She’d done everything she could for the past six years to heal and protect Hannah. She wasn’t about to bring a man into their lives. She wasn’t about to allow a man to ever again steal a piece of their hearts, then ride off into the sunset without them.
Chapter 2
“Mr. Brown, you promised me you’d have somebody come over and look at this sink a month ago.” Erica held the phone in one hand and frantically removed the full pan of water from beneath the leaking pipe, quickly exchanging it for an empty pan.
What she wanted to do was reach through the phone wire and throttle Mr. Stanley Brown, her cheapskate landlord.
Unfortunately, even if she could reach across the line, she’d only manage to grasp thin air, since she wasn’t talking to an actual person. Instead, she was babbling, as usual, into his answering machine. “Please call me as soon as you can,” she finished, trying desperately to hang on to her composure.
She slammed down the phone, picked up the wrench and crawled beneath the sink. Shoving the pot aside, she connected the wrench to the elbow joint and tried to tighten the ring. It wouldn’t budge.
She strained again, feeling her face growing red with her effort. “Whew,” she said, and gave up. She simply didn’t have the strength required to get it to turn.
“Hello? Anybody home?”
The deep male voice at her back door startled her. She jumped, banging her head on one of the pipes. “Who’s there?” she yelled irritably, rubbing her forehead as she tried to wiggle out from beneath the cabinet.
The door opened and Caleb McMann stepped inside. In his hand he held a donut box that emitted the most delicious aromas Erica had ever smelled.
“Looks like you could use some help,” he said, stating the obvious. He set the box on the table and held out a hand to help her up.
She hesitated a moment. Her first inclination was to send him packing. She didn’t like his friendly smile and she’d always believed it was best to be wary of men bearing donuts.
But the rational part of her recognized she could use his help. The job required more strength than she possessed, and Caleb’s forearms and bulging biceps, displayed to perfection by his white T-shirt, looked more than adequate.
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. “I…it’s leaking and I don’t have the strength to tighten it enough.”
“Mind if I give it a try?” He held out his hand for the wrench she still held.
She shrugged. Why not? “Be my guest.” She handed it to him and watched as he got down on the floor on his back and worked his torso into the cabinet.
It seemed impossible that his broad shoulders would fit, but he somehow managed to wedge himself beneath the pipes.
As he worked, it was also impossible for Erica not to notice the half of his body that remained in view. His abdomen was sinfully flat, his hips beneath his tight-fitting jeans were lean and his legs seemed to stretch forever. Erica’s grandmother would have called him a tall drink of water…a very nicely built drink of water, Erica thought.
She suddenly became conscious that she’d pulled on her ugliest T-shirt that morning and that the jeans she wore, which had once fit her so well, now hung on her like a layer of skin she was attempting to shed. She couldn’t even remember if she’d brushed her hair yet this morning. Irritation followed on the heels of these thoughts.
She didn’t care what she looked like. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone…especially a neighbor who apparently intended to be more neighborly than she wanted.
Hannah entered the kitchen clad in her pajamas. Peaches followed close behind. “Mr. Man!” she squealed in delight as she spied him beneath the cabinet. Peaches emitted a sharp yip.
Caleb jumped in surprise, clunking his head as Erica had done only moments before. “Ouch,” he exclaimed and dropped the wrench.
“Are you all right?” Erica asked worriedly. This was all she needed, for him to get hurt and sue her. Sure, he could sue her for half her bills, she thought wryly.
“Fine…I think I got it tightened well enough.” With a grunt, he squirmed out from beneath the sink, one hand rubbing his forehead.
“Did you get a boo-boo?” Hannah asked, her little face radiating sympathy.
“Only a small one,” Caleb replied as he stood. He smiled at Hannah.
“I had a big boo-boo, but it’s all well now,” Hannah said.
“Hannah, go get dressed,” Erica instructed briskly. The last thing she wanted was for Hannah to discuss her heart operation with a virtual stranger. Erica didn’t believe in sharing her business with anyone.
