Mended Hearts (12 page)

“I liked the vanilla caramels best.”

A flicker of unease prickling her neck, Hannah choked down a sigh at the familiar boy's needy expression. “Dominic, right?”

He smiled, pleased she'd remembered, embarrassed almost, then gave a quick jerk of his head. “Yeah. Do you work at the cookie store, too?” His question referenced the banner displayed behind her, the words
Colonial Cookie Kitchen
flowing in old-world script.

Hannah nodded. “Sometimes. I work in the library in Jamison and the candy store, but when Meg has weekend festival booths, I try to help out. Would you like a cookie?”

He eyed them, hesitated, then flushed when she handed him two. “They're on the house.”

“I've got money,” he protested, but Hannah waved that off.

“Save it for something else or donate it to one of the good causes at the front. We have to start with fresh stock tomorrow so you're actually doing me a favor.”

“Thanks.” He took the cookies, his expression saying he wasn't sure how to handle her magnanimous action. In the end he headed down the hall, his shoulders a little straighter than they'd been. Several strides away, he swung back. “Thanks again, Miss—”

“Moore,” Hannah told him. She widened her smile and shooed him away. “Go. Enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.”

Her words surprised him, as if he couldn't fathom someone thanking him for just being there. Then he headed out the side door, one cookie rapidly disappearing.

Hannah noted his thinness and filed that alongside the personality quirks, the hand twitches and the uncertain eyes.

Was it something?

Nothing?

She had no clue, but instinct told her Dominic needed a friend.

“Time for supper.” Jeff's voice broke up her thoughts, a
welcome diversion. “And don't tell me you snacked on cookies all day and don't want to eat because I'm starved.”

“First, you're bossy,” Hannah told him, sliding the meager remnants of the day's leftovers his way. “These are for you. Meg's dad already gathered my boxes and cash to take back to the store for tomorrow's load so we're good to go.”

“As nice as this is,” Jeff replied, hoisting the small box of cookies for her benefit, “it's not supper. And I don't know about you, but I didn't have a chance to eat all day.”

“Me neither.”

“Then I'm assuaging my guilt for not feeding you lunch by taking you out. I should have gotten over here midday but I got tied up at work. I know how crazy it is when you're running a booth on your own. It's hard to find a moment to get away.”

“The hall runners offered to spell me so I could get food,” Hannah admitted, but she wasn't about to explain why she refused, that the thought of walking the halls to get to the improvised food court made her go weak in the knees. “But I hate to eat on the run, so I figured I'd wait.”

“All the more reason for me to feed you now,” Jeff declared as he led the way out the front doors. The rain had let up slightly, but the late hour and thick clouds hung dark and foreboding. Jeff grasped her hand and headed for the shuttle bus at a run. “We'll grab our cars and head to the Texas Hot, okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Callie said we signed up twenty-two significant sponsors today,” he told her once they'd settled themselves into a booth at Wellsville's old-style restaurant. “That's a huge plus for little investment of time or effort.”

“I'll say. And despite the bad weather, the fair did well. I was surrounded by happy vendors.”

“I think the rain actually helped us,” Jeff replied. “The
local corn mazes and hayrides got rained out. Since we had an indoor location, we got the spillover.”

“And tomorrow…”

“Shorter hours, ten to three, then the Harvest Dinner.”

She smiled, rimmed her water glass with a finger and sat back. “I'm glad I had time to help this year.”

“Me, too.” He glanced up as Ellie Ramos headed their way.

“You guys worked the festival and you're still hungry?” she asked, surprised. She handed them each a menu and shook her head. “Which means that business was so good there was no time to eat or they ran low on food around four o'clock.”

“Right on both counts.” Jeff grinned and didn't bother with the menu. “Ellie, nothing sounds better on a cold, wet day than your chicken and biscuits, smothered in gravy with a side of slaw.”

“Make that two.” Hannah handed her menu back to Ellie and added, “And if a chocolate cola happens to come my way, I wouldn't refuse it.”

