by Lyn Cote
The next thing she knew she was running down the sidewalk toward her car, the bright December sunshine making mockery of the agony in her heart.
Chapter Nine
Later that afternoon, when she thought she’d gained control of her emotions enough to talk, Hannah asked her friends over.
Jo and Elizabeth divested themselves of their coats and settled at Hannah’s kitchen table where cups of hot tea and cream scones sat before them.
“What’s up?” Jo asked. The look in her eyes was as sharp as her short spikes of red hair.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, frowning. “What’s happened? You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out.”
“I have,” Hannah said in a voice that quavered the slightest bit.
Elizabeth patted the tabletop with her palm. “Sit,” she commanded. Hannah obeyed, without a word. “Now spit it out.”
Hannah looked from one of her friends to the other. “It’s a couple of things, actually. First, I owe the two of you an apology.”
“For what?” Jo asked.
“For pushing you both away since you got married. For being so standoffish and aloof.”
“Standoffish?” Elizabeth said. “You? I never noticed.”
“Me, either,” Jo said. “I just thought you were tired from being overworked and upset about Griff coming back to town.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. She realized thankfully that these weren’t the kind of women who looked for slights. She stretched across the table and offered a hand to each of her friends. Each was taken in a warm clasp. “You two are far too good to me,” she said with a sniff. “I’ve been such a fool.”
“You aren’t a fool,” Elizabeth said. Then she grinned. “Well, not much of one, anyway.”
Hannah laughed, gave her friends’ hands a squeeze and released them to swipe her fingertips across her damp eyes. “I really have been happy for you both finding the right men, but I see now that I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. Ever since Jo got married I’ve been holding my own private little pity party. I’m sorry for that. I love you both so much, it would kill me if anything really came between us.”
“Nothing could,” Jo told her.
“Never,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “Friends forever, remember?”
Hannah remembered all too well. No men, but friends forever. The sound of their young defiant voices echoed through her mind. It was the pact they’d made the day Johnny was buried. “I remember,” she said now. She heaved a heavy sigh. “It was a silly, youthful promise.”
“We will be friends forever,” Jo said.
“I know, but the part about no men was ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said with another smile. “But remember we had very limited possibilities back then. Who’d have ever thought Prescott would wind up with three new hunky single men?”
“Three?” Jo said.
“Yeah. Bram, Jake and Griff.”
She cast an apologetic look at Hannah as she spoke Griff’s name, almost, Hannah thought, as if she knew Hannah would take offense. Instead, she said, “That’s the other things I want to talk to you about.”
“Hunky guys?” Elizabeth said with a lift of her eyebrows.
“No. Griff.”
Elizabeth and Jo exchanged speculative glances.
“What about Griff?” Elizabeth asked.
“It seems we’ve misjudged him all these years.”
“How can you say that?” Jo said in an indignant voice. “Everyone in town knew what he was up to. He never tried to hide it.”
“I’m not talking about his wild escapades,” Hannah said. “I’m talking about what he’s really like…inside.”
“So you’re finally convinced that he’s changed,” Elizabeth stated with a satisfied smile. “Good. Now maybe you can forgive him and put all that old bitterness behind you.”
“I already have,” Hannah told her. “I’ve spent a lot of time this afternoon thinking about things and taking a good look at myself.” She gave a short laugh that ended on a little sob. “I didn’t much like what I saw.”
Her friends exchanged another glance, this time one of concern.
Sensing that they were about to speak, Hannah gave a wave of her hand. “No. Don’t say there’s nothing wrong with me. I know exactly what I’d become. Oh, maybe I hid it from everyone except the two of you, but that doesn’t change the truth, which is that I had become bitter and cynical about men and marriage.”
Jo looked away and a dull red flushed Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t say you had the market cornered on those feelings. I believe all three of us were guilty of that.”
“Elizabeth’s right,” Jo agreed.
A slight smile curved Hannah’s lips. “Thank you for sharing the blame like the friends you are, but I can only speak for myself and my feelings and actions.” She sighed. “I’ve done a lot of crying and a lot of praying since last night. I asked God to help me set aside my anger and prejudice, so I could see and accept the truth about what happened twelve years ago.”
“But we know what happened,” Jo said looking from one friend to the other. “Don’t we?”
“We knew part of it,” Hannah said. “But we didn’t have all the truth until I spoke with Griff earlier today.”
“Griff!” Elizabeth said. “You’ve lost me. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart, but other than your deciding to forgive him, I guess I don’t see where Griff fits into all this.”
“Yeah. What happened last night?” Jo asked.
Hannah told them about her conversation with Kim when she’d confessed the truth of Callie’s paternity. Elizabeth and Jo’s faces wore similar looks of shock.
“I cornered Griff this morning after Breakfast with Santa. We went to his place and talked. Really talked. There was no finger-pointing, no accusations. I wanted to hear what had happened from him. I needed to know the truth, finally, not just what I perceived as the truth. What Callie told Kim is true.”
