When he asked how she first became involved with Relay For Life, Hannah saw it as an opportunity to promote awareness. That was what kept the Relay ball rolling for her. Maybe, just maybe, if she fought back hard enough, no one else would suffer the kind of loss and heartache she had.
Hannah focused more on the lush green surroundings than the sex appeal of the man sitting across from her. Fighting back was comfortable, relatively speaking, and comforting, in a distorted way. She’d prefer to have her husband than to fight back, but the only miracle she could work was the kind that kept others from dying … not the kind that brought the dead back to life.
“As you know, Steven died five years ago,” she started, her strong resolve demanding to be heard. “When we learned the cancer was terminal, we joined a support group, to help Steven.” Hannah paused. Thinking about how Steven conned her into joining the support group always made her chuckle. He needed it, he had told her. After he died, she found out he had insisted they join because he thought she needed it. Boy, he knew her well. Hannah never would have asked for help, never would have sought out people who understood the devastation of cancer. She was so grateful for that group of people, because with them, there was no need to ask for help or try to be understood. It just intrinsically existed.
Shaking off the memory, she got back to the story. “The two people who started the group, Barbi and Glenn, are really involved with Relay. In fact, Barbie’s the event chair this year. They’ve been on the planning committee ever since Relay started in Littleton. Barbi asked me to help with registration. She figured since I work at a bank, I’d be good handling money.”
“Is that when you started your team as well?” Aaron asked, his intense brown eyes making her skin tingle.
“Oh, no.” Shaking her head, she tried to stay focused. “To be honest, I didn’t want to help. It was just a month after Steven died, and I was a wreck. To be around all those people, who had experienced cancer and loss the way I had, yeah, I just didn’t want to be around that. It was too much.”
Had she just told him she was a wreck? Holy confession. Sexy reporter didn’t need to know that. Neither did the rest of the North Country who read the paper. “Umm, you don’t have to put that in the story – the part about me being a wreck.”
He just smiled, but the sincerity felt like a promise that her secret was safe with him, so she continued with the story.
“Anyway, Barbi’s persistent. She’s not the type of person you can say no to, so I agreed to help with registration. As soon as registration was closed, I was going to leave.” Yep, that was the plan, to leave before she became too overwhelmed by all the emotion the event was sure to stir.
His eyes dropped to her mouth, but it had to be because she was smiling. “But you didn’t leave?”
Hannah laughed as she shook her head. “Have you ever been to Relay?” she asked, unsure if the reporter had any involvement with the event outside of his job obligation.
“Yeah, I Relay down in Lebanon. This will be my seventh year.”
“Then you know what it’s like. I expected to be miserable. I mean, I was barely getting through a normal day … without having a couple dozen meltdowns. The atmosphere though, God, I just can’t explain it.” It was like being with her support group friends to the millionth power.
Aaron smiled and she knew he got it. Every Relayer did. She wondered how he had become involved in Relay.
“Have you lost someone to cancer? Is that why you Relay?” His smile disappeared, but Hannah couldn’t pinpoint the emotion tightening his expression. It wasn’t loss. Guilt, maybe?
“No, I’ve never lost anyone to cancer,” he told her. “I was a paralegal at a law firm. There were a couple survivors in the firm, so they had a team even before I went to work there. They recruited me.” The words were all fact, as though well-rehearsed, with absolutely no emotion attached to them. It seemed strange, but she realized he was used to asking the questions, not answering them. It was probably odd being interviewed when you were supposed to be doing the interviewing.
“So what happened after registration? Is that when you decided to start a team?” he asked, going back into reporter mode.
Ok, back on task. She probably shouldn’t be asking him questions, but couldn’t help herself. That feeling he inspired had her wanting to know more about him, from where he came from to how he looked naked. Yeah, she was totally back on task. Logic? That was completely gone.
“The Fight Back ceremony started right after my shift ended. I saw a whole line of people dressed up in costumes, singing the Twelve Months of Relay. It was a song the activities chairperson had written based on the Twelve Days of Christmas. Oh my gosh, it was so funny.”
