by Somer Hayes
“The usual. Spread the word. Tell your friends for birthdays and weddings and stuff.”
Beth reached out to squeeze my knee. “I’m very proud of you.”
“This sucks,” I admitted.
“It does,” Karen agreed. “But I’ve watched you overcome worse. You’re no quitter, and I know you’ll be great at this.”
Thank God for these people. They’d always been my anchors when I needed them most.
“Well,” I said and stood. “There’s no time like the present.”
“Atta girl,” Karen said.
They stood to leave passing out hugs on the way. After they’d gone, I began making a list.
I intended for my future to begin right away.
40
Tripp
“Murphy, you are killing me. You know that, right?” I’d gotten suckered into returning to the Irish Pub and its mess of an owner.
“Well, these damn raccoons are killing me. So as soon as you get rid of them, I can stop bothering you about it.” His red hair was sticking out and away from his head as to form a lopsided halo.
“Once again, I don’t think raccoons are your problem.” I thought the fact that Murphy liked to drink his own beer was the problem.
“Of course, you don’t because you don’t want to kill the little bastards.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
“What kind of landlord are you, anyway?”
“Judging by your tone, a bad one.”
“I don’t know if I can renew my lease considering all the issues I’ve had.”
“Oh no. Whatever will we do?” It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to leave. Frankly, I hoped he would. I could use one less headache.
“All right, you got me. I ain’t leaving. But I still expect you to take care of the pests.”
“I’ll do my best, Murph,” I assured him and left before he could think of anything else he needed me to do.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and squinted against the sun. The day had dawned bright, and I had hoped to spend my day helping the guys run cattle, but Dad had called and needed help with some of the properties and a few other errands. He had become more and more involved with the businesses lately, and I didn’t want to discourage that so I agreed to head downtown and help him out. With any luck, I’d be back by lunchtime.
Wait. Maybe I didn’t want to be. After Hannah had gone, we’d hired the first cook we could find, a kid fresh out of college who was trying hard, but ultimately, we were surviving on lots of sandwiches and pizza. I worried if he didn’t step up his game soon, he’d have a mutiny on his hands. I almost laughed at the thought. Hannah would tell them exactly what she thought of that with a spatula threatening knuckle beatings. I thought this kid was more the type to curl into a ball and wait until the danger had passed.
They’d all asked what had happened to her and why she had left so abruptly. Bill had caught my eye but kept his mouth shut. Jake had even asked if it was something they did, if they’d been too hard on her. Ultimately, I blamed the bakery fire and told them she needed to figure a few things out. They had accepted that but still complained about the new cook like it was a job requirement.
I headed down the sidewalk to my next stop, our insurance agency. We’d gotten a call that they needed some signatures after the fire at the bakery which had also caused some damage to the adjacent buildings.
I opened the door, and a little bell signaled my arrival. A head full of short, curly hair popped up from behind a computer screen.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Tripp Maverick here for Mr. Parker.”
She stood abruptly, her big eyes covered in blue eyeshadow seemed even bigger behind the round glasses she wore. “Of course. We’ve been expecting you. If you’ll follow me?”
She bustled down a hallway and led me to a conference room. I noticed her backside seemed to be as round as the rest of her.
“You can take a seat anywhere you like,” she said with a sweep of her arm.
“Thank you,” I said and sat down.
“Can I get you coffee or water?”
“No thanks, this shouldn’t take long.”
“Okay, I’ll get you coffee.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Then she was bustling back out of the room. I had to shake my head. John Parker, the family’s insurance agent, came in. “I know that look. You met Marge.”
“She’s getting me coffee I don’t want.”
He chuckled. “She means well.”
Marge chose that moment to re-enter the room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She set it in front of me on the table and turned to John. “I’ll be right back with a cup for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, we won’t be long.”
“It’s no trouble,” she assured him and hurried back out the door.
He looked over at me. “You can’t begin to imagine how much coffee I drink since hiring her.”
Marge reappeared with John’s coffee. “Will you be needing anything else?”
“Uh, yes. The Maverick paperwork I asked you to prepare.”
“Oh darn. Be right back.”
We sipped our coffee and made small talk while we waited for Marge to return with the paperwork.
“I’m really sorry about this,” John said.
“It’s hard to find good help these days,” I offered, thinking of my staff and the new cook, and, of course, Hannah.
Marge returned with a blue folder and handed it to John with a little curtsey and then just stood there, awkwardly.
“Thanks, Marge, that’ll be all for now.”
“You don’t want me to stay?”
“No, I want you to go back to your desk and answer the phone.”
“Oh right,” she said and hurried away.
John allowed himself a frustrated sigh before opening the folder and pulling the paperwork out. “At least she printed the right things,” he muttered. “Okay, here we go.” He spun the documents to face me. “Everything came through just fine. Here are the amounts covered by your policies, and here is what we will cover for damage sustained by your renters.”
