Hannah Grace (19 page)

As if Lillian Schusterman had just spotted Jesse standing there, she bent at the waist to acknowledge him. "Well, hello there, young man. What's your name?"

Obviously, she hadn't heard about Jesse's mute condition. Either that, or she figured she was exactly what he needed to come out of his shell.

Jesse sidled closer to Gabe, almost stepping behind him to avoid a confrontation.

Gabe put a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's a trifle shy."

Lillian nodded without taking her eyes off Jesse, then bent closer and whispered, "I used to be like that-shy, I mean. You could hardly peel me off my papa if someone tried to speak to me after Sunday services. Why, I can still remember clinging to his pant legs while peeking out from behind his big, wide body. Oh, I felt so safe there,"

Jesse gave her the tiniest hint of a nod and a smile, and she straightened, looking pleased that she'd gotten that much out of him. Turning her gaze to Gabe, she said, "I thought I heard you had a youngin' staying with you."

"Yes," Gabe replied, not wanting to give details.

Before she could press the issue, a young couple with two small children-a baby in a buggy and a toddling boystopped to greet the Schustermans. More neighbors, he learned, who lived one street over. After a brief introduction and a bit of small talk, Gabe tipped his hat at the small gathering and urged Jesse toward the railroad tracks.

But something caught the child's eye when he angled his head backward for one last glance-something that made his face brighten like the rising sun.

"Han-" he squeaked, looking beyond the cluster of people and pointing in the direction of Hannah Kane and Dr. Van Huff

"Huh?" Shocked, Gabe went immediately to one knee and grasped the boy by his narrow shoulders, nearly shaking him out of his shoes. "What did you just say?"

He knew good and well, but he wanted Jesse to verify that he wasn't imagining it.

Looking as surprised as a caught fox, Jesse blinked twice and stared gape-mouthed.

"It's okay, buddy," Gabe urged. "You can trust me."

Jesse kept his eyes on Gabe. Then, lifting a hand, he pointed a finger in Hannah's direction. "Hannah," he said as clear as a newly polished bell. A tiny grin formed on his lips-not a confident one, by any means, but still, it was a start. Gabe's heart took a huge dip. Dear Lord, he speaks. Please let this be the beginning of his healing.

If he had any dread about meeting up with Hannah and Ralston, he dismissed it. Keeping a hold on one of Jesse's shoulders, he remained crouched and raised his face to search through the mass of ambling people. Finally, he spotted her in her long green gown, carrying her matching hat in one hand and sweeping at her unruly red curls with the other. Ralston strolled alongside her, hands secured behind his back, mouth moving in conversation as he nodded at passersby.

Gabe willed her to look over at him, and, when the pair came within twenty feet ofhim andJesse, she did. Immediately, he hooked his index finger at her in a "come here" gesture. She halted and stared for a full five seconds, as if she were trying to make up her mind about the proper thing to do. Ralston followed her gaze, and, seeing her point of interest, scowled, said something, then tried turning her around by the arm.

"Come here," Gabe mouthed silently, hoping she would detect his urgency. She read his lips, lifted her green skirts slightly, and stepped down from the sidewalk to trudge through the sand, leaving Ralston on the wooden walk.

Jesse's eyes gleamed when he spotted Hannah. She spread out her arms to him, and he pulled away from Gabe, taking off on a run and spewing up sand with each eager stride. Gabe stood up and brushed off his pant leg, watching the two embrace in a friendly squeeze. Something rolled over in his gut-a wave of emotion he couldn't quite define. He lowered his gaze to focus on the toe of his boot, which seemed to be grinding a hole in the sand.

Hannah's flowery scent forced his chin up moments later. "How are you?" she asked, her arm resting on Jesse's shoulder. The doctor had trudged purposefully toward them until a neighborly gentleman stopped him mid-stride and set to talking his ear off To say Ralston Van Huff looked pleased by the interruption would have been a barefaced lie. Gabe felt an inner satisfaction well up from some deep place.

