At some point in the past decade, she’d realized that any feelings she might have once had for Will had been nothing more than girlish fantasies. And certainly, they had been.
But then how did she explain what had happened before he had taken her home yesterday? Why had his touch gotten to her? Made her want to put her arms around his neck, press herself to his strong, hard chest? Was it comfort she sought? The closeness of another human being? Or something more? How long had it been since she’d felt that way? Had she ever?
Yes, once. Once.
Later that day, Hannah drove to Meadow Spring to visit her Aunt Sarah. It was a visit she both looked forward to and dreaded at the same time. She never knew whether Sarah would recognize her or not. She checked in at the front desk and then made her way down the hallway filled with paintings of sunshine and ocean shores. A mop and bucket sat in the middle of the floor. The corridor smelled of disinfectant, and Hannah’s stomach churned at the pungent odor.
She stopped in the doorway. Sarah lay on her side with her face to the window, staring out at the grounds where a few residents walked with visitors among the leafless trees. Hannah thought of the phone call she’d received from Sarah’s doctor a couple of days before and his reassurance that the Alzheimer’s symptoms did not seem to have progressed, for the moment, anyway.
She ached for what her aunt had already suffered, her losing touch with the things she held so dear, the things she had passed on to Hannah throughout her childhood: her passion for Chopin, her respect for Monet.
Hannah blinked and then forced the sadness from her expression before stepping inside. “Aunt Sarah?”
Sarah Jacobs turned, a smile transforming her pale, wrinkled face. “Hannah. You’re here.”
Hannah sighed, thankful to see that the eyes staring up at her were those of her aunt and not of some stranger. “And I’m so glad to see you. My, aren’t you looking well today!”
A half smile crinkled the corners of the woman’s mouth and brightened the tired eyes. “That’s a matter of opinion, child.”
“You look wonderful. I brought you some goodies. Apples and a couple of bananas.”
“I appreciate it, dear. But you didn’t have to do that.”
Hannah sat down on the side of the bed and leaned over to give her aunt a hug, dismayed by the realization that Sarah seemed to be getting smaller with each passing week. Hannah pulled back to look down at her aunt intently. “How are you feeling?”
“Rather well, today. How are you, my dear?”
“I’m fine,” she said, hoping the words were convincing.
Sarah reached up and ran a veined hand across her niece’s hair. “You should wear it down, dear. Such lovely hair. You always had such lovely hair.”
Hannah shrugged and made light of the remark. “It’s just easier this way.”
“Yes, I know,” the old woman allowed with a pat on Hannah’s hand. “But the young men like it down. Tell me, are you seeing anyone?”
Hannah looked away and told herself the white lie was for a good cause. If it made her aunt feel better, she would have no compunction about it. “Here and there. No one serious.”
“You need a husband. Someone to give you children. When I think of what my life would have been like without you. You were a blessing to me. Whatever my brother’s faults, I’ll always be thankful to him for giving you to me.” She patted her niece’s hand again. “Tell me what you’ve done this week.”
Hannah hesitated, debating whether to confide in Sarah about the events of the past few days. Needing to talk about it, Hannah said after a moment, “It’s been rather unusual, really. An old friend is back in Lake Perdue. He played professional football. Will Kincaid.”
Sarah’s eyes found Hannah’s. “John Kincaid’s boy?”
Hannah was surprised she’d remembered. “Uh-huh. Anyway, he wants to help raise some money for the library bookmobile. We’re going to put on a carnival, if the board approves it.”
“What a wonderful idea.”
Hannah looked down at her hands to subdue her own excitement. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Sarah studied her niece with quizzical eyes. “Is he married?”
Her cheeks warm, Hannah focused on the lawn beyond the window. “It’s nothing like that. Will Kincaid is…famous. And he won’t be in town for long.”
There were days when Sarah Jacobs didn’t remember the name of the state she lived in or where she had put her toothbrush. But this was a subject upon which the two of them had long been at loggerheads—Hannah’s refusal to get out and join the living. Sarah’s voice was unexpectedly strong when she said, “Now, what is that supposed to mean? I won’t have you putting yourself down. You know I’ve been after you for years to fix yourself up a bit. You try far too hard to blend into the woodwork.”
Hannah flinched. The words struck a little too close to the comment Will had made.
The old woman’s voice broke as she added, shaking her head, “If it hadn’t been for that business with Tom…I never should have let him get away with it.”
Hannah blinked and said quickly, “Aunt Sarah—”
“No, no,” she insisted with a raised hand, her words coming in rushed fragments. “He should have been punished. You’ve never gotten over it. It’s all my fault.”
“Aunt Sarah, shh. Don’t say that.” She pressed a hand against her aunt’s wrinkled cheek. “Please. Don’t say that. My life’s just fine. I have no complaints.”
“It’s not natural. You should be thinking about marriage. I know you never go out. You just say so to make me feel better.” She took Hannah’s hand in hers and clasped it tightly. “My dear, promise me you’ll put the past behind you. You have a life to live. I couldn’t die in peace knowing you’ll never let yourself be happy.”
