Mended Hearts (3 page)

S
he'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.

“J
eff? May I see you a minute?”

The sound of Grandma's voice drew Jeff's attention in the library parking lot the next evening. He smiled and crossed the lot, surprised but pleased. “You're here. I thought you were attending that dinner for the Veteran's Outreach tonight.”

Helen tipped a thoughtful look his way. “I decided it was more important to see you.”

Her words puzzled him. “Except…we saw each other off and on all day.”

“But not about personal things.”

True enough.

He and Grandma didn't discuss family things on the job. And the only family things of note that had happened recently were Meredith's job loss and Matt's return. Since Meredith was avidly looking for a place to open a salon of her own, Grandma's visit could have only been spurred by one thing: Matt Cavanaugh.

Wonderful.

Jeff angled his head, silent. Waiting.

Grandma took his arm and headed toward the library. “Everyone deserves a second chance, don't they?”

He nodded. Shrugged. “Sure. It's the seventh, eighth and ninth that concern me, Grandma. Did he ask you for money?”

She paused and offered him a sharp, shrewd look. “First, it wouldn't be your concern if he did. I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions and you need to respect that. Second…” Her frown deepened and she gave him a quick, appraising glance that said she was deliberately holding back. “You'll need to settle this thing in your head if Matt's moving back to town.”

“He's not, is he?” Jeff read her expression and swallowed what he wanted to say. “Tell me you're kidding.”

“He's looking for work.”

“We didn't offer him a job, did we?”

Helen puffed an impatient breath. “What work does Walker Electronics have for a home builder? No, he's quite self-sufficient, but I suspect he'll be around awhile.”

“Plenty of cause for concern right there.”

Helen's look sharpened. “Matt's not the one I'm worried about.”

Her words stung, just like his mother's the night before.

They weren't bothered by Matt's sudden reappearance? Then it was a good thing Jeff had enough concern for both of them. He shrugged off her comment, hid the hurt and angled toward the tiny library, which was in need of refurbishing. “I'm fine. You know that.”

“Yes.” She paused again, hesitant but straightforward. “And no.”

“Yes,” he countered firmly. “And this isn't a topic of conversation we can pursue right now.” He straightened as a volunteer's car angled into the small lot. Fat raindrops began to pelt them. “I've got a job to do.”

Helen stepped back, nodded and opened her umbrella. “You do. And that's the reverend so I'll just walk over there and say hi before we get started.” She gave Jeff's arm a light
squeeze before she headed toward Reverend Hannity's car, as if her touch would soothe the prick of her words.

She was worried about
him.

Not Matt.

The incredulity of that cut deep. Right now he needed to get inside, compare notes and goals with Hannah, dust off his bruised ego and get to work fulfilling Grandpa's dream, a well-set library system throughout Allegany County. And he needed to do it with the polished veneer of a leader, ready to forge ahead, when what he wanted to do was…

His hands clenched. His thoughts jumbled and frustration climbed his spine, settling in somewhere along the back of his neck.

He had no idea, so he buried the angst as best he could and headed through the door, a part of him wishing Grandma had gone to the veteran's dinner as planned.

 

“Are we ready?”

Hannah gave her heart a chance to come under control at the sound of Jeff's voice. His kindness the previous night was a delightful new memory that had managed to interrupt her sleep. But tonight he sounded gruff, and Hannah was savvy enough to know that any guy could appear nice for an hour or two. Maybe Jeff had exhausted his limit the previous night.

She turned, tamping her reaction. From the dozens of wet splotches on his clothes, the promised showers had come to fruition. “You're wet.”

“Rain does that.” He peeled off an expensive-looking trench, then swept the room a glance. “I'd forgotten how small this place is because I use the Wellsville branch.”

“And that's exquisite,” Hannah acknowledged. The Howe Library was a shining star in the economically roughed-up town.

“We've really got our work cut out for us.”

