Mended Hearts (7 page)

“You're saying it wasn't my fault.” Hannah tilted her head back, eyeing the sky, visualizing Miss Dinsmore's arced covenant in her head. “And I know that fundamentally. But I can't silence the cries. Or the sounds of the gun being fired repeatedly while I did nothing to stop them.”

“You kept safe those you could,” Miss Dinsmore offered, empathetic. “No one could have saved them all, not in a human context. That's why we've got God.” She shifted her gaze, then brought it back, an air of quiet satisfaction marking her expression. “I've worked here a long time. I've made a difference. I know that. So I'm doubly glad you've come along now. I don't believe in fate, Hannah, but I put great stock in God's plan. His timing.”

Hannah smiled, a bit of her gloom slipping away with this open discussion. Funny, she hadn't realized that
not
talking about Ironwood kept the memories closer at hand. Somehow sharing this information and testimony made her heart
and soul feel lighter. “Megan was telling me the same thing at the candy store just minutes ago. I'm going to trust that you've both been put in my path to knock some much-needed common sense into me.”

Miss Dinsmore grinned. “Oh, I think you're well equipped with common sense, but when our emotional well-being gets broken, it's hard to rebuild. It takes time. Prayer. Patience. And a good-looking guy is never a bad thing.” A look of female appreciation brightened Miss Dinsmore's aging features.

“A—” Hannah turned, saw Jeff approaching them looking both surprised and pleased, then tried to contain the blush of pleasure she felt at his approach, his presence, his easy but purposeful gait. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jeff stopped short of them and angled them a look of mock suspicion. “This isn't an impromptu committee meeting, is it? With no quorum? No reading of the minutes? Aren't there rules about such things?”

“Would it bother you if there were?” Miss Dinsmore's fond expression marked him as a favorite, but that was no surprise. Jeff had charm.

Or was he just another glib schmoozer, standing on the backs of whomever, wherever, to get where he wanted to be? Hannah's past record said her judgment in men might be off.

“Not in the least, especially with such lovely ladies.”

Hannah made a choking sound and stepped back, only half faking. “Is that the best you've got?”

He settled a look on her that said plenty. “I'm saving the best I've got for our date tonight.”

“And on that note—” Miss Dinsmore winked at Jeff, smiled at Hannah, patted her hand and gave it the lightest squeeze of understanding “—I'll leave the antics of youth to the young. Nice seeing you, Hannah.”

“And you, Miss Dinsmore.”

“Jane, please. For most of the area I'll always be Miss Dins more, but I'd love for you to call me Jane.”

“Then I will, Jane.” On impulse, Hannah reached out and hugged the older woman. “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.”

Oh, but there were. They both knew it. Hannah appreciated Jane's gentle compassion for what it was. God-sent. Perfectly timed. They exchanged smiles of understanding.

Jeff turned her way, his expression quizzical, inquiring and totally good-looking. “You girls were discussing…?”

“Men.”

“Ha.”

Hannah grinned, turned and continued toward the post office just to see if he'd follow.

And he did.

“Any special men?”

“I don't know any special men.”

He faked a shot to the heart. “‘Teach not thy lips such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt.'”

Hannah laughed. “You like Shakespeare?”

“Some, not all. Great quotes, though.”

“I'm a Franklin fan myself.”

“Sage, science and certainty. Your Philadelphia roots are showing.”

“A little.” Hannah shrugged. “Since my father works for the university, my tuition was reduced, and he's got a pair of rental properties near campus so I didn't have housing expenses.”

“That's a huge plus right there. Sweet education, Hannah.”

“It was.” She stopped just shy of the post office and turned his way, determined to keep this light. “So, about tonight—”

“Wear the blue. Please.”

“Whereas I was thinking of canceling.”

“Nope.” Without a moment's hesitation he leaned in and
scraped a gentle kiss to her cheek, his lips grazing ever so slightly. The spontaneous gesture tweaked everything she'd put on hold a few years before, sedated emotions resuscitated by his gaze, his voice, his touch. “No chickening out. Promise?”

A part of her wanted to do just that, but another part longed to push aside old pain and shadowed loss. “I'm not a chicken.”

“Then don't act like it.” He said the words lightly, but the challenge shone through his eyes and the set of his jaw. “I'll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“Eight.”

