Mended Hearts (15 page)

She let Laura steer the meeting and kept her face placid. She'd gone over the boy's grades and the teacher's report, noting the only negative was lack of participation. Dominic's aptitude ranked high and his retention put him at genius levels, all things a parent should embrace with joy.

Not in this case.

While Hannah presented Dominic's science records to his father, she flashed encouraging smiles in the boy's direction, wanting him to jump in. Take part.

He didn't. Chin down, he gazed at his feet, right up until Hannah mentioned the science team. “I've asked him to join because we could use his help, but he's managed to put me off so far.” She sent Dominic a friendly grin, trying to draw him in, right before his father's reaction demonstrated her faux pas.

“He refused?”

Too late, Hannah realized her mistake. The senior Dominic wasn't the kind of father that allowed his son to find his own way. Hadn't the boy's words hinted that? And now she'd gone and opened up Pandora's box for the kid, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Dominic knows the option is there,” Hannah replied smoothly, trying to gloss over the father's reaction. “In the meantime, we can concentrate on his excellent grades, his potential and his work ethic, all of which highlight what a great kid he is.”

“And that's fine if you're raising an average kid,” countered the senior Fantigrossi. “I'm not. My son has more potential in his little finger than most kids dream of, so don't talk down to me with your edu-speak gibberish about looking at the bright side. Dominic understands that good grades aren't enough to get into the top schools, that he needs to be well-rounded, and since he bombed at sports—” the boy winced, the father's careless words cutting deep “—and he's not gifted musically, utilizing greater potential by joining the science team would help round out his profile. Why didn't you run this by me?” he demanded, confronting his son.

The boy shrugged. “I didn't think it was important.”

Dominic's faint words made Hannah's heart cringe. His body language echoed his speech, a slight inward curl hunched his shoulders, his back, his arms, as if ducking blows, but the shots he took were aimed at his mental and emotional well-being, obviously a popular target.

“If it's any help, my invitation stands,” Hannah announced.

“I'll think about it.” The kid didn't look at her, but his voice said joining the science team ranked last on his list, especially now.

“You'll do it.”

“I—”

“Mr. Fantigrossi…”

Dominic's father raised an imperious hand, concluding the meeting and silencing the staff. “This is not open for discussion. You have the room on the team.” He pointed toward Hannah, then toward Dominic. “And you have plenty of time. End of story, and this meeting. Let's go.”

Dominic stood. Hannah read the anger in his face, in his
eyes. She mouthed a quiet apology, but the boy maintained a cool gaze, his demeanor saying what he couldn't verbalize.

What started out as an easy day for her had ended poorly. Hannah longed to call Jeff and seek his opinion, but after last night's interchange with Callie, she realized her romantic instincts might still be unreliable, and that knowledge bit deep.

By the time she crawled into bed, the room bore the distinct odor of dead mouse, the newest victim of the landlord's attic poison, which meant it would only smell worse by morning.

Great.

H
annah answered the candy store phone the next afternoon. The busy Saturday marked the typical fall upswing in sales. With holidays approaching, people were stocking up or placing orders, keeping them hopping.

“Grandma Mary's Candies, this is Hannah, how can I help you?”

“Why did you tell him about the science team?”

Hannah's heart stopped, the cold, despairing voice setting off her internal warning system. “Dominic?”

“I told you no, didn't I?”

“Yes, but…” With customers moving around the store, Hannah couldn't think straight to direct this conversation. “Dominic, I…”

“No one listens to me,” the boy explained, his tone aggrieved but not angry, which only made matters worse. Honest anger provided a release. Bottled misery could ignite in more dangerous ways.

“I'm listening, Dominic.”

“No, you're not. You're wondering how to get me off the phone so you can take care of all those customers.”

He was watching her.

A chill climbed Hannah's spine. Goose bumps dotted her
arms, but she grabbed hold of herself emotionally and kept her voice firm. “If you're close enough to see me—” she raised her gaze and did a visual scan of the street, but didn't catch sight of the boy “—then come over, munch on some caramels and talk to me. I didn't mean to mess things up. I'm new to the school, so your situation with your father took me by surprise. I'm sorry, kiddo, I realized my mistake too late and now you're stuck with me.”