“I can’t believe it,” Jo said with a shake of her head. “Johnny and Josie Jones. And no one suspected a thing! You didn’t, did you, Hannah?”
“I didn’t have a clue. I guess I was so blinded by Johnny’s charm that I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Looking back, though, I can think of a few instances when I should have been more suspicious.”
“And to think we thought he was such a perfect guy,” Jo said in disgust. “And he was just another two-timer. Aren’t you just furious, Hannah?”
Hannah shook her head. “Being mad at a dead person serves no purpose. Besides, I’ve wasted enough of my life on anger. I was mad at Johnny for dying, Griff for being the cause of it and God for letting it happen. If I’m furious at anyone now it’s myself.”
“Why would you be angry at yourself?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because I put Johnny on a pedestal. I should have known he’d fall off. For the past twelve years I’ve compared every man I’ve met to him, and they’ve all come up short. Who knows? I may have pushed away some men—imperfect but good men—because they didn’t measure up to my selective memories of Johnny Harrison. I set him up as my god, and all these years I’ve worshiped at the altar of his memory, instead of letting God work in my life to heal me.” She drew in a steadying breath. “And I’ve unfairly blamed Griff for Johnny’s death.”
“But he was driving that night,” Jo said.
“Yes, he was driving, and he’d been drinking. But so had Johnny.” She told them the story of the accident Griff had related earlier in the day.
“Unbelievable,” Jo murmured.
“I had no idea Johnny ever drank,” Elizabeth said.
“Me, neither,” Hannah said. “But I’m learning there were a lot of things I didn’t know about Johnny.”
“Do the Harrisons know the truth about the accident?”
“I’m not sure,” Hannah told them. “I was too upset to ask many questions.”
“Not many guys would take the blame
for their brother’s death when he had a major part in it,” Jo said.
“Not many guys would marry the girl their brother got pregnant and raise the child as their own,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“I know.” Hannah’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “You know, Margaret told me the other day that Griff wasn’t as bad as people believed he was, and she said that I’d have eventually found out Johnny wasn’t as perfect as I thought.”
No one spoke for long seconds. Finally, Elizabeth broke the silence. “Wow! What an emotionally draining conversation. I need another cup of tea.”
“Me, too,” Jo said.
Hannah summoned a half smile and the teapot. She poured them each another cup of the fragrant brew and said, “I realized something else last night.”
“What’s that?” Jo asked.
“That all my success here has been for nothing, because I wasn’t doing it for God. I worked myself half to death to try to forget, to prove I didn’t need a man to take care of me and that I could do it all on my own. I did it for me. But the truth is, I couldn’t have been the success I’ve become without God’s help, without Johnny dying. I know that now. The past several hours have made me realize that God really is in control if we’ll only trust him. It’s still hard for me to comprehend the kind of patience He must have to sit back and wait for us to come to our senses.”
“I think about that more and more every day,” Elizabeth said. “More so since I met Jake.” Her smiling gaze moved from Jo to Elizabeth. “As Aunt Becky would say ‘What a piece of work we’ve been. ’So smug and self-righteous, thinking we had all the answers, letting our parents’ hurts and disappointments poison us. I just thank God we’ve all come to our senses.”
“Me, too,” Hannah said.
“What’s next?” Jo asked.
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked.
“What’s going to happen between you and Griff?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that,” Jo said with a warning look. “Elizabeth told me about that kiss at the Broadway, which didn’t surprise me much. I always did think he liked you back then.”
Hannah felt her face flame but couldn’t help the little frisson of pleasure that danced through her. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“I caught him looking at you a time or two when he happened to be around for some reason or another. Sometimes there was a sort of yearning in his eyes. Sometimes there was sadness, especially when you were with Johnny. I didn’t understand it, but now I do.”
“You’re just imagining things.”
“I don’t think so,” Jo said. “I saw that same look this morning at Breakfast with Santa. Personally, I think you ought to test it.”
Chapter Ten
By the time her friends left, Hannah’s heart felt lighter than it had in years, maybe since the night of her senior prom. Why did people doubt that the truth really did set a person free? Unfettered from the bitterness that had ensnared her emotions for so many years and tentatively hopeful that Griff had been and still was interested in her as a woman, she felt almost giddy with happiness.
All the praying and pondering of the past had led her to the conviction that her utter devotion to Johnny had been a transference of the fragile, forbidden feelings she’d harbored for Griff. She faced the truth that she’d suppressed for so many years, the truth she’d suspected since Griff had first come back to town. It was Griff who’d made her heart race that last year of high school, not Johnny. It was Griff she thought about when she’d dressed for her dates, Griff she looked for when she and Johnny were in the midst of a crowd of friends. But, knowing Griff was off-limits, she’d contented herself by settling for second best—Johnny.
Oh, she’d cared for Johnny. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t have? He was fun and funny. Good-looking. Smart. And his reputation was impeccable, unlike his rebellious brother’s. Caring for Griff, she’d convinced herself that what she felt for Johnny was the real thing.
