Almost Midnight (14 page)

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Authors: Teresa McCarthy

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Christian, #Humor, #Sagas, #Contemporary, #Inspirational, #Series, #Westerns

BOOK: Almost Midnight
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But Hannah realized she would be a ninny not to accept Tanner’s offer. But she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

He crossed the room in three long strides and traced a finger over her tears. “You sure are cute when you sniff.”

She bit her lip and refused to look at him.
Go away, Tanner. You make me feel too much.

“Don’t think that I want you only because I need you for Jeremy’s sake. I like you, Hannah Elliot...if you haven’t noticed.” 

Her lids lifted as if she didn’t believe him.

“You are by far the silliest woman I’ve ever met.” 

He slipped his hand in hers. “I was scared half out of my wits when I found you on that mountain. Ever since Julie died, I’ve closed my mind to any thought of a future. But you’ve turned my entire life upside down.”

“I have?” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, you have.” 

A sudden shadow passed over his face.

“What?” she asked hesitantly.

“Nothing.” 

Weariness engulfed her as she tried to focus on his grim expression. The storm had stopped. The sun was shining. But the warmth of its rays didn’t change the cool tension in the room. A sudden thought occurred to her and fear ripped through her heart. “Is it my mother?”

“No,” he said coolly, combing a hand through his hair.

She closed her eyes, exhaustion finally taking over her.

“Who’s Nick?” he asked.

Nick?

She blinked, gripping the pale blue blanket covering her legs.

His quick gray eyes locked with hers. “Hannah?”

“Nick was part of my past.” She turned her face toward her pillow. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Who was he?”

“He was my husband,” she blurted out.

“Was?” 

“He’s dead.” She spoke in a voice from the past. Ice spread across her heart in a needlelike pain, making her unable to move. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Dead?” Tanner repeated softly, almost speaking to himself.

But the acknowledging words brought back the memories as if it were yesterday.

“He’s dead,” her mother had said. “He took the turn too fast. I’m sorry, dear.” 

“He can’t be dead! I just talked to him—”

“He’s dead, dear. I know you had problems, but you mustn’t think it was your fault.”

“B-but it is, Mama. It is my fault. We argued—”

Hannah?” The deep voice hammered into her ears, shaking her from the painful memories. “Hannah! Snap out of it!” 

Slowly, Hannah raised her head. With a start, she realized Tanner was sitting beside her, squeezing her hand.

“We argued,” she said, her voice fading in her ears. “His car flipped over...” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She jerked away, turning on her side. “He’s dead, Tanner. Don’t you understand? I killed him.”

“You killed him?” he asked incredulously, his voice rising.

She pressed her hands over her eyes. “Just leave me alone. I don’t feel well.”

“I’m not leaving. Hannah, answer me.”

She let out a soft sob and closed her eyes. “I loved him. Is that what you want to hear? I loved him so much I wouldn’t leave him, even if he didn’t want children. That’s what we argued about. He said he did want children, and then he said he didn’t...after we were married. So now you know. Does it make you feel better?” A deep shudder racked her body.

The next moment a strong arm encircled her, pressing her head against a very male chest. She clawed Tanner’s green smock shirt like a lifeline.

“Did your husband die in a car crash then?”

She nodded as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. The lump in her throat felt like a softball, blocking her breath. “Nick was upset... and left. He didn’t want to share me with anyone, not even a child.” 

“And then?” he asked gently, stroking her back.     

“He left me. He was in such a fury...” 

Her voice broke with a heart-rending sob. She trembled in his arms as he tried to soothe her. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t pushed him...”

“It wasn’t you fault, Hannah. It wasn’t your fault, just as it wasn’t my fault that my wife died when I was gone.” He paused. “You felt helpless because you weren’t there to stop it. And anger isn’t always bad. You let your husband know how you felt.”

She hiccupped and wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue from the side table. She blew her nose and swallowed. “I couldn’t stop him from leaving. I knew he was going to drive crazy. He always drove like that when he was mad.” 

