“How so?”
Hannah smiled and laughed a little. “I love empty branches covered in snow. How in the spring, trees just come alive. Autumn is my favorite, of course.”
She paused, her cheeks filling with the pink blush that always seemed to stop him in his tracks. Aaron loved that blush and the way she talked about trees. Her face took on a young innocence, which seemed to erase the sadness she always wore.
“You said all the senses … that’s just seeing. Tell me more,” he coaxed.
The blush deepened, but so did her smile. “I love crunchy autumn leaves. It’s like Mother Nature is giving you a present … your own personal playpen, the leaves just begging to be raked into a pile and jumped into. I love the way the wind sweeps through them in the summer. It’s so calming, like those nature CD’s you can buy at health food stores.”
She closed her eyes, as if remembering the sound. Aaron tried to tune out the soft music playing in the background so he could hear what she was imagining. Squinting as he focused on her only enhanced the angelic glow the daylight from the picture window created around her.
Aaron breathed in deeply as she talked about the fresh smell in spring. “It’s like a reminder to breathe in and out … you know, to take the time to truly breathe in and out. Not just out of habit or necessity, but to live.”
She held out her hand and rubbed her fingers together, like she was feeling the leaves in her hands. “Tabs likes to be tickled on the neck with the leaves.”
Before he realized what he was doing, Aaron found his fingers skittering across her palm. For a moment, she wrapped her fingers around his. Then she jerked her hand back as her eyes snapped open and the blush on her cheeks went from deep pink to bright red. “What’s your favorite?”
He’d never really thought about trees before, but as he pictured himself sitting with Hannah against a big old oak, his arms wrapped around her, a smile on her face, he said the only thing he could come up with. “I love them in the summer.”
Hannah gestured to the book he was holding. “I meant your favorite poem?”
Oh, poem. How did he miss that? Oh, that’s right, because he was so wrapped up in listening to her he forgot this whole conversation started with Robert Frost.
“The Road Not Taken.”
“Hmm. I thought you’d choose a less well-known poem, since you’re a fan and all.”
“I’m an eternal optimist, I can’t help it.” He didn’t explain it was his prayer of hope when he had cancer. Probably best to leave that detail out. “I’d also count Two Look At Two, Into My Own, Sitting By A Bush in Broad Sunlight, and The Bearer of Evil Tidings as favorites.”
“Wow, that’s quite a list. I like The Bearer of Evil Tidings. I don’t know the others.”
Aaron noticed the bar table in the café was free. “Let’s sit down and I’ll read them to you.”
When Hannah paused, he wondered if she was debating the consequences of such a thing. Aaron realized it was a romantic gesture, almost intimate, to read poetry to a woman, but they were in a book store and he was a writer, so maybe it was just good company.
“Umm, ok,” she said.
Her breath hitched when he put his hand to at the small of back. He was just trying to be a gentleman and guide her down the aisle, but there was no ignoring the heat that passed between them. Had she felt it, too?
The air seemed colder as she sat down on the bar chair in the café and he was forced to give his hands something else to do. Sitting across from her, Aaron flipped to the table of contents in the anthology, searching for the titles of the three poems he was excited share with Hannah. Two Look at Two, that was a good one to start with. Maybe it was a little bold to read the love poem first, but people had a tendency to remember more vividly the first thing they heard and the last thing they heard. If he was already going forward with the romantic gesture, he may as well show all his cards.
When he finished reading the three poems, Hannah was studying him. She said nothing as her angelic glow morphed into a devilish smile.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing”
“There’s obviously something. Your smile gives you away.”
Hannah chuckled. “You really are an eternal optimist. Those last two poems may as well have been The Road Not Taken. Are you so sure in all your decisions? Or maybe I’m just reading you wrong and it’s all about regret?”
She hadn’t read him wrong at all. “I don’t have any regrets, but sometimes I struggle with decisions.” Like whether or not to tell her he’s a survivor. “But I am an optimist. I have faith everything happens for a reason, that the road you choose to follow is the one intended for you.”
The snorting breaks of a passing truck caught Hannah’s attention out the window. Her smile slowly disappeared as she watched the truck before people passing by held her attention. She fiddled with the wedding band on her left hand. “So you asked me here to read the article you wrote?”
What had he said that seemed to scare her off and bring that sadness back to her hazel eyes? Without knowing what had triggered it, how he could get her back?
Andrew Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress rang loud in his head over the subtle music that played from the store speakers. Yes, an age at least for every part, he thought, but Time's wingèd chariot was always hurrying near and he couldn’t afford to scare her off. She was suddenly all business, though. Maybe it was best to back off, at least for now, follow her lead and get down to business. When the time was right he’d find a way to get her back.
Aaron nodded, pulling the printed copy of the article out of his backpack and handing it to her. “Can I get you a coffee while you’re reading it?”
“Thank you,” she said. “A latte would be great.”
Aaron ordered a couple lattes and watched Hannah as she read the article. A jack-hammer replaced the beat of his heart as he waited for a reaction from her. The article was supposed to be about the ride, but the angle he took focused on Hannah and the mission she’d taken up to fight back against cancer after losing Steven.