I looked over the numbers, and all but one were in line with what I’d expected. “What’s this?” It was less than a thousand dollars.
John checked the item and said, “That’s what we paid out to Hannah Price to cover her kitchen equipment.”
“So little?”
He shrugged. “That’s the amount of coverage she’d purchased.”
Talk about a kick to the nuts. First, she’d lost her bakery and everything in it, then I’d accused her of doing it for what turned out to be an almost insignificant amount of money. No wonder she’d left. I wouldn’t have put up with my shit either.
Looking over the rest of the numbers, it would have made more sense for anyone else on that paperwork to have set the fire. Myself included. If I’d had any lingering doubt as to Hannah’s innocence, it was squashed at that moment.
I needed to make this right.
I signed all the documents and shook John’s hand, then stood to leave. On my way out, I passed Marge.
“I’ll get you a cup of coffee to go,” she told me.
“No thanks. I’ve still got this one.” I raised my cup in her direction then left before she could try to refill it.
I was on a mission. Step one, find Hannah. Step two, beg for forgiveness.
41
Hannah
I’d run to three different stores to gather everything I needed from my list and then back to the apartment to assemble my new marketing plan.
I laid out twenty-four tiny boxes, lined them with buffalo check tissue paper, put two of my new cookies in each, then tied them with twine and tucked my business card under the knot. They were adorable if I did say so myself.
Then I got back in my Jeep and went to downtown Great Falls. I hadn’t been there since the fire, but I knew I’d have to face it eventually, so I squared my shoulders and p
arked at the end of the street.
My plan was to deliver a goodie box to every business on Main Street and let them know that even though my building was no longer there, I was back, and I was open for business.
I started at the pet groomer then went to the clothing store I’d never been able to afford to shop in, then to an Italian restaurant and an insurance office.
When I opened the door to the insurance company, a sweet looking older lady with round eyes and even rounder glasses greeted me. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Actually, I’m just popping in to introduce myself and leave you with a little something. I hope if you ever need catering services, you’ll keep me in mind.” I extended the box to her.
“Just let me go get Mr. Parker.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother him. I’ll leave this here, and you can give it to him later.”
“Nonsense. Coffee?”
“No but thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll bring you a cup.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I waited in the lobby until the round woman and Mr. Parker came back, each of them holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She handed me the one she was carrying and went back to her chair. So I repeated my introduction.
“Hannah Price?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” I told him, surprised he’d guessed my name.
“You have interesting timing. I was just talking about you.”
“About me?” I couldn’t keep the sound of surprise out of my voice.
“Tripp Maverick was here settling some business after the fire. It’s a real shame what happened to your bakery.”
My heart thumped at the mention of Tripp’s name, but I tried to recover quickly. “It was. I’m just glad no one was hurt,” and then I changed the subject. “I hope you enjoy the cookies. Let me know if I can ever do any catering for you.”
He raised the box in my direction. “I think I’ll have these with my coffee as a little afternoon treat. Thanks for stopping by.”
As I left, I realized how difficult it would be to carry the rest of my cookies with a cup of coffee in my hand, so I decided to take a break and thought now was as good a time as any to face my demons.
I crossed the street and went to the end of the block, then found the bench facing the lot where my bakery used to be. It was the same place I had sat the night of the fire, and as I sat there again, my feelings weren’t much different. It was so difficult to look at the empty, blackened space where just over a month ago I had been working and truly happy for the first time in my life.
For the only time in my life, I thought.
I let myself sit and wallow while I sipped my coffee. I told myself it was okay to mourn for a bit, but then it was back to work and trying to stay positive. I could do it, I promised myself firmly.
I was almost finished with my coffee when I felt someone sit down on the other end of the bench. I groaned inwardly. I was in no mood to make small talk with some stranger about the weather.
“It’s a shame what happened,” I heard my father’s voice say.
Of course. Of course, he’s here right now.
I laughed, but the sound held no mirth. I didn’t have a response for him, so instead I kept my eyes forward.
“Terrible how freak accidents can happen to such good people,” he taunted, and my blood ran cold. I felt like I was back in the night of the fire. My thoughts and reactions were sluggish as a terrible new realization tried to push its way into my consciousness.
I turned my head to look at him. “Why would you say that?”
He grinned, peeling back chapped lips from yellowed teeth. “I just hope you had insurance.”
The blood rushing through my head sounded like waves pounding a beach. It had been him. I knew it with a certainty that crushed my soul. What could be so broken in a person that they needed to cause such destruction in the lives of other people? Not just other people. Family. A daughter.
Why? Why?