“Coffee for me.”

“I'm on it.”

Jeff studied Hannah once Ellie had gone, his gaze questioning.

“Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?”

“No.” He wavered, the tiny furrow between his eyes hinting concern, then said, “You looked a little shell-shocked at the school this morning and I was wondering if it was something I said. Or did.”

Tell him.

A part of her wanted to, but not here. Not now. Revealing her part in the Ironwood massacre couldn't be relegated to casual dinner conversation. She met his look of concern and shrugged. “It pushed some old buttons.”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

“Another time?” She sat back as Ellie delivered their drinks, then glanced around the restaurant. “And in a more private setting.”

“I'll hold you to that.” His look of promise meant business. After talking with Jane the week before, Hannah realized that some people already knew her past and respected her privacy. She didn't want Jeff to hear about it from someone else, but Ironwood wasn't a subject she delved into lightly.

She took a sip of her blended soda and raised her glass in a toast. “To a successful day.”

“Hear, hear.” Jeff tapped her glass with his coffee mug. “I can't remember ever enjoying a Farmer's Fair so completely, Hannah.”

Heat rose again. “You were barely there,” she scolded lightly.

“In body, yes. But in thought?” He met her gaze with a sweet look of warm appreciation, his eyes saying more than mere words. “I was by your side all day.”

His gentleness melted her, but did it make up for the dogged determination he gave to his job?

You equate too much with Brian, with the past. A good work ethic is something to thank God for.

“Food.” He tapped her hand as Ellie approached. “And stop looking so serious. It's bad for your digestion.”

She smiled in gratitude. “We'll talk sometime soon, okay?”

“It's fine, Hannah.” His tone bathed her in reassurance, as if nothing she said or did could possibly make a difference. Hannah knew better, but was willing to take the chance because keeping her secrets was no longer possible. And maybe that was a good thing.

J
eff strode into the library for the scheduled Thursday night meeting, his expression grim. Protective instinct pushed Hannah forward, wanting to soothe his angst.

He spotted her and smiled, a heartfelt smile that softened the hard lines of his face for just a moment. He took his place at the end of the table, settled his notes, then addressed the group. “I apologize for being late. I was on the phone with my grandmother. She called me a few minutes ago to tell me Jane Dinsmore is gravely ill.”

All eyes moved to the empty chair next to Hannah.

“She's in the hospital right now. According to my grandmother, she's been quietly fighting cancer for over three years. She'd been doing better until this summer, when a recurrence showed the cancer had metastasized to other parts of her body.”

His expression reflected the pain of his words. “Most of us have known Miss Dinsmore since childhood, and we all understand what a loss her death would be to our community.”

Reverend Hannity stood, apparently unsurprised by this news. He reached for the hands of those seated alongside him, then waited as the rest of the group followed suit. Silent for
a moment, he lowered his chin and closed his eyes. “Father, we beseech Thee on behalf of our dear sister Jane, to love her, watch over her, care for her and guide her. We ask Your healing hands upon her if that is Your will, but more than that, Lord, we thank You for Jane Dinsmore, for her selfless life, her unselfish acts, her kindly, straightforward ways and her tireless commitment to the youth of our community. You blessed us with her love of science and teaching, and while our hearts grieve her illness, our souls appreciate what she has sacrificed for our children. Amen.”

Hannah stared at the empty chair, little things suddenly making sense. The cough. The pale look. The breathlessness.

For a brief moment, Hannah wondered if her presence in Jamison, Jane's illness and now Hannah's gradual healing was all part of God's greater plan?

Of course not.

And yet…

She shut those thoughts down and concentrated on what Jeff was saying as he outlined the town board's approval of their stone walking path proposal, but the pall of Jane's illness took the shine off the excitement. By meeting's end, everyone was ready to go home, digest the news and think. Pray.