Hannah hesitated a moment and sniffed the air. “I smell something yummy.”
Caleb smiled at the little girl. “Donuts.” He looked at Erica. “I thought maybe your mommy could make some coffee and we could all have a visit while we eat the donuts I brought.”
“Oh, boy!” Hannah clapped her hands together. “I love donuts. They’re one of the most bestest foods.”
“Then go change your clothes and wash your face and hands,” Erica said, fighting a renewed burst of irritation. She didn’t want to make him coffee and she didn’t want to “have a visit” with him over donuts.
Still, she supposed it would be boorish of her to toss him out now, and a cup of coffee seemed a small price to pay for a sink that no longer leaked.
“Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the table. “It will just take me a minute to get the coffee going.”
On any other day, it would have already been made, but the first thing she’d seen upon entering the kitchen that morning had been a stream of water running out from her sink cabinet. So brewing coffee had been forgotten amid the cleanup and the futile attempt to get in touch with Stanley Brown.
Caleb eased down into one of the wooden chairs as Erica began to prepare the coffee. Peaches took her usual position, lying down beneath the table, waiting for any crumbs that might drop over the sides.
“You’re going to need those sink pipes replaced fairly quickly,” he said. “They’re pretty old and corroded.”
“I know.” Erica released a deep sigh. “My landlord has been promising for months to get a plumber over here to look at them.” She turned and smiled at him tightly. “He’s also promised painters, the possibility of a central-air-conditioning unit and a dozen other things as well. That’s Stanley Brown for you…he’s big on promises but not so hot on following through. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to comply, but nothing has worked so far.”
“Take him to court,” Caleb suggested. “Nothing like a legal petition to make a landlord comply. Sometimes even the threat itself is enough to get them motivated.”
Erica shook her head. “It’s not worth the hassle. I mean, it’s not as if Stanley is a slumlord. The place just needs a few odds and ends taken care of.” She turned back to the cabinets to get out cups and saucers.
She wasn’t about to tell him that this house was the best thing that had ever happened to Hannah and her. Although not in the greatest shape, the house was their first real home after a long string of apartments. Stanley, knowing the financial burden Erica struggled beneath because of medical bills and the inability to hold a full-time job, had agreed to a monthly rent that was far below market value.
“I’m back,” Hannah announced as she reentered the kitchen. She was clad in a pair of denim shorts and a coral-colored T-shirt and her cheeks were pink from the obvious scrubbing she’d given her face.
She sat on the chair next to Caleb and eyed the red-and-white pastry box. “What kind of donuts did you bring us, Mr. Man?”
Caleb leaned toward Hannah, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d like chocolate, or maybe cinnamon buns, or just plain glazed, so I brought a combination of all kinds.” He opened the box to display the sweets.
“You may have two,” Erica told her daughter as she set a cup of coffee in front of Caleb and a glass of milk before Hannah.
&
nbsp; “Two?” Hannah echoed in dismay. She eyed the various kinds and after careful deliberation finally chose a chocolate-covered cake donut.
“Doesn’t Mrs. McMann object to you bringing donuts to neighbors?” Erica asked as she joined them at the table.
“The only Mrs. McMann I know is my mother, and she hates donuts.”
So he’s single, Erica thought. Not that it mattered one whit to her. She wasn’t sure why he was here, why he had brought donuts, but if he was looking for anything remotely resembling romance, he was definitely searching in the wrong place.
“So is there a Mr. Clemmons?” he asked.
“No.” Erica offered no further information. She sipped her coffee and eyed him surreptitiously as he and Hannah launched into a conversation about the joy of donuts.
There was no denying the man’s physical attractiveness. Erica guessed him to be around her age, either late twenties or early thirties. He had bold, well-defined features…a straight nose, a square chin and high cheekbones that accentuated his sensual mouth.
