Mended Hearts (9 page)

“I waited patiently for the Lord. He turned to me and heard my cry.”

The psalm mocked Jeff. He'd stopped waiting patiently for anything years ago, needing to be in charge. But right now, watching Hannah's ease with the other committee members, he wondered what he hoped to gain by rushing through life. Did he want his measure of success to be in business only?

“Imagine what my parents thought,” his mother exaggerated, amusing the group as he approached, “when they got me instead of the science-loving prototype they envisioned. While my mother devoured every issue of
American Scientist,
I was hiding in my room reading romance novels and practicing the piano, imagining myself a modern-day Elizabeth Bennett.”

Hannah laughed with the others, lilting and sweet, the kind of reaction he'd like to inspire. Of course, he was a stuffed shirt scientist, like his grandparents. But Hannah liked science. She'd said so.

Which meant he might still have a chance, although after tonight's fiasco, his opportunities appeared dim.

“Do you still play, Dana?” Miss Dinsmore asked as she settled into a seat, a huff of breath making her sound tired.

“I do.” Dana smiled at her old teacher before indicating Jeff with a wave of her hand. “And I forced Jeff and Meredith to learn because as much as I respect the periodic table and great haircuts, the arts and a nice garden are food for the soul. A good life should embrace balance.”

Jeff read her message, but wouldn't pursue that now. He called the meeting to order and went through the customary procedural notes before offering his idea up for a vote.

Reverend Hannity raised his hand. “Yes, Reverend?”

“The idea of a walkway is wonderful, Jeff,” the reverend exclaimed. “I know the other pastors will offer full support. We've talked about it amongst ourselves, but the village right-of-way made it impossible to do without board permission.”

“Can we get permission?” Hannah asked Jeff. “Do we need to attend a board meeting to present the idea?”

He nodded, hearing the word
we
and wondering if she'd deliberately just offered him another night of her time. Most likely not. “They meet on the first and third Wednesdays, so if we can put together a prospectus with Winchell Brick, we could present it to the board next week and get things rolling. This would be a carryover-type fundraiser that we'd work on throughout the winter.”

“Who would build the path?” Miss Dinsmore wondered out loud. “Volunteers are fine, but a permanent path needs to be carefully graded.”

“We could help with that,” Callie offered. “My dad and his crew are great at putting in landscape walls and paths and this is the same idea, just wider and longer. I'll run it by him, but I'm sure he'll say yes.”

“Thanks, Callie.” Jeff smiled at her, then scanned the group. “Objections?”

No one raised their hand.

He nodded before shifting his attention back to Hannah. “Then we'll approach the town board next week and seek approval contingent on raising the necessary funds by selling the bricks.”

He included her on purpose, she was sure of it, and there was no wiggle room when they were surrounded by a room full of people. By the time the other committee members headed home, she'd forgotten the list of reasons why she
shouldn't
accompany Jeff to the meeting.

That meant they'd be together two nights next week, and while a part of her thought of that with anticipation, another
part urged caution. She decided to ignore both as she stowed her paperwork and notes in her shoulder bag. Jeff gathered his things in similar fashion and headed her way, a glance at his watch telling her she was taking too much time.

Well, too bad. She'd been walking to her car for three years; she hadn't needed an escort before and didn't need one now.

Jeff glanced at his watch again. Hannah swept him a quick glance. “You don't have to wait for me. I'm fine.”

He frowned and looked at her, then the watch, before an “aha” expression brightened his features. “I wasn't in a hurry. My watch seems to have stopped at seven fifty-two.”

His watch broke. Suddenly Hannah felt foolish.

He wasn't trying to push her along. Or lamenting the time like Brian had done so often, making her work seem less vital.

“And I was thinking we should get together this weekend,” Jeff continued, “to put together an intelligent proposal about the sidewalk fundraiser.”

“I know nothing about building sidewalks,” Hannah said as she approached the door. “You'd do better to find somebody else.”

“We don't have to know the how-tos,” Jeff explained, following her outside. “Just the basics. And it would look better to the town board if we both attend the meeting since we're cochairs.”

Jeff had a good point. Their old-school town officials might need some convincing, and two was better than one.

“All right.”

“Can we get together this Saturday to check out Winchell Brick?” Jeff asked as they crossed the parking lot. “Once we've got sizes and prices figured out we could head to my place or yours, figure out the square footage and the application process and then present the full package to the board. What do you think?”

“I'm here until three.”

“And Winchell's closes at four on Saturday,” Jeff mused as they reached her car. “How about if I pick you up here and we go straight to Winchell's? I'll let Ted know we're coming and he can advise us.”

