She caught his wrist and pulled away, breaking the kiss. Hunter’s subsequent glare practically burned a hole in my head. As if it were my fault he’d forgotten to feed me or that Jenn was preoccupied.
“You know what else?” Jenn leaned back to gaze at Hunter. “I’ve always had this feeling, deep down inside, that Hannah has something truly special to contribute to the world. Just dang if I can figure out what that is.”
Tugging at a belt loop on her slacks, he laughed. “Yeah, maybe by the time she’s thirty we’ll figure that out.” His head tipped to the side. “Wanna go upstairs?”
A smile teased at the corners of her mouth. She bit her lip, obviously tempted.
I planted my rump and, pulling my paws in close to my chest, sat up. When neither of them looked at me, I barked. I managed to balance perfectly for a moment, before tottering sideways.
“Awww.” Totally ignoring Hunter, Jenn retrieved a peanut butter biscuit from the tin on the counter. I sat up again, this time balancing longer. She flipped it in an arc and I snatched it in midair. “Did you teach him that?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Hunter’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the display. “Speak of the devil. It’s Mom. I have to grab some paperwork out of the truck, so I’ll talk to her out there. Be right back. Remember where we were.”
While he was busy outside, I managed to bum three more biscuits off of Jenn. Hunter never gave me more than two. In the future, I resolved to hang out at Jenn’s feet more often while she was in the kitchen. This could be lucrative. I folded to the floor, then rolled over onto my side.
“You play dead, too?” Jenn took yet another biscuit from the tin.
Score!
Palm up, she extended the treat. A blast of cool air rushed in as the door was flung open. Her hand hovered above my head, just out of reach. I stretched my neck, sniffing.
“Nuh-uh,” Hunter said. “He’s had enough.”
Jenn’s fingers curled over the treat. With a shrug, she tossed it back in the tin. My stomach gurgled in protest.
“So what did she say?” Jenn said.
“Not the permanent solution I was hoping for. They can watch her this Monday and Tuesday, but it seems Brad surprised Mom with a cruise. They’re flying out Wednesday.”
Jenn shook her head slowly. “No, just ... no.”
“Yes. They’re off to the Bahamas for two weeks.”
“And after that?”
“Uh, yeah, well, they can’t. Seems Brad realized he wasn’t ready to retire yet. He just needed a less stressful job. Come next month, he’s the head of campus security at the community college. And Mom’s going to remain part-time at the clinic. They said they talked about it and decided that people who keep working have more social connections and live longer.”
Jenn’s body slumped in disappointment. “So what are we supposed to do with her? We can’t lock her in a closet. And I refuse to send her to that school in Taylor County like they suggested at first. She’s gifted, not mentally challenged.” Her fingertips moved in slow circles over her temples. “I suppose I could take a day or two off of work, but that’s all. I just started there. Is there any way you can rearrange appointments or bounce clients over to Doctor Timowski for the rest of next week?” She flipped her hand up. “No, wait, never mind. If you don’t work, you don’t get paid. We may need that money for some kind of special school that can deal with her issues. Except that there’s nothing even close to what she needs in this county. Maybe we could hire a nanny? Or a manny? That is what they call them, right?”
“Jenn, Jenn.” He rubbed her arms consolingly. “We don’t have to figure it all out this moment. We have a few days to think things over. For now, we need to stay calm and —”
“We? You mean me.” She pushed his hands away. “You tell me to ‘calm down’ like all I have to do is flip a switch and suddenly I’m all Zen. Like I can just summon forth rainbows and unicorns by popping Skittles. It’s not that easy, Hunter. Everyone keeps analyzing Hannah’s situation, but this has totally mucked up our life, too.”
Jaw clenched, Hunter sucked in a breath. “Remember she almost died, Jenn. No, she was dead — and Dr. Townsley brought her back to us. I’ll take her as she is, rather than not at all.”
Jenn looked away.
Clearly, he hadn’t wanted to go there, but he’d said it anyway. Hannah was Hannah. Brilliant and baffling all in one. There was no changing her.