His face was tanned, as if he was accustomed to working outside, and when he smiled, tiny lines radiated from his eyes, starbursts of wrinkles that only added to his overall appeal.
His hair was black, lustrous and shiny, but it was his eyes that were so arresting. They reminded her of distant stars, blue with just a touch of sparkling silver.
She blushed as she realized at that moment they were focused directly at her. “The real-estate agent told me this is a pretty quiet neighborhood.”
“It is,” she agreed, diverting her own gaze down to her coffee cup. Now, if she could just figure out a way to divert the smell of him…a clean, masculine scent that Erica had almost forgotten existed in the world. “Mostly retired people and professionals without children. Hannah and I are sort of the odd ducks.”
“Quack, quack, I’m a duck!” Hannah scooted off her chair. “Look, Mr. Man, I can walk like a duck.” She proceeded to give him her best imitation of a waddling, quacking duck.
Caleb laughed again and the pleasant, utterly male sound sent a small shiver of warmth through Erica. Yet, following the rivulet of warmth came the chill of alarm.
She didn’t want to find this man…or any man…appealing on any level. She didn’t want or need the complications and heartbreak that relationships inevitably brought.
More than that, she refused to allow anyone to break Hannah’s heart. Her daughter had been through enough with her health problems, she didn’t need broken promises and dashed hopes to burden the heart that now pumped in her chest.
“Hannah, get back up here and finish eating,” she said more tersely than she intended. “Even ducks need breakfast,” she added with a smile to take the sting from her sharpness.
“Okay,” Hannah agreed easily and gave Erica one of the sunshine smiles that always made her heart swell with love.
“You aren’t eating,” Caleb observed. He shoved the pastry box toward her.
“I’m not a morning eater,” she replied.
“But she eats a lot at dinnertime,” Hannah quipped.
Caleb laughed, and despite Erica’s embarrassment, she laughed as well. “Dinner is my favorite meal,” she confessed. “My mornings are usually filled with work,” she said pointedly, hoping to hurry him out. He obviously didn’t get the hint. She sighed in frustration as he reached for another donut, apparently in no rush to go.
Caleb got the hint that she was ready for him to leave, but he studiously pretended to be obtuse. He wasn’t prepared to go back to his empty, silent house yet.
Besides, at that moment Hannah launched into a tale about the garden she was attempting to grow in the backyard, a childish litany much like the ones Katie had often entertained him with.
As he gazed at the little girl, whose face was so animated as she told him about the carrots and radishes she’d planted, his head filled with a vision of his Katie.
Physically the two girls couldn’t have been more different, Hannah with dark hair and eyes and Katie, a blond fairy princess with bright blue eyes. Still, Caleb saw in Hannah the same enthusiasm, the same joyous embracing of life that Katie had possessed.
Had Hannah always exhibited such effervescence or had this particular quality suddenly appeared after Katie’s heart had been gently placed in Hannah’s chest? He needed to know this…and so much more. Time, he reminded himself. Time would answer all his questions.
“So, exactly what sort of work do you do?” he asked Erica after he and Hannah had exhausted the gardening topic.
“Bookkeeping here at home. I work for a couple of doctors and a dentist. I take care of their accounts receivable and issue monthly statements for them.”
“Sounds like the best of both worlds,” Caleb said. “You have a nice business, but get to do it here from your home and care take for your daughter.”
She nodded. “Child care is so expensive, I wanted something that would keep me home full-time. I also edit a couple of newsletters.”
“Really? What kind of newsletters?” He leaned forward, surprised to discover himself drawn to this woman, who radiated a cool composure and an aura of intense reserve.
She looked quite pretty despite her tousled hair and face devoid of makeup. She wasn’t the type of striking beauty who would make men turn and stare, but she had a quiet loveliness that was very attractive.
“Different kinds,” she hedged, as if unwilling to talk about herself or her work.
“Ah, that clarifies it,” he said with a smile.
