Читать книгу Mended Hearts - Ruth Logan Herne - Страница 12

She’d call Helen first thing tomorrow, Hannah decided as she kicked off her shoes in her apartment fifteen minutes later. If she had to embrace this task, she’d take the helm and do it alone. The idea of dealing with a power-hungry ladder climber like Jeff Brennan touched too many old chords. Her teaching success. Brian’s drive and goal-setting passions. The perfect couple when all was well.

No, being around Jeff nudged too many insecurities to the surface. She was better, she knew that.

But still scared. And scarred. Emotionally, if not physically.

The doorbell rang.

Hannah headed to the front entry, surprised. She stopped as her heart shifted somewhere closer to her gut.

Jeff stood framed in the glass, a to-go sack in his hand, his expression sincere, almost as if he was truly sorry for setting her off when he’d done nothing wrong except evoke bad memories.

Self-recriminations assaulted her from within. She opened the door, and sighed, letting the door’s edge offer support. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”

“Why did you?”

Hannah refused to open that box, although lately the cover seemed determined to inch off on its own, a concept that both worried and strengthened her. “You struck a nerve.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t demand an explanation, just stood there looking truly apologetic. He hoisted the bag. “I can’t eat these alone. I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

The gentility behind this surprise move softened her heart. Meg had proclaimed Jeff to be a downright nice guy, invested in the community. At this moment, Hannah couldn’t disagree. “Come in.”

He smiled, not triumphant or teasing, but amiable and friendly as if he’d teased her enough for one night. A part of her wished she could play those getting-to-know-you games she used to be good at, but she’d lost that skill and had no interest in resurrecting it.

Get it back.

She sensed the inner admonition, felt the internal thrust forward and resisted, her fear of risk standing its ground.

“Do not be afraid for I am with you… .”

Isaiah’s words tinkered with her heart, her soul.

“I will strengthen you and help you… .”

“This is nice, Hannah.” Jeff swept the front room an approving look, then raised the bag again. “Here or in the kitchen?”

“The kitchen’s fine.”

“Lead the way.” He followed her, set the bag on the table, then faced her.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have run away.”

“Interesting turn of phrase.”

She grimaced acceptance. “A trait I’m trying to change.” Tonight, with him here, delicious smells wafting from the to-go containers, a part of her longed to embrace change. And food. “I’ll get some plates.”

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but by coming here he’d leveled their playing field. Brian would never have swallowed his pride and come calling to make amends. She withdrew two plates from the cupboard and turned to find Jeff procuring silverware from the drawer alongside the sink.

“These okay?” He held up two knives and two forks.

She nodded. “Fine, yes.”

“Then let’s eat.” He drew her chair out, a gentlemanly gesture, then sat in the chair opposite her.

Hannah flushed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled about her meaning.

“Sit over there. Here would have been fine.” She indicated the chair to her right with a nod.

He raised a brow in amusement. “If you’d prefer …”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

The smile deepened. “I’m good here for the moment. The extra space gives me a buffer zone.”

This time Hannah smiled. His banter was tinged with a hint of compassion, just enough to help calm the encroaching waves within. Her therapist had told her she’d know when to test the waters, dive back into the game. Hannah hadn’t believed her then, and longed to believe her now, but mingled fears constrained her.

She wanted new memories. New chances. New beginnings. Wasn’t that why she’d come to Jamison in the first place?

You came here to hide. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then she wanted to stop hiding.

A rustle of wind brushed the leaves against the windows. The sights and sounds of fall leveraged her anxiety, but only if she allowed it to happen.

Determined, she sat forward, met Jeff’s gaze and nodded toward the food. “Will you say grace or shall I?”

He reached for her hand and it felt nice to have Jeff grip her fingers as he asked the blessing, his tone thoughtful, the strength of his hand a blessing in itself.

He smiled, released her hand and gave a delighted sigh as he opened the containers. “Since we’re main-coursing this stuff, I had them pack two slices of strudel, too. I don’t know about you, but I never have room for dessert if I eat a full meal, and Susan Langley’s apple strudel is amazing stuff. I wasn’t sure if you’d like raisins, so I got the one without them.”

“Thank you, Jeff.” She looked in his eyes and for the first time in ages didn’t question the sincerity and integrity in another person, or the veracity of their smile. She let herself bask in the moment and realized how good she felt to be there.

So far as the east is from the west has He removed our transgressions from us… .

She wanted to believe that, the sweet psalm anointing her, but she’d found out the hard way that simple faith was anything but easy.

And yet …

Something in Jeff’s look and his manner made her want to take the chance she’d been refusing to contemplate for years.

“You’ll know when,” Lisa had promised, offering her professional and personal opinion before Hannah moved east. “And when it happens, seize the day. Grasp the moment.”

Hannah hadn’t believed her; the thought that time eases pain was too simplistic to embrace then, despite the therapist’s assurance.

But maybe now …

“Try this.” Jeff speared a piece of shrimp, leaned forward and held the fork up, his encouraging look somewhat boyish and endearing.

She shouldn’t take the morsel. Sharing food was too personal, but she leaned forward, the moment charged with awareness. She paused at the last moment, rethinking her choice.

It’s shrimp. Nothing more.

Hannah knew better, despite her recent holding pattern, like a jet circling O’Hare in a snowstorm. But she took the bite anyway. The combination of cream and spices was melt-in-your-mouth good. “That’s amazing.”