Did he realize his slight derision reflected her work for the
past three years? She offered the tiny library a quick perusal. “It may be small, but it does the job.”

“If it did, we wouldn't be here, Hannah.”

“Ouch.”

He huffed a breath, ran a hand across the nape of his neck, then shrugged. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded, I just…” He stopped, glanced toward the exit and held up his jacket, pretending to head for the door. “Can we have a do-over? Please?”

No, they could not. “Unnecessary.” She flashed him a cool, crisp smile. “Folders are on the table.”

The door opened. Several committee members streamed in, lamenting the rain in mixed voices.

Jeff turned to greet them, his manner inviting, more like the guy she'd shared food with last night.

Just because he wears a suit, doesn't mean he's cut from Brian's cloth.

But he'd walked in here pretty tense and frustrated, and Hannah didn't do uptight or overwrought. Or driven, for that matter. Not anymore.

Jeff's attention veered left as another voice joined the group. Hannah watched as Helen Walker greeted people much like her grandson, offering a warm smile and a firm handshake. And having met Helen back when she interviewed for the librarian position and the other day, Hannah wasn't blind to the older woman's work-first focus and drive. But Helen's didn't bother her. Jeff's did.

Because you're constantly comparing him to Brian. Move on. Forge ahead. There is nothing wrong with focus. Got that?

Hannah grasped Helen's hand. “Mrs. Walker, hello.”

“Helen, please.” Helen's grip offered warm assurance, the perfect handshake. “And as cute as this is, Hannah—” Helen let her gaze wander the children's corner, the faded carousel
of computer stations and the narrow rows between labeled bookcases “—it's time we did better. You understand that, right? And how essential your input is to the success of the final product we hope to achieve.”

Her words inspired Hannah's grimace. “I'm sorry I balked initially. I shouldn't have done that. Please accept my apology.”

Helen beamed. “Accepted and forgotten. We all get a little intimidated now and again, don't we?”

“I suppose so.”

Jeff shifted their way and indicated the school-style wall clock. “We should get started.”

“Of course.” Hannah offered him a polite nod and headed for her seat at the end of the table. He sent her an unreadable look as he took his place opposite her, the long library table creating a distance.

And distance is good,
Hannah told herself, settling in.
Real good.

“I love this concept.” A primary school teacher raised Hannah's overview folder up. “Using the solar system to represent how the branches circle the main library in Wellsville is stellar.”

A communal groan sounded at her joke. She grinned and turned Hannah's way. “Did you do this?”

“Combined effort,” Hannah explained, feeling more like her old self than she'd expected. The realization buoyed her. “The analogy was mine. The graphics were all Jeff's.”

“I love it,” declared Helen from her seat midway down the table. “And what's more, Jonas would have loved it. The artwork embraces all the sciences, and that is the goal of a well-set library. So, Hannah…” Helen shifted her way. “Can you walk us through possible fundraising ideas?”

“Of course.” Hannah waved toward the far end of the table. “If I can direct your attention beyond Jeff, I've got a Pow
erPoint presentation of ideas, and then we can see how the committee feels about them individually.”

“Excellent.” Helen's warm expression went from one end of the table to the other, her enthusiasm obvious. “Financial constraints meant we had to wait much longer than I wanted to get this drive started, and I've felt guilty about it. And guilt isn't one bit fun.”

It wasn't. Hannah knew that personally. With all Helen Walker had to do, the idea that one out-of-the-way, dot-on-the-map library meant something… That showed a whole lot of character. And Hannah respected good character.

 

“Jenny, adding a booth to next summer's Balloon Rally would be wonderful,” Jeff assured the town council representative toward the end of the meeting. “And I don't think it matters that we'll be beyond our projected fundraising date. Added funds secure future purchases, and libraries can always use help in that regard. Well, then…” Jeff scanned his notes, flipped a few pages and sat back, satisfied. “We did well.”