She couldn't dispute the plan, and since she didn't exactly find spending an evening with Jeff a hardship, that meant they'd be together three of the next six nights. Well. She could keep things together for three evenings. Right?

One glance up into his eyes nixed that assumption.

“We can get takeout and have a working supper,” Jeff continued. “Chinese, Italian or pizza.”

Hannah smiled. Jamison didn't sport much in the way of Indian, Thai or sushi. “Chinese. From Happy Garden. Because I like the name.”

Her answer drew his smile. “Happy Garden, it is.” He watched as she climbed into her car, then raised a hand. “I'll see you Saturday. Drive careful.”

“I will. The whole three blocks.” She offered a quick wave and left him standing as she drove off, mixed feelings vying for her attention.

She wanted to see him. The spark of attraction that burned brighter in his presence felt good.

But she was driving herself crazy trying to read something into his every movement, hunting for signs that made him more or less like Brian, and that wasn't healthy. “Father, help me. You know me, Lord, You know what I've seen. What I've done. You know the cowardly soul that lingers inside. I don't want to be that person anymore, but I don't know how to take full command again. Show me. Please.”

You know exactly what you need to do,
her conscience retorted.
And until you walk into a school and take your place in front of a classroom again, you let evil win, letting fear stand in your way. You know what needs to be done. You just won't do it.

Not won't. Can't,
thought Hannah.
I
can't
do it. There's a difference.

But her heart knew there wasn't and while she might be able to turn off the mental scoldings, there was no way to silence her heart. Like it or not, she was a teacher. And a tiny part of her dared to dream of doing it again.

H
annah pretended to scowl at a make-believe watch when Jeff rolled to a stop in front of the library entrance at 3:07 p.m. on Saturday. He started to climb out but she hopped in before he had a chance.

“Chivalry later.” She buckled her seat belt and shot him a glance. “Clock's ticking.”

“I know. I worked this morning and gave the yard one last mowing. At least I'm hoping it's one last mowing, and the cold front headed our way seems to agree. And by the way—” he gave her gold top and dark brown sweater a quick look “—you looked wonderful standing there with the trees turning color behind you.”

“Really?” He had no idea how much that compliment meant to her. She beamed. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Got your notebook?”

“Right here.”

“And Ted Winchell knows we're running short on time so he's gathered information for us. And once we're done, we can head to my place if that's okay, eat and outline our presentation?”

“Sounds like a plan.” She leaned forward, then paused, one finger ready to hit Play. “Music?”

“Sure.”

She hit a switch, heard the music playing and sent him a sideways glance. “VeggieTales? Really?”

He laughed and hit Eject. “Trent and I worked this morning. We had his daughter Cory with us so Alyssa could have time with baby Clay because he was running a fever. Five-year-olds like listening to the same CD over and over again. Kind of like women.”

Hannah raised a hand. “Guilty as charged. I have my favorites and Cory Michaels is one smart little girl. And adorable. How Alyssa handles three kids and a full-time job with Trent out of town is a marvel.”

“You're right.” Jeff pulled into the parking lot abutting Winchell Brick and turned the engine off. “And that realization should be enough to make me feel guilty. I've only had the increased workload at the factory.”

“‘A man works from sun to sun…'” Hannah started the quote and laughed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff sent her a grin as they headed up the walk, sweet and sincere, a smile that faded as soon as he stepped in the door.

“Thanks for all this, Ted.” A dark-haired man reached out to shake Ted Winchell's hand. “Hank Marek began this project with solid goals and I want to follow that lead. Having the current prices on materials is crucial.”

“Yes, it is.” Ted turned, saw Jeff, smiled, gave him a quick “just a moment” hand sign, then turned back. “Matt, if you need anything else, give me a call. I can honor that quote through next spring unless something unforeseen happens in the market. In that case, I'll call you.”

“Sounds good.”

The dark-haired man turned and spotted Jeff and Hannah at the door. He drew a deep breath and looked ill at ease, his right hand clutching a fistful of papers in an iron grip. “Jeff.”

“You're buying the Marek subdivision?” Jeff stepped for
ward, shoulders taut, wondering why he had to run into Matt right now. “You'd stoop that low?”

“The bank's already taken it over. It's falling into disrepair. So, yes, if I can crunch the numbers, I'm going to buy it and complete it. Until this moment it was a quiet deal—”

“I'm sure of that,” Jeff retorted.

Matt continued as if Jeff hadn't spoken. “And because we're at a sensitive part of the negotiations, I'd appreciate you keeping this confidential.”

