Mended Hearts (14 page)

Angie blushed while the other girls laughed. Hannah was glad to see some things never changed. As she rounded the corner to the teacher's lounge, a young man stepped in front of her, angling left while she turned right. She stopped short of bumping into him, then smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Dominic, right?”

“Hey.” He nodded, not smiling but looking pleased to meet her. “You work here now, too?”

“I'm Miss Dinsmore's long-term sub. Are you taking science this year?”

“AP Physics.”

Hannah paused, surprised. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“That's a hefty load. Do you like physics?”

“Hate it.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Then why take it?”

He shrugged. “I'm smart. My dad is a physics professor at Alfred University.”

“A chip off the old block, huh?”

The vehement shake of his head came quicker than Hannah would have liked. “No.”

“Then just be yourself, Dominic,” Hannah advised. “If
you're good at science, it's an easy A for you, but it's okay to follow your own path.”

“You don't know my father.”

“True enough. Hey, if you ever want to talk or go over science stuff, I'm here after school.” Dominic's lost-puppy demeanor tugged at Hannah's heart. “And the science team is prepping for the Christmas contest. Have you ever thought of joining us?”

“No.” He paused, a mix of regret and angst painting his features. “I don't have time for that stuff.”

“Well, if you find time, come see me,” Hannah told him, remembering the bereft look she'd seen at their first meeting in the candy store. “We're weak in physics and could use your help. Of course, understanding the physical properties driving molecular biology would be a huge help….”

His brightened expression said she'd dangled good bait. “I'm doing a paper on processes for interrupting or diverting proteins to block the spread of cancer.”

“Wonderful.” Hannah put a gentle hand on his arm. He didn't flinch, a good sign. “Come find me anytime. Maybe we can solve the world's problems together.”

She laid the phrase lightly, telling the boy she'd help if she could, but not enough to make him feel targeted. “Maybe.”

“Good enough.”

He headed down the hall, head bowed, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, the abject picture of a singular young man.

“Problems?”

Hannah turned and found Laura approaching her. “No. Just a conversation with a kid.”

Laura followed the direction of Hannah's gaze, pursed her lips and sighed. “Rough situation. Mother died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound when he was seven. He's brilliant, introverted, hates his stepmother and has been in therapy for
as long as I've known the family. They moved here when he was eleven, thought it might help him to be in a new place.”

Hannah thought of the interaction she'd witnessed between the stepmother and the boy. A change of setting that didn't address the verbal abuse of a sensitive kid wouldn't accomplish much. “I invited him to sit in on the science team practices.”

“So did Jane. He refused.”

Hannah shrugged. “Well, the invitation's been issued again. We'll see.”

“Everything's going okay?”

Laura's cautious note said she was willing to let Hannah find her way. The fact that she'd found it so easy delighted Hannah. “Wonderful, actually. The
thought
of coming back intimidated me far more than the reality. I'm having the time of my life.”

“That's what Rose said.” Laura met Hannah's look. “She told me you're a marvel and the kids are eating out of your hand.”

Hannah laughed. “Her assessment's a mite generous, but we're having fun and they're learning. It's all good.”

“Glad to hear it. And now I must go convince Mr. Bernard to stop haranguing the staff for overuse of paper towels in the ladies' rooms.”

“Good luck with that.”

Laura smiled. “Thanks. I'll need it. And Hannah?”

“Yes?”

“Good job.”

Hannah smiled, the heartfelt praise a blessing. “Thank you.”

J
eff did an internet search for Cavanaugh Construction Thursday morning. Several entries popped up, along with a few current images. Jeff couldn't miss Matt's tough gaze or firm expression, but they were balanced by fairness in his eyes, a welcome new addition. He punched Matt's number into his cell phone, determined. He'd scoured the Nunda area on Friday night, but came up with nothing. One way or another, he needed to see Matt. Talk with him face-to-face. Settle old wrongs.

