Mended Hearts (5 page)

H
annah moved to the candy store counter and smiled at the teenage boy who walked in with his mother on Monday afternoon. He didn't return the smile, just gave a semi-embarrassed “what am I doing here” half shrug.

Hannah understood the adolescent gesture. When the woman moved off to examine preboxed candy, a note of desperation darkened the boy's eyes, a quick flash, as if weighing escape routes and finding them lacking.

A cold shudder coursed through Hannah; an icy prickling climbed her back, clawing her gut.

She stood on her side of the counter, wanting to move, wanting to help, frozen in the press of memories, the boy's stark look familiar.

The boy read her expression and jerked his features into a quick semblance of normalcy. Then he ducked his chin.

He's a kid,
Hannah reminded herself as she stepped forward.
They're all a little whacked-out at this age. Puberty does weird things to kids' heads. You know that, Hannah. Get a grip.

“May I help you?”

He shrugged again, glanced around, then settled a look on his mother. “I'm just waiting for her.”

His detached tone told Hannah he wasn't here by choice. She nodded and raised a tray of freshly done candies. “Well, I've got a sampling here of some new twists on old favorites. If you'd like to try a couple for me, I'd value your opinion, sir.”

Mixed emotions crossed his face, a hint of hope and pleasure marked with surprise. “Like, free?”

Hannah's laugh drew the woman's attention. “Absolutely free. The only way we find out what works for people is a good old-fashioned taste test, so you're my current guinea pig.”

He smiled as he reached forward. Her banter had eased the hopeless expression she thought she'd seen. “I'll try this and this.”

“Perfect.” She nodded his way, then offered the tray to the woman. “How about you? Can you be tempted as easily as your son?”

“Stepson,” the woman corrected too quickly.

Hannah felt the swift bite that took the wind out of the young man's sails. She wanted to give the woman a piece of her mind, but that would only make matters worse. The boy kept his gaze trained on the candy, but Hannah could read the set of his shoulders that said he couldn't wait to be old enough to be out of his current situation.

Holding the plate out, Hannah wrestled the Holy Spirit's attention with an SOS.
Cover him, Lord, soften him, shelter him, guide him, give him Your grace, Your courage, Your temperance, Your strength. Take this boy by the hand and the heart and carry him through whatever darkens his path.

The boy shrugged and sent a sheepish look Hannah's way as he headed for the door. “I'll tell you which ones I like next time I come in.”

Hannah nodded with appreciation. “Thank you…?” She ended the sentence on an up note, wanting his name.

He stepped outside and the door swung quietly shut behind him.

The woman sighed, tired, bored, rude. Hannah longed to smack her, but reminded herself she needed to cut the woman some slack, although right now that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“My husband tolerates far too much. If it were up to me he'd be doing more manual labor to teach him a lesson or two.”

Hannah fought off a sharp retort, knowing it wasn't her place. Her heart went out to the boy. “Oh, he seems all right. Fairly normal for a young teen. What's his name?”

“Dominic.”

“Nice. Strong.”

“It's his father's name, handed down like some sort of crown. Ridiculous, really. Can you pack me a pound of mixed caramels, too?” she asked, pointing down the display case. “I'm hosting a dinner tomorrow night and chewy caramels might quiet some of the more annoying wives.”

Hannah bit back words and nodded, filling the box quietly, not daring to speak.

The woman made a show of surprise at the final tally, handed over a debit card with obvious reluctance, then left the store in her designer shoes, her attitude a cartoon depiction of the fairy-tale stepmother.

Except this was real life and Dominic was on the receiving end of that harsh attitude.

Help him, God. Guide him. Soften the days, gentle his nights. Don't leave him alone, please.

Another customer walked in, followed by another. The late September day highlighted autumn's dance of color, summer's verdant green becoming fall's rainbowed majesty.

Hannah used to welcome fall, embracing the seasonal changes, the excitement of a new school year, ripe with opportunity. New classes, different students, fresh opportu
nities. Now she confronted the capricious season, willing herself through the beauty by way of prayer and self-therapy methods her psychologist taught her.

