by Renee Ryan
Unsure what he meant, Hannah turned her attention back to her father. “I…I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Watching her with a speculative look in his eyes, he lifted a glass of water to his lips, sipped slowly, then set the glass back on the table. “I see it’s mutual.”
“It is?” Her stomach twisted in a frightening mix of hope and dread. “What is?”
And what an odd conversation to have with her father after so many years had passed.
“You both wear your hearts in your eyes.” His tone was not unkind. Rather, it was a bit wistful, as was the expression in his gaze.
“It’s the same way I used to look at your mother.”
There was sadness in his words. An emotion she knew all too well. The mention of her mother brought back so many memories. Too many to sort through all at once. “I still miss her,” Hannah said.
Her father merely nodded. Took another sip of his water.
Couldn’t he say more? Couldn’t he make this easier for them both? Hannah balled her hands into fists, the sound of crumpling paper reminding her why he couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.
Rachel stood between them.
“I have a letter for you from my sister.” Her voice broke. She couldn’t stop it, didn’t even try.
The expression in his eyes turned unreadable as he stretched out his palm.
She handed him the two letters. “The top one is for you. The other is for Will.”
His mouth thinned as he examined the folded pages in his hand. The waiter chose that moment to ask for Hannah’s order. “I’m not eating,” she said. “Thank you, though.”
Clearly baffled, his eyes shifted to her father. He dismissed the young man with a flick of his wrist. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
“Very well, sir.”
By the time the waiter scurried off, her father was bent over Rachel’s letter. His gaze ran furiously across the page. His abrupt gasp was the most emotion Hannah had seen him display in her entire life. There was such fury in the sound. Such anger. And pain. So. Much. Pain.
At last, he folded the letter with agonizing slowness and said, “To run off with an actor.” His voice cracked. “I don’t understand why she would do such a thing.”
Hannah crossed her arms around her waist and tried to hug away the cold. “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered. “But it’s true.”
He looked at her with tears in his eyes. At the obvious sign of his vulnerability, a fist of ice clutched around her heart and squeezed. She didn’t know what to say in the face of such raw emotion. He’d always been a rock. A stone-faced rock.
“It makes no sense,” he said. “This is so unlike her.”
With awkward movements, Hannah reached out and touched his hand but he flinched away from her.
Shaking his head, he blinked away the tears and then narrowed his eyes. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Determined to be truthful, Hannah sat back and folded all emotion deep inside her and nodded. “I introduced them.”
“That’s not what I meant. Did you talk her into marrying him?”
“No.” She forced herself to sit still under his penetrating stare. “I insisted.”
“And Reverend O’Toole? Am I to assume he performed the ceremony?”
“Yes.” She held up her hand before he could speak over her. “Rachel ran off with Tyler. Beau married them once they were found. Those are the facts, but not the entire truth. For that, let me start at the beginning.”
And she did. At the very beginning, at the scene of her mother’s deathbed. She explained about her promise to care for Rachel, and all the subsequent lies Hannah had told to protect her sister ever since.
As she spoke, her father never once interrupted, but he looked at her with devastated eyes. When she got to the part about the affair with Mr. Beamer, another, equally horrified change came over him. And his eyes widened with alarm. “Weeks later, she tried to tell me she had the affair, not you.”
The muscles in Hannah’s stomach shook. Perhaps Rachel had tried to explain. But it had been too little, too late. “You didn’t believe her, did you?”
He shut his eyes and released a shudder. “Of course not.”
“No, why would you?” For a moment, a tiny one, everything seemed to slow down while Hannah’s thinking sped up. A tiny trickle of apprehension slid between her shoulder blades as one thought surfaced. In her own way, Hannah had been as guilty as Rachel.
“Can you forgive me, Father?”
“But you said you didn’t commit any of the…sins.” The merciless look in his eyes would have made a brave woman quiver. Hannah was not a brave woman.
Nevertheless, she had come this far. “No. I’ve sinned, as well. In my own way. I bore false witness,” she whispered. “All these years, I allowed you to believe one lie after another. Thinking I owed it to Mama, I played my role.”
And all these years she’d thought of herself as the victim, the tragic heroine in the story of her life. But the reality was nothing so glamorous. How could she not have seen her own ugly role? How could she have lied to herself?
“I was ready to believe the stories. I never questioned them. Not once. I wanted to believe you were the bad sister.” His eyes turned haunted. “For that, I owe you my own apology.”
Hannah held her breath. A little crack in her heart opened, begging him to fill it with fatherly love. “Father? Are you saying you believe me now?”
“You were so close to your mother. She relied on you because you were strong, like her. You are so much like her.” He shook his head, blinked. “Even now, I see her in you, in the way you hold your head high, in the way you look me straight in the eyes.” He released a shaky sigh, his sorrow stripping away the hard exterior. “When she died, I saw too much of her in you. Perhaps I resented you for that.”
In spite of the pain and anger she’d harbored all these years, a portion of her own resentment washed away with his confession. “Perhaps you were grieving in your own way.”