He squeezed her hand in a reassuring gesture. “Things happen. Things we don’t like. Sometimes it’s easier to blame ourselves than face reality. We don’t have control over everything or everyone, but we do have choices. You had every right to state your concerns and feelings, especially to someone you loved. You didn’t kill him, Hannah. And it wasn’t your fault. It’s your choice to believe it or not.”

She closed her eyes, reliving the painful argument again and again. Her mother standing at the screen door, waiting for her, telling her Nick was dead. “It’s not your fault,” her mother had said. “It’s not your fault.” But Hannah hadn’t believed her, until now. For the first time in years, Hannah was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t to blame at all.

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

“You gonna marry that pretty gal up there?”

Tanner settled his coffee mug on the kitchen table and shot his father an irritated look. The coffee was cold and stale just like the question his father had been asking him for the past two hours.

The thought of marrying Hannah was not something he was ready to think about right now. A few hours ago he’d brought her home from the hospital, settling her in his guest bedroom. She didn’t want to accept his generosity, but she was too exhausted to say no.

“You keep pushing me like that and you’ll never find out. I hardly know the woman.” 

Liar, he thought. How could he say he hardly knew Hannah when he’d spilled his guts out to her about Julie? He’d told Hannah it wasn’t his fault about Julie’s death, something he had been trying to tell himself for years.

In the past month, Hannah Elliot had turned his life upside down. His relationship with Jeremy was improving too.

He stared at his half-empty coffee mug. So what the hell was wrong with him?     

“Ah,” Fritz said, heading toward the hallway. “You thinking about it then?”

Tanner unfolded his tired frame from the oak chair and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. It was eleven o’clock at night, and caffeine or not, he was going to fall sound asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Since we’re on the topic of marriage, Dad. How about you giving me the dope on Lorraine.”

Fritz spun around, his face turning red. “You’re too big for your britches. What I do is my affair.”

Tanner raised a contemptuous brow. “Oh, and what I do is your affair, too?”

Fritz marched toward the refrigerator. “Dang right it is.” He whipped open the door and yanked out a bottle of grape juice. “A father has an obligation to see his sons married and happy. And you happen to be the eldest of my three hooligans, so you go first.” 

He tipped the bottle, took a large gulp and burped.

“I already went first and my wife died,” Tanner said icily. “Isn’t that enough?” 

Fritz barely looked up. He had his back to Tanner as he opened the breadbox. “My wife died, too. I didn’t give up on love. I’m not a coward like you are. It’s all or nothing, boy. That’s life.”

Tanner’s gray eyes narrowed. With Jeremy’s broken arm and Hannah’s pneumonia, he was at a breaking point himself, not to mention the fact that Hannah had been married and her husband was dead, and she had spilled her guts to him too. He didn’t like fighting a ghost.

The two of them stayed in the kitchen. Tanner sipped his coffee while Fritz fiddled with something on the counter. Seconds stretched into minutes. Tanner finished his drink and started to rise when a hand whizzed by his face. A sandwich of cold ham and cheese on rye plopped onto the table beside him.   

“Sit,” Fritz commanded, slapping down a piece of apple pie next to the sandwich. “You’ve been drinking that coffee all day. It ain’t good for ya. Rafe says it can cause your blood pressure to rise. And besides, you didn’t have dinner.”

“If I sit and listen to you long enough, my blood pressure may shoot through the roof.”

Fritz look startled. “Well, gall dang it! I only want to help ya. You three boys are all your mother left me and I intend to see that you’re happy. She’d be rolling in her grave if I didn’t do my job.”

Tanner’s lips dipped into a frown. “Rolling in her grave is right if she saw how you try to play matchmaker to the three of us.”

“How can you say you’re sorry I did what I did? You have Hannah right where you want her, don’t you? Under your roof, where you can see her anytime. Kiss her senseless and make her your woman...forever. Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t want her. I’m not a blind old man, John Tanner.”

Tanner merely stared. He knew his father was right. He wanted Hannah.

Looking tired, Fritz walked out the door, leaving Tanner alone with a cold ham and cheese, a slice of apple pie, and a host of swirling emotions he didn’t want to face.