Hannah remembered how she laughed and how eye-opening it was. At that point she realized this was something fun she could do with Tabitha, to honor Steven and to fight back so maybe no other little girls would lose their daddy.
With a quick glance to her left where Tabs was playing in the sandbox, Hannah noticed Malinda carrying a bucket of water from the spout near the cellar door. Donna and Frank were heading around the back of the house, most likely for more chairs. A half dozen other riders milled around, lending a hand wherever they could. Hannah needed to speed up the interview so she could be useful to the fundraiser.
“I walked the track as everyone was setting up the luminaria bags. It was humbling. I read every bag – about 700 of them.” The sting of tears had her pausing again as the memory of one particular bag made her chest ache. It was in memory of Steven. She had been so surprised when she found it. When Barbi came up behind and wrapped her arms around Hannah, she knew who had honored Steven in such a special way.
Blinking back the tears, Hannah focused on getting on with the interview. “I talked to a lot of people that night, made some new friends. The whole experience was, well, it was surprisingly comforting. I learned that forty percent of the funds raised by Relay For Life go directly to research and a portion of the funds support local programs, like the support group.
“But what sealed the deal was when I found out that ACS-sponsored research had contributed to the drop in the testicular cancer mortality rate over the last thirty years. Most men survive it these days.”
Anger gnawed at her. Most men survive testicular cancer, but not all. Her loss was living proof of that. If only they had been more aware.
She fought back the anger and the tears. “That’s why awareness is so important and why I started our team. If we can raise awareness, early detection can save more lives.”
More husbands. More fathers. More hearts.
Hannah shifted her gaze from the reporter to the sandbox again where Tabitha filled pink plastic tea cups with sand from a pink plastic teapot. Tea time, one of Hannah’s favorite sandbox activities. The tea was a little grainy, but the company was good. Malinda sat criss-cross-applesauce right next to Tabs. Maybe Hannah would join them when the interview was over, especially since no one seemed concerned that she wasn’t helping with set-up.
“Malinda told me Tabitha was born while Steven was in remission.” Aaron watched the tea party, a subtle smile on his lips as if he wanted to be in the sandbox enjoying grainy tea.
“Yeah, she’s our little miracle. The doctors said it was unlikely we could get pregnant, but Steven wanted to try.”
Hannah’s eyes drifted, first to the lush green behind the reporter, then resting briefly on the cleft of his chin before finding the gravel under her boots. Guilt ripped through her, just as it always did when she thought about how they had waited to start having children. From the moment they were married, Steven wanted kids, but Hannah wanted to wait, enjoy their time together before they had to be responsible parents. She always thought thirty was a good age to start. After Steven’s initial diagnosis, she wouldn’t deny him that any longer. He had beat the cancer and deserved everything he wanted.
As the memories of Steven’s triumph flooded her, Hannah laughed while fanning her heals a
cross the gravel. Steven was on top of the world, but none more so than when she told him they were pregnant. Nothing could keep his guys from fulfilling their destiny, he had boasted. “He wanted a child so badly,” she muttered to the reporter. “More precisely, he wanted a daughter. If it is possible to will a life to form, Steven achieved it.”
That was when Hannah finally allowed herself to truly share in Steven’s triumph. She had been scared. Remission wasn’t a cure, but surely the miracle of an unlikely pregnancy was a sign he was cured. It needed to be because she sure as hell didn’t want to raise a child alone.
“Tabitha was six months old when Steven’s cancer came back,” Hannah stated as her toes took their turn in the gravel. In and out, in and out, the rough pebbles cleared, the smooth dirt underneath looking like an hourglass.
The fanning feet did nothing to keep her emotions in check. As anger seeped out, she stomped her right foot repeatedly into the hourglass-shaped dirt. “Eighteen months after that first round of chemo had finished. Eighteen months – and it had spread. It was everywhere. There was nothing they could do except make him comfortable.”
