The young people groaned and made disparaging remarks with teasing laughter in their eyes. And Hannah smiled when she began to appreciate that even in families where tensions ran high from time to time, there were also calm, close, comical moments that outweighed the others a hundred to one.
That night she lay awake in the faint moonlight, straining to make familiar shapes of the objects in the shadows of her room. She didn’t dare close her eyes.
She told herself it was the wind whistling through the hundreds of tiny fissures in the siding, not whispering voices that roused her whenever she started to doze off.
She needed to keep her mind in the here and now.
She started a mental list of things to go over with Joe in the morning, then worked on a plan for her favorite and fairest of the three antique dealers to return for another, hopefully final, viewing of some questionable items they’d uncovered in the last few days. It made her feel diligent.
Of course, her favorite catalog was the one she kept on Anna—who didn’t care for the color pink but preferred greens and then blues instead. She loved milk more than any other drink she’d had so far. Her taste in music was eclectic, her one requirement being lyrics she could sing along to. She would listen to but wasn’t fond of heavy metal . . . to which Biscuit rolled his eyes in a belabored fashion and said, “It ain’t for little girls anyway.” She was a staunch defender of her sex, and her humor was easy and generous.
She spoke with some consideration of becoming a nurse in the future, her stomach for the profession having already been tested, but she had qualms at the prospect of facing death every day for the rest of her life. Her next best choice was teacher of small children, kindergarten or first grade, when their eyes were bright and their teeth went missing. But her deepest, darkest wish—told to her aunt alone in front of a repeat episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent with Vincent D’Onofrio, the only episodes worth watching they’d agreed—was a family, with lots of kids.
“Not the Olympics? The way you love to run?”
“I’ll always love to run. And it’s nice that people around here think I’m something special, but if you look at bigger towns like Richmond or Charlottesville, I’m barely competitive. There are lots of kids as fast or faster than me out there.”
“But you’re a sophomore . . . fifteen years old. And Lucy says you’re going to clean up at the regional races and then again at the state competitions.”
“We’ll see.” She shrugged. “And the big family thing is my long range plan, so don’t worry. Gran made me promise I’d finish college, and I want to travel a little before all that.”
“With the Olympics maybe . . .” The suggestion was made softly, and with hardly any pressure at all.
Anna smiled tolerantly. “We’ll see.”
Though Anna never said a word about it, Hannah hadn’t forgotten her discussion with Biscuit that afternoon at the track. She had a birthday—a big one, her sixteenth—two track meets and a senior prom with an almost guaranteed date with someone she cared for if she were still around to participate. And in Baltimore? She’d be the new kid for the last two months of the school year, an outsider. There might be enough time to make a new friend and meet her new track coach but . . . well, wouldn’t it be better to get a fresh new start with everything in the fall?
It was two months . . . not forever.
However, two months was plenty long enough for Jim Sauffle to rob her blind . . . if that was what he was doing. On the other hand, it might be way too long to spend with a lonely teenager overtly trying to make the best of things. And, on an extraordinary third hand, it was definitely too long for her to stay in Clearfield if she wanted to keep her mind intact and her secret buried.
She’d taken Anna out of school for the one-week checkup with Dr. Kolson. The written excuse had taken close to thirty minutes to compose, and she’d laughed at herself when she realized how responsible and, well, legal she was trying to make it sound.
They were parking in the lot outside his office before she decided to simply ask Anna if she wanted her to go with her when she saw the doctor.
She wanted to be included, to hear the prognosis and precautions and whatever else Anna and the doctor would say to each other, but the fact was Anna was closer to being a grown woman than she was to being a child and she deserved the choice of privacy.
Anna’s practice was to see the doctor alone before he spoke to her grandmother, but after a second look at her aunt’s anxious expression she invited her to join them.
“I won’t say a word. I promise. And if you have to undress or something, I’ll leave. I only want to hear what he has to say.” She couldn’t believe how grateful she was.
Dr. Kolson was Ellen and Anna’s family physician, a young man trained at Penn State and the University of Virginia who never met old Dr. Pageant, but had heard his name from some of his more elderly patients. Hannah quizzed him on these facts when he expressed his condolences on Ellen’s death.
“Your mother was very kind to us when my wife and I first moved here. Over the years as I got to know her better, her dry wit became something I looked forward to dueling with during our appointments. I enjoyed her very much.”
Dry wit? Her mother had a wit—wet, dry, or otherwise? She was tempted to reidentify herself as being Ellen Benson’s daughter and to ask Anna to show him the picture of the old woman that she carried in her wallet. But he didn’t look as confused as she felt, so maybe he wasn’t.
Plus, he displayed a real concern for Anna’s health and seemed to be trustworthy enough—for a doctor.
“She should finish up the antibiotic for the total ten days, of course, and the acid suppressant and the antacid for a good six weeks to make sure that ulcer has time to heal completely, and then I’d say she should be good as new.” This he decided after he’d asked Anna to lie back and palpated her abdomen through her T-shirt.