“I'm not.”

I'm not?
Hannah tried to gauge the boy's cryptic response. Was he expressing simple anger? Desperation? Suicidal options? Homicidal tendencies? Teens were notorious for reacting to things too quickly, kind of like that group of girls earlier that week.

Only the girls seemed normal, if a little overzealous.

Dominic didn't.

She waved to Megan as her friend finished boxing a large assortment, grabbed a notepad and headed into the kitchen area, pretending she was taking an order. “I'm in the kitchen now, you've got my full attention, so talk. And let me just say, having an overbearing father is tough, but you've got lots of people who care about you, starting with me. So promise me right now you're not going to do something foolish, something we'll both regret.”

“Are you going to call the police? Tell them I called you?”

Hannah weighed her words carefully. “If I think you're a threat to yourself or others, then yes. If you're using me as a sounding board, then no. You got caught in a situation I was partially responsible for and I'm sorry, but other than apologizing and making your science team experience fun, I've got nothing. But if giving the science team a try means calming things with your father, why not just do it?”

“It's not that easy.”

“Oh, it is,” Hannah assured him. “You're making it dif
ficult because you're mad. And caramels are a great stress reliever. All that chewing does wonders for the soul.”

“Are you tempting me in so you can call the cops and have me put in the hospital against my will?”

Hannah tried to balance the situation with pre-Ironwood common sense in a post-Ironwood mind, and that was tough, but at least this kid was reaching out.

Father, help him. Comfort him. Sustain him with Your gentle hands, Your loving arms.

“And mess with all that drama? Please, it's Saturday, I turn on my no-drama-zone force field the minute I walk out of the school. Come in here, talk face-to-face and eat candy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Consider it candy store therapy. It works wonders for me.”

She walked back out front as he came through the door, his bearing less timid than last night. “Dude.”

The one-word greeting made him smile. “Miss Moore.”

She held out a small tray of candies and plastic gloves. “Wash your hands, put these on and keep people happy for a few minutes, okay? We're swamped.”

He paused, startled, then made a face. “You want me to help you?”

Hannah pointed toward the front. “See all those people? If we feed them, they might not stampede the counter.”

A small smile softened his jaw as he surveyed the room. He nodded, washed his hands and donned the gloves. “Will you get in trouble for doing this?”

“Commandeering free help? That's every businessman's dream. Now get going. Time's wasting.”

He moved forward, carrying the tray more like a shield, but by the time he'd made a pass through the crowd, he'd relaxed and actually exchanged smiles with a few customers.

And those smiles told Hannah that Dominic Fantigrossi III might be all right with a little tender loving care.

“We need more,” he announced a few minutes later as Hannah cashed out a customer.

“The sample trays are in the kitchen. They're marked, and make sure you avoid anything with nuts, okay?”

“Anaphylactic shock being a bad advertising ploy.”

Hannah grinned at his joke. “Exactly. Now you're catching on.”

And he was. He hung out for the afternoon, handing out samples and bagging orders. He even emptied the garbage cans at closing time. By the time they locked up at eight o'clock, he looked tired but pleased, exactly what Hannah had hoped for.

But was it enough or too little, too late?

She had no idea.

 

Hannah's cell phone rang just after she arrived home. The Illinois area code listed no name. Hannah hesitated, then grasped the phone, trepidation snaking up her spine. “Hello?”

“Hannah Moore?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jill Kantry, Christi Kantry's mother.”

Hannah's heart fluttered. Christi had been one of the last students killed in Karen's lab class. “You got my note, Mrs. Kantry?”

“We did.” A short pause followed before Jill continued. “I've put you on speaker. Is that okay?”

“Of course. And I just want to say I'm sorry I didn't send that note sooner. I—”

“Miss Moore, this is Jacob Westman.”

“And Thomas Kwitchik.”

“And Anna Li Phan.”

“And…”

Hannah interrupted the litany of voices. “You're all there?”

