by Tara Randel
He couldn’t stop the racing of his heart as he stood mere inches from her.
“Oh my gosh. I thought...” She stepped closer. “Are you okay?”
“I will be once I can see again.”
“I was sure someone was watching me.”
“Guilty as charged,” he mumbled.
She reached into her car and returned with tissues. Stuffed them in his hand. “If I had known...”
Derrick gently dabbed at his eyes. “How could you?”
“True, but I...” She leaned over, peering into his face. “It doesn’t look too bad.”
It wasn’t. He’d been sprayed full-on in training and knew he’d survive this attack. Still, the burning sensation was not receding.
“I scared you. It was my fault.”
“Should we go inside so you can flush the spray out?”
He blinked again, his vision clearing. “I’ll be fine.”
She looked doubtful, but instead asked, “Derrick. It’s really you?”
“In the flesh.” He balled up the tissue and stuck it in his pocket.
Her eyebrows angled together, the shock of seeing him finally hitting home. “How...how did you find me?”
“I got your street address from the package you sent. No one answered at your house, but a neighbor walking his dog told me where you work when I mentioned that I was an old friend.”
She reared back. “That’s impossible.”
“You sent the gem so I’d find you.”
“Derrick, I never sent you anything.” She paused, clearly confused.
“Then who?”
“I don’t know.” She reached out to grab the open car door. “Right now, I’m needed at home.”
He placed his hand on her arm to stop her. She sucked in a breath and jerked away. “I’m not sure what’s going on,” he told her, “but I’m not leaving until I do.”
“Fine. We can have this conversation at my place.”
“I’ll follow you.”
She nodded, then ducked into her sedan. He strode back to his rental car, thankful the limited amount of pepper spray hadn’t incapacitated him enough to keep him from driving. Firing up the engine, he saw Hannah pull onto the street. He eased out of his spot, baffled and a lot disappointed.
No excited pronouncements of You found me. I’ve missed you for so long. Finally, we can be together. I never stopped loving you.
Instead he got, I never sent you anything.
Then how did that explain the stone delivered to his office? Her return address on the envelope? She was truly shocked to see him. Not surprising since it had been seventeen years since they’d known each other. Still, what had he expected? Angelic music from above and scattered rose petals leading a path to his one true love? That she’d run into his arms as if no time had passed at all? Not happening, apparently, but he’d hoped she’d at least be as excited as he was by the reunion.
The nagging feeling that she hadn’t wanted him to find her struck again. Why? What had she been doing all these years? Despite her reluctance to speak with him, he wasn’t going anywhere until he had answers.
Ten minutes later they pulled up to a ranch-style house in a neighborhood that had seen better days. The faded tan paint needed a touch-up. The grass, if you could call the brown stuff peeking out from under patches of snow, that could use the expertise of a good gardener. Of course, it was winter and grass tended to be dormant, but somehow Derrick suspected the neglected appearance was more about a lack of time and priorities than the season.
A long leg exited the car and soon Hannah was purposefully striding up the path to the front door. He parked behind her and made tracks to follow before she shut him out. A wave of heat smacked him as he stepped inside the house, igniting his burning skin again.
At first glance, the living room was cozy. An overstuffed couch and matching armchair took up most of the space, along with a large-screen television and a few end tables. Hannah was busy taking off her coat, not meeting his gaze. He shrugged out of his jacket. Waited.
“The bathroom is down the hall. First door on the right.”
“Thanks.” He hurried to the sink, rinsing the lingering pepper spray from his face. The skin around his glassy eyes was red, but splashing the water removed any residual effects. He dried his face with a towel and went back to the living room.
Hannah had the bay window curtain pulled back and was staring outside. When she heard him, she twirled around.
“Better?”
He nodded.
Crossing the room, she brushed by him to look down the dim hallway, the scent of vanilla enveloping him as she passed. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she turned and repeated in a quiet tone, “How did you find me?”
“The red stone, Hannah. You sent it to me.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t send you anything. I don’t even know where you live.”
“It was sent to my workplace.”
She held out her hands and lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know that, either. I know nothing about your life.”
Ouch.
“It was one of the four gemstones your father had in his possession.”
She closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face. “The collection that ruined our lives.” She lowered her hand. Stared hard at him. “Because of you.”
“I never got a chance to talk to you.” He took a step toward her. “You were gone.”
A harsh laugh escaped her lips. “You have no idea what you did.”
“Then tell me.”
“What, you show up here out of the blue years after my family had to give up everything and assume I’m going to chat you up like we’re long-lost friends?”
“We’re more than that.”
“We were. Not any longer.”
The sharp words aimed at his heart did their damage.