Ted shot Matt a look of chagrin. “I'm sorry, Matt. I should have finished this with you in the office.”

Matt shook his head. “My brother understands the art of careful negotiation, Ted. I'm sure he'll respect my wishes.” The word
brother
drew Hannah's attention. Jeff felt her eyes on him, sensed the shift of emotion. And he knew better than to make a public spectacle. Wasn't that exactly why he worked so hard to spit-polish the family name, trying to erase Neal Brennan's high-profile mistakes? But it was a tough go when one of those missteps stood larger than life before him, way too self-assured for an ex-con.

Jeff's mother believed Matt had paid his price by doing eighteen months in juvie.

Katie Bascomb was sentenced to a lifetime with a missing right leg.

Jeff had a hard time seeing justice in that equation, but he ground his jaw and shut his mouth, eager to maintain the family dignity. He'd been doing fine with that until Matt showed up.

He moved to let Matt by, refusing to introduce him to Hannah. As he passed, Matt dipped his chin Hannah's way in a nod of respect. “Ma'am.”

She nodded back, then shot Jeff a look that hinted at disappointment.

Her look cut deep. Once again Matt's presence cast him in a bad light.

“Jeff.” Ted stepped forward, determined. “I've got your facts and figures back here in my office, but let me show you guys a few ideas first.”

“Thank you.” Hannah smiled at Ted and extended her hand. “I'm Hannah Moore and I'm helping chair the fundraising.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ted shook her hand before leading them to the far wall. “I stopped up in Jamison the other day to examine the existing masonry work on the churches. Fundamentally you can use anything for the path. Aesthetically, I'd go with fieldstone pavers.” He pointed to the wall display. “You could go with the pink-tinged or gray-tinged stone. Either would draw together the preexisting aged conditions of the five churches surrounding the round green of the park.”

“Could we combine them?” Hannah asked.

Ted grinned. “You've got a good eye. Yes. Either works fine, but blended they'd carry the right color balance. They're made for long-lasting good looks and foot traffic, and with the proper underlayment they won't shift and gap with repeated frost, ice and snow. Sound good?”

“It does.” Jeff nodded, determined to focus on the task at hand. He shifted his attention to Hannah, wishing he hadn't caused that guarded look in her eye. “Do you think we need to present the board with various options or go with this one alone?”

“Good question.” She scanned the other displays, frowned and shrugged. “Nothing else is exactly right, correct?” She met Ted Winchell's gaze.

He shook his head. “Not in my estimation.”

“And you're the resident expert.”

He smiled. “Well, I don't like to brag….”

Hannah laughed and waved her hand at the stone they'd chosen. “Let's go in with this. The more decisive we appear, the more confidence we'll inspire.”

“I like how you think.” Ted led them into the office, typed
a few figures into an existing spreadsheet, then printed the results. “This gives you the information you'll need to present to the board.” He handed Hannah a brochure from the stone company. “And this one is the cost of what we're donating.”

Jeff looked at the donated figure and whistled. “Ted, that's mighty generous of you guys.”

Ted shrugged. “My brother is buried in the graveyard behind Holy Name. My parents got married in Good Shepherd just before Reverend Hannity came. My grandmother still goes to the White Church at the Bend each and every Sunday.” He indicated the figures with a nod. “Family takes care of family, right? It was the least we could do.”

His words stifled Jeff's reply, and Hannah stepped into the silence.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And good luck,” he told them as he walked them to the door, his keys in hand. “Between Councilman Bascomb and Councilwoman Jackson, you might have your work cut out for you. They pretty much say no to everything, and that leaves Cyrus as the tiebreaker, and Cyrus can't make a decision to save his life.”

“You're kidding, right?” Hannah scanned Ted's face, then turned to Jeff. “Please tell me he's kidding.”

“I wish I could.”

“So we did all this and they're going to say no? What was the point?”

Jeff exchanged looks with Ted. “Because we're going to schmooze them into saying yes.”

“More games?”

“Let's call it strategic planning,” Ted told her. He exchanged a frank look with Jeff before returning his attention to Hannah. “Small towns have advantages and disadvantages. An advantage is knowing everyone because there is no such thing as hiding in a small town. So you play to the council's sensitivities to win their individual votes.”

“And the disadvantage is?” Hannah arched a brow.

He shrugged and laughed. “Secrets don't really exist. No one comes here to hide because everything's an open book. And no council member is going to want the smudge of being the one person to vote down a good thing for the town because that's political suicide.”