She sat so still, Aaron didn’t even see her shake or nod her head. She turned the pages one by one, but from the back he couldn’t read any emotions. Holding their coffees as he moved around the chairs, Aaron found tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, bringing his jack-hammering heart to a dead stop.
“Oh, God, you hate it,” he said as put the latte on the table.
She wiped the tears, and as her hand fell, it sent the latte flying across the table and straight into his chest.
Aaron jumped back, trying to get away from the heat burning through his shirt. It was no use, the hot coffee and steamed milk were now one with the fabric, the bulk of it creating a Rorschach pattern on the gray cotton, while the excess dripped between his feet.
“Crap! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to pat him down with a napkin. When that seemed a futile effort, she squatted to wipe up the floor.
“If you don’t like the article, you could have just told me,” he joked.
Looking up from her squat, Hannah shook her head. “Aaron, the article is wonderful! Really! This was just an accident.”
When Aaron lifted her from the crouch, horror flashed across her face. She grabbed more napkins off the table and dabbed at his shirt again. Aaron didn’t care about the Rorschach – her hands on his chest made every scolding drop worth it, even if they were just trying to clean-up some coffee. He didn’t however, want her to feel bad about the spill.
“Hannah, please, it’s just an old shirt. Don’t worry about the coffee.” He grabbed her hands, holding them against the wet fabric and his racing heart.
Her gasp signaled she was feeling the same surge of chemistry that zapped, Aaron. He just wasn’t sure what to make of her jerking her hands free so quickly as a light pink flush covered her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered.
When the gentleman who had made the coffees began sweeping a mop across the floor, Hannah sat in th
e club chair and Aaron followed. She focused on the papers on the table.
Shaking her head, she spoke so softly Aaron had to lean in. “There’s just so much emotion in this story. It’s almost like you’ve lived it. Like you were there. Like you knew Steven.”
A normal beat thumped in his chest again as relief pumped through him even though a betrayal took root in his chest. She had seen it on the page. He had lived it, had been there, and he did know Steven, in some ways. Now was the perfect time to tell her he’d had cancer, but he just couldn’t find his voice.
Aaron silently listed off all the things Steven had to live for and had lost; parents and a sister who still held him so dear, the beautiful daughter who probably had no recollection of her loving father, and Hannah. Amazing and beautiful with her modest nature and blushing cheeks. He admired her passion for Relay and increasing awareness about prevention.
All words lodged in his throat because he had lost nothing. Now that Hannah had come into his life, he didn’t want to lose her. Was it fate to be here with her now, the woman he knew he was going to fall in love with … if he hadn’t already.
As Aaron reached for his coffee, she touched his hand while tapping the pages on the table. “Thank you! Thank you so much for this.”
He was humbled by Hannah’s emotion, aware that even though he spoke no lies, he was deceiving he. Squeezing her hand, he hoped his deception didn’t show. “I’m glad you like it. Have you looked at the photos yet?”
Hannah flipped to the five images he had written captions under. The first one she looked at was one of the posed photos of her with Tabitha, Malinda, and Donna gathered around Steven’s motorcycle.
“I’m not surprised you chose this one,” she said.
“I look at the four of you and I see Steven’s past, present, and future. Seeing all of you together reminded me of the Three Queens in Mourning photo.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“When the Queen of England’s father died in 1952, a photographer captured the then princess, her mother, and the King’s mother just before they went into the chapel. It’s a very moving photo of a mother, a wife, and a daughter all mourning the same man. With the four of you around Steven’s motorcycle, it just reminded me of that scene.”
Hannah didn’t say anything as she turned the page and focused on the picture of her with Tabitha in a celebratory embrace at the conclusion of the ride. “Triumph,” she murmured.
Aaron cringed at the way she read the caption, worried he had gotten it all wrong. He’d been sure she felt triumphant after completing the ride. “Tabitha was beaming with pride when she ran over to you.”
“Yeah, I was a little embarrassed by the applause.” The modesty faded as her face lit up. “But it’s a nice feeling to know my daughter’s proud of me.”
As she flipped to the next image, her breath surged out on gasp. It was a snapshot of her and Malinda before the ride, standing behind Steven’s motorcycle, their foreheads resting against each other’s, their eyes closed, their hands clasped tightly. The space between their two bodies formed a heart by which the other riders could be seen getting on their bikes. The caption spoke of childhood friends and lifelong sisters sharing a prayer for the man who bonded them in name.
Hannah traced the heart, pursing her lips in a tight smile and blinking back tears.
“You’re friendship is inspiring,” he said, resting his hand on her knee, a spark shooting through his entire body.
She must have felt it, too, because for a few seconds she held her breath. Then her shoulders dropped as she exhaled through a smile. “She stayed with me the entire ride.” Her hand traced along the picture again. She spoke softly, as though the words were meant only for her own ears. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Ah, so it wasn’t his touch at all that had her gasping. It was just the thought of her friend.
Then she laughed as she flipped to the next picture. “Thank goodness. I was really hoping I wasn’t in every picture.”