She waved a hand in his direction. “It doesn’t matter what happened. The bottom line is, you can’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Why do you think I’m standing here asking questions?”
She began to pace the length of the living room. “You have no idea why we left?”
“As far as everyone was concerned, your family just disappeared in the night. No one knew why.”
She stopped. “Even your father?”
Old wounds tore open at the mention of his dad. “If he did, he never said.”
“And you didn’t ask him before making this trip to find me?”
The lingering guilt and pain swamped him. “He died, Hannah.”
She stopped, her face softening. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded, swallowing around the obstruction in his throat. “I’ve been trying, without luck, to find you for years.”
“There’s a reason you had no luck.”
“Which is?”
“I didn’t want you to find me.”
The blunt force of the truth smacked him square in the chest. He’d been correct. She didn’t want him. Still, despite the searing pain, the part of him that couldn’t let go had to ask, “But why? What happened?”
She opened her mouth and he waited for his questions to be answered when a weak voice came from the hallway.
“Hannah, I hear someone with you. Is Jonathan there?”
Something dark rose at the mention of another man’s name, but Derrick controlled his emotions. He didn’t know anything about this Hannah and could not jump to conclusions. Not when he was finally in the same room with her.
Hannah sent him a now-you-did-it look and hurried to the entrance of the hallway. A woman joined her, her hair gray and her face lined as she shuffled into the room wearing a housecoat and slippers.
“Mom, you should have stayed in bed.”
&n
bsp; “And miss the commotion?”
When Derrick realized this was Hannah’s mother, his jaw dropped. This woman was obviously ill and looked way older than Derrick thought she should be, a far cry from the feisty, petite dynamo who had opened up her house, especially her kitchen, to him when he was a kid.
He stepped forward. “Hi, Mrs. Rawlings. It’s Derrick Matthews.”
The older woman stilled. Squinted her eyes. Then a warm smile curved her lips. “My goodness. It is you.”
Hannah steered her mother to the armchair. “Sit, Mom.”
Once Mrs. Rawlings was seated, she gazed at Derrick for a long moment. “I never thought I’d see you again. You or anyone from our old life.” She grinned and pointed a shaky finger at him. “You always were full of surprises.”
“If anything, finding you and Hannah has been the major surprise.”
Mrs. Rawlings glanced at her daughter as Hannah wrapped a knitted afghan over her mother’s knees.
“Have you eaten today, Mom?”
A grimace crossed her mother’s face. “No.”
“Let me get you some tea and toast.”
“Please.”
Always one with gracious manners, Hannah asked Derrick, “Can I get you anything?”
Yes, he wanted to shout. The truth.
“I’m good.”
Hannah hesitated as if she didn’t want to leave them alone, then hustled to the kitchen.
After a tense moment, Mrs. Rawlings said, “I’m sure you’re startled by my appearance.”
He nodded.
“Cancer. Had my last treatment yesterday.”
He swallowed hard.
She offered a small grin. “But Hannah takes good care of me.”
“Where is Mr. Rawlings?”
The older woman blinked. “Gone.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Oh, not dead,” she rushed to say. “Just gone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I believe it would be best if Hannah explained.”
A shrill whistle sounded from the other room. Seconds later Hannah returned with a steaming cup for her mother. She took it with shaky hands.
“Your mother was just telling me your father left.”
Hannah’s brow pinched. She shot her mother a glance, then faced him. “We...separated years ago.”
Separated? What did that mean?
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Rawlings instructed.
Hannah sank down on one end of the couch. He took the other, breathing easier now that the burning sensation on his skin had subsided.
“We were trying to stay under the radar when some things happened.” Hannah brushed her black pants. “Dad thought it would be safer for us if he left.”
“For where?”
“I don’t know. It’s been ten years and we haven’t heard from him.”
Okay, this entire catch-up session was getting muddier instead of clearer. “I’m stumped here.”
“You might as well tell him the whole story,” Mrs. Rawlings said. “He did come all this way.”
Hannah blew out a breath. “We had to leave Florida. For our safety.”
“From whom?”
“My father did business with some shady guys. They wanted him to make a transaction with them and he said no. Let’s just say they weren’t pleased.”
“They threatened him?”
“Yes. And then we went away.”
Unease shivered down his spine. Her father had owned the town jewelry shop. How could he have gotten into dangerous business? “What kind of help?”
A ding came from the kitchen. Hannah jumped up. “Let me get my mother’s toast.”
He rose, an uncomfortable sensation settling over him. “What kind of help, Hannah?”
He didn’t miss the anger radiating from her as she spat, “Witness protection,” and raced into the other room.