Day by day.

Seeing this boy's sorrow and angst, hearing the disdain in the stepmother's voice and seeing the kaleidoscope of color in the trees beyond the east-facing stores on Main Street drummed up a lot of memories.

But she disengaged herself from each twinge, taking care of customers and praying for strength, wishing for equilibrium, wanting more than anything else to move the clock back five years, to make a difference where it mattered most.

But that would never happen so she'd pretend to be brave and bold outside while her cowardly soul huddled within, wishing she'd done more, knowing she hadn't.

And she couldn't forgive herself for that.

 

Hannah felt the air change the minute Jeff walked through the door Thursday night. She had to squelch twinges of anticipation. Luckily, two other committee members walked in with him.

Perfect. Their presence precluded personal talk. She stepped forward and perked a smile that encompassed all three. “Good evening. I've got things set up at the round table tonight.”

Jeff took her cue and stayed matter-of-fact. “And Grandma sent cookies from the Colonial Cookie store. Cookies you may have helped make.”

Hannah kept her smile easy and her voice neutral. “I do the candy store more often now, so probably not. Although I've been known to warm up the cookie ovens at the bakeshop when Megan's shorthanded.”

“Altruistic.”

“More like thrifty,” she told him. “Paying the bills. Hey, Callie, glad you could make it.” Hannah shifted her attention
to Jacob's mother as she hurried in, her hassled expression saying there weren't quite enough hours in a day.

“Glad to help, although I'll miss this place when it's all dolled up and fancy,” Callie told her, grinning. She gave the small, cramped library a fond look. “This was the Farmers Free Library before I was born.”

“And before I was born,” added an older woman who followed Callie through the door, a newcomer to the committee. “And since I remember your mama pushing you in a stroller, Callie Marek, my memory stretches longer. But not with the same level of accuracy as you young folks.”

Jeff stuck out a hand to the older woman. “I beg to differ, Miss Dinsmore. Your wealth of knowledge puts us youngsters to shame. How are you?”

She waved off his hand with a shrug of impatience. “I'm not being unfriendly, Jeffrey, but I've had a cold hanging on for the better part of a month and while common sense would say I'm not contagious, it also warns me not to be careless with others, so I won't shake your hand tonight.”

“Is this the same cold you had in August?” he asked, his left brow shifting up.

“Or another one piggybacking the first. In any case, catching colds when you're a teacher isn't a bit unusual.”

“But not getting better is,” warned Jeff.

His concerned manner intrigued Hannah. Was this a family friend? A relative?

“Hannah, this is Miss Dinsmore, Wellsville's beloved high school science teacher.” Jeff offered the introduction easily, his affectionate tone respectful but friendly. “There are few people here who haven't benefitted from her wisdom and patience during adolescence.”

Science teacher?

A cool chill crept up Hannah's spine. “Nice to meet you.”

The other woman met Hannah's gaze with a pointed look
of consideration before she softened her expression. “And you. I've heard a lot about you, my dear.”

Jeff's look sharpened, but one of the other committee members drew his attention, interrupting the moment.

She knows.

Hannah met Miss Dinsmore's eyes and nodded, not willing to pursue the feeling but fairly sure she had no secrets from the wizened woman facing her. “Do you teach all levels?”

“Yes and no.” Miss Dinsmore withdrew a chair and settled into it, a glimmer of discomfort darkening her features before she took a deep breath, let it out slowly and smiled. “I have over the years. Right now I'm doing bio and chem.”

Hannah slid into the seat alongside her, reluctantly drawn. “I love biology.”

“I know.” Miss Dinsmore looked at her and broke her no-touch, I've-got-a-cold rule. She laid her hand atop Hannah's, commiserative. “You're quite gifted.”