And that included Hannah. She stepped up to Jeff once the others had left and quietly put her arms around him from behind, hoping her presence offered comfort.

He didn't turn. He covered her hands with his and she felt the tremor within, the emotion he'd tamped down while conducting the meeting. She moved around front, laid her head against his chest and felt those strong arms engulf her. This time she was pretty sure she was holding him up, not vice versa. “I'm sorry, Jeff.”

He tightened his grip. “Me, too. Jane's been Grandma's friend forever. They're peas in a pod, two of the most indus
trious women I've ever met. Grandma's not handling this well and Grandma handles everything well, so that's a real wake-up call.”

Having met both women, Hannah saw the parallel. “Death's a tough thing to face. We can rationalize it through our faith but it's hard to minimize the physical loss of someone we love.”

“Exactly.” He held her close; the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear was a source of comfort and strength. When he pulled away, she saw the reluctance in his face, his eyes, and smiled. “Thank you.”

She moved back to the table, grabbed her jacket and shrugged into it while he gathered his notes in an uncharacteristic slapdash fashion.

He walked her to her car, pensive, and Hannah wished there was some way to help him through this. She might be a relative newcomer, but she'd sensed the feelings of the volunteers gathered tonight, and their heartfelt reaction said so much about Jane's effect. Hannah knew firsthand the positive ramifications of a good teacher. She rolled down the window to bid Jeff good-night, and his sad look made her wish she could help make this better.

“I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

Hannah nodded, unable to smile, wishing things were all right. “Okay.”

Jeff stepped back, watching as she drove away, but not really seeing her, Hannah was sure of it. As she climbed the steps to her apartment, she heard the sound of an engine. She turned, noting Jeff's car, and that made her smile.

He'd taken the time to make sure she'd gotten home okay. She raised her hand in acknowledgment, unable to see his answering wave, but for tonight, just the knowledge that he'd followed her home was enough.

 

Do it,
her inner voice scolded the next evening.

Don't you dare,
argued its alter ego.

She'd been living a tug-of-war since the previous night. She'd contemplated, stewed and prayed, unable to decide. Should she offer to take over Jane's classes, be the helping hand the school desperately needed? She was professionally self-confident enough to know that no one could do it better, but the question boiled down to could she do it at all?

She dropped her head into her hands, pensive, the late-day shadows marking the library's closing time. She'd locked the door but hadn't gone home yet, determined to sort this out. If only she could talk to someone.

Jeff.

Her heart agreed, but her head scolded.
He's going to find out eventually, why not just tell him? See what he thinks? He's the kind of guy that views the whole picture. He'll give you a fresh vantage point.

And then maybe walk away forever, like Brian.

That thought crushed her fervor, but she couldn't let it die, so in the end she hit her speed dial and prayed. He answered right away. “Hey, I was just thinking about you. What's up?”

His gentle warmth, his choice of words, the way he looked at her when they were together… Could she risk losing that by revealing her past? Would the truth set her free or send him running? Either way, she needed to know, so she took a deep breath. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course. Now?”

He didn't tease or joke around, unusual for him, but maybe he read the need in her voice. “Yes. Are you home? Can I come over?”

“I'm actually just pulling into the library parking lot because I knew you'd be closing up.”

His thoughtfulness tightened her throat, making this con
fession that much harder. She had so much to lose, but she knew they didn't dare take this relationship further with Jeff in the dark. And right now she needed a friend, a confidant. Who better than the man she loved?

Loved? Admitting that sent anticipation shivering up her spine and fear roiling into her gut. “I'll be right out.”

“I'll be waiting.”

He met her by the steps, smiled and hauled her in for a bracing hug, his strong arms and broad chest warming her. “Rough day?”

“No. But I need to talk to you.”

“Your place is close. Shall we head there?”

“Sure.”

She climbed in her car and headed home, half wishing the drive was longer. Her festive porch lightened her mood as she climbed the steps. No matter what happened after today, she'd shared a wonderful time with Jeff, a delightful reprieve. And if that was all he was able to give after hearing her story, she'd be grateful.

