Hannah Grace

by MacLaren Sharlene

  After the service, rather than mingling outside, as folks did in warmer weather, people stood in crowded clusters in the church's small foyer, laughing and exchanging greetings and discussing everything from the preacher's timely message of hope to the rising prices of bread and milk. Ralston always enjoyed this part of the morning, as it gave him the opportunity to rub shoulders with a few of the upper crust, the folks he tended to migrate toward because they offered potential financial support for the hospital project. Strange-it hadn't bothered her until now the way he snubbed the "common folks," many of whom he treated in his office, in favor of ingratiating himself with the elite.

  Ralston steered her elbow in the direction of Mr. Roland Withers, president of Sandy Shores Bank and Trust, and his wife, Ruby, who were standing in the entry with another finely dressed couple Hannah didn't recognize.

  "Hannah!" The small voice from behind rose above the murmur of conversations taking place around her. Jesse. To Ralston's consternation, she halted her steps and turned, seeking the source of the voice.

  "Come on, Hannah," Ralston urged, directing her through the shoulder-to-shoulder throng. "I want to catch Roland Withers before he leaves."

  "You go ahead," she said, straining through the crowd to pinpoint Jesse's whereabouts. She couldn't possibly leave without giving him a hug.

  "Oh, all right." He sighed and grimaced. "But meet me at the door." Why have I always tolerated his almost militant manner? she wondered as she watched him turn away and head in the direction of Roland Withers, vanishing from sight within seconds. She certainly didn't appreciate it coming from Gabriel Devlin. In fact, more than once she'd outright defied his directives, even when they made perfect sense. Could it be that with Gabriel, she felt free to be herself, to act in a manner befitting of her true character-and that, conversely, with Ralston, she'd professed early on to be someone she wasn't for the purpose of winning his attention? How shallow and small-minded of me, she suddenly concluded, to have fallen in love with the idea of marrying a physician but not love the man himself. But then, Ralston hadn't exactly expressed his love for her, either. He'd proposed marriage, yes, but had never professed his undying love. Perhaps to him, she represented a convenient solution and nothing more-someone to help him in the advancement of his career.

  A new sense of urgency tugged at her heart. Certainly, they had reached a threshold in their relationship. The time had come to settle matters-tonight at her house after their supper date, at the very latest.

  "There you are." She turned at the familiar, deep-timbred voice. As much as she wanted to conceal her elation at seeing Gabe, she knew he couldn't possibly have missed the heated flush of her cheeks. He smiled down at her, hand resting protectively, as usual, on Jesse's shoulder. "We thought we'd say hello."

  Allowing herself more than a second or two to peruse Gabe's handsome features would have been improper, but, oh, how she wanted to feast her eyes on his fine charcoal-gray, almost black, wool morning suit with the grosgrain trim, his starched white shirt with the winged collar, and the silk Windsor tie, all of which fit his broad frame to perfection.

  "Hello," she offered, forcing composure upon herself. Goodness, she had nearly given him a complete, top-tobottom perusal before catching herself. And Jesse looked as dapper as ever in his blue button-down shirt tucked into his baggy brown trousers, navy suspenders holding everything in place; his black hair, sufficiently greased down and parted on the side, was as shiny as a wet paintbrush. With his coat draped over his arm and his brown cap in hand, he smiled up at Hannah with a look of contentment she had never seen before.

  She bent at the waist and tweaked his earlobe. "Jesse Gant, you are, by a country mile, the finest-looking boy in all of Sandy Shores,"

  He scrunched up his nose and lifted a corner of his mouth. "Thanks. Gabe makes me dress up when we go to church,"

  She couldn't help but think what a doting guardian Gabe had become-and what a transformation from the man who'd once considered Jesse a regular nuisance.

  "I think it's a fine idea, looking your best when you come to Sunday service," she said, touching the tip of his nose and straightening her posture.

  Jesse gave her a good assessment himself. "That's a nice dress and hat you're wearing."

  A feather-light giggle rippled through her. "Why, thank you, fine sir."

  Then, angling his gaze up at Gabe, he asked, "Don't she look pretty to you, too, Gabe?"