A sigh enveloped Hannah from within, a silent inner wince that didn't seem quite so harsh in Miss Dinsmore's presence. “Thank you. It looks like we're ready to get started.” She nodded toward the opposite side of the table where Jeff stood waiting, a folder in his hands, his quick glance taking in the scene with Miss Dinsmore but too far away to hear their conversation.

Just as well.

Miss Dinsmore nodded, and turned her attention toward Jeff. Callie slipped in next to Hannah, her bright smile pushing harsh memories aside. Hannah was pleased that the old thoughts shoved off with barely a whimper, a good step forward.

Progress.

She thanked God for baby steps of strength while Reverend Hannity offered a prayerful request for wisdom and cooperation; his warm words advised open minds and prayed
for open wallets to help augment the cramped library surrounding them.

And when Jeff's eyes sought hers at the mention of open minds and forward progress, his expression sent her heart into a crazy spiral of what-ifs and could-bes. Hints of breaking out and busting loose tugged at her self-containment.

And it felt good.

 

“So.” Jeff stood with his back to the exit, arms folded, legs braced, facing Hannah and the now-empty room, seizing the opportunity to talk to her alone. “The meeting went well.”

“Quite.” Hannah finished gathering her notes, slipped them into her shoulder bag and jangled her keys. “And we finished early, which is always a plus.”

“Except we're not quite finished.”

She stopped halfway across the room, as if the short space marked neutral territory. “You had something to add?”

“You didn't call.”

His words sparked a bemused smile. “Neither did you.”

“Why?” He didn't move forward but he didn't step back either, his stance was solid, determined to find answers.

Hannah shrugged. “We've got jobs to do. There's no reason to let this—” she waved a hand from him to herself and back “—interfere.”

“What is
this?
” He mimicked her hand gesture, his expression questioning.

Her gaze tightened. Her shoulders straightened. His question bothered her, but why? He had no idea.

He took the first step forward, figuring she was probably too stubborn to make the first move. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but it
was
intriguing. He halved the space between them in two quick strides. “Well?”

“We've got jobs to do.”

“You mentioned that.” He took another half step forward.
“And I can't deny that work's been pretty demanding on my end, with no letup in sight. Why didn't you call?”

“Because I'm hideously old-fashioned and think the man should call?”

“Nice try. What's the real reason?”

She studied him, something in her expression saying mixed feelings had become the norm rather than the exception.

That realization made him want to change things up, make her happy. Keep her happy. Which was silly because he barely knew her, and yet… Seeing her talk with his grandmother. With Miss Dinsmore. The way Callie Burdick opened up to her. All of this pointed to how special she was, while she tucked herself out of the way, skirting the edge of life.

“I'm not a big fan of heartbreak, Jeff.”

A clue. He nodded. “Me either. But that's a big jump from a nice dinner, a few evenings together—”

She raised a hand to stop him and went all serious and cute. “Which seems presumptuous, I'm sure… Or just plain silly.”

He shook his head. “It's not either. It's simple caution. But how do we know where this—” he did her hand gesture again, teasing her “—might lead if we don't talk.” He moved forward. “Date.” Another step put him within a hairbreadth of her, those blue eyes inviting him to drown in the depths.

“I don't date.”

“Perfect time to change that.” He softened his voice to a whispered invitation, then grasped her left shoulder with his right hand. “We have nothing to lose, Hannah.”

She stepped back, eyed him, ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “I have a lot to lose, Jeff. I don't take risks. I don't buy raffle tickets, I don't play the lottery no matter how much of the money goes to education. I play it safe and sound now. It's the best I can do.”

“Now.” He held his ground. Another piece to the puzzle.
“Which means you used to take chances. What made you stop?”

She didn't cringe, wince or do any of the moves typical of a wounded animal, yet he instinctively felt the moves unseen. She settled a look of pained strength on him, an expression that said she'd examined her options and chose the only one available.

And it wasn't him.

“Life changes people, Jeff.”

No disagreement there. Life had certainly done a number on him, but he'd survived. “Doesn't free will give us the power of choice?”