Matt answered with no preamble. “What's up, Jeff?”

His quick tone tweaked Jeff, but that wasn't Matt's fault. “I need to see you.”

“Why?”

“Nothing I can go into over the phone. Where are you?”

Matt didn't answer the question. Instead he said, “Your house. Fifteen minutes.”

Jeff stood and headed for the door. “I'm on my way.”

He pulled into his driveway and parked alongside Matt's black truck, wondering what to say. As he reached to open his car door, he glanced heavenward. “I could use guidance here. And maybe a clue about when to talk and when to shut up.”

He climbed out of the car, motioned Matt to come in and opened the front door, the home's warmth a welcome reprieve from a sharp wind. Matt strode in behind him, eyed the door, then Jeff. “A heavier grade storm door will block that wind and keep the house warmer.”

Jeff grimaced. “I actually know that. Just haven't gotten to it yet.”

Matt angled him a look and folded his arms. “And you've lived here how long?”

“Eight years.”

“Uh-huh.” Matt's face said he wasn't surprised. “So. What's so urgent?”

Jeff waved toward the living room. “Come in. Sit down.”

“Remembering our past discussions, I probably should stay close to the door,” Matt argued, matter-of-fact. “That gives me easier access when you throw me out.”

Jeff deserved that. And more. He jerked a thumb toward the comfortable living room. “Come in, sit down and let me get through this, okay?”

Matt studied Jeff's face before obliging him. “All right.” He settled into a chair and clasped his hands. “Go for it.”

Jeff sat opposite him, praying the right words would come now that he'd forced the issue. “We need to find some kind of common ground if we're both going to live down here.”

Matt shrugged. “If by ‘we,' you mean ‘you,' I couldn't agree more. One of us refuses to fight.”

Jeff grimaced, sheepish. “And that just ticked me off even more.”

“Listen.” Matt hunched forward, his face grim but honest. “I get that you have reason to hate me, that I symbolize all that was bad about our father, but part of making my own way was for me to come back down here. Fix what I can. Make things better.”

“Penance?”

“Atonement. I messed up big-time when I was a kid. I've
got a lot to make up for, and it would be easier if you didn't try to get in the way.”

“The town council.”

“Exactly.” Matt met his look dead-on. “You almost brought the whole deal down by speaking to them behind the scenes. My lawyer stepped in and cleared things up, but that was a cool three hundred extra I shouldn't have had to pay.”

“You're right.” Jeff shook his head, chagrined. “I was being a jerk.”

Matt didn't disagree.

“But a smart person told me I needed to get over myself and change my attitude.”

“Your mother.”

Jeff eyed him, surprised. “How would you know that?”

“Because there were only two people who bothered to visit me while I was in juvie. My grandfather. And your mother.”

Jeff stared, stunned. “No one else?”

“No.”

“Your mother?”

“Busy running with man after man once news of her affair with Neal Brennan came out. She pretty much forgot she had a son. She died during my first tour in Iraq.”

“And your father? Don Cavanaugh?”

“Decided that because he wasn't really my father biologically, there was no need to be one physically. He hit the bottle and hasn't stopped yet.”

Jeff processed this news, then wondered how Matt could have turned out as normal as he now appeared. Matt answered the question for him.

“Your mother came to see me once a week. She brought me books and cookies. She constantly reminded me that kids make mistakes, but nothing is unfixable. She gave a mother's love to a kid who made her and her family the target of backdoor gossip and never once made me feel guilty or undeserving.”

“I guess that was my job.” Jeff frowned and scrubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. “And your grandfather?”

“A great man who loved building things. Gentle. Kind. He took me in and helped me see where I went wrong and how to do things right. He died during my second tour.”

“So you've got—”

“It's me and God.” Matt stood, rolled his shoulders and glanced at his watch. “But I've got things that have to be done so I can close this deal as soon as the bank calls. We're already three weeks behind, and that's a killer for construction this time of year.”