  Gabe tipped back on his heels and kept up his perpetual grin, pleased to see, she was sure, the crimson blotches appearing on her face and neck. Oh, how she hated that her fair skin made it impossible to hide the faintest blush. "I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sight. That a new green dress you're wearing there?"

  It was strange that he would notice the dress she'd ordered from a catalog and worn for the first time today, when Ralston hadn't so much as uttered one word about it. "Why, yes, it is," In a self-conscious act, she touched her throat and felt the lump there when she swallowed. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous in his presence, while he appeared so confident in hers?

  Gabe's grin spread wider. "I thought so. You have another green one similar, but I think that one's got some frilly stuff going on around the neck and cuffs." He made no bones about looking her over. "This one seems more, hmm, I don't know, tailored:"

  The way he said the word made her eyes widen, so that she felt compelled to look at the floor, then at Jesse's plastered down hair, then over at Mrs. Hack, who had just let loose a loud burst of laughter over something Mrs. Gallup or Mrs. King had said. The three women huddled close, standing not ten feet away from her, their conversation lively and animated.

  `Am I right-about the dresses?" Gabe asked, leaning toward her, hands behind his back, a rascally glint in his eyes.

  "You're very observant," she said. "I'm quite impressed."

  "You want to come to the beach with Gabe and me today?" Jesse suddenly asked. "We're going to climb sand dunes,"

  "The beach?" The question took her by surprise.

  "Yeah, why don't you join us? It's a nice, sunny day. A little brisk, maybe, but clear as blown glass. We're hiking up Five Mile Hill-when you get to the top of the dune, you can see for five miles in every direction."

  She knew the hill. What resident of Sandy Shores didn't? Folks came from all over just to climb the hill. A far-fetched rumor had it that, on an exceptionally clear day, one could actually see Wisconsin across the glossy blue waters of Lake Michigan.

  "I really..."

  "Come on, Hannah." Jesse tugged at her long sleeve. "Gabe wants you to come. In fact, he's the one who told me to ask you."

  "Jesse," Gabe scolded, scowling. This time, his cheeks flushed a nice shade of pink, a satisfying sight for Hannah.

  She folded her hands in front of her and focused on Jesse, too afraid to gauge Gabe's true feelings on the subject. Had he really put Jesse up to asking her? The notion nestled nicely in her mind. "Well, I-suppose I could consider it, but I'd need to be back by six, as Ralston is..." She left it at that. She had no obligation to explain her supper date.

  "Ah, yes, Ralston," Gabe said, knitting his brow into an even deeper scowl. "Don't worry, we'll have you back in plenty of time for your beau." He peppered the word with a healthy dose of sarcasm, then looked at his watch. "Can you be ready by one?"

  "One?" It was just after noon now. "I-I suppose I can,"

  "Good." He steered Jesse away. "We'll bring a picnic lunch. All you have to bring is your appetite."

  `A pic-really? You're packing a lunch?"

  Gabe winked. Her heart tripped over itself. "Dress warm. We'll come by for you at one."

  The two sauntered off, passing Ralston, whose face bore an expression of annoyance.

  "What was that about?" Ralston asked Hannah, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at them.

  She could hardly lie-and yet, to tell him the whole truth just now struck her as awkward. Tonight she would be forthright about her feelings for him. Her fadi
ng feelings, that is.

  "Oh, that. Jesse is always so excited to see me."

  Ralston grimaced and shook his head. "Pathetic little urchin," he mumbled. "Come on, I better run you home, Roland Withers has invited me out to the site of the property the hospital committee's considering for future purchase."

  With relief, Hannah noted he failed to include her in the invitation.

  bracing wind coming off Lake Michigan served only to invigorate the trio making their way up Five _ Mile Hill, Jesse seeming the most enthusiastic of all, taking seriously his mission of reaching the top ahead of Gabe and Hannah. Although Jesse had fifteen feet on them, at most, Gabe never took his eyes off the boy, unless it was to observe the other hikers coming and going. The McCurdys' unseen presence kept him wary and watchful. Even so, he didn't consider the trek up the hill a dangerous venturenot today, at least, with the sun beating on their shoulders and a multitude of other people out and about, basking in its brilliant rays. The McCurdys never did their dirty work with throngs of people present, not if it meant risking getting caught.