She pointed a finger at Jeff. “You got me into this on purpose, didn't you?”

“Absolutely. I wasn't about to take them on alone, Hannah. I'm brave, but I'm not stupid.”

His words brought his confrontation with Matt back to mind. He hadn't been brave then. He'd been contentious and ornery, both of which equaled stupid.

And he'd done it in front of Hannah and Ted, after he promised himself he'd get a handle on these feelings about Matt.

Hannah's quiet look of appraisal said he'd lost points, which was fine, wasn't it?

Define
fine, his conscience niggled.
And get a grip.

Easier said than done.

Saint Peter's question popped into his mind again.
“How many times must I forgive my brother, Lord? Seven?”

 

Jeff knew Christ's answer. He understood the severity behind the response, the virtually limitless cache of forgiveness. Now he just had to find the strength to go along with the understanding.

“Jeff, this is lovely.” Hannah surveyed the stately Colonial from the driveway a half hour later as the late-day light danced beams across the west-facing house. She turned to face Jeff, her right hand indicating the house and the yard. “This is yours?”

“You like it?”

“Try love it. Is it as sweet inside?”

“Let's find out.” He grinned and lifted the two bags of
takeout. “Since it appears I'll be eating leftover Chinese for a week, we might as well start putting a dent in this.”

“I told you not to get the cashew chicken or the sesame shrimp,” she scolded as they reached the front door. “Just because I said I liked them didn't mean we needed four entrées.”

“I enjoy choices, and I lived through many a college weekend on cold Chinese,” he told her. “So I actually like having leftovers in the fridge.”

“You surprise me.”

“How's that?”

Hannah shrugged. “You live in a big house you probably rarely see and you eat cold Chinese out of paper cartons.”

“The house was a wise investment about seven years ago when prices were down and the former owners moved south. The Chinese food, well, I like cold Chinese.”

“It's beautiful, Jeff.” Hannah turned in a slow circle once inside, taking in the entry hall, the oak-trimmed rooms embracing the foyer and the staircase before her, a nod to older times and more stately bearings. “And what a staircase.”

Jeff grinned boyishly. “That's what sold me. I could just see me as a kid, sliding down that banister, listening to my mother scold me.”

“Having met your mother, I can't imagine she scolded too loud or too long. She's sweet and gentle.”

“Unlike me?”

Hannah heard an almost plaintive note in his voice. “I think life might have handed you a two-sided coin and you're not too sure how to handle that.”

“You mean that scene with my brother.”

She made a little face. “Your business. Not mine.”

He crossed the large and fairly empty dining room and entered a big, homey kitchen. Hannah followed, appreciating the welcoming stature of the elegant old rooms. The inviting maple table and chairs said the kitchen was his room of
preference. He set the bags on the kitchen table and indicated them with a wave as he withdrew plates from ivory-stained cupboards. “Buying beef, shrimp, chicken and lo mein should be considered at least a little sweet.”

“Since food is a necessity, and I've witnessed your confession about loving leftovers, I'm afraid buying too much doesn't measure up.”

“How about this?” He handed her the plates, opened the fridge and withdrew a string-tied white box. He slit the string, lifted the cover and withdrew a chocolate enhanced cannoli. “When it comes to desserts, I like Italian best.” He held the pastry to her mouth and Hannah bit down carefully, letting the mingled tastes of dark chocolate, crisp cookie and sweet filling meld before she swallowed.

“Amazing. Gimme.” She took the cannoli from his hand, took another bite and laughed at his look of chagrin as she began opening bags one-handed.

She fit, Jeff decided, seeing her there in front of the charming glass-fronted kitchen cabinets surrounding the kitchen on three sides. Her long braid dipped and swung with her movements, fetching atop the gold knit turtleneck beneath a dark brown nubby sweater. He grabbed silverware from a drawer, then plunked them onto the table with a deliberate lack of finesse. “Casual okay?”

She laughed, licked the last tidbit of cannoli cream from her fingers and agreed. “I love casual.”

So did he. The smidge of pretentiousness that sometimes accompanied his job annoyed him. Over the years he'd dated a few women who fawned over that aspect of his career.

Not Hannah. She filled a trucker-size plate from the various cartons and then nailed him with a scathing look when he scanned the plate. “I do believe we've already had this discussion. I like to eat.”

“I remember. You just surprise me because most women
pretend they don't eat, then wolf down a bag of chips when they get home because they're starving.”

“And you know this because?”

“I have a sister.”

“Meredith.” Hannah nodded, pulled out a chair and took a seat. “And Megan says she gives great haircuts. That's an art right there.”