sound. The entire bridge versus museum controversy and where the fund-raising money should go was starting to split the community. As an employee of the town, Hannah had found it best to simply listen and not get drawn into either side of the discussion.

“Did you get to the park today?” Hannah asked, diverting her mother’s attention elsewhere. The sun, shining through the windows of town hall had taunted her all day and, once again, made her wish she didn’t have to work. Made her wish she could live off the small pension she received from the military. Because David had barely graduated training and because he had signed up for the minimum of life insurance, Hannah was managing by the thinnest of margins. David’s insurance payout was in a savings account she slowly added to each month.

In a year or so she might have enough saved up to buy her and her children a little house. Their own place. The twins would have a yard and be able to play outside. Though her parents had offered for her to move in with them, she valued her independence too much. In the meantime, she made do with this apartment and working as much as she dared.

“No. Chrissy was tired,” her mother said. “And I just wanted to stay in the apartment.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Hannah said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

“I know, honey.” Her mother sighed as she stood. “I wished I could have gone out with them, but there it is.” She glanced over at the tiny kitchen beside them. “And I didn’t do the dishes from lunch, either. By the time I got the children down for their nap, I needed one myself.”

Hannah waved off her concern, fighting her own weariness and another surge of guilt. “I don’t expect you to do everything,” Hannah said. “I’m just thankful you and Dad help out as much as you do.”

“We’re glad we can do this for you.” Leaning over, she brushed a gentle kiss over Hannah’s cheek. “You’ve been such a brave girl, dealing with losing David. Never a word of complaint.” Her mother kissed each of the twins in turn and then straightened. “You know we pray for you every day when your father and I have our devotional time.”

“I know.” This created another flush of shame. The only prayers Hannah seemed to have time for were the panicky ones that were either please, please, please or thank you, thank you, thank you. Her faith life, of late, had become fallow and parched. “And someday I’ll make it back to church.” She wouldn’t soon forget the last time she had made the attempt with her toddlers in tow. It had been a disaster.

“I know you will.” Her mother gave her a smile, then walked over to the closet by the front door to collect her coat. “I’d better get going. I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, and then, with another wave, her mother left.

The apartment felt suddenly empty. Hannah fought down the usual twinge of loneliness and clutched her babies tighter. She had her kids. She had her family.

That should be enough.

She set the twins down on the floor to play, but as she stood to clean the kitchen, she stopped by the window overlooking Main Street and the fire station across the street from the hardware store.

Images of Brody Harcourt slipped through her mind. She shook them off. Brody was better matched with a young, pretty girl who had no attachments. No history.

And she was better off with someone more solid and settled.

If she could ever find anyone like that who would also be willing to take on another man’s children.

Such a silly dream, she thought, turning away from the window and back to her reality.