Ridiculous.

He saw this woman every day. Why, now, did his tongue choose to cling to the roof of his mouth? She tipped her face at him, obviously waiting.

"Oh. Fine. He, Ijust-I thought you'd want to know that he said your name."

"What?"

"Jesse. He spoke your name a few moments ago." How he could sound so casual went beyond reason, particularly since his head was still reeling over the victory.

"He said my-you said my name, Jess?" Her voice went powdery soft as she dropped to both knees to look square into the lad's face, her eyes fixed on him like those of a tenderhearted mother on her child. "Can you say it now? Just for my ears?"

Teeth that looked too big for his miniature face latched onto his lower lip while he seemed to contemplate the pros and cons of repeating the act. He sucked in a deep breath. "Hannah," he whispered, loud enough for Gabe to hear over the Big Lake's pounding waves.

Hannah gasped and pressed the fingers of one hand to her mouth, her grin spilling out the sides. Her gaze lifted, making a connection with Gabe's eyes.

"Did you hear that, Mr. Devlin? Jesse Gant said my name."

Gabe tipped back on his heels and returned the smile, barely containing his slipping, sliding emotions. "I did, Miss Kane. I did indeed,"

In the days that followed, Jesse offered only a few additional words, just enough to whet Hannah and Gabe's appetites, but none sufficient to reveal where he came from or to give them any hints about his family. One morning when Gabe dropped him off at the store, they watched him gallop out to the back stoop to check on the stray dog. Gabe leaned across the counter where Hannah was tallying the cash drawer contents and commented that they might never learn the full truth about Jesse Gant. He plopped his policeman's cap down in front of her and sighed.

"I've exhausted every lead that's come across my desk, and I still can't make head nor tail of where he's from-no recent missing children accounts, no recorded kidnap attempts, no hot-off-the-wire reports of any runaways." He stopped to run a hand through his blond hair. Hannah noted the ridge made by his hat in the middle of his forehead, and she had the oddest urge to run her finger over it. "There's always a current list, mind you, but nothing there matches Jesse's size, age, or description." He cleared his throat and leaned close enough to reveal the piney scent of his shaving perfume. "I've prayed countless times about this, Hannah. I want to know who that boy is and where he comes from, and I'm asking God to give me wisdom. And leads. I need leads."

While Hannah tried to count the bills under her nose, her heart hammered back at her, tangling her thoughts. He prayed about Jesse? Gabriel Devlin prays? Somehow, the notion warmed her body to the soles of her feet. To think the sturdy, strapping, self-reliant sheriff would admit his need for God's wisdom-why, put simply, it bedazzled her. When had Ralston ever confessed to praying about a specific need or problem? Never, in her recollection. But Mr. Devlin-why, he simply blurted out the fact that he'd prayed about Jesse's situation, and he made no apologies for it, either. This made a strong impression on her.

"You know, it's possible Jesse himself doesn't remember the events that landed him in the street, Hannah," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

It was one of the few times the sheriff had decided to linger at the store, and his presence made her lose count at sixteen dollars and seventy-three cents-or was that sixtythree? `Jesse has a story, Mr. Devlin, and we will get to the bottom of it. I'm certain of it. I've been praying myself that we'd find answers."

"Have you? I'm glad to hear it. He needs our prayers."

Something prompted her to look into his striking eyes, the brilliant blue of them reminding her of how the Big Lake looked on a cloudless, shiftless, summer day. But a second was all she allowed herself before she went back to counting.

"Something terrible happened to him, and it's up to us to help him get beyond those fears so he can tell us about it," she asserted. "He's a smart boy, did you know that?" she asked.

"I've never doubted it."

"Why, he doesn't miss a word I read to him. If I so much as turn the page before I've finished, he turns it right back and points to the paragraph I missed. He's a sly one, that Jesse. And those are not easy books. The Wizard of Oz, The Prince and the Pauper, Black Beauty."