Jill's voice came through again. “The ones still in this area. If it was possible, we'd have all hopped on a plane to
come see you, but this seemed more expedient and affordable. Miss Moore, our consensus is that while your notes of apology were well received, they were unnecessary.”

“Totally unnecessary,” someone else added.

“But…”

“You offered our children amazing opportunities at Ironwood,” Jill interrupted her. “We realize that and felt honored to have our kids work with you. We just want you to know that the unrighteous acts of others can never negate the dedication and devotion our children received from you and Ms. Krenzer. And that's all we wanted to say.”

Hannah stopped, searching for words and coming up short. “You're thanking me?”

“And wishing you well,” added a strong male voice. “God bless you, Miss Moore. We'll be praying for you.”

Praying for her.

They'd buried children. They'd lost their boys and girls, a host of bright minds and inquisitive natures, and yet…

They were praying for her.

Hannah couldn't talk around the lump lodged in her throat, but she tried. “Thank you.”

“No, Miss Moore. Thank you,” Jill insisted. “And we'll be watching, hoping someday you can do the same things for other kids because you're special. And that's all we wanted to say. You have a good night now, okay?”

“Yes. Okay.”

They disconnected the call with a shower of goodbyes, their encouraging voices food for her heart and soul.

“The righteous cry out and the Lord hears them…”

The sweet psalm's truth echoed in that phone call, an upright blessing that strengthened Hannah's determination to do the best she could for her new students, facing forward, no matter what.
For when God is with us, who can stand against us?

No one, Hannah decided, strength warming her heart. She
contemplated the phone, longing to call Jeff, but then decided against it, uncertain. A roomful of grief-stricken parents had just assuaged her soul with warmth and forgiveness. Jeff Brennan could learn a lot from their amazing example.

 

Hannah found two missed calls the next morning, both from Jeff, with a single cryptic message citing work constraints in place of church.

Hannah sighed, and headed to Holy Name, mixed feelings dogging her steps.

She longed to talk with him. Laugh with him. Spar with him.

But his exchange with Callie reaffirmed what she'd tucked aside. Jeff's romantic side came off as sweet and sincere, but she'd been fooled before. Never again.

Hannah headed into the church, the grace of the Ironwood parents thrusting her forward.

Jeff Brennan was a player. He put work above all else and disavowed his brother, twin realities that said volumes more than sweet words.

Sure, he was nice to his grandma. And his sense of humor was a treasure she'd miss, that warm, frank smile and quick turn of phrase.

But an unforgiving nature left no foundation for building. Wasn't making amends part of life?

Her cell phone rang and Jane Dinsmore's name came up. “Jane, good morning. How are you?”

“I'm holding my own, dear, and I just wanted to congratulate you on a great beginning.” Jane paused for breath, her fatigued voice underscoring her laborious fight. “Laura and Rose filled me in and just knowing you're there makes my physical struggles easier.”

Her gentle words pricked Hannah's tears. “You focus on getting well. I'll hold down the fort in the meantime.”

“And that's why I called, Hannah.” Jane stopped again. Hannah waited, patient, allowing the older woman to catch her breath. “I'm putting in my retirement papers and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“But—”

“No buts. I may beat this thing and I'll be glad of it, but I've decided it's time to make a clean break. God has always appointed the paths in my life, and he's made this detour fairly obvious. I would love for you to stay on and apply for the full-time position, but that, of course, is up to you.”

Her strength both humbled and inspired Hannah. “I would love to, Jane. Thank you.”

A tiny laugh came through, a laugh that carried the hiccup of a sob before Jane disconnected the call. “No, honey. Thank you.”

Hannah closed the phone, decisive. She'd head to the library, clean out her files and let Melissa know the job was about to be posted. Since the library was closed on Sunday, she could get her work done quickly and put things in motion for a new chapter in her life. Remembering Jeff's message, she longed for the whole brass ring, the fairy-tale happy ending, but if nothing else, she felt strong again. Ready to embrace life to the full.

She only wished that could have included Jeff Brennan.