  "Jesse's having a grand time," Hannah said, picking up her heavy skirts as they scaled the hill, the toes of her boots digging into the trail for traction. "He seems different today, happier than I've ever seen him. You must have reassured him in some way. Do you think those McCurdy fellows have moved on?"

  "I wish I thought so, but no. They're around."

  "How can you be sure? You haven't seen them, have you?"

  He might have seen one of the boys-Roy?-yesterday on his horse, but he decided to keep that tidbit to himself. "It's a hunch, I guess. I think they'll stay around until after the funeral service Tuesday. I'm hoping we'll catch at least one of them lurking around the cemetery. They're in town because they want Jesse, but they're not getting their hands on him without plowing through me first."

  "Or me," she stated, sticking out her chin. "Remember, he's under my care while you're on duty."

  He admired her grit, but she'd need more than grit if it ever came to facing off with Rufus McCurdy or one of his boys. His stomach roiled at the very idea of it.

  "I'll be checking in on you often, and I expect the South Bend police department to arrive most any time to help conduct the investigation, so that will give us some added protection. The sooner we have those McCurdys in custody, though, the quicker I'll relax." Gabe noted tension in Hannah's eyes and was sorry he'd put it there. "Don't worry," he quickly tacked on. "Things will be fine."

  Rather than responding, she grew contemplative as they tramped ever upward. Finally, she asked, "Like I said, Jesse seems different. Has something changed?"

  Gabe trudged along beside her, his arm brushing against hers every so often. "You're a perceptive woman, you know that? Yeah, he's changed. Jess and I had quite a talk last night, starting with that shooting incident that got him all riled up. It stirred some unpleasant memories for him."

  Hannah's head shot up and a frown creased her pretty brow. "What did he say? Any news on his family?"

  He sighed. There was no easy way to say it. `Jesse has no family."

  She came to an abrupt stop and stared up at him, eyes wide and shielded from the sun by her hand as the small brim of her hat was not sufficient for the task. "No family-are you sure?" Looking at her now, he was convinced he'd never seen a more beautiful sight-the sun in her face, her red flyaway locks flowing out from under her hat and glistening like hot copper, her freshly licked lips shining like two diamonds.

  He chuckled, interlocked his fingers with hers, and nudged her onward up the hill. "Come on; I'll tell you on the way."

  And he did, starting with Jesse's having lived in New York, the loss of his parents in two separate incidents, and Gabe's deduction that Jesse had arrived in South Bend, Indiana, by orphan train.

  "Orphan train. I've heard about those trains. They carry homeless waifs to various parts of the Middle West in search of new homes. Maggie Rose has done some research on them, talked a lot about moving to New York someday to work in the orphanages. Of course, Papa balks every time she brings up the subject, saying New York is no place for a lady. I wonder if Jesse lived in an orphanage after his mama died,"

  "Oh, I'm sure he did," Gabe said, enjoying actual conversation with her, the kind that didn't feel like it would end in a yelling match. He also liked the way her small, slender fingers interlaced with his larger ones. "Someone put him on an orphan train, and I'm thinking it was an agent from one of those children's charities,"

  She frowned as they marched along, head down, watching her feet kick up tiny mounds of golden sand. "Keep talking," she insisted.

  He gave her a summarized version, for they reached the top of the hill before he had time to spill all the details. It was just as well, though. She'd gotten the gist, and she knew that Jesse had witnessed the McCurdys' gruesome deed.

  "Oh, dear Lord, it's so terrible," she said under her breath. "No wonder he went so long without talking. He had no idea whom he could trust, if anyone. For all he knew, we were the bad guys." This she said on a tiny sob, and, more than anything, Gabe wanted to take her in his arms, right there at the top of Five Mile Hill, and shout to the world that he'd fallen hopelessly in love. When a few glistening tears gathered at the edges of her blue-green eyes, he reached up and dabbed them with the pad of his thumb.

  "Hannah, Gabe, come look! You can see forever up here." Gabe sighed. Leave it to the boy to bring a halt to his lovesick meanderings.