His hand wandered up her cheek to brush the hair from her forehead. “This is a setback. That’s all. There are people who have it far worse than we do. We need to keep it all in perspective. Okay?”
Nodding, she glanced at him, then lowered her eyes.
He folded her to his chest and held her, stroking her back. Minutes passed, in which he rocked her in his arms and she wept softly against his checkered flannel shirt.
Often, what I noticed about them was that the tenderest moments occurred when they said nothing at all. Moments like this. Mario and Ariella’s love — if one could call it that — had been like a fire blazing out of control, consuming them both. And the Grunwalds ... if there had ever been any love between Mavis and Earl it was expressed solely by the fact that they had allowed one another to go on living.
The tears now gone, Jenn splayed her fingers against Hunter’s chest. “See, this is why you’re good for me. You keep me sane. You hold this family together. I love you, Hunter McHugh. I love Hannah, too. I really do. It’s just —”
“Shhh, I know, I know. I suppose if raising daughters was easy, we wouldn’t appreciate the good days as much as we do.”
I sighed then. I really did. This was what I loved about this family. Why I never wanted to be with any other. And why everything I had gone through before I met them only made being with them that much more meaningful.
I would do anything to keep them safe and whole and happy.
Anything.
chapter 23: Hunter
Hannah was in the same place and position that Hunter had left her almost nine hours earlier: her rump on the top step of her grandparents’ porch, her chin balanced on the heels of her hands, elbows firmly planted on her knees. She was still wearing the same sullen scowl, too.
And judging by the way Brad shook his head as he leaned wearily against his rake, his second day of watching Hannah hadn’t gone any better than the first.
Hunter climbed down out of his truck and shut the door. He hesitated for a few moments, pretending to check his phone messages before he went to Brad, who always had this vigilant air about him that made Hunter feel like he somehow knew that he’d gone five miles per hour over the speed limit on his way there.
Hind end waggling, Echo ran to Hunter. He skidded to a halt to sit at Hunter’s feet and tapped his thigh with a pleading paw.
“Come here, boy.” Hunter patted his chest. As Echo reared up, bouncing on his hind feet to get closer, Hunter ruffled the dog’s mane. “At least someone’s happy to see me.”
“That makes two of us,” Brad said as he approached. He propped his rake against a fence post and pinched the brim of his baseball cap in greeting. Brad didn’t wear hats because he was losing his hair. He had a head full of it, a blend of dark brown and pepper gray. After almost thirty years as a deputy and then sheriff, he said not having something on his head felt like the equivalent of showing up in public buck naked.
“How’d it go?” Hunter asked. “Same as yesterday?”
“That would’ve been nice. At least yesterday she ate something.”
“Hunger strike, huh?”
“Yep. I even made her favorite — square crackers with square bits of cheese. I made sure they were perfectly symmetrical. Did I miss a memo? Is she into circles now? On some paleo diet?”
“Not that I know of. So, no lunch?”
“Not even a snack. She must be dying of hunger. Couldn’t lure her into the kitchen, so I brought her out a tray and an extra coat. Put the food back inside after a while. Your mom’s always harping
on me about food poisoning when I forget to put the leftovers in the fridge.”
One of Brad’s fleece jackets was draped over Hanna’s shoulders. It was a little on the cool side today, being November, but the sun was out and there wasn’t much of a breeze. Still, not the kind of day you’d want to stay outside in for long.
“Bathroom breaks?” Hunter commanded Echo to ‘go get Hannah’ and just as he was told, Echo bounded to her. Ten feet away, he slowed, lowered his head, and crept up to her submissively, the clear message being that he bowed to Hannah in all matters. Despite the fact that Echo was slathering her with kisses, Hannah did little more than flinch in acknowledgment.
“Twice. She did have a glass of milk early on. Guess she didn’t want to pee her pants.”
“Sorry she’s being so difficult.”
“I wouldn’t say she was ‘difficult’. But I did worry about her. She has a history of drifting off, so I made sure I kept her in my sights.” Brad glanced over his shoulder at her. “Have you taken her to, you know, talk to someone?”