“Nope. I'm not losing a half hour with you if I don't have to. Grandma Mary's closes at six on Saturdays—that's plenty of time for you to get home and do whatever it is women do. And since God gifted you with good looks, I'd say your prep time is minimal. Seven-thirty. And dress casual. In the blue top.” He stepped back, raised a hand in salute and strode away, leaving her watching. Waiting. Wondering.

But smiling.

And when he turned at the corner, he caught her watching his retreat. He grinned and winked, his confident attitude part bane, part blessing.

But sometimes confidence equaled selfishness, and she didn't dare let herself mistake one for the other again. Since she was obviously drawn to strong, successful types, men not unlike her father, she needed to be careful in matters of the heart. Her parents got along quite well despite their failed marriage, and their second marriages had both worked out so far.

But the little girl inside Hannah wanted the happily ever after, a knight in shining armor.

She finally felt like she belonged in Allegany County. She loved Wellsville; its gradual resurgence sparked all kinds of
new business ventures. And Jamison was too sweet for words, the historic town embracing its past to provide for its future.

One broken heart could taint all that. When she was on her own, she could drum up a gazillion reasons why exploring this attraction to Jeff Brennan made no sense at all.

Ten seconds in his presence chased them all away.

So, okay. She'd go out with him tonight. Spar with him. Laugh with him. Have an easy conversation with a sharp, good-looking guy who made her heart jump at a simple word or a long, slow look.

But no way was she wearing the blue.

“Y
ou wore it.” He hoped his look of appreciation said more than his lame words. “Thank you.”

“It was the only thing clean.”

“I don't believe you for a minute, but I refuse to gloat because good guys don't do that on a first date.”

She shifted her position to meet his gaze. “I told you that other fiasco wasn't a date. So now you agree.”

“Now that I've got you in my car for a real date, I concur. But it got you here, and that was not an easily won battle.”

“Nothing's been won, Jeff. We're just…going out. Tonight. On one single date.”

“Honey, every long-term commitment starts with one single date, doesn't it?”

“Or a guilty verdict by a jury of your peers,” she shot back, her look saying she wasn't sure which was worse, dating him or serving a long-term sentence in a federal penitentiary.

He laughed out loud. “Either way, I've got you here. Now what am I going to do with you?”

“You said casual, so that limits your possibilities. And don't tell me you don't have every minute of tonight planned out. Guys like you always do.”

“Guys like me…” he mused, keeping his eyes on the twist
ing road, but letting his voice weigh her word choice. “Who hurt you, Hannah?”

“Off topic.”

“Call it a change of subject.”

“Then consider it off-limits.”

“For now.”

“Jeff, I—”

She twisted in her seat. Once again he knew not to push. “How do you like your steak?”

“I'm a vegan.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I don't eat meat for humanitarian purposes.”

He lifted a brow. “Since this morning when you wolfed down a bacon, egg and cheese muffin?”

“You're stalking me?”

He smiled, amused. “If stalking means I passed you on the street as I was heading to my mother's place, then, yes, I guess I am.” He eased the car onto the entrance ramp for I-86 and headed west. He shifted the car, then his attention. “I didn't mean to put you on the spot, so food seemed a safe change of subject. Okay?”

“Maybe.”

“Pretty please?”

“You're such a little boy inside. How did your mother resist your charms?”

“Didn't. Still doesn't. You'll find that out when you meet her. She's doing a double Austen sponsorship for the library and she's agreed to head up the food organizing for the Harvest Dinner.”

“Wow.”

Jeff frowned. “You didn't ask why a double Austen? I did.”

Hannah noted the quizzical look and had to remind herself to take a breath. Even in profile the guy was a stunner. Great hair, strong forehead, laugh lines edging his eyes, perfect nose, square jaw. Jeff Brennan was every woman's dream
choice to father their children. She cleared her throat and the imagery of two Jeff Brennan “Mini-Mes” wearing matching polos in her head. “She picked two Austens because Jane Austen was an amazing female novelist who set the bar for great romantic comedy and women's fiction. Do you know anyone who reads Fitzgerald?”

“Lots of people.”

“Anyone you'd like to spend more than five minutes with?”

He grinned. “There you have me.”

“Exactly.” She pressed forward to make her point, humor coloring her tone. “Your mother sounds quite astute to me. And I like my steak medium rare. With onion rings.”

“The only way to eat it.” He reached out a hand to cover hers, just for a moment, but long enough for her to feel the blanket of warmth and zings of attraction rolling through her system.