* * *
HANNAH RAN A trembling hand over her forehead. Derrick was standing in her living room. Her living room, for Pete’s sake! She had absolutely no idea how to process this.
No matter how many times she might have dreamt it, she never thought she’d see him again. Yet he stood in the doorway, confusion shadowing his handsome face. He was dressed in a navy cable-knit sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes, worn jeans encasing lean legs, and boots, looking as gorgeous as the last time she’d seen him. More so. He’d aged well, the youthful face now matured into that of a man, with hard angles and wrinkles around his eyes. And the red skin that looked like he’d been sunburned, courtesy of her knee-jerk reaction.
Acrid black smoke drifted from the toaster oven. With a yelp, she pulled open the door and waved her hand to disperse the cloud. The slice was charred and inedible. Pinching it between her fingers, she flung it into the sink then pulled another slice from the bag to start over.
Once the bread was toasting, she rested her palms on the counter.
“Witness protection?” came Derrick’s deep voice at her shoulder.
With a start she swung around and placed a hand over her tumbling stomach.
“Yes.”
He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. “This has got to be some story.”
“It is.”
He rested his hip against the counter. Crossed his arms over his broad chest. At such a short distance, she could smell his spicy cologne. Good grief. He’d been back in her life for less than an hour and here she was all over the map. She straightened her shoulders and ignored his grim expression.
“I never would have guessed,” he said.
“That was the point.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“So, who are you now?”
Tears burned behind her eyes but she blinked them away. “Anna Rawley. My mom is Sophie.”
“A close variation of Sofia.”
“Yes. I haven’t been Hannah for a long time, Derrick.” Nor was she the person she used to be. That girl was gone, replaced by Anna who took care of every problem that came their way.
“You’ve lived here this entire time?”
“No. This is just the latest place.”
He went silent. She gazed out the window over the sink. The sky was still a dank steel gray, not a ray of sun to be found. She shivered, brushing her hands up and down her arms.
“So this gem,” she said with hope in her voice. “Is it possible my father sent it to you?”
“Does he know where you live?”
She turned back to him. “No, but he could have found out.”
“The stamp indicated the envelope came from Carson City. Do you think he’s there?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“But why would he send anything to me if you were in hiding?”
Unable to answer, she massaged her throbbing temples with shaking fingers.
“Hannah, the stone was identical to the ones I saw on your father’s desk before you left.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “He claimed that because of the confusion the night we left, he lost track of those four gems. But then, he said and did a lot of things I found out later weren’t legit.”
“I don’t have any knowledge about that.”
The toaster dinged again. With quick hands, she removed the toast to a small plate and spread butter over the top. “The government insisted they didn’t take the stones either.” She glanced his way. “Who sent it to you?”
“I swear I’m as in the dark as you are.”
She believed him. One thing she remembered about Derrick—he was always up-front. If he didn’t know, that was the truth.
“Let me see it.”
“It’s in a safe place.”
Convenient. She pressed her lips together, then s
aid, “Let me get this to my mother. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded, his eyes distant as if he were lost in thought. She went back to the living room. The pang of fear that attacked her whenever her mother was so still tweaked her heart. With relief Hannah realized her mother had only dozed off. At least she’d put the teacup on the table next to her chair first. “Mom,” Hannah said softly.
Her mother roused. “Did I fall asleep again?”
“Yes. It’s okay.” Hannah set the plate on the table. The treatments had wiped her mother out. Her last infusion had been the day before so now they would hope for the best.
“Just rest.”
Her mother’s lids fluttered closed again. Hannah tucked the afghan around her slight form. She was the one person in the world who meant everything to Hannah, other than Derrick had been once upon a time.
“Your mom told me she has cancer,” Derrick said as Hannah walked back into the kitchen.
Drained by the worry over her mother and Derrick unexpectedly showing up, she pulled out a wooden chair and sat. “Lung. When the doctor made the diagnosis, he surgically removed the tumor and started her right away on radiation and chemo. Now we wait for the results.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah.”
She pressed her trembling lips together. Nodded.
“Are you the only one taking care of her?”
She would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t so close to tears. Yes, she was her mother’s caregiver. Her father had made sure of it. “I’m afraid so. Carol, our next-door neighbor, has been wonderful, checking in when I work or taking Mom to the doctor if I can’t make an appointment.”
“I wish I had known.”
“So you could do what? Derrick, why are you here?”
“I’ve been searching for you since the night you left.”
She found that hard to believe. “Why? You had to know.”
“How can you ask me that? Especially after what we meant to each other.”
She refused to answer.
“I had no idea the depth of trouble your family was in. And even when I pressed my father, he never gave me any details.”
Her voice trembled. “That was a long time ago. Things are different. I’m not the same girl I was back then.”