Persuaded

by Misty Dawn Pulsipher

  ☼

  Hanna had been asleep for only a couple of hours when she was woken by her nephews bouncing on her bed and chanting “Get up!” “Get up!” “Get up!” She had a sneaking suspicion that their mother had sent them after her, which suspicion turned out to be correct. Downstairs, Mary lay on the couch suffering from a violent headache. Hanna suggested that her sister go to bed, which was only partially for Mary’s sake. Hanna didn’t feel like dealing with Mary’s complaining all day, not when she was feeling poorly herself after a night of no sleep.

  Not that she resented the lack of rest—she had definitely traded up.

  Giving in to the boys’ pleas to go swimming, Hanna lathered them with sunscreen and stifled a yawn as she followed them outside.

  By the time Derick turned up, the boys were bored with the water and had moved on to building a sandcastle. His strawberry blonde spikes were waterlogged, his freckles a shade darker, as if he’d been freshly sun kissed. His knee-length board shorts had a damp look about them, and water droplets beaded on the skin of his chest beneath his gauzy button-front shirt. Hanna’s eyes caught on the hei matau that hung just below Derick’s collarbone. The sight of the pendant flooded her with memories from last night. Her stomach swooped with the recollections, and she averted her eyes quickly before he caught her ogling.

  Luckily the boys had just noticed him and were facing off for his attention by chanting his name. When Walter managed something closer to Derick—D’rick—Hanna couldn’t help patting herself on the back, mentally at least.

  “What are we building?” Derick asked the boys, allowing them to pull him down to their level.

  “Castle!” Walter screeched.

  “It’s not a castle, Walt, it’s a stronghold,” CJ corrected his younger brother in exasperation.

  “This tower looks like it’s crumbling,” Derick observed.

  “It’s not a tower, Derick, it’s a turret,” Hanna parroted with a grin, to which he responded with a look that was part disbelief, part amusement.

  “Let’s get some more sand,” Derick said decidedly, earning a salute and “Yes, sir!” from CJ and a gleeful whoop from Walter. “When we’re done with the stronghold, we can bury Banana in the sand.”

  The boys cheered, and Hanna shook her head, a reluctant smile taking over her face at Derick’s triumphant expression as he backed away from her.

  Several moments later, when the buckets were heavy with wet sand, the boys ran pell-mell back to the castle. Walter planted himself on his aunt’s lap, and Derick and CJ set to work on the repairs. The crumbling turret didn’t seem to want to cooperate, and at one point both Derick and Hanna had their hands clamped around it for support while CJ fixed it. Their fingertips were only millimeters apart, and anxiety fizzed in Hanna’s stomach. The impulse to shift her hand, even the tiniest bit, was almost overpowering. She looked at Derick, wondering if he felt it too or if she was going crazy.

  He looked back at her with overcast eyes, with just a hint of a smile on his lips.

  Unfortunately, the adults’ distraction came with a price. The stronghold came to an untimely end when Walter got bored with sitting on the sidelines and put his pudgy hand right through the highest turret.

  CJ’s outrage was immediate, and Hanna knew retribution would follow unless she intervened. Quickly picking Walter up and handing him off to Derick, Hanna knelt down in front of CJ.

  “He ruined it!” he sobbed, his face lobster red.

  “He didn’t mean to,” Hanna reasoned. “And didn’t we have fun building it?”

  CJ swiped his arm under his nose. “Not until Derick came.”

  Hanna smiled up at Derick. “We can always build another one tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, CJ,” Derick said. “Besides, now we have the perfect place to bury Hanna alive.”

  Hanna’s head snapped up. He’d been serious about the burying thing?

  “She’s a naughty pirate and has to be punished,” Derick added, taking a step closer.

  CJ eyed Hanna skeptically. “Whadshe do?”

  “Mutiny,” Derick answered, and the demolished fortress was forgotten as the three boys apprehended their prisoner.

  Just when Hanna had begun to be truly alarmed, Derick said, “We can’t bury her all the way though.”