Why him?

Why now?

When I was waiting quietly for the Lord, His heart was turned to me, and He gave ear to my cry.
The sweet psalm enveloped Hannah, words of promise and patience.

Part of her felt undeserving, but these last few weeks had diminished the old negativity somewhat. Without the shadow of guilt looming like a gathering storm, she saw possibilities with greater clarity, the prospect of a future she'd denied herself to this point. “And do they have baked potatoes?”

Jeff smiled. “Idaho or sweet?”

“Either.”

“They do. Are they on your training regimen?”

“I don't have one.”

“Anyone who runs daily has one whether they recognize it or not.”

“Not true.” Hannah settled back into the seat and watched him. “I run to pray. To think. To absolve.”

“Penance?” The tiny clench to his jaw said he had read too much into her statement. Or maybe just enough.

“I prefer the term
therapy.
I keep it controlled because I know I'm a little OCD. I like to do my best at everything and that can become obsessive. So I don't allow it to.”

“Hence the onion rings and baked potato.”

She grinned in agreement. “And don't forget dessert.”

His smile said more than words could. “I'm looking forward to it, Hannah.”

She waved a hand as they angled onto Route Sixteen. “I've never been to Olean.”

“Seriously?” He glanced her way, the quieter road allowing him more leeway. “How long have you lived here?”

She hedged. “Three years.”

“Where do you shop?”

“Wellsville. Jamison. Online.” His expression said her response surprised him again, prompting an explanation. “I don't shop much.”

“Another anomaly.”

“Not true. I just have simple needs.”

His appreciative look dispelled her twinge of concern. “In your case, simple says style.” He pulled into a parking spot, climbed out, rounded the car and opened her door, the action old-fashioned and sweet. As she stepped out, he reached for her hand and held it overlong, his warm expression smiling into her eyes, her heart, thawing a corner she'd kept on ice for too long. He winked, grinned and tugged her toward the Millhouse. “Let's eat. I'm starved.”

She couldn't help but smile back. He tugged her closer and swept a gentle kiss to her cheek. “You're amazing, Hannah.”

Right then she
felt
amazing, invigorated by his attraction. For tonight she'd put aside concerns that echoed from her disaster with Brian. For tonight she'd dwell in the here and now, a move that seemed easier in Jeff's presence. For tonight, she'd be Hannah Moore, librarian and fundraiser, out on a
date with a delightful man. For this one night, it would be enough. And it was, for about thirty seconds, right up until they stepped inside the gracious and updated eatery in the former grain mill storage facility.

“Mr. Brennan, good evening.”

“How are you, Maggie?” Jeff smiled at the hostess.

“Fine, sir. I've set aside the customary table.”

“Thank you. Maggie. This is my friend Hannah Moore.”

“Miss Moore.” Maggie extended her hand. “Is this your first visit here?”

“Mine? Yes.” Hannah gave Jeff a pointed look that inspired his grin. “Whereas my
family
has been coming here for years,” he cut in. “Grandma grew up in Olean and she and Grandpa liked to bring us here for special occasions. Birthdays. Holidays. Family reunions.”

“And your grandmother is well?” Maggie asked as she led them to a quiet table.

“Quite well. And your family?”

“All fine.” She waited as Jeff held out Hannah's chair. When Jeff took the spot alongside Hannah, she sent him a relaxed grin. “And I know business is booming for Walker Electronics. I read the feature article in last Sunday's
Herald
, but I'm glad to see you get away from your desk now and again.”

“This coming from a woman who works every holiday known to man,” Jeff quipped back.

Maggie acknowledged that with a wry smile. “Too true. Family businesses are nothing to be taken lightly. But a nice heritage, all in all.”

“It is.”

Was it? Hannah wondered. The thought of Maggie working every holiday, the rush of business on weekends… There was no such thing as a weekend off in the restaurant business, but Maggie's words said something else.

She saw the work, the dedication and the diligence as part of her heritage, and that put a new slant on Jeff Brennan's ambitions. Inheriting a family business would come with no small level of responsibility, and that made working his way up the ladder of success more amenable.

A college-age waiter approached them for their drink orders. Jeff sat back, letting Hannah take the lead. “Do you serve lattes?”

The young man nodded. “Flavored?”

All the better. Hannah smiled. “Yes, please. Caramel?”

“Of course. And you, sir?”

Hannah leaned closer. “Someone who doesn't know you. Must not be part of the family.”