“Very well,” Hannah added, looking calmer now that the meeting had ended and nothing had self-destructed. Right until she looked at him, then the cool, flat facade fell into place. But then again he hadn't exactly been Mr. Friendly when he'd walked in tonight.

He stood, made small talk, then walked people to the door, feeling Hannah's eyes watching. Assessing. Probably figuring he was a total fake, pretending interest he didn't feel. On the plus side, the rain had stopped.

“Hannah, if you need anything at all, please call me.” Helen gripped the younger woman's hands in hers. She leaned in just enough to show the sincerity behind her words. “Please.”

“I will.” Hannah's smile said Helen's authenticity bested her grandson's.

Helen headed for the door and nodded to Jeff. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“I'll bring coffee,” he promised, then turned back to Hannah, needing to close the evening on a positive note between them. Pinpoints of guilt prickled him for his earlier insensitivity.

He straightened his notes and his spine, slid his portfolio into his laptop bag and shouldered it before facing her. “I apologize if I was too blunt earlier. I had things on my mind, but I shouldn't have taken them out on you. Or this project. It was rude.” He was ready to go home and collapse; the successive long days were wearing on him. “Thanks for offering to type up the notes and meeting minutes. If you email them to me once you've got them ready, I'll go over them with Grandma.”

“Or I can ‘cc' her a copy and spare you the time,” Hannah suggested.

“She'll want to talk it out,” Jeff told her. “She's very hands-on, as you can see.”

“Then I'll forward them and you can proceed from there.”

She kept her tone cool. Crisp. Concise.

Just what he wanted, right?

Except spending time with her last evening had put him in mind of other things. But those thoughts were best buried.

She'd readopted her business manner and kept her distance, sparing him from looking into those bright blue eyes. The dimmer lights by the library door kept him from seeing the sprinkle of freckles, or noting the long lashes, their shadow a curve against her tanned cheek. Obviously she hadn't read all the current warnings about skin and sunscreen, because her softly bronzed face and arms said she wasn't afraid to be in the sun.

He gave a quick wave as he went through the door, deciding not to linger with uncomfortable goodbyes.

She'd email him, he'd email her, they'd push forward.

Perfect.

But it felt much less than that.

 

Dismissed.

Hannah watched him go and was tempted to throw something. Standing in a room full of books, her choices were numerous. But she couldn't throw books. She loved books. Loved learning. Knowledge. Sharing that love with others, children and young adults.

At least she
had
loved it until circumstances blindsided her, stealing her livelihood, her heart and a share of her soul. Melancholy threatened, but she pushed it aside, determined to stay in the here and now.

She didn't like being shrugged off by the electronics wizard as if she were some ordinary business partner.

Which she was.

Or some underling who depended on him for her livelihood.

Which she did. Kind of. Since his grandmother was head of the library council and approved her hiring three years back.

But the fact that he made her feel like that was aggravating. Exasperating. She shut off the lights of the tiny house, set the lock and headed for her car. Usually she walked from her apartment to the Jamison Farmers Free Library, but she'd known she'd be late tonight, probably tired, and rain was in the forecast, so she'd driven over. She'd get home, sit down, hammer out these notes, email them to Jeff and be done with things until the various committee members got back to her with their plans. Then she'd compile them into a semblance of order, send them on to Jeff and move to step two for next week's meeting.

Easy.

She fumbled in her pocket for her set of keys and stopped, chagrined.

Not there.

She tried again, then groped for a nonexistent purse.

Nope, she'd left that home on purpose, wanting to be unencumbered.

No keys.

Either she left them inside…

Or she'd locked them in the car.

She went over to the car, pressed her nose to the glass and tried to scan the interior.

No luck. Darkness had fallen hours ago, the fall equinox behind them. The one lone dusk-to-dawn light was set near the library entrance, leaving this corner of the gravel lot in complete darkness.

Split. Splat. Split. Splat.

Fat raindrops began to pelt her head, her face, her arms. And of course she hadn't brought anything along since she was driving back and forth. No sweater. No hoodie. No sweatshirt.