“This is Hannah we’re talking about. She doesn’t do deep, meaningful conversations. She doesn’t even do small talk most of the time.”
“True. It’s just ... well, the way she’s acting kind of makes you wonder what all went on at school lately. I’d hate to think the worst, like some sort of abuse, but you never know. In all my years of law enforcement, I learned that some of the nicest people have the most diabolical motives. Even bullying can have a big impact on kids. Words are powerful weapons.”
The thought of anyone preying on one of Hunter’s children sent his protective traits into overdrive. “I hadn’t given it much thought, actually. Do you think it’s possible?”
“Hard to say. I don’t want to make you start believing something happened that didn’t. Just throwing it out there. Anyway, like your mom’s said plenty of times, Hannah’s complicated. She processes things differently. Which begs the question: what are you going to do? She’s stuck in some kind of funk. Hate to see her this way.”
“To tell you the truth, Brad, I have no idea. Jenn and I have been brainstorming like crazy. She’d made so much progress this year after the accident. And now ...” His hands shoved deep into his pockets, Hunter turned and began walking toward the porch, Brad following. “Our options in this area are too limited. Jenn’s torn between staying home again and helping Hannah get through this, and remaining at her job. She’s checking with Human Resources at corporate headquarters to see if she could take a leave of absence while we work things out. I told her we’d find a permanent solution, but right now, I can’t for the life of me see what that might be.”
“Lise and I have been talking and we can just cancel our —”
Hunter wheeled around and stopped in front of him. “No.”
“Why not, Hunter? Family is important. It’s a small sacrifice to make.”
“I don’t want you to change your plans, that’s why. Hannah will come to work with me the rest of the week. Next Monday, we’re seeing a child psychologist in Nashville who specializes in children with special conditions like hers. Dr. Liming at the school pulled some strings to get us in. It may not solve our current problem, but we’re hoping it will give us some answers — although getting Hannah to open up is a little like asking for the key to Fort Knox. Could be we’ll have to guess our way to the answer.”
Nodding, Brad patted Hunter’s upper arm. “Well, good luck there. And I mean that.”
“Yeah, I know you do.” The ping of metal on metal drew Hunter’s attention. Farther down the road, on the other side, Heck Menendez heaved upward on a post driver before smashing it downward, slamming a skinny T-post into the ground. Hunter cupped a hand over his brow to shut out the glare of the sun. “What’s he doing over there?”
Brad squinted. “Not sure. Putting in a new mailbox maybe?”
“If he is, it’s the flimsy kind. He hasn’t learned yet, has he?”
“Apparently not.”
“I’ll stop by on my way home and tell him. It’s the neighborly thing to do, I suppose.”
“By the way, looks like we’ll be missing Thanksgiving this year. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. You two haven’t had a vacation since ... Gosh, it’s been years, hasn’t it? Go. Enjoy yourselves.”
They said goodbye and Brad went inside the house.
“Come on, sweet pea. Time to go.” Hunter retrieved Hannah’s book bag from the bottom step, where he’d set it earlier that day. It was still zipped, as if she hadn’t taken anything from it. He checked inside. Yes, Faustine was still there, along with Hannah’s favorite Shel Silverstein book. He slung it over his shoulder, thankful there wasn’t anyone around to see him sporting the pink and purple flowery backpack. He held out his hand for his daughter and pulled her to her feet. “Maura will be home soon and Mommy’s bringing pizza home for supper. You like pizza, right?”
As he expected, Hannah said nothing. Just slogged along with her head down, toes dragging. He knew there was a reason she’d gone silent, but he didn’t have the energy to delve into it right now. That day alone he’d already turned and birthed a breech calf, flushed the ear canals of a Bloodhound, had his hand pinched in the beak of a disagreeable African Grey parrot, wormed and vaccinated five pygmy goat kids, and diagnosed progressive retinal atrophy in a beloved Cocker Spaniel — and that was just before lunch.