“That was no excuse.” For once, the hard tone of judgment was centered on himself.
Hannah reached out and gripped his hand. This time he didn’t pull away. But even through her glove, his fingers were ice-cold. “We were both wrong,” she said.
“Yes, we were.”
The ragged shake of his breath was identical to hers. But then his gaze fell to the other letter, and he abruptly released her hand to grip it in his fist. “Will,” he whispered. “This will devastate him.”
With a sinking heart, Hannah lowered her gaze to her lap. Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t deny that his obvious devotion to Will Turner hurt. “I know you love Will like the son you never had.”
“I must be the one to tell him.” He motioned to the waiter and took care of the bill in a frenzy of orders and money tossed to the table.
Watching her father’s agitated movements, Hannah tried not to feel abandoned. “Of course.” She allowed herself a tight smile. “You should go to him at once.”
He rose. “Yes.”
Hannah stood, as well, and caught sight of Beau heading quickly toward them.
Her father shut his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. “Hannah, we have much yet to discuss, but I fear Will must be told of Rachel’s marriage. Would you and your friends do me the honor of coming to my home for supper this evening?”
Beau arrived before she could respond. It was a comfort to have him standing next to her. Like an anchor in turbulent seas.
His gaze searched hers, a question raising his eyebrows. “Is everything all right here?” he asked.
“Yes, everything is fine,” Hannah said to him. Then she turned to her father. “Thank you for the invitation. We would be pleased to dine with you this evening.”
He nodded. “Be at my home promptly at six-thirty.”
His tone was gruff, demanding, and, as always, he refused to accept any argument on the matter.
Wh
at had she expected? A complete change in the course of a single conversation?
“We’ll be there on time.”
No, Hannah would make sure they arrived a full five minutes ahead of schedule. Just to be safe. Just to be respectable. Just to be…contrary. A smile tugged at her lips.
Apparently, a single conversation hadn’t completely changed her, either.
Chapter Twenty
Beau took Hannah’s hand as he led her down Monument Street. With a brief smile, he tightened his grip and pulled her a little closer. The smell of pine was strong in the air tonight. Crickets clicked out their evening song. The city gas lamps provided a golden glow at their feet, making the world seem a little softer, a little more welcoming.
With each step away from her childhood home, Beau could feel the tension leaving Hannah. They’d had a pleasant enough evening with her father, all things considered, but Beau had sensed the conflicting emotions rushing through her. By the end of the meal, she’d been trembling with nerves and bravely hiding that fact behind a serene smile and gracious manners.
Her acting abilities were good. But not that good. No one, not even his glorious mother, was that good.
Consequently, Beau’s protective instincts had reared, and he’d invited her for this walk. Right now he wanted a moment alone with her, to enjoy her company and discuss anything other than her sister, his brother and painful childhood memories.
“Hannah, I—”
“Beau, I—”
They laughed together, their voices uniting in flawless harmony. A surge of satisfaction filled him. Tonight, everything felt right. “You first,” he said.
She paused, turned to look him in the eyes. The big silver moon cast its pale light across her face, making her look ethereal and fragile. A storybook heroine come to life. A surge of affection jammed the breath in his throat. Beau would not risk losing the gift that stood right in front of him by focusing on what he didn’t yet have and certainly couldn’t control.
No matter where his ministry took him in the future, no matter where he settled, he wanted to spend a lifetime comforting and protecting this woman. If she would have him.
“I just wanted to thank you,” she said, her eyes burning with silent gratitude. “I don’t know what you said to my father at the hotel, but by the time I sat down he was willing to listen to me, actually listen. More so than he’s done since my mother passed away.”
Beau lifted her hand to his lips, forgetting everything but how soft her skin felt against his palm. “I merely told him you are the most amazing woman of my acquaintance and that he’d regret losing an opportunity to know you.”
“Oh, Beau.” Tears spiked along her lashes.
Like most men, Beau was helpless around feminine tears. But Hannah’s slaughtered him. The reflex to hold her came so fast, so powerful, he had to shut his eyes and pray for strength. He silently counted his heartbeats—one, two, three—until he had control over his baser impulses.
“Hannah, my beautiful Hannah, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I treated you at our first meeting.” He pressed a finger to her lips to prevent her from interrupting him. “I know you’ve already forgiven me,” he began. “I know we’ve moved beyond this, but I still feel the need to make it up to you.”
“You already have.” She smiled at him, that soft lifting of lips that punched him straight in the heart. “You came here with me, knowing my father could take away your new church.”
“That no longer matters.” He was startled by the surge of peace that came with the declaration. “I’ve been fooling myself for so many years, chasing a dream I only thought I wanted. Tyler was the first to help me see the truth.”
“Of all people.” But her eyes told him she didn’t doubt that his brother had helped him. That was part of Hannah’s appeal—her ability to see the good in others, even when no one else could.
It was why he loved her. And, oh yes, he loved her. With all his heart.