  “Aw, why not?!” CJ whined.

  Hanna mentally huffed. The next time the little devil wanted to play the Wii she would just have to remind him what a vicious turncoat he’d been.

  “Well, because we won’t be able to go for ice cream down at the marina if we bury her all the way,” Derick said conversationally.

  “Let’s bury half, then,” CJ reasoned.

  Derick nodded, his brow furrowing. “Which half, though?” he asked.

  “Let’s do the top half!” CJ cried, and Derick finally broke down laughing at the panic he must have seen on Hanna’s face.

  Walter, having caught the tone of the situation without understanding the details, said, “‘Nana?”

  “Let’s bury the bottom half, boys,” Derick laughed, sweeping Hanna’s legs out from under her and setting her down on the forgotten fortress.

  Hanna protested, but to no avail. Derick held her feet in place while the boys dumped enough wet sand on her legs to stop a flood. He watched her from under his lashes—clearly, this was entirely too much fun for him. When Hanna finally sighed and went limp with resignation, Derick chuckled.

  “Good work boys!” he called to his minions. “Isn’t this fun, Hanna?” he teased, propping himself up on an elbow near her head and looking down at her. “Don’t worry, we won’t run off to get ice cream and leave you here baking in the sun.”

  “You’re barbaric,” Hanna told him, refusing to be taken in by his eyes.

  Derick just grinned down at her, then donned his sunglasses, laced his hands behind his head, and stretched out on the sand in a decidedly this-is-the-life posture.

  TWENTY-NINE

  CONES and CONFRONTATIONS

  There was no longer anything of tenderness due to him . . . he stood as opposed to Captain Wentworth, in all his own unwelcome obtrusiveness.

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  Getting ice cream at the marina had initially been for the kids, but it ended up being vastly entertaining for Derick as well. It wasn’t CJ practically inhaling his cone followed by his wailing about brain freeze that had Derick so diverted. It definitely wasn’t the melted ice cream beard that Walter had going. It was the way Hanna blushed every time her eyes met Derick’s, the delighted shock on her face when they accidentally brushed fingers or bumped knees under the table. Just once, he did it on purpose.

  Derick’s fun was unfortunately cut short when Eli came through the door of the marina store. He saw Hanna first, smiling and lifting a hand, then dropping it when he saw Derick. His eyes glinted with something for just an instant, something dark, before he rearranged his features into a shocked sadness for Hanna’s benefit. To Derick’s dismay, Eli’s nose looked completely normal. Not broken, then. Oh, well.

  Hanna spoke in a low voice to Derick. “I’ll be right back.”

  Derick nodded, keeping his eyes on her as she approached Eli.

  ☼

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” Eli observed in a pouty tone that immediately put Hanna on the defensive. “I was just about to call and see if you wanted to meet for lunch, but it looks like you’re already spoken for.”

  The words didn’t have the effect he intended; instead of shame, she experienced a thrill. Trying unsuccessfully to ignore it, Hanna focused on what she should say. It was then she realized Eli had luggage with him.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I heard from that publisher in New York. I’m signing with them later today.” He paused, seemingly uncomfortable. “Hanna, I want you to go with me.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Eli, we’ve already been—”

  “No, we haven’t! We haven’t been there. Because the week we spent apart was
one of the longest of my life. I’m not the same person I was when I asked you before, because—well, because—I love you.”

  Hanna really hoped her eyes weren’t bulging. Everything about his speech felt artificial to her—manic, even—like he was in a hurry or dying tomorrow or something.

  “There’s no way you can be in love with me, Eli. We barely know each other.”

  “But what if I leave tomorrow and we always regret not finding out if it could work? I’d rather take a chance than never know. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Eli,” she began, putting a hand on his arm in a decidedly unromantic gesture, “you’re gorgeous and charming and talented, and someone’s Mr. Right.” Eyeing him sadly, she said, “Just not mine. I’m not about to run off with you for the sake of an experiment. I’m sorry.”