She suspected something else, too, now. She had a sneaking suspicion that her overreaction to Johnny’s death, her refusal to let his memory go and her subsequent bitterness toward Griff were all steeped in her own guilt for caring for one brother while planning a future with the other. Even her treatment of Griff since he’d moved home was the by-product of an unconscious guilt for feelings she refused to recognize.
She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a woman who’d suffered because of her own stubborn will. A woman who had learned hard lessons. The past had been laid to rest. There was no need to deny her feelings for Griff, as she had at seventeen.
The question was, did Griff care for her as her friends thought? She recalled him saying Johnny had accused him of wanting her for himself. He hadn’t denied it. She thought of the kiss in her dad’s gas station and recalled Griff’s words about her being dangerous. And she thought of the kiss in the hallway of the Broadway and how it had made her feel. She remembered the sound of his voice as he’d spoken her name earlier in the day when she’d run outside to escape the painful truth of her past. There had been tenderness and concern in his voice and in the touch of his hands on her shoulders.
Were those small things enough to build a relationship on? Would Griff want to have a future with her? She knew there was no way to find out but to put them to the test as Jo had suggested. Never mind that she’d treated him badly since he’d come home. The next move was up to her, and she had to make it. This might be her last chance to find fulfillment, and she had to take it or spend the rest of her life making memories for others.
Griff’s lights were on when Hannah pulled into his driveway an hour later. She’d showered away the fatigue that seemed to drag at her and used all her skill to hide the ravages of the tears and sleeplessness. She’d left her long, slightly curly, hair down and donned a new pair of wool slacks and a beaded vintage angora sweater, hoping for what? That Griff would be impressed? Yes. That’s exactly what she was hoping for. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she turned off the engine. It was hard to believe that her life and her goals had changed so drastically in a scant twenty-four hours.
Hannah got out of the car and went to the door. It swung open as she reached to press the doorbell. Griff stood there, looking strong and steady and incredibly handsome in his jeans and plaid flannel shirt.
There must have been a question in her eyes, because his first words were, “I was in the living room and saw you pulling into the driveway.”
“Oh,” she said in a breathless voice.
He stepped aside. “Come in. We’re letting all the warm air out.”
“I guess we are,” she said, following him inside.
“Let me take your coat.”
Griff stepped behind her and eased the jacket from her shoulders. Hannah unwound the wool scarf from around her neck and watched as he hung both on a mahogany hall tree.
“Come sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Hannah followed him into the living room, tugging at the hem of her sweater in a gesture that betrayed the nerves screaming inside her. “You haven’t asked why I’ve come,” she said, sitting on the edge of the camelback sofa.
An unreadable expression flitted into his eyes. “All that matters is that you did.”
The unexpected sentiment took her by surprise. “I came for a couple of reasons, actually.”
“You have questions.” It was a statement.
“Yes. Once the shock wore off, I realized there were things I didn’t know or understand.”
Griff went to stand next to the fireplace. “Ask me anything you want.”
“Why did you decide to take responsibility for the accident?”
She watched him prop one foot on the hearth and rest his elbow on the mantel, the better to stare into the flickering flames. “Several reasons, I guess. For the first time in my life I fully understood how our decisions affect other people. My image was already tarnish
ed, so taking sole blame seemed like the best thing for everyone concerned. There was no sense in everyone knowing Johnny had been drinking and sending his reputation down the drain, too.”
Griff raised his head and looked at her. “My parents had lost a son. I didn’t want them to suffer any more pain. So, when I got out of the hospital, I went to the coroner and swore him to secrecy. I guess that was a lie in a way, but I hoped it wouldn’t count since I was doing it for a good reason. Mom and Dad didn’t want me to do it, but I think they were relieved, deep down.”
His smile more resembled a grimace. “That was the easy part. Once I got that squared away, I had to tell them about Josie. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Mom and Dad called the Joneses but Josie had already told them. While they were all talking about what they were going to do and how they were going to face people, I told them I’d marry Josie and give the baby the Harrison name.”
“That was very honorable of you.”
“Honorable? I doubt it. I had this twisted idea that righting Johnny’s wrong could somehow atone for my own sins.”
“You married Josie as a sort of penance?” Hannah asked.
“I guess I did, and Josie was grateful the baby would have a name. It’s too bad hindsight is twenty-twenty. I know now it doesn’t work that way, just like I know that if Johnny had married Josie while loving you, the marriage would never have lasted. Gratitude, the need to right a wrong, duty. None is reason enough to go into a lifelong commitment.
“When I counsel people in the same situation, I tell the parents not to press for marriage unless both parties are sure it’s what they want to do, because two wrongs don’t make a right. Never have. Never will.”
“So you regret marrying Josie?” Hannah asked, trying to understand, wanting and needing to know how he thought, how he felt, as much as she needed to draw her next breath.