 

The following morning, the knock on Hannah’s door brought her out of a deep sleep. She had fallen asleep in a comfy four poster mahogany bed in Tanner’s guestroom. Framing the far wall was a lace-curtained window, where below an embroidered flowered quilt rested upon a large cedar chest. A small antique desk sat in the corner of the room.

“Hannah?” Tanner peeked into the room.

A fiery heat seeped into her veins as she recalled the way she had dumped her family history onto him yesterday. “Come in,” she said groggily, quickly combing her hair with her hands.

When she sat up, she found Tanner standing two feet from her, holding a wooden breakfast tray in his right hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. A strange warmth enveloped her, and it had nothing to do with her illness or embarrassment.

“Your breakfast. I decided to bring it up before I went to the office. You need something in your stomach with those antibiotics you’re taking.” 

She dropped her gaze to the food as he scooted the tray over her lap. The mingled scents of bacon, eggs, and fresh soap from his morning shower drifted to her nose. As his hand brushed hers, she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to study the food and not him. “Smells delicious. But you didn’t have to go through all that trouble. I could have come downstairs.” 

“No, you’re staying in bed all day.” 

It was not a suggestion, it was a command, and Hannah held back a retort. The man was concerned about her, and she was too sick to fight anything beside her illness right now.

“All right.”

Her gaze drifted to the small pink rose that rested beside her plate. Tears pricked the back of her lids. Nick had never given her flowers.

“Jeremy’s still sleeping,” he said, waiting anxiously by her side. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.”

Without another word, Hannah took a bite of the toast, keeping her eyes on the plate. She must look awful.

He put a cool hand to her head, startling her. “Still hot?”

Hot? She was burning up with him standing so close to her. “I’m fine.”

“Hannah?”

“Hmmm?” She took a sip of her orange juice. She really wasn’t very hungry. Her whole body ached, and he was making her nervous. She was so confused about their relationship, she couldn’t even look at him.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong. But I don’t bite, you know.”

She raised her eyes and became trapped in a pool of disconcerting gray.

“I know,” she said, smiling. But the silence increased between them, making her more uneasy.  

He finally cleared his throat and thrust his hands in his pockets. “About yesterday...”

She put down her toast. “I’m sorry. I made a total fool of myself.”

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. You had pneumonia. You cried like anyone would in your circumstance. Your husband died. My spouse died too. That’s enough to make any person cry. Grant it, I was a bit surprised at the information, but I’m all right with it now.”

Her brows slammed together. “You’re all right with it? My, how kind of you to say so. My husband died and you’re all right with it.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant.”

She didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

“What I mean is that I know a part of you will always hurting with memories of your husband, but life goes on.”

“Oh, does it? What about Julie then?” As soon as the words were out, Hannah wanted to take them back.

He reddened. “What about her? I made a mistake talking about her at the hospital while you were ill. I wasn’t with her when she died, is that what you want to know? Jeremy used to blame me for his mother’s death, but after you explained things to him, he’s been more understanding.”

She dropped her gaze, feeling ashamed.

Why was she acting so snobbishly? She should be grateful someone was willing to take care of her. It wasn’t just Tanner being bossy. It was her detestable pride that had reared its ugly head, and she had trouble tucking it away. “I think I should go home. It’s not working out here. My friend Candy—”

“I promised your mother,” he interrupted, sounding irritated at her ungrateful words. “I told her I would house you here until she came home. Don’t worry, she knows you’re not at death’s door. I told her you’d call later today.”

“You called my mother?” Who was in charge of her life here? Tanner or her? Too tired to fight, she sank back into her pillow.

“Yes, she’ll give you a call later today. Don’t worry. I told her you would be fine, and that it’s a touch of pneumonia. She was a bit frantic until I informed her that Rafe was keeping an eye on your progress, and there was nothing to worry about. She’s having your friend Candy bring over some clothes and felt relieved you have people to look after you.” He spoke in such a cool, aloof tone, it made her numb.

 “Fine.” That’s all she needed was Candy dropping off her clothes.

“By the time your mother returns to Colorado, you should be well. And don’t worry about Jeremy. I’m not holding you to your job while you’re sick.”

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