Jeff stood and extended his hand. “I want you to accept my apology for being a jerk, for forgetting that you're my brother.”

Matt didn't reach out. “Accidental biology. We can leave it at that, Jeff.”

“We can't.” Jeff stepped forward, determined. “I was wrong. And stupid. First because I was a kid, then because I wasn't smart enough to see things the way they were. You'll get no more trouble from me, Matt. Ever.”

“Listen, Jeff, this is nice but unnecessary.” Matt met his gaze and Jeff read the strength there. The sincerity. How had he missed that before? “I'm down here just long enough to finish up Cobbled Creek, make amends, then go on my merry way. I'm not here to stay or infringe on your life.”

“Then I'll hope you change your mind.” Jeff kept his hand out, refusing to cave. “Because you've got family here and family takes care of one another. I'm just sorry I didn't realize that sooner.”

His words touched Matt. He saw it in the softer expression, and when Matt's hand clasped his in a firm handshake, Jeff knew he'd done the right thing, finally. “We'll see.”

Jeff nodded and followed Matt out the door. “That's good enough for now,” he continued as Matt headed for the truck.
“But when you get invited to Thanksgiving dinner at Mom's, just remember, I call dibs on a drumstick.”

Matt's slight smile held traces of doubt Jeff hoped to wipe away with time. “Luckily there are two. See ya.”

He swung open the cab door, but Jeff caught the edge before he could swing it shut. He thrust his chin toward a bundle stowed behind Matt's seat. “Are you sleeping in this truck?”

Matt's chagrin was answer enough.

“Bunk here,” Jeff urged him, waving to the house. “There's plenty of room.”

Matt leveled him a look of disbelief. “I don't think we're at the sleepover stage yet.” He jerked his chin toward the sleeping bag and pillow. “I gave up my apartment in Nunda because I expected the closing to be done sooner and that forty-minute drive would eat up too much of my workday. Nipping first and last month's rent plus a security deposit out of my bank account right now could ruin the deal, so I'm laying low. Once papers are signed, I'll find a place.”

“I'm barely here,” Jeff told him, then realized how sad that assertion was. “If you change your mind, the offer's open.”

“I appreciate it.” Matt gave him a quick nod and swung the door shut.

Jeff watched him go, wishing he'd had the wisdom to do this long ago. As Matt pulled away with a quick wave, Jeff realized something else.

His mother might not have the fast-forward attitude of his grandmother, but she'd showed a strength and wisdom he hadn't fully appreciated. Despite the embarrassment she suffered because of his father, she visited Matt. Ministered to him. Made him feel special and beloved, while Jeff spent two decades harboring grudges.

That realization made him more eager to change things up. With God's help and a humble spirit, he might be able to do just that.

 

“Hannah Moore. You still live around here?” Jeff joked when he arrived for their weekly fundraising meeting that evening.

She looked up from sorting papers and laughed. “I do. But thanks to you and your grandmother, I'm pretty much living in the classroom. Luckily Melissa is doing a wonderful job here.” She swept the substitute librarian a fond glance.

“And it's going fine?” Jeff studied her face, looking for evidence otherwise.

She nodded. “Wonderful. Almost as if I never left.”

“Good.”

She handed him a stack of folders. “If you could set these around the table, I'll turn on the coffeemaker.”

“Will do.”

Callie Burdick walked in as Jeff set up the table. She moved his way, her expression expectant. “I heard you went to bat for us with the town council, Jeff. Thank you.”

Jeff took a moment before looking up, choosing his words carefully, wishing he'd never asked the council members to block Matt's building permits, especially with Matt's involvement. “It was worth a try, Callie. But with the property in the bank's hands, there's not much anyone can do.”

“I know,” she told him, earnest. “But you tried and I have faith that everything will turn out all right.”