You have no idea, he thought, knowing that of the couple hundred pictures he had snapped, Hannah appeared in more than half of them. He had selected the pictures that showed the most emotion. He wanted to do an entire spread of her, lord knew he had shot enough pictures, but the article was supposed to be about the ride, not exclusively about Hannah Locke and his apparent obsession with her.
“Look at the emotion on Frank’s face,” she said.
The photo showed Frank saying a silent prayer as he rested one hand on the front of Steven’s Harley. “Love and pain,” Aaron said. The emotions played out in equal strength across the face of Steven’s father.
“I think he’s happy I started riding Steven’s bike, instead of selling it. I don’t think he could bear to see anyone else on it.” Aaron was happy about that, too. She belonged on that Softail. Remembering how she straddled the motorcycle, he wondered how her legs would feel pressed up against his, riding on the back of his bike. Then straddled over his thighs as he pulled her close and kissed her lips, his hands sifting through the golden red strands of her soft hair.
“Is something wrong?” Hannah asked, and Aaron realized his eyes were closed as his little motorcycle fantasy played out in his head.
“Uh, no. It’s just the sun reflecting off the bank. It’s a little bright.” He shifted his position on the chair to play up that excuse, hoping to hide the hard-on coming to life in his jeans.
Fortunately, her attention went back to the pictures as she turned to the image that captured the parade of riders as they traveled down the hill and into the sharp bend in front of the General Store in Bath. Again she didn’t speak, just flipped to the last image, a panoramic shot that captured the riders again as they made the final turn onto Dickinson Street and into the long driveway.
“These pictures, they’re just amazing. All of them,” she said as she continued to flip through the images, tears still pouring from her eyes.
He wiped a tear from her face, her skin so soft and warm, and warming even more as pink filled her cheeks.
“Photography is my first love,” he admitted as he reluctantly pulled his hand away. “Writing is my second.”
“Well, you’re equally talented in both. Thank you. Thank you so much for this.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, Aaron trying to think of something to say. He finally settled on poetry again. “So are there other poets you like?”
“I’m not actually all that familiar with poetry. I took a class in college and really liked it. My professor told me I had a real ear for it, but aside from Frost, I’ve never read anything outside of what was assigned in class.”
“Have you ever been to the Frost Place in Franconia?”
“Nope.”
“Would you like to? They have a resident poet there every summer. They also hold regular poetry readings. I’d love to take you.”
Aaron hoped he wasn’t being too forward or presumptuous. He never missed a reading at the Frost Place. He’d love to share that with Hannah and debate the deeper meanings of the poems with her.
She didn’t say anything for a long time, just sat there gripping the papers between her fingers. “Sounds lovely,” she finally said, but her reply was non-committal.
“I need to go get Tabitha.” She laughed a little as she stood up. “And you need to change your shirt. Thank you for the coffee.”
Aaron stood, too. “Let me walk you out.”
Her polite smile that told him his time with her was limited at best. Hannah led him to the stairs and he walked next to her as they headed out to the back parking lot. When they reached her car, Hannah turned to him. “Well, thanks for the coffee and the story. It really is wonderful.”
As she turned to walk away, Aaron grabbed her hand. It’s now or never, jackass.
“Hannah, I’d like to see you again. Would you have dinner with me? Let me take you and Tabitha out. We could go to the Montshire Museum or maybe a playground.” He stoppe
d rambling before sounding too much like a fool. He had only intended to ask her to dinner, but he wanted to give her options to increase the chances of her saying yes, or maybe she’d just feel sorry for the rambling idiot and say yes to shut him up.
~*~
Oh, hell. How was she going to say no to him after the amazing story he wrote and the pictures he took? Her heart had been racing since the moment he called and jumped out of her chest every time he touched her. Now, though, remembering the way Aaron spoke of fate, of things happening for a reason, anger began to brew.
Hannah wasn’t so convinced that everything happened for a reason. Steven’s meaningless death made no sense. It was completely pointless. Ever since he had been diagnosed with cancer, she held little faith in the sentiment that everything happened for a reason.
That didn’t matter at this moment. Aaron had asked a question and she had to give him an answer. Decisions. He was confident in his. Hannah respected him for having no regrets, and could relate to what he said, especially about struggling with decisions. She had struggled with so many. Did she regret any? Not that she could recall. She was always strong in her resolve. She had to be. Second-guessing herself would only drive her mad.
She was however, second-guessing herself now. Had she made the right decision to meet Aaron today? This man didn’t fit into her formula. Life had been so simple before her eyes met his just yesterday.
Hannah realized her attraction to him extended far beyond just physical. He read poetry to her, for crying out loud – and she enjoyed it, not to mention everything else about him. As much as she wanted to deny it, the truth was she wanted to see him again.
“Let me think about it,” she said, her defense mechanisms kicking in. “Call me later in the week, ok?”
Hannah could screen calls and avoid him, forget to call him back. Eventually he’d give up. She’d never seen him before the motorcycle ride, so the chances of running into him were slim. Yeah, avoid him and get over this wanting, then get on with life using her perfect formula.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 219