“What about food restrictions?” Hannah found it a hard buy that such a shocking episode was going to have such a simple ending.
“Nope. She can eat anything she likes. However, I would recommend, as a precaution, that any time she takes any kind of medication, even if it’s just an aspirin—actually especially if it’s an aspirin—she should eat something with it unless otherwise instructed. That’s a good idea in general and certainly a good idea with a history of ulcers.”
She nodded and glanced at Anna, then stood and crossed the small exam room to stand beside her. “And what about her running?”
He grinned and his eyes twinkled at Anna as if they were old friends, which, compared to the time she’d known her aunt, they most likely were, Hannah thought with an unexpected and unmistakable twinge of jealousy.
“I am not looking to be tarred and feathered and run out of town by Coach Duncan and the rest of the track team, so I’ll say she can start running again if she starts out slow and works her way back up to speed.” He held up his index finger. “And stop immediately if you experience any pain or dizziness or anything else out of the ordinary. I’m serious.” He put a hand on Anna’s shoulder and got very sober. “I’m trusting you to use your head, young lady. The next couple of weeks are important, to give yourself time to heal. After that you’ll feel better than you have in quite a while.”
“I already do.”
“Good. But don’t push it. I want to see you back in two weeks and then we’ll decide if you can run at the meet against Ripley, where I fully expect you and the rest of the team to crush them like the bugs they are.” He laughed, becoming somber when he noticed that Anna wasn’t . . . exactly.
Though her smile was large and exuberant, both the doctor and her aunt could see that it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I won’t be here in two weeks, Dr. Kolson,” she said, her voice thick in her throat as she looked to Hannah to help her explain. She smoothed her hand across the girl’s shoulders and gave her a soft reassuring hug.
“I was going to bring that up next. I’m going to
need copies of Anna’s health records. I’m taking her back to Baltimore with me in a few days . . . if I ever get my mother’s house cleaned out. And if you could recommend a good family practice sort of doctor like yourself, that would be great. All I have is my gynecologist and I’m not sure he knows anything about running, much less runn-ers.”
The doctor was visibly taken aback.
“Yes, of course, I . . . I hadn’t thought that one through yet. Naturally, you’ll be taking her to live with you. I’ll . . . call around and see what I can do about getting you some names, and I can have her records ready by tomorrow afternoon.” He looked at Anna, clearly shaken and confused as to what to do next. “Well. That sucks.”
His declaration startled Anna and she laughed as tears welled in her eyes. “Yes, sir. And I wanted to thank—”
“We’ve been through a lot together, you and I,” he said, cutting her off, taking her hand and tugging to get her off the examination table. “First your mom, then your Gran. I didn’t lose one night’s sleep knowing you were there watching over them. I couldn’t have asked for a better nurse. I’m going to miss you.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a warm hug, then held her away from him by her shoulders to deliver his orders. “I want you to keep in touch, now. I want to hear about Baltimore and your new school and the track team there; where you decide to go to college, all of it.”
“Yes, sir.” Anna blinked several times and swiped at a tear that got away. “I will. And I want to thank you—”
“People are going to want to know how you’re doing—and, frankly, your pal Lucy makes most of them a little nervous because they never know what she’s going to do or say.”
Anna grinned. “She says that’s why we’re friends, because opposites attract.”
“In this case I believe she’s right. She can’t be taking this well.” He released Anna and opened the door, stepping back to let them exit. “I imagine Sheriff Steadman has his SWAT team on standby.”
“No, I don’t think he’s going to need one,” Anna defended her friend. “We’re working things out. We have phones and computers, and it’s only a six and a half hour drive and we’ll both be sixteen soon. We’re going to be okay.”
The doctor met Hannah’s eyes as she passed through the door in front of him. She couldn’t tell what he was trying to ask her—Is taking her away from everything she knows and loves the right thing? Can you handle this? Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Who are you?—so she lowered her eyes and looked away, not knowing how to answer him. Not knowing the answers, period.
Maybe this wasn’t the doctor, or the time, to ask for a sleeping script, she decided.
“I have no doubt of it. Now if you . . . either of you, need me or have questions, don’t hesitate to call. I’m just a phone call away.”
They both promised and thanked him and Hannah asked after outstanding medical bills on their way out. But aside from those accrued from her final, fatal heart attack, her mother had kept her bills up to date and paid. Another interesting and disquieting variance from her childhood, when the Benson family owed money to half the town and the other half knew it.
They were both quiet on the ride home, casting furtive glances at each other, the tension of their unspoken thoughts a growing, palpable thing despite the affectionate smiles they gifted to each other when their eyes met.
Biscuit and the Steadmans, all the Steadmans, were at the house ready to work when they got back to the farm. The Long boys had other after-school activities that afternoon.
Hannah had made up her mind, but her plan was only half cooked as she watched them approaching her car, eager to hear Anna’s prognosis. That they loved her was undeniable; that she loved them back was indisputable. Right or wrong Hannah knew in her heart what she needed to do.