  He looked pathetic standing there with his eyes downcast, unable to face her, but when he did, his eyes weren’t teary or soft. They were hard as ice, drained of all warmth, like black holes. They darted away, focused on something over her shoulder, then came back to hers.

  “This is about him, isn’t it?” Eli said, his tone an uncanny reflection of CJ’s when Walter had ruined the sandcastle earlier. “You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She did.

  “He’s going to hurt you again,” Eli said with venom. When he leaned toward her, she resisted the urge to shrink back. “He’s going to hurt you again, and when he does, you’ll remember this little conversation. And you’ll be sorry.” There was almost a sensual tone in his voice as he whispered the last words in her ear.

  She had been so focused on Eli’s bizarre bipolarity that she hadn’t noticed Derick coming up behind her until he spoke.

  “Unless you don’t value your face, you should probably go.”

  Eli eyed Derick with unveiled loathing, then turned away. As Eli walked out of the store, Hanna couldn’t help thinking that there was something distinctly reptilian in the way he moved. How had she never noticed it before?

  ☼

  With a hand resting lightly on her back, Derick guided Hanna to the table. He didn’t care for the tremble in her body beneath his fingers. At the table, Hanna seized the napkins and began mopping up the mess that was Walter’s face. She tossed a few at CJ and told him to do the same.

  Derick gathered the soaked napkins and threw them away. “You okay?”

  Hanna nodded, but didn’t look up. “We should probably get back.”

  With the marina and the confrontation behind them, Hanna seemed to relax a little as they walked home. Derick burned with curiosity to know what had transpired between her and Eli, but didn’t want to upset her further by bringing it up. He chose his words carefully.

  “So, it looked like Eli was leaving town,” he began. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “To meet up with a publisher. I don’t know where—New York, I guess.”

  Hanna reddened just a bit at this, and Derick guessed there was more to the story. Recalling the way Eli had stepped forward, his posture imploring, Derick said, “He asked you to go with him, didn’t he?”

  Full-scale blush now. “It’s not the first time,” Hanna mumbled.

  “And . . . what did you say?”

  “Oh, I said I needed an hour to pack.” She rolled her eyes. “No, obviously.”

  Derick found that he was delighted with her sarcasm. He tugged on the braid hanging down her back. “Obviously.”

  A tiny smile. “I told him I didn’t know him well enough to run off with him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I think his exact words were, ‘You’ll be sorry.’“

  Derick had to shove his hands in his pockets, so Hanna wouldn’t see his fists. How dare Eli threaten her? And right under Derick’s nose too. One thing was certain—the guy wasn’t lacking in guts. Intelligence, maybe, but not nerve.

  Shaking his head, Derick said, “I was trying to give you some privacy, but I guess I should’ve stepped in sooner. I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Hanna contradicted. “I’m just not a huge fan of confrontation.”

  “No, you never were,” he said, looking down at her. “But I think you did okay back there. You held your own pretty well.”

  Hanna exhaled her relief and brushed off the compliment. “It’s done now.”

  They walked in silence for a moment as they neared the houses.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Derick said, “if I asked, would you run off with me?”

  Hanna shoved him halfheartedly but gave no response. Not that he needed one. The crimson taking over her face was answer enough.

  THIRTY

  VACATION from VACATION

  Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  Upon returning home to Uppercross, Hanna’s good mood was abruptly doused by the atmosphere. The tension was so taught, it felt like a tendon that could snap at any minute. Charles and Mary were engaged in heated conversation upstairs. Ella sat on the couch reading the latest issue of Cosmo while Callie sat on the floor painting her toenails.

  “Banana, can I watch TV?” CJ asked, and she nodded. Maybe it would distract the boys from whatever was happening with their parents.

  “What’s going on?” Hanna asked, but she thought she could guess well enough.

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Oh, you know . . . no one appreciates Mary, no one pays attention to Mary, no one cares if Mary lives or dies . . .”

  Hanna frowned. Maybe she would have more luck de-escalating the situation than Charles, who was no doubt at the end of his rope with his wife. But one look at the boys and she could see that the TV wasn’t distracting them enough. CJ’s eyes kept darting upstairs toward his parents’ voices.