  Later, they found a flat, secluded spot on which to spread the tablecloth Gabe had thought to pack in the knapsack slung over his shoulder. Besides that, he had packed tin mugs and plates, chicken sandwiches, apples, and a jug of sweet tea. They piled sand on the four corners of the tablecloth to hold it in place, then made themselves as comfortable as possible on the ground, legs crossed and drawn up close, or in Gabe's case, stretched out in front. He couldn't cross his legs to save his life, which Jesse found enormously funny and giggled about for five minutes straight.

  "How come you can't?" Jesse kept asking. "Everybody knows how t' cross their legs."

  "Not me. My legs are too big and bulky, I guess."

  Jesse laughed again, a carefree sound that had Hannah and Gabe casting smiles at each other over Jesse's cap-covered head.

  After Gabe offered a quick prayer of thanks for their lunch, they set about distributing food, then conversing between bites and enjoying autumn's crystalline sunshine.

  Midway into their meal, Hannah took a sip of tea, wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and looked at Jesse. "Did you know there's a treasure of stolen loot buried somewhere up here?"

  "Huh?" Jesse stopped chewing, dark eyes brimming with rapt interest. What boy wouldn't want to hear about some hidden fortune? Or what man, for that matter?

  "Yes sir. Two satchel cases full of gold coins and diamonds, buried in these hills."

  This was news to Gabe, and he found himself as engrossed as Jesse.

  "Where are they, the gold and stuff?" Jesse asked.

  Hannah shrugged. "No one knows for sure. The story is that many, many years ago, there was a robbery in Kalamazoo. One of the crooks took off with his share of the loot and made for Sandy Shores. He arrived here late one afternoon, but knowing the police were chasing him, he came up here and buried his treasure-supposedly by the biggest tree at the top of the hill and directly across from the lighthouse-which, everyone knows, would be that one over there." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder and pointed at a huge, ancient oak tree surrounded by dune grass, its trunk almost as massive as a redwood. "He planned to come back later, of course, and dig it up, but he got himself involved in another crime and ended up in the Jackson Penitentiary."

  Caught up in her storytelling, Jesse planted himself in the sand like a statue. Even Gabe had to remind himself to chew and swallow.

  Hannah surveyed the two with amusement in her eyes before biting into her sandwich, then took another slow swig of tea. The little baiter!

 
; "Hurry up, Hannah," Jesse said. "Tell the rest."

  "Yes, the rest," Gabe said, eyeballing her over his tin cup.

  "The rest? Well..." She fixed a teasing grin on her face. "There's not that much to tell, really. Rumor has it that the crook lay dying in his prison cell some years later when he asked for a visit from a Sandy Shores official. He claimed he wanted to make a deathbed confession. We had a town coroner at the time-a Mr. Joseph Grayling. Mr. Grayling is the one who paid a call on the villain and returned with the whole story of the buried treasure."

  "Did they try to find it?" Jesse asked.

  "Oh, many have tried and failed. Some say it's probably shifted after years of sand erosion," She leaned close to Jesse and dipped low, eyes crinkled at the corners. "We might be sitting on it, for all we know," she said in a throaty voice.

  Jesse quickly chewed down the rest of his sandwich, then leaped to his feet, "I'm gonna go look for clues," he announced.

  "Don't go far," Gabe called after the running boy, hauling up a knee and resting an arm across it. Then, tilting his head at an angle, he set his gaze on Hannah's oval face. She had a pair of the nicest lips he'd ever seen, and he'd already learned their softness. He found himself studying them until she twisted her head around to search out Jesse. "He's fine," he said to the back of her head, where an array of copper ringlets had escaped her brown woolen hat and were blowing in the wind.

  "That was quite a story you told,"

  She swiveled back in place and turned shining eyes on him. My, but she had the knack for making his head swim. "It was true, every bit of it," she said, poking out her chin.

  He chuckled. "Yeah? And you believe it?"

  "Everyone does, as far as I know."

  "Really, now? I'll have to ask around,"

  "You do that,"

  He reached across and snagged one of her stray curls to finger its silkiness. She didn't even move, but he did hear her quick intake of breath. "I know, I know," he teased. "You have a beau," He inclined his head and said on a whisper, "I'll try to watch my step."