“So what did the doctor say?” Grady asked, holding her door open for her, lowering his head a bit when she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “She’s right as rain again, right?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” She waved a hand to the other side of the car where the rest of the Steadmans hovered around her niece. “Better yet, listen.”
His gaze lifted and his features softened with humor and joy as he watched Anna and his family respond with silliness to the relief they felt. Hannah ducked around him to the front of the car. She had something to say and she didn’t want him too nearby when she said it. He might try to change her mind, but for Anna’s sake—and her own mental stability—she couldn’t let him.
“Anna? Come here a second, will you?” The girl broke away from the others and came to her, smiling. Hannah palmed her face, then watched her fingers twirl a small thatch of pale wavy hair so like her sister’s. She glanced at the Steadmans, who’d come together as the unit they were on the rider’s side of the car, watching and waiting to see what was happening.
She looked back at her niece thinking she could have made this announcement with a little more tact and . . . privacy but it was her experience that once a decision was made, it was best to carry it out promptly and get it over with.
She reached out and took both of Anna’s hands, looked her straight in the eye and said, “When I go back to Baltimore, I think you should stay here.”
Chapter Thirteen
The silence that followed Hannah’s announcement dropped loud and heavy, and it was Mrs. Steadman who broke it first.
“Oh, my.” In her distress she turned to Grady, whose expression had turned to stone; not even his eyes revealed his reaction to her words. It still took the young people several more seconds before they took action.
“Yes!” Lucy squealed, jumping up and down in place until her brother elbowed her off balance and she bumped into Biscuit. “What? This is great. Let her go back to where she came from. Anna doesn’t need her. She has us.”
“Lucy.” Grady’s voice, low and lethal, had Lucy’s attention immediately. “Keep your mouth closed and stay out of this.”
Right away Hannah could see that Lucy had gotten the wrong impression and that Grady’s anger wasn’t directed at Lucy but at her. Oh, them of little faith! So easy to jump to all sorts of wrong conclusions when you don’t know someone; when all you hear was what you want to hear, isn’t it?
But she and Anna were family. They were getting to know each other and bonding . . .
Hannah looked to her niece, expecting to see wonderment and excitement at the prospect of staying, but instead she found confusion and concern and clear, true-blue eyes blinking back tears. Anna shook her hands loose from her aunt’s and turned them to fists at her sides.
“Why? Why don’t you want me? What did I do?”
“What?” In shock she watched the tears spill over onto the girl’s cheeks. Anna looked first to Grady in disbelief and then at her friends, utterly mortified, before she turned back to Hannah. Heartbroken, she did what she did best—she ran. “Oh, God! Anna, stop. Please. You don’t understand.”
No way could she catch up with her, but she broke free of the hold Grady suddenly had on her arm and ignored whatever he was saying and followed the girl as fast as she could. They all did. Hannah, though, was only marginally aware of the others.
She chased Anna and Grady chased her; the three teens jogged along behind him as Janice Steadman took the rear, huffing and puffing and shouting, “Let’s all sit down and talk about this.” They were a gaggle of awkward, honking geese chasing a lovely, graceful swan.
Anna went around the side of the house and slipped in the back door, off the porch, through the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs to her room—no doubt in record time. She didn’t slam the door in Hannah’s face, but it closed as she arrived seconds later, out of breath and trying to swallow her thrashing heart.
“Anna,” she gasped. “Please, can I come in? Or will you come out and talk with me? Anna?” She tapped on the door as the others gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Janice kept the teens at bay as Grady moved halfway up the steps toward her. She held up her hand to
stop him. “Anna?”
“I thought we were becoming friends,” the girl called through the door, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I thought you liked me. What have I done?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ll change. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Anna—”
“Please. Please don’t leave me. I know you don’t want me, but I won’t be any trouble, I promise. I’ll . . . I’ll . . . Everybody leaves me.”
“Oh, Anna.” Enough is enough. She opened the door and marched in, went straight to the bed, drew the girl into her arms, and held her tight. “Enough now. Listen to me. Let me explain.”
She let the girl cry a few seconds longer because she hadn’t held anyone in her arms like this since Ruth; no one had needed her in years. Nor had she known the desire to give so much of herself to someone—an overwhelming, instinctive, almost animalistic necessity to comfort and protect the child in her arms.
“Anna.” She spoke near the girl’s ear, holding her with one arm, caressing her hair with the other—aware of others packed in the doorjamb. “I can’t think of any other way to work this out for the both of us. I have to go back to Baltimore this weekend. I have a business that I can’t neglect. Depending on how things go there, I could come back in a few days or maybe the next weekend for a few days.”
“But I—” Anna started, her voice cracked.
“I know you’re willing to come with me and I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re not being a little, well . . . that you’re being such a good sport about it, but the more I think about it the less this all makes sense.”
She stopped abruptly when her left shoulder began to rise up toward her ear and the grip on her left upper arm became painful. Grady mumbled from behind her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
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