  “Hey, you two—who’s up for a game of checkers?” Hanna said to the boys.

  They agreed, setting up the checkerboard in front of the TV so they could watch and play at the same time.

  Twenty minutes later, CJ jumped Hanna’s red checker with his black one, a triumphant grin shaping his face. “Got you, Walt!”

  Walter began crying, and Hanna placated him by jumping three of CJ’s checkers. Walter almost smiled, until the heated argument filtered down the stairs again—the disagreement seemed to be going in spurts. Walter was way past his afternoon naptime, but Hanna couldn’t very well lay him in his crib upstairs with all the noise.

  “Ella, do you mind if I put Walter down in your room for a while?”

  She shrugged. When Hanna returned, she was delightedly surprised to find Derick sitting across the checkerboard from CJ. A sidelong glance at Ella revealed her irritation at Derick’s presence.

  “Me and Captain Wentworth are playing now,” CJ informed his aunt.

  “If that’s okay,” Derick added with smiling eyes.

  Hanna didn’t get a chance to reassure him that she’d had her fill of checkers for the day, because a door opened upstairs, and the voices that had been an unintelligible buzz a moment ago increased in volume, enough that the words could be made out.

  “. . . I need to get away, Charles, I can’t stand being cooped up in this house with the kids anymore!”

  “Mary, the kids aren’t in the house with you, they’re usually outside with Hanna. Maybe you should go with them sometime. You shouldn’t spend our whole summer inside.”

  “You know how sensitive my skin is to the sun!” came the rejoinder. “My mother died of skin cancer. Is that what you want?”

  Oh, brother. Not the skin cancer card again. Aside from that, how exactly did Mary need to get away when she was already on vacation?

  “I can’t take this asylum anymore,” Ella declared, bolting up off the sofa and dropping Cosmo with an unceremonious thwap. “I’m out.”

  Callie jumped up as well. “Let’s go see if Benny will take us fishing like he promised,” she suggested.

  Ella nodded, don
ned her sunglasses, and they were gone.

  The voices died down, and Hanna could only assume that Mary had dissolved into her trademark tears. Charles thundered down the stairs, expelling a sigh and running a hand through his hair in exasperation. When he looked up and saw Derick, he reddened.

  “Derick, hey . . . sorry about that,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

  “Mary having a bad day?” Derick inquired.

  Hanna’s lips twitched at his overkill polite tone.

  “More like a bad year.”

  “Let me talk to her,” Hanna offered, standing.

  “Good idea. You’re the only one she listens to when she gets like this, anyway.”

  A parting look at Derick revealed an expression of empathy and good luck with that.

  Upstairs, Hanna found Mary standing rigidly at the window, looking out with her arms folded. She didn’t turn when Hanna entered.

  “I see he’s called in reinforcements. Typical.”

  Hanna ignored her sister’s assumption. Experience had taught her that once Mary got an idea in her head—erroneous or not—there was no reasoning with her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Sniffle. “What is there to talk about? My husband can’t stand me. I don’t remember the last time he actually listened to anything I had to say. He spends all his time outside avoiding me. If I want a break from the kids and I let him take them out, they come back sunburned!”

  The way Mary said “sunburned” sounded more like she referred to an incurable disease or loss of limb. “Sunburns are kind of a side effect of spending two months at the beach, Mare. I think you’re making this into something it’s not.”

  Mary threw her hands up. “And now you too? My own sister?” She made a derisive snorting noise. “No one understands me.”

  Hanna gritted her teeth. “That’s not true, and you know it. That might slide with Charles, but not me. We grew up in the same house, remember? If anyone understands you, it’s me.”

  From the way Mary’s eyes bulged, she hadn’t expected her mousy elder sister to contradict her. Then again, Hanna usually didn’t. Mary opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. Speechlessness was a first for her. Hanna saw the opportunity and snatched it up. “Look, I know marriage, motherhood—life—isn’t easy.”