She took deep breaths between every sentence trying to keep the tears back, but they pooled anyway. Oh, how she had dreaded another round of chemo. It had made Steven so weak, so sick, but he told the doctors he’d do it and told Hannah that maybe they were wrong. He beat it once. He could do it again.
“They only gave him a year, fourteen months at best. Steven never gave up hope. He held on for two years. He saw Tabs take her first steps and heard her first words.”
Of course, that was just a cover story. Steven had known all along he was going to die. She knew it from the prayer he said every day. It was inevitable and he was apparently at peace with that, something Hannah still resented.
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when Aaron touched her hand. There was comfort in his touch, which she found even more startling.
As the May breeze kicked up a notch, she lifted her chin and willed the tears away. “The doctors told us early detection could have saved his life,” Hannah said with regret. “It just sounds so simple. Early detection. What I wouldn’t give to have known that eight, nine, ten years ago.”
Aaron squeezed her hand and she dreaded his next words. Please, don’t go there. She’d gone off on a tangent, guilt was shining as bright as the sun. Hannah didn’t want any reassurances it wasn’t her fault. She’d heard it dozens of times, from dozens of people. It didn’t alleviate any of the guilt. It never would.
Instead, he remained silent. A purple shirt caught Hannah’s eye. Malinda’s roller derby friend Sin-der-Elly, strode from the house to the sandy tea party. Elly always helped set up for the motorcycle ride and cookout. She was a sweetheart, proud to sport the purple survivor shirt. What Hannah wouldn’t give to see the love of her life wearing one of those purple shirts.
Aaron squeezed her hand again. “You’re a survivor, too, you know. Maybe not in the way she is,” he nodded toward Elly, “but you are a survivor, Hannah.”
“I’d give anything not to be.”
~*~
Dammit, Aaron thought as Hannah walked away. Looking at the empty note pad sitting on his lap, he gripped the pencil. He hadn’t taken a single note while interviewing Hannah because every word she spoke was burned into his memory.
His heart had raced since the moment he locked eyes with her over the lens of his camera. Now it was in overdrive, beating so fast it was like the RPM of an engine at full throttle stuck in first gear. He wanted to follow her, but couldn’t move knowing he’d pushed too hard during the interview. Following her would only chase her away even more, so he let her go, at least for now.
Her head hung low, her feet dragging across the green grass, probably thinking about her husband. It was obvious she still loved him. Aaron’s heart ached at the thought of how painful it must be to be alone, to have lost her husband like that. He couldn’t fathom that kind of pain, which was a small source of the guilt he lived with.
As she took a seat in the sandbox with her daughter, Malinda, and the survivor in the purple shirt, he recalled the way she spoke of Relay – of fighting back. It was inspiring. More than that, his heart jumped remembering the way she looked at him with those hazel eyes. He wondered if he was making it up or if there was something there, especially when their gazes had held during the photo shoot.
Heaven help him, he hoped it wasn’t his imagination. He was, however, there to get the story. As reporter, Aaron wanted to appear professional even though he struggled not to pull Hannah into his arms and hold her until her pain was a distant memory. When the tears slid down her cheeks, he was desperate to caress them away. That’s not why he was there, though. His attraction to this woman couldn’t distract him from the job. His editor was, after all, expecting a story on this fundraising event to be on her desk by the Monday morning deadline.
Aaron snapped a couple pictures of the ladies enjoying their tea in the sandbox.Even though they couldn’t see Main Street from where the Locke’s house perched on the hill, the roar of motorcycles passing by caught their attention. When Malinda checked her watch, it prompted Aaron to do the same, and as the women left their tea party, he knew it was time to head to the Wire Mill where the riders would rally before the ride got under way.
Malinda and the survivor in the purple shirt eased across the lawn as Hannah took her daughter into another playful, loving embrace that tugged at Aaron’s heart. It was evident Hannah was a good mother and seven year old Tabitha adored her. Aaron snapped a couple more pictures as the mother and daughter chatted and giggled. When Hannah turned to make her way back to her husband’s motorcycle, he slung the camera across his shoulder, striding over to his own motorcycle.