"You've read all those to him?"

"I've read chapters from each. He's trying to decide which one he wants me to stick with to the end." A lighthearted giggle erupted, which she quickly stifled with her hand.

"Why'd you do that?"

"What?"

"Why'd you stop laughing? It was nice. I bet you don't even know the way it lights up your face when you do it, like one of those electric streetlights out there." He propped the bulk of his weight against the counter, and she felt his nearness as she might the trenchant heat of an iron just inches from her face.

"Well, thank you." Oh, she hated when she blushed. Those splotchy red flushes just crept up on her and took no mercy. It was that cursed red hair and pale skin Grandmother Kane had passed down to her. She lowered her face and started counting all over again, laying out the bills and collecting her bearings. "Well, getting back to Jesse. He's a lot smarter than other boys his age, don't you think? His life experiences probably add up to a whole lot more smartness than you and me put together."

"Probably true."

"And another thing-"

"Shh." He reached out and covered her hands, forcing them down. "You're not counting that money, you know."

"I most certainly am," She stared down at the big, capable hand, rough and marred, and fought off a rising shiver. Ralston's hands were smooth-almost feminine, as any doctor's should be-but the sheriff's? They seemed to have endless stories behind them. And suddenly, she wanted to hear every one of them. How many fistfights, gunfights, barroom brawls, or murders might those hands have had a part in stopping?

"How can you count and yak at the same time?"

"What?" Another blush pushed up. Blechh! What was a woman to do when every kind of distraction destroyed her concentration?

His grin went into its usual lopsided tilt.

"How much do you have there in your hands?"

Rattled, she looked down and realized she hadn't a clue. "So far?"

Still grinning, he peeled her fingers off the tightly clutched cash.

"No one is to touch the cash in the box except for a Kane," she warned him.

"I'll take my chances with the law."

"That's Papa's law," she put in.

"Ah, a tad riskier, then,"

In silence, she watched him sort out the bills and coins faster than a bullet leaves its casing, then slap them back into the drawer in their proper slots.

"Thirty-six dollars and seventy-nine cents. Rather a lot, don't you think? Ever worry about getting robbed?"

"Not particularly. Sandy Shores is a quiet place, especially since peak tourist season has passed."

"Crimes usually occur when folks least expect them, Hannah,"

"That must be your lawman side coming out,"

Flaxen eyebrows raised in a dressing-down fashion, and his eyes seemed to dig deeper than the surface. "I'm serious about this. You need to stay on your guard."

"Like now, you mean?" She looked down at the hand that had just grazed hers, and a boldness came over her.

He tossed back his head and gazed out the window where Jesse and his brown and white mongrel romped.

"He sure likes that mutt,"

`Are you keeping something from me, Mr. Devlin?"

He turned and fixed his blue gaze on her face, running his eyes all over it. "It's a little too early to say."

Her chin sagged. "What do you mean? Is there some trouble brewing? Do you know something about Jesse you're not telling me?"

He sniffed and dredged up a faint smile. "Nothing to worry about just yet, but I'm not fooling you when I say you should stay on guard."

"Mr. Devlin, I've a right to know if Jesse's in danger."

He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, then let it out slowly. "Yes, you do, and I'll be sure to tell you if he is," All at once, he reached up and snagged a lock of her hair, twirling it about his index finger while they measured each other for a second or two. "You ever plan to address me by my given name? I mean, it is a little silly, you treating me so formally when we see each other every day. Or would your fiance object to that?"

Uncomfortable, she started to step around him, intending to hang the "OPEN" sign on the door, but he seized her by the wrist as she rounded the counter.

"Or is `fiance' premature? Have you given him your answer yet? I've been meaning to ask."

A hundred breaths clogged her throat until she feared a lack of proper breathing might make her light-headed. "Oh, if you must know, he is not my fiance-yet, Mr..."