It couldn't. Not for both parties, anyway, and Jeff knew that. He fumbled for words, then saw Hannah watching them, an eyebrow arched as she read his discomfort. She approached them, gave Callie a quick hug and nodded toward the coffee center. “The regular is brewed and decaf's on its way.”

“You read my mind.”

Callie headed for the coffee while Hannah turned toward Jeff. “You're playing her.”

Jeff shook his head, adamant. “I'm not.”

“You know more than you're saying.”

He couldn't deny that. Not to Hannah. “Yes.”

“Then that's playing her and I thought we had this discussion a long time ago.”

“This is different, Hannah.”

She sent him a look of quiet disappointment, her gaze shadowed in reality. “It always is, Jeff.”

The arrival of other committee members thwarted further conversation, and when Hannah left Melissa to lock up without saying goodbye, Jeff knew they'd backpedaled. But he'd promised Matt confidentiality and no further interference. He couldn't go back on his word. And he'd told Callie the truth. If the bank approved Matt's application to mortgage the Cobbled Creek subdivision, no one could stand in his way. Nor should they.

But Matt's gain would be Callie's father's loss and Jeff felt the sting of that, wishing he'd never interfered.

 

A part of Hannah said she shouldn't get hung up on Jeff's actions.

Another part laughed out loud.

Hadn't she traveled this path before? Painted air castles with a man who put the bottom line first and foremost? Hadn't she learned her lesson then? Obviously not.

She headed into school the next morning, determined to focus on one thing: reestablishing her teaching career. Laura's voice hailed her as she made her way down the entry hall, mentally preparing herself for a day of parent-teacher conferences.

“Hannah, I'm glad I caught you.”

Hannah turned. “What's up?”

“I need you to sit in on a couple of conferences today.”

“For?”

“Content appraisal,” Laura explained. “One of the AP
teachers has come down with the flu, and the other one went out on emergency maternity leave yesterday. I need a content teacher on board for two conferences because they were parent requested.”

“What time?”

“Two-fifteen and six-thirty.”

Hannah frowned. “The two-fifteen is fine, but I've got a full schedule until six forty-five. Can you reschedule the later one for seven?”

“I'll make it work,” Laura assured her. “And I'll send you the info you need on both. And since these are both strong students, there's no major stuff involved, although Mr. Fantigrossi can be tedious. Hopefully we can close them out in the allotted fifteen minutes with no problem.”

“Wonderful, because I'm not nearly as diplomatic at 7:00 p.m. as I am at 7:00 a.m.”

Laura flashed her a smile as she veered toward the office. “I couldn't agree more.”

 

Dominic was actually Dominic Fantigrossi III.

Mental red flags sprang up the minute his father stalked into Hannah's classroom that evening. She read Laura's look of caution and stepped forward, her hand extended as a young math teacher trailed behind, looking intimidated. “Mr. Fantigrossi, I'm Hannah Moore. Pleased to meet you.”

“I'd say the same, except I'm wondering why I'm here at all. In the first place—” one imperative finger was quickly joined by others as he listed his complaints “—my appointment was rearranged with little concern for my schedule. I'm conferencing with a teacher who has no bearing on my son's progress, therefore limiting the efficacy of this conference. And thirdly, I've been kept waiting ten minutes beyond our scheduled time. Already I'm not happy and this meeting hasn't even begun.”

“Is Dominic coming?”

“I'm here.”

Young Dominic shrugged into the room with reluctance, as if each step grew more difficult. He flicked a possible glance of apology to Hannah, but it was gone too quick to be sure.

“You're late.” Dominic Senior's voice cut the kid no slack.

Dominic squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. “I'm sorry.”

“I would hope so.” His father squared his shoulders, imposing. “Seven o'clock means seven o'clock.” He shifted his glare to Laura. “In the real world, that is.”

Hannah bit back words of retort, refusing to spar with him. Her last two meetings ran late, but those things happened on a long conference day. She'd learned to accept the missed or late appointments. Obviously, the elder Dominic didn't embrace a similar attitude.