She blushed, the pink of her cheeks appearing to deepen the blue hue of her eyes. “There’s one for mothers who work at home, another for men who drive classic cars…it’s freelance work that earns me a little extra money.”
“Sounds fascinating,” he replied, and meant it. She was obviously a resourceful woman who was trying to make the best of her situation.
“Mr. Man?” Hannah slid off her chair and sidled up next to him. “Are you gonna build a tree house in that tree?”
“I was just thinking about that this morning,” he replied. Hannah gazed at him eagerly, her big brown eyes filled with hope. “And I think that tree would look mighty magnificent holding a special house, complete with windows.”
“And pink curtains?” Hannah asked, breathless with the kind of excitement only a child could maintain.
“Hannah,” Erica said in protest.
“And pink curtains,” he agreed, laughing as she suddenly threw her arms around his neck.
The unexpected gesture surprised him and the warmth of the hug, coupled with the sweet smell of childhood, overwhelmed him.
A shaft of pain, a breathless ache of loss engulfed him, inundating him with wave after wave of immutable sadness.
“Hannah, run along and let Mr. McMann finish his coffee,” Erica instructed her daughter.
Hannah let go of Caleb and Caleb shot up from his chair, needing to flee, to escape and be by himself. “I’d better let you get to work,” he said, almost panicked with the need to remove himself before he broke down.
In three long strides he was at the back door. “I’ll see you both later,” he said.
“Wait…your donuts…” Erica called after him, her face registering her surprise at his abrupt departure.
“Keep them,” he replied, then with a quick wave he walked out of the house.
As he hurried toward his place, even the unusually warm morning sun couldn’t banish the utter bleak coldness that clutched his heart…a coldness that was as familiar as his own face in the mirror.
He felt the icy fingers of despair, the chill wind of anguish, the frigid indictment of guilt. From the moment his aunt Fanny had sent that damned doll, he’d been thrown into an arctic landscape that offered no relief.
“A big mistake.” That’s what his sister had told him when he’d told her of his intention to find the child who had received Katie’s heart.
Once his decision had been made, it had been remarkably easy to find the info
rmation he needed. Although there were strict codes of confidentiality con cerning transplant donors and recipients, Caleb remembered overhearing a nurse in the hospital telling somebody that Katie’s heart was being sent to St. Louis.
An afternoon in the library reading St. Louis newspapers for the appropriate date had given Caleb his answers. On the day Katie had died, one Hannah Marie Clemmons in St. Louis had received a heart transplant. The article was a human-interest piece, indicating that a fund had been started for the little girl to help defray her medical bills.
At first, Caleb had hired a private investigator, hoping that the information the investigation yielded would be enough to satisfy his curiosity about the little girl.
The investigator had told him she lived alone with her mother and that they were struggling financially, but he’d been unable to garner the kind of information Caleb really needed. So Caleb had decided to come to St. Louis.
Now he was unsure if he’d made the right choice in coming here, in contacting them. He’d had no second doubts when he’d contacted a real-estate agent, no reservations when he’d bought the house next door to theirs. But Hannah’s hug, so achingly sweet, had evoked doubts about everything.
His sister had told him over and over again to get on with his life, that his need to find Hannah was unhealthy. “Move on, Caleb,” Sarah had told him. “Keep your memories close to your heart, but allow yourself to move past them.”
Everyone had advice for the grieving father, but nobody understood the force that had driven him to be here now. Even he didn’t understand it. All he knew was that he had a driving need to know Hannah, to discover what, if anything, the heart retained.
Poets wrote sonnets about hearts; every emotion ever felt was expressed through the heart. How certain could scientists be that some essence of a person, even after his or her death, didn’t remain and continue to live as long as the heart was alive?
If anyone could read these kinds of thoughts in his mind, he’d be whisked away to the nearest psychiatric facility, he mused ruefully.
In a Heartbeat Page 3