Once Hannah was secured in her booster, he opened the passenger side door. Echo hopped into the co-pilot’s seat, his ears perked forward. He’d enjoyed trailing along with Hunter while Hannah had been in school. The frequent comings and goings of visitors at the clinic had made him far more accepting of strangers than he had been when they first got him. They would never know his history, but Hunter guessed that his early months had not been good ones. It was a testament to the dog’s resiliency that he had not only attached himself to a child who was sometimes challenging, but that he carried himself with such a calm and contemplative air. Echo was like an old soul who had discovered his calling, that of the family dog and a child’s best friend. A simple calling, yet a noble one.
After Halo, he’d been too busy with vet school for a dog. Then along came Maura, then Hannah ... Later, fate had delivered this black and white Aussie right to him, just when he was most needed. Now, Hunter couldn’t imagine being without a dog. So many times, he’d look at Echo, Echo would look back at him, and he’d get this powerful sense that he’d known the dog far longer than Echo had been alive.
Hunter pulled into the end of Heck’s driveway and turned his truck off. “This’ll only take a minute,” he said to Hannah, before getting out. Then he walked over to where Heck was eyeing his T-post. On the ground beside him was a smashed in mailbox.
“Leaning a little to your left,” Hunter said.
Laying the post-driver on the ground, Heck dragged his jacket sleeve across his forehead to mop away the sweat. “So you stopped in to critique my post-driving abilities?”
“Actually, I came to warn you that with that flimsy thing, you’ll probably end up retrieving your mailbox from the ditch on the far side of the road by next week.”
“Is vandalism a favorite pastime around here?”
Hunter shrugged. “I suppose there are worse things a teenager could do besides whack at mailboxes with baseball bats.”
“So what do you suggest? A P.O. box?”
Smirking, Hunter raised a finger. “You know, I never thought of that. I suppose if you went downtown every day, it’s a good option. But you don’t seem like the sort to me who gets out much.”
“I worked in downtown Louisville for thirty-seven years at a pharmaceutical company. I’ve been out as much as I ever want to be. Battling rush hour traffic on a daily basis was not my ideal life. Retirement has its perks.”
Now it made sense why he’d move out into the middle of nowhere.
“A pharmaceutical company, huh? So you were a pharmacist?”
“Resear
ch chemist.”
“Ah, now that’s interesting.”
“Not really.” Heck picked up the post-driver again. “Now, do you have a level with you? Because right now this post will have to do. Until I can hire a handyman to —”
“I can help you.”
“Help me?” Heck looked at him as if Hunter were suggesting they go tubing down the Amazon.
“Sure. I can run to town, pick up a wooden post, some cement mix, a steel mailbox, some two-by-fours ... What we do in these parts is just build the sucker so sturdy that it takes the fun out of it. Last thing some drunken teenager wants to do is explain to his parents why he’s in the emergency room with a broken arm. It won’t be pretty, but —”
“They’re drunk when they do this?”
“Or high. Or both.”
“And exactly how do you know this?”
“It’s been going on since I was in high school.”
Heck eyed him suspiciously.
“No, I never ...” Hunter waved his hands before him, but Heck was already marching off toward his garage, the post-driver propped on his shoulder, making him lean to that side.
He was about to follow Heck into his garage when he noticed Echo with his nose pressed to the inside of the truck window, steaming it up. Hannah was watching him, too. He let them both out, then took Hannah’s hand and went to the garage. Who knew how long this was going to take? Heck hadn’t answered him yet and he wasn’t leaving until he either said, ‘Sure, thanks’ or ‘Leave me the hell alone’.
The overhead door was closed, but the side entrance was open, so Hunter went in there, Echo trotting close behind them.
He wasn’t expecting what he saw: canvases on easels, shelves full of paints and paint remover, brushes, palettes ... Most of the canvases were blank, some had sheets over them, but there was one in the corner with a photo clipped at the top of the easel.
Tugging at his hand, Hannah led Hunter toward it. It was the first time in days that she’d interacted, and so he let go of her hand as he took everything in. There were a few garden tools clustered up front by the overhead door, but for the most part Heck had turned his garage into a studio.
Say That Again Page 19