You'll be brokenhearted,
warned her conscience, more than a little self-righteous.

Yeah, but honest,
shot back her good-girl ego.
The truth shall set you free, Hannah.

He followed her in, set a bag in the kitchen, then grabbed her hand and led her to the couch in the front room. “Sit.”

She followed his direction, not like there was much choice. He sat alongside her, leaned back and tugged her with him. “Okay. What's up?”

She couldn't do this sitting back, unable to see his face or read his reactions. She pushed forward and turned to face him. His left brow arched, wondering. She clenched and unclenched her hands, then dove in. “I told you I was a teacher.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I taught high school science for eight years.”

“Impressive. Not an easy task.”

“It was very easy,” she corrected, working to keep her voice level. “I loved it. I loved it so much.” Her voice cracked with that admission, just a little, but he noticed it. She could tell from the way his brow furrowed, the way he hunched forward slightly.

“Why did you stop, Hannah?”

Five little words that either led her forward or offered her an escape. She chose to move forward, fully aware of the risks. “I taught at Ironwood High.”

He reached for her hand, his strong, sure fingers giving her strength, but the gravity in his eyes said he remembered Ironwood High, along with the rest of a grieving nation.

“We had developed a special class in conjunction with a program at Penn. It was an elective for students who met certain criteria, but I had the power to approve who should be in the class. The mission of the class required outside fieldwork and we developed a thoughtful selection process to give us a variety of kids. We were excited about this concept, because the class selection was actually part of the team research, the effect of nature and nurture on the human brain.”

“To do this with high school kids half fascinates me and half scares me to death,” Jeff told her, his gentle tone saying she could continue. “So you chose the class…”

“We had a committee,” she explained, “but I had veto power because I was the teacher who would be out and about with this group. The administration let me weed out kids whose application might look okay, but whose personality might be detrimental in less structured settings. We had tons of applications but we limited the class to twenty, a nice number to work with.”

“If you say so.” His face said there was little fun involved with teaching twenty kids anything, but he squeezed her hand. “And then…”

She hauled in a breath and let it out on a sigh. “Brad Duquette was the mastermind behind the Ironwood massacre. Steve Shelwyn and Dave Mastrodonato were his disciples, but they didn't have the vision to put it together. Brad did. He was such a smart kid, but there was something about him. Something not right, as if he wanted help, but laughed at anyone's efforts because he knew he could outsmart them.”

She shook her head, thinking back and still coming up short. “I saw that in him, and that's the reason I vetoed his application, because it always felt like he was trying to trip me up and I couldn't take that chance if I was out on my own with the kids, you know?” She met Jeff's gaze.

He nodded in support, and Hannah gripped his hands tighter. “What if I'd accepted him? Would it have been the tipping point, the one thing that gave him hope, that lessened his anger?”

“You can't take that on yourself, Hannah.” Jeff closed the narrow space between them and pulled her in for a hug. “Out of all those applications, you could only accept twenty. The odds were against
all
of the applicants, but none of the others went on a shooting spree, right?”

“I know that.” She pulled back and held his look, wishing she didn't have to burden him, but having little choice now. “But this one did. And when they entered the school during lunchtime, my research class was split, half in the lab, half in the adjoining classroom with me. We heard loud voices, then screaming, then gunfire. Karen Krenzer, the lab instructor, liked to keep our linking door closed during labs so my voice wouldn't distract her group. I'd left my keys on top of my desk because I was running late that morning, so I grabbed them and locked the adjoining door to the lab. A couple of boys barricaded it with a filing cabinet and a bungee cord while I locked the hall door.

“Between the bombs they rigged, the guns they used and
the sheer surprise of the attack, they managed to kill three teachers, nine students and two police officers who tripped a bomb as everything was happening. Fourteen people died that day because I denied Brad Duquette's application into my research class.”