Hannah swallowed. Her eyes grew moist. “Aunt Sarah, don’t say such things.”
“We both know I’m not going to be around forever, child,” she said with the honesty she’d always insisted on in their relationship. She’d never kept anything from Hannah, not the fact that Paul and Katy Jacobs hadn’t been ready for a child when they’d had her, or the fact that she felt responsible for Hannah’s living a life that would lead to nothing but loneliness. “And if I don’t take what chance I have to tell you how I feel, there may never be another. Put what’s over and done with behind you. There are good men in this world. Give one of them a chance. That’s all I ask.”
Hannah leaned forward and took her aunt’s frail body in her arms, holding on with all the love she felt for the dear woman, her throat too tight for words.
Chapter Nineteen
After the Sunday she’d spent with her aunt, Monday morning seemed gray. Hannah had been so glad to see that Sarah had been more her old self. But that lucidity always brought with it the questions that troubled the woman. What would Hannah do once she was gone? Would she never find anyone to share the rest of her life?
Sarah’s distress always disturbed Hannah. But yesterday, her aunt had seemed particularly agitated. Hannah feared the worst—that she might have little time left. The doctors could give Hannah no definite answers, only vague estimates that hung over her like an awful grey cloud threatening to burst.
Hannah wished she’d said nothing about Will Kincaid being in Lake Perdue. Sarah had latched onto the fact that they would be working together as if it meant a romance was sure to be in the making.
Hannah hadn’t known how to tell her that nothing could be further from the truth. And so, she’d let the dear old woman think the possibility existed.
Now, as she stood before the bathroom mirror getting ready for work, Hannah yanked a brush through her hair, intent on punishing herself for her stupidity. How could she have done such a thing?
The bulb in the bathroom light fixture flickered, blinked off, then on again. She caught her expression in the oval mirror and felt as though she was looking at a stranger.
Sometimes, she felt as if she didn’t recognize
her own face at all. It was a face she’d avoided scrutinizing for so long that it had become second nature. She never looked too closely for fear of what she might see. Now she leaned closer as if seeing herself for the first time in years.
Newly washed, her hair lay parted to one side. Left loose, it hung just past her shoulders, full with a slight natural curl. Not that the curl mattered, because she always wore her hair pulled straight back in a bun. It was easier that way. Wide hazel eyes stared back at her. If she had a best feature, they were it. She never enhanced them with eyeliner or mascara.
She thought about Will and wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he find her plain? Unappealing? She touched a finger to her face. How would she look with a touch of makeup? A dab of lipstick?
Had Aunt Sarah been right? Had she let herself become plain and detached from everyone and everything around her?
She dropped the brush, which landed with a clatter in the sink. She wheeled and headed for the bedroom where she yanked her navy wool jumper and a white blouse from the closet. She was who she was. There was no changing it.
She was who she was. But for the first time in years, Hannah had made one small change in her appearance on that brisk day in March. She stepped out the front door, turned the lock and set off down the walk with her hair full and heavy against her shoulders.
Chapter Twenty
As soon as she got to work, Hannah put in a call to Ralph Smithers at the supervisor’s office. She explained Will’s idea to him, relieved to find the man as enthusiastic about it as she was. “You mean Will’s really willing to devote his time to the project?”
She affirmed that he was and hung up the phone with the assurance that they would have the board’s full approval.
To Hannah’s relief, twelve o’clock had come and gone before Jenny got a chance to corner her. They’d been busy that morning, but as soon as things tapered off, she looked up from her position at the front desk to find her friend bearing down on her with a look of determination.
Jenny leaned against the desk. “I thought I’d never get around to this.”
“This?” Hannah asked innocently.
“You know very well what this is. You knew him,” Jenny accused. “All that talking I did about him, and you never said you knew him.”
“It was nothing, Jen.” She shrugged. “Really it wasn’t. I knew him in high school. I didn’t even think he’d remember me. In fact, he didn’t. It was my car he rammed that day, and he didn’t remember me until the next day. He only asked me to sit with him at the fundraiser to make up for that, I’m sure.”
“And is that why he wanted to take you home?” the older woman asked with a raised brow.
Hannah looked down at the form she’d been filling out. “He was being courteous.”
“And he thought you looked thirsty, so that’s why he took you for coffee at the cafe,” Jenny added.
Flustered, Hannah said, “It was nothing.”
Jenny stepped back and gave her the once-over, uttering a suspicious, “Hmm. Your hair looks really pretty that way. Haven’t seen it down before.”
Hannah cleared her throat and flipped through the papers before her. “I went to see Aunt Sarah yesterday. For some reason, it bothers her that I never wear it down. I thought I’d give it a try.”
“How is Sarah?”
Hannah shook her head, sadness washing over her. “The doctor says she’s no worse.”
“That’s good news.” Jenny paused and then, in a kind voice, said, “Sarah’s right, you know. You have nice features. Wonderful bone structure. I’ve always thought so. I’d love to do a makeover on you. Some blush and eye shadow…I see real possibilities.”