Jeff grinned. “I thought you’d like it. Try another.”

She raised her fork, putting off another tidbit from his. “Feeding myself was one of my basic skills in college.”

“Where I expect you did very well,” he countered, following her lead, adeptly moving the conversation. “I did my undergrad and masters at MIT.” His interested expression invited her to reveal the same about herself.

“I was at Penn.”

“Philadelphia.”

She nodded. “My father and stepmother live there. That got me the occasional home-cooked meal.”

“Which always tastes better when you’re away from home. And you never fully appreciate the things of home until they’re gone.”

Hannah knew that firsthand. Her parents had split up amicably just shy of her ninth birthday. Both had remarried. Both marriages were still intact, but she’d never had a place to truly feel at home from that moment on. No matter which home she visited, a level of disconnect followed her as she figured out behavior that suited her stepfather and stepmother, a slippery slope for a kid. She’d hedged toward perfect, swallowing emotions, pasting on smiles, unwilling to make a scene, skills that turned against her later on.

As a science lover, she understood the intricacies of adaptation. What she didn’t quite get was how to turn it off and move ahead. And if she couldn’t do that, then all the adjustments in the world were of little importance because mere existence couldn’t equate with life. Ever.

“The quieter you get, the more I delve.” Jeff sent her a pointed look, his eyes amused but direct.

Hannah raised her fork in salute. “I only reveal things on a need-to-know basis, Jeff.” She leaned forward before hiking one brow. “And right now, all you need to know is that I’m amazingly grateful for this food. Thank you.”

“And the company?”

Ah, the company. She smiled, raised a glass of water and dipped her chin. “Even better.”

His grin said more than words as he sampled a piece of stuffed mushroom. Was his look of delight meant for her or the delicious food?

She wasn’t sure but a big part of her hoped it was for her. That sent her onto dangerous turf, but for the first time in a long time it felt good to laugh and tease with someone.

Real good.

Success.

Partially, Jeff admitted to himself as he headed back toward Wellsville later that evening. They’d exchanged fundraising ideas, scoped out the time frame and brainstormed how to bring the library project to the forefront of people’s minds. Spring and summer offered many opportunities, but winter in their mountainous foothills narrowed the selections. If they could target the Farmer’s Fair at the end of October, the Christmas Salute to Veterans concert in December, then the Maple Festival in March as their big fall/winter projects, they should have a successful launch. Throw in the direct-mail campaign and fundraising on the Jamison green on Sundays …

Jeff hoped it marked a strong beginning. His mother’s ringtone interrupted his thought process. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“You know that Matt’s back.”

Jeff’s gut tightened. “Yes.”

“I’ve invited him to supper tomorrow night.”

“Perfect. I’m busy.”

“Exactly why I scheduled it then,” Dana Brennan explained. “I won’t have you boys fighting at my table, or have you make him feel like he’s to blame for your father’s actions.”

Perfect. Just perfect. The prodigal comes home after two decades of doing whatever and gets the welcome-to-the-table speech while Jeff got the shaft. “I can lay plenty of his own actions at his door, Mom. He made sure of that twenty years ago.”

“He’s changed, Jeff. He grew up. And he paid his price.”

“Tell that to Katie Bascomb. Every time I see her I remember that night, that weekend. He’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”

“Yes. But Matt wasn’t given an easy road to travel.”

“And I was?”

Dana sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying, honey. I know how rough things were for you and your sister. And maybe I tried too hard or stayed too long with your father, thinking he would keep his promises.”

“Which he didn’t.”

“No. But you do, Jeff. You always have and I’m proud of you for it. I just wish …”

“That I would embrace your rainbow-colored world, forgive Matt and sing kumbaya? Didn’t you just admit to trying too hard with Dad? I might be the one that looks like Dad, but Matt’s got his personality down pat and I don’t want to see you or Grandma get hurt.”

“Or maybe you’re protecting yourself.”

“From?”

“Memories. Fears. Anything that reminds you of your father.”

Jeff sighed. It had been a long day already, up early to get a jump on work Trent Michaels would have done if his foster father wasn’t sick, but with Trent gone …

“I’m tired, Mom. While you’re entertaining Matt, I’ll be kicking off a fundraising campaign I don’t have time for. That seems to be the trend lately—‘If no one else can do it, ask Jeff.’”

“You know I’ll help. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You love going 24/7, it’s intrinsic to your nature. And Grandma and I both appreciate your time and your devotion to the library project.”

Right then, Jeff didn’t feel appreciated. He felt put out, put upon and a little put down. “Good night, Mom.”

“Night, honey. I love you.”

“Yeah.” He paused before adding, “I love you, too.” He disconnected the call, pulled into his driveway and sat back against the leather seat, considering the current circumstances. His brain refused to work without sleep. He’d catch a few hours, then jump into the specs for a new Homeland Security bid that included the mobile surveillance units his team designed. The forthcoming eight-figure contract would push Walker Electronics another notch up the ladder of military supply companies, and that meant more workers, more production, more jobs and a stronger local economy.

But it stunk big time that his good-for-nothing brother got invited to dinner, because with the library meeting tomorrow, Jeff would be lucky to have time to scarf down a deli sandwich on the run.

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.