Straddling the orange Harley Sportster XR1200, Aaron was about to put his camera in his back pack when Malinda rendezvoused with Hannah at Steven’s motorcycle. The two friends shared an affectionate exchange. Words of encouragement, he wondered as he spied through the camera’s viewfinder. The two friends smiled and hugged while Aaron captured their strong bond. He pushed aside the guilt of invading their private moment, reminding himself he was there to observe and report. Malinda had invited him, another fact that allowed him to shrug off the guilt by a fraction.
All the riders who had come to help with the event saddled up. Aaron put his camera away and got his helmet on before seeking one last glimpse at Hannah. He wanted to ride alongside her, but she looked to be praying, or maybe just remembering. For him to wait was definitely intrusive, so he fired up the bike and headed out the driveway.
Chapter 2
Hannah fired up the Softail and sat there as the other riders departed, needing a moment to collect herself. This was always an emotional day. The first year, the ride was held on the anniversary of Steven’s death. This year it was the weekend before – not as ideal as having the ride the weekend after her annual meltdown, but she could deal with it. At least, she thought she could. Now, riding in her first major event on Steven’s motorcycle, the heartache she’d known for so long stabbed deep in her heart.
She had ridden on the back of Steven’s Harley hundreds of times. Just a month ago was the first time Hannah had ridden it without him. She had gone out a couple times a week in preparation for the memorial ride, and even though she was physically ready, no amount of riding could prepare her emotionally.
She missed Steven. She hated cancer.
Tucking the sadness and anger away like a dirty hankie, Hannah focused on the here and now and what she needed to do to get the bike rolling. F.I.N.E.-C.C., she thought to herself, remembering the acronym she learned during the motorcycle safety course.
F – fuel, turn on the fuel. Ok, good.
Now I – ignition. Reaching with her gloved right hand, she turned the key. Good.
N – neutral. Fully focused now, Hannah kicked the pedal down and back up to make sure the bike was in neutral.
E – engine. With a quick move of her thu
mb, she flicked the engine cut off switch to the on position.
C – choke. It wasn’t cold, so she ignored the choke.
C – clutch. Hannah squeezed the clutch with her left hand and pushed the start button with her right thumb.
As the Softail began to purr, she drew in another deep breath before catching some movement from the corner of her eye.
Tabitha waved emphatically, a big smile lifting her cheeks as she beamed with a pride that struck every chord in Hannah’s heart. Hannah smiled back, recalling how Tabs often bragged about her. None of her friends’ moms rode a motorcycle, which meant all of her friends thought Tabitha’s mom was the coolest. So did Tabitha. Giving her daughter a quick nod, Hannah took one last deep breath, easing the clutch out and rolling on the throttle. She was on her way, reaching the back of the pack before the last rider was out of the long driveway.
As the group pulled into the parking lot at New England Wire, Hannah noticed there were already riders gathered, waiting patiently for registration to begin.
New England Wire Technologies offered their parking lot as the rallying place for the annual memorial ride. It was a convenient location, right on Main Street in Lisbon, where U.S. Route 302 passed through town. The executives at the Mill, as it was known around town, were happy to offer the lot since Steven had worked there as an electrical engineer before the cancer took him. Steven’s mother, Donna still worked at the Mill, and Steven’s father Frank had worked there until he retired a couple years ago.
Hannah parked the bike next to the couple dozen others and rushed over to the registration table Frank had set up in the shade of the red maple next to the road. She hardly had a moment to think with all the people lined up to register. There were two lines, one in front of her, one in front of Malinda. They worked the riders through the lines in perfect sync, writing down each rider’s name, having them sign the liability waiver, and collecting their payment. They were a well-oiled machine, always had been. Whatever they did together they did perfectly: their friendship, their exploits, even being sisters-in-law. Malinda was the yang to Hannah’s yin, and she knew, without Malinda she wouldn’t have any balance in her life. For all the sadness that still filled her very essence, her yang provided the honesty and perspective that kept Hannah in the here and now.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 215