“Thanks, Jen, but I—”
“It’s hard to change when you’re used to doing things a certain way. But you think about it. I agree with that dear aunt of yours. Just so you know, she cares about how you wear your hair because she wants you to catch a man. It’s a start,” she added with a sly smile.
Chapter Twenty-one
Later that afternoon, Hannah looked up from her desk to find Will walking toward her. His name came out on a breathless gasp. “Will. What are you doing here?”
He reached out to flick an end of her hair. “Now that’s how I remember it. Looks nice.”
Heat swam up in a wave from her toes. “Really,” she managed lightly. “This town must be hurting for excitement. I fail to pull my hair back one day, and it becomes the main attraction.”
“I can see why.”
The remark came out low and teasing, intended for Hannah’s ears only. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and said in a shaky voice, “Did you need something?”
His eyes shone bright with amusement. “I told you I’d call. I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by, instead. Talked to the board yet?”
She cleared her throat and said, “As a matter of fact, yes. Mr. Smithers was very receptive to the idea.”
“That’s great.” He slapped a hand on the desk and turned to Jenny, who’d just appeared at the front desk carrying a stack of books. He reached for them and said, “Afternoon, Miss Dudley. What do you think of the idea?”
Jenny stared up at Will and then visibly melted. “Jenny. It’s Jenny. What idea?”
“About the carnival.”
“I hadn’t mentioned it yet,” Hannah explained.
“Oh. Sorry, I thought—” he began.
“Will has offered to help put on a carnival to raise money for the bookmobile,” Hannah interrupted. “I just spoke to Mr. Smithers about it this morning.”
“Why, what a marvelous idea!” Jenny clapped her hands together. “So nice of you to volunteer, Mr. Kincaid.”
“It’s Will. And I hope you’ll be able to help out?”
“Why, of course. I’d be glad to.”
The front door opened then, and they all glanced up to see Henry Lawson step through the entryway dressed in his customary overalls and bill cap. He promptly removed the hat.
Jenny picked up a few books and headed toward the shelves behind the table where Henry had taken a seat. “Just let me know what I can do,” she added over her shoulder.
Will turned back to Hannah. Silence hung in the air as they stood there staring at one another. Will glanced over his shoulder at Henry. “Does he come in every day?”
“Just about.”
“He must really love books.”
“He does. About as much as anyone I know.”
Will looked at the man bent over a newspaper, one finger following the lines across the columns. He frowned and glanced back at Hannah. “Got any interest in throwing around a few ideas tonight?”
She ignored the way her heart jumped at the suggestion. How else, after all, would they get the project done if they didn’t work on it together? “Tonight would be fine.”
“Good.” He backed away from the desk.
“What time?”
“About six. Come for dinner, okay?”
She nodded, her gaze following his as it swung once more to the table where Henry Lawson sat studying the daily paper as he usually did, one finger inching past one word at a time. She watched in confusion as Will studied Henry for a moment, an uneasy look on his face. But before she could ask him what was wrong, he raised a hand, then wheeled around and headed out the door as if he’d just seen a ghost.
Chapter Twenty-two
Hannah stood waiting by the front window. She’d gotten home a little after five that evening and jumped in the shower to freshen up. For reasons she refused to examine, she’d gone to her closet, rummaged through it and found a pair of blue jeans. Nothing else in her wardrobe seemed appropriate—the wool sweaters looked dowdy, the navy skirt and white blouse seemed too old-fashioned. She hadn’t worn jeans in years, and this pair was faded and hugged her hips and thighs loosely.
But somehow, it felt good to put them on. She paired them with an oversize navy sweater and stood before the bathroom mirror surveying herself. Would
Will notice? Would he think she was trying to change his impression of her? That thought had her yanking open a drawer and rummaging for a rubber band. She pulled her hair back and wound it into a bun, then spent a couple of minutes fiddling with it, loosening the band to soften the severity of the style. But she left the jeans on; the change felt good.
She went back to the mirror and studied her image critically. What was she getting herself into? And who was she doing it for? Aunt Sarah? Or herself?
Both questions stung. For her own sake, it would pay to remember that Will Kincaid was not a permanent resident of Lake Perdue. He’d be gone soon.
And it wouldn’t do to let herself begin to think otherwise.
Only a few blocks away, Will whistled along with the song playing on the radio, trying not to let himself think too much about the evening ahead. He’d spent the afternoon out at Tate’s, trading stories with Aaron and the boys. When one of them had brought up the subject of what was going on between him and Hannah Jacobs, he’d brushed it aside with just enough conviction to douse the fire beneath the gossip.
Now that he was alone, however, he wasn’t at all sure he qualified as the upstanding philanthropist the town seemed to think him.
He’d meant every word about helping out with the bookmobile. But had it started out as a reason to see Hannah?
The answer to that question remained as elusive as the answer to what he planned to do with the rest of his life.
Maybe it had something to do with his father’s disapproval. Or with the fact that he wanted to know what had sent Hannah’s life in a different direction from what he would have expected. Or the realization that whatever had drawn him to her ten years ago might still be there.
He massaged his knee. Didn’t matter, anyway. He and Hannah Jacobs had virtually nothing in common.
Truths and Roses Page 7