And that was why he had to confess all. “I thought if I could settle in a nice church in the meadow, I could win the good people’s support. Their approval. And then, once I’d earned their trust, I would open the doors to others, the outcasts.”
“Oh, Beau, don’t you know how courageous you are?” She patted his cheek.
Such pretty eyes. Such softness.
His stomach did a quick pitch.
When had this woman’s approval become so important to him? Far more important than a shaky dream surrounding an elusive brick and mortar building.
“I’ve always thought I was too stubborn, too arrogant, to be a good preacher,” he said. “I thought if I could find a calm, sedate wife, she would help smooth my rough edges and take the flamboyant son of an actor out of me.”
Her gaze softened with understanding. “You would die in a life like that.”
Home. Family. Permanence. Those were the things he’d always wanted. Still did. He hadn’t realized God would give them to him in an unexpected way. But God had made him wait for his perfect match. In the process, Beau had learned patience. And now, he understood that the best things in life were worth a little delay now and then.
“All this time, I thought I had to prove I was a man of God by fitting into the usual image of what that looks like.”
“Oh, Beau.” She sighed. “You serve so many just as you are—the kind of people who would never learn of God’s mercy if you didn’t teach them.” She cupped his cheek. There was acceptance in her gaze, a quiet understanding that eased his concerns. Hannah Southerland drew feelings out of him no one else ever had.
It was a heady sensation. One he rather enjoyed. And hoped to continue enjoying the rest of his life.
“Did I ever tell you how proud your parents are of you?” she asked. “They speak of you with such love. It would break their hearts if they thought you were unhappy because of them.”
A quick flash of guilt kicked in his gut. He tried to talk and coughed out air instead. Gulping, he tried again. “All this time, I’ve thought of my childhood as a curse. But now I see that the constant travel and inconsistencies, all my dealings with crazy characters on and off the stage, were equipping me to do the work God had planned specifically for my life.”
“You’ve found out who you are.”
“Yes.”
“I’m happy for you, Beau.”
Her gentle tone affected him far more than her words. “There’s only one thing missing.” The hope in her eyes gave him the courage to continue. “Hannah, I want you to be…No.” He stopped himself.
What was he thinking?
After what Tyler and Rachel had done, he couldn’t let impulse drive his actions. Hannah deserved better.
Their future demanded more.
He looked over his shoulder, back toward her father’s house. The lights were still blazing. There was time yet tonight. If he hurried.
“I want to do this right,” he said and touched her cheek. With gentle fingers, he pushed her hair aside and studied her face. “No mistakes. No selfish acts. I must speak with your father first.”
Her eyebrows slammed together, and she tilted her head at a confused angle. “Now? You need to speak to my father at this hour?”
His mouth curved at the sign of her bafflement, and he dropped his hand. “I don’t want to wait until morning.” Surely, she understood what he meant. Surely, she understood why he had to ask her father for her hand in marriage before he asked her. Tyler and Rachel had made propriety all the more necessary.
She took a shaky breath. “But why tonight? I don’t understand the rush.”
“Because I have to…” Fearing time was running out, he stabbed a glance toward her father’s house. Urgency sent his blood screaming through his veins. “We have to go quickly, before he retires for the evening.”
He spun on his heel and made his way back toward the house at a hurried pace.
“Beau, wait.”
She trotted after him.
He slowed his
gait to accommodate hers.
“Have you gone mad?” she asked when she caught up.
With a quick flash of teeth, he grinned down at her. “Mad? No. In fact, I’m the sanest I’ve ever been.”
Hannah couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. Her father and Beau had been holed up in the church’s office for well over an hour. What could they possibly be discussing that couldn’t have waited until morning?
Beau had been so agitated earlier.
Weariness swamped her suddenly, made her want to collapse in a puddle of shivers. If only she had someone to help her sort out the confusing facts. But for all intents and purposes, she was alone with her worry.
Mavis had long since abandoned the vigil and had fallen asleep in a chair in the far corner of the parlor, snoring and muttering in her sleep.
Hannah didn’t have the heart to wake the older woman.
When she looked over at her chaperone-turned-friend, a flutter of affection shifted in her stomach. Mavis was a part of her family now. Would Beau be a part of it, as well?
A rush of excitement surged through her at the thought.
Beau had mentioned he wanted to do things right. With Tyler and Rachel running off the way they had, she could understand that desire. But surely Beau wouldn’t ask her father for her hand without speaking with her first. He couldn’t be that dense, that heavy-handed. That…male.
Please, Lord, let me be wrong about this.
But when another handful of minutes passed by, and the door remained firmly shut, Hannah’s fears increased.
She paced.
She worried.
She paced some more.
Looking around the parlor, she took more than a cursory inventory of the room this time. Nothing had changed in the last five years of her absence. The room was still clean. Neat. Unpretentious. Much like her father.
And yet, it had her mother’s stamp on it, as well, left over from all these years. The rose and peony wallpaper had been hung on Hannah’s seventh birthday. The memory of the day when her mother had allowed her to help pick out the pattern still burned in Hannah’s mind. But just as quickly, it skipped away.