Jeff smiled, grasped her hand and squeezed before answering the waiter. “Regular coffee, please. And I think we're going to forgo appetizers tonight because the young lady mentioned a hankering for dessert later.”

“Or now.” When Jeff turned her way, she quipped, “Life's short. Eat dessert first.”

“Whatever you'd like, Hannah.”

His easy words melted another corner of her taut heart. Something in his comfortable gaze, his winning manner, his gentle touch reminded her this wasn't Brian.

And then he withdrew a vibrating cell phone from his pocket, negating the little glimmer of reassurance she'd grabbed. He scanned the phone, let the call go to voice mail and turned the phone off.

Now she felt guilty. What if the plant needed him? What if some very important person had to wait to talk to Jeff and then called another supplier instead? She reached a hand toward the phone. “You can keep it on.”

Jeff swept her and the phone a look before slipping it into his jacket pocket. “Why?”

“In case something important happens.”

“Then they'll leave a message and I can check it later.
And the plant manager has Grandma's numbers, as well. And Trent's. We're covered.”

“But Trent is out of town.”

Jeff nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And what if your grandmother falls asleep or something?”

“Then she'll awake to the same message I find later. What's this all about, Hannah?”

She frowned, not sure herself. “I just don't want you to think you can't work if you need to.”

“Well. Thanks. I think. What if I'd rather spend the evening talking with you?” He leaned back but kept her fingers loosely in his. “Getting to know you? Teasing you?”

“I'm not interrupting something important?”

He eased forward, lamplight softening the strong planes of his face. “Hannah, you
are
something important. For tonight, everybody else goes on hold. Not you.”

By the time they got to dessert, Hannah realized she shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about Jeff Brennan, and that he might be just about the nicest guy she'd ever met, which might make holding to that just-one-date scenario a little tricky. Or downright impossible.

 

He'd wanted to get to know her better tonight.

He had, somewhat, but her reaction in the car on the way to Olean had cautioned him to hold off. Take his time. And since taking time with Hannah wasn't exactly a hardship, Jeff was okay with that for now.

He pulled into the driveway of her apartment house, switched off the engine and rounded the car to walk her to the door.

“I had a great time tonight.” She withdrew her keys from her bag and smiled up at him. “Although that crème brûlée was probably an indulgence that will push me to an extra two miles of running tomorrow.”

Jeff laughed. “This from the lady who doesn't have a training regimen.”

“It's not a regimen. It's…common sense.”

“Uh-huh.” He stopped talking, letting his eyes wander her face, her eyes, her mouth. Settling there, wondering what it would be like to kiss Hannah, then deciding that wondering wasn't enough.

Her gaze flicked up to his, and he saw his question reflected in her pretty blue eyes. “Hannah.”

Her answering expression offered silent permission. Jeff lowered his head, his hands gently grasping her shoulders, the nubby feel of her tweed wool coat a kiss of fall while Jeff lingered over a different kind of kiss.

Sweet. Soft. Warm.

The adjectives that filled his mind softened his heart; his worries about work, time and Matt disappeared in the wonder of kissing Hannah. And when he stopped, he didn't pull away, couldn't pull away. He embraced her in a hug, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other arm wrapped around her, glad they'd taken this step.

She dropped her forehead to his chest, then eased back. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“It was fun. And the kiss speaks for itself, I hope.”

Her blush said it did.

Jeff straightened his shoulders and tweaked her nose. “Can we plan the next date now, or do you have to put me through the wringer again?”

She thought a moment, then arched a brow. “Church in the morning?”

He ahemmed out loud, daring her to smile.

She did.

“Big step.”

“I'm feeling braver by the minute.”

“I see that.”

When he took a few seconds too long, she stepped back,
lifting her left shoulder in a light shrug. “Sorry. It's one of my litmus tests and you just failed.”

He gripped her shoulder, not allowing the retreat. “I wasn't hesitating on saying yes or no. But which one? Yours or mine?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Mine,” she declared, sure and certain. “You're the guy, you're supposed to go the distance. And Reverend Baxter is a sweetheart.”

“And Reverend Hannity isn't?”

“Since they're related, the point is moot. And I'm second-guessing the invitation in any case.”

“Rude, Hannah. No take-backs allowed.”

“Who's making these rules?”

“We are.” He leaned forward, wanting to kiss her again, knowing he'd best refrain.