I was shaking when I shot up from the bench. “How could you?” I screamed, and he stood to face me. “How could you?” I asked again and without conscious thought, began beating my fists against his chest. Years of hurt, fear, and anger boiled up in me and poured through my body. I railed against him, screaming and accusing and crying. My vision was a blur, and I wanted nothing but to inflict a fraction of the pain I was feeling into him. I hated him.
I hated him for this.
I lifted my fist to land another blow, but when I tried to deliver it, he wasn’t there. Stunned, I stopped long enough to wipe the tears from my eyes and almost couldn’t believe what I saw.
Tripp had tackled my father and was landing blow after blow to his head and face. Terrified he would kill him, I rushed to Tripp and pulled at his shirt.
“Tripp that’s enough. You have to stop now.”
He ignored me but stopped punching him long enough to haul him up by the front of his shirt. Then he flung him around to face me, and with a hand to his throat, growled, “Apologize.”
My father’s eyes were wild, blood streamed from his nose, and his bottom lip was already beginning to swell.
Tripp shook him. “I said apologize to her. Now.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Like you mean it.”
His voice shook, and he looked terrified, but he tried again. “I’m sorry, Hannah, for everything.”
Apparently satisfied, Tripp spun him so he could face him and in a low whisper said, “Leave. Leave this place and never come back. You are not to speak to her again unless she says it’s okay.” He tightened his grip. “Am I understood?”
He nodded with a pathetic whimper, and Tripp released him from his hold. He took one last look at me and ran off.
I stood in stunned silence still trying to process everything that had just happened when Tripp pulled me against him. He wrapped his strong arms around me and tucked my head into his chest.
“Hush now, baby doll. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Tears flowed down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt. I ached. The knowledge of what my father had done hurt but being back in Tripp’s arms was devastating. He was repeating the same words he’s said to me after the flood. He’d promised to take care of me, and I’d believed him. I wanted to believe him again.
When I felt like I could speak again, I pulled away from his embrace. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” His jaw ticked, and I knew he was trying to keep some control of his anger. “Enough to know that he did it.”
“You believe me now?” I asked and damn if I didn’t sound bitter.
He cursed and ran a hand down his face. “I’ve acted like an ass. You may not believe this, but I was actually looking for you. I had a meeting with our insurance agent today and know how little you made from the fire. I know you didn’t do it. I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
I sniffled and looked away.
“I overreacted about everything. I know you had your reasons for wanting to keep your privacy.” He glanced in the direction my father had run. “I wouldn’t want to claim him either, and I don’t blame you for keeping it from me.”
My turn. “No. I should have known I could trust you with it. And because I didn’t, I set all these terrible things into action.”
He shook his head. “I won’t listen to that. He alone is responsible for his actions, and if I have anything to do with it, he will never hurt you again.”
I looked back up at him, feeling more vulnerable than I ever had.
He rocked on the balls of his feet like he had more energy than he knew what to do with. “I owe you an apology. Actually, I owe you a lot of apologies. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m sorry for the way I acted. And most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”
His hands ticked up like they wanted to reach for me, but instead, he shoved them into his pockets. His stormy gray eyes bore into mine.
“Can you ever forgive me?
”
Tears began flowing down my cheeks again, and I felt myself nodding before I could get the words out. “Of course, I forgive you. I understand why you reacted the way you did. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
He shook his head. “We both made mistakes.”
I managed a smile through my tears.
“It is so good to see you,” he told me.
“You, too. I’ve missed you.”
“I’m dying to kiss you right now,” he told me, and the intensity on his face made my heart ache. I stepped into him and threw my arms around his neck. He caught me easily and planted his lips on mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. We both poured out our emotions, our frustrations, and our need for each other.
When we finally broke away from each other, he held my face in his hands and rested his forehead against mine. I grasped his wrists and breathed him in. I couldn’t believe I had made my way back into his arms, but I desperately never wanted to leave them again.
“I have no right to ask this of you, but I’m going to anyway.”
My eyes flipped up to his, the question unasked.
“Can I show you something?”
42
Tripp
My heart felt like it was in my throat as I watched her big blue eyes fill with question. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”
Relief flooded through me when she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed.
I gathered her box from the bench, then took her hand and led her to my truck. I had so many emotions warring within me. She was back. She was here with me. And she was willing to forgive me for the way I’d treated her. I truly didn’t deserve her, but I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life trying to.
We could deal with her father later. I would let her take the lead on that. If she wanted to file a police report or pursue charges, I would support her in it. If she wanted to forget he ever existed, then I would try to help her do that too.
For now, I reveled in the feeling of her small, soft hand tucked so trustingly into mine. We didn’t speak on the drive, both of us content to be in each other’s presence and let our thoughts catch up to our feelings. If she wondered where we were going, she didn’t ask.