by Carrie Elks
The foundation bought the abandoned campground in 2002. In the first year they rebuilt the cabins, making the area safe by clearing out the long-abandoned lake. By 2003, they were able to hold their first series of camps, offering them to the children of 9/11 free of charge. For some of the kids it was their only chance to escape the introverted air of the city, for others it was their one opportunity to act their age. The only difference between Camp Leon and other, less specific camps was that they employed a number of therapists to help the children open up and discuss their bereavement in a safe environment.
“Richard, you made it!” Ruby ran over and hugged him tightly, a beaming smile plastered across her face. “Can you hear the music? The kids are all raving about it.”
The concert was a new addition this year. Back in March, during a visit to “The Buzz’s” New York office, he’d confided in Hanna that some of the teenagers were sick of the usual camp fare. They’d been through six years of canoeing, climbing, and swimming, and Richard wanted to offer them something different. He couldn’t for the life of him think what that would be.
She’d surprised him by suggesting a teen-only music camp, offering to organize the activities and participants herself. Five months later, she’d managed to call in enough favors to put on a full-scale concert on the final day, as well as various workshops throughout the week. She’d taken a week’s leave from work to be able to run the camp. His only regret was that work had kept him in the city until today.
“It sounds great.” Richard hugged his sister, trying not to chide her for her short mini-skirt and tank combination. It was over eighty degrees, after all. He had to remind himself she was twenty years old.
“Is Meredith not coming?” Ruby asked, unaware she was hitting a sore point. Richard rolled his eyes, remembering their heated discussion before she left for the Hamptons.
“She’s away.” His reply was curt, but he offered Ruby a smile to soften the blow.
Ruby smiled back, but her eyes didn’t join in. “That’s a shame; she’s going to miss a great show.”
He tried not to laugh. He loved Ruby dearly, and was amazed by the way she always saw the best in people. “I’ll make sure to show her some pictures.”
“Have you had a good time?” he asked. Ruby’s face lit up as she remembered the past few days. It was the first year she’d attended as a counselor, and she positively glowed at the trust he’d put in her. He was pleased he’d listened to Hanna when she suggested he give Ruby a call.
“It’s been amazing. The kids are fantastic, and Hanna’s let me be involved in all the organization. She hasn’t stopped running around, and when she’s not sorting out the bands she’s been sitting with the kids, or playing softball with them.”
He wasn’t sure how he knew she was near. Maybe he saw something from the corner of his eye, or perhaps the hair on his skin stood on end at her closeness. Either way, when he heard the familiar cadence of her laughter, he swung around.
Hanna was chatting animatedly with a counselor, flinging her arms around and grinning wildly. Every movement was exaggerated, and her vibrancy made him want to run over and sweep her up in his arms. Like Ruby, she was dressed for the steaming hot weather. Short denim cut-offs curved over her behind, and she’d knotted a sleeveless black band t-shirt over her navel, revealing a sliver of tanned skin. Even from here he could see she’d caught the sun.
Richard walked over to the two of them, noting with pleasure that when Hanna lifted her head up to see him, an unguarded smile spread across her lips.
“You’re here!” The evening sun reflected off her tan skin. “What do you think?”
“You’ve done a fantastic job. The director keeps calling me up and asking if you can do the same thing next year.”
Hanna laughed. A throaty, sexy chuckle, which made his body ache. “You know, I’d love to. I’m so amazed by the kids, they’re all so brave.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done.” He burned with the need to hug her. But since their reconciliation they’d kept each other at arm’s length, as if they were both aware that to step into the murky waters of physical contact would break down the delicate dam they’d created.
“I couldn’t have done it without Ruby.” Hanna hugged his sister against her side, and for a moment he felt a pang of jealousy. “She’s been like my right hand man. I’m thinking of offering her the job of manager in our New York office.” Her tone was light and teasing.
The fortunate side effect of her failure to recruit a suitable candidate to run the office was that she had stayed in Manhattan longer than she had originally planned. He wasn’t sure how much effort she was putting into the search any more, but if he had his way she’d be cancelling the contracts with the agency and agreeing to stay out here full time.
He liked having her around. She was easy to talk to and bounce ideas off. She was the first person he wanted to call when he was having a bad day—or a good one, come to that. She was his friend—probably his best friend—and it made him happy to have her near.
“I’ve got to go and sort out the next band.” She smiled at him, and he could feel a little flutter in his heart. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Sure.” He agreed easily, knowing he needed to circulate and catch up with the kids. “I’ll try and grab you before the fireworks.”
Hanna was talking to a group of donors when the final band finished, looking incongruous in her festival clothing amongst the linen dresses and smart suits. It didn’t seem to faze her as she answered questions and accepted their compliments.
Richard stood and watched for a while, liking that she didn’t know he was staring. Meredith had once described her as “zany,” which was as good a description as any, though it probably had the opposite effect to the one Meredith was hoping to create. Hanna’s quirkiness endeared her to him.
Maybe he was just jittery about the wedding. Even with more than a year to go, Meredith was ramping things up, spending weekends with the organizer, trying to coax him out to try different caterers and bakeries
“There’s absolutely no way I’m making a speech.” Hanna’s voice rang clearly through the night air now the music had stopped. His lips twitched at the thought of her standing up, her tiny body dwarfed by the main stage, and stuttering her way through a long list of people to thank.
“You deserve the accolades,” Mimi Flynn, a wealthy donor and 9/11 widow, was saying. “My son tells me you managed to get so many great bands organized.”
Hanna coughed out a laugh. “I think Sean may be a little biased.” Richard didn’t have to look to know she was blushing. “But thank you, anyway.”
Tired of being a spectator, he walked toward the group, his presence drawing their eyes away from Hanna. Keeping half an eye on her, he spoke with the donors, smiling and thanking them for their help. He knew most of them well—from their links with the foundation, as well as bumping into them at other events—and it was hard to keep their exchanges to pleasantries. They were his friends.
Hanna finished talking with Mimi, then glanced over at the rest of the donors. “I think the fireworks are about to start. I’ve arranged for some drinks to be served just outside the donors’ tent.”
Her words were greeted with pleasant murmurs of agreement. Within moments, the lure of champagne and canapés had cleared the group, and he watched them walk toward the white canvas tent.
And then there were two.
“Hey.” Hanna was rubbing at her arms, and he could see the goose bumps lifting at her skin. The evening air was still warm, but her clothes weren’t appropriate for sundown.
He wished he was wearing his jacket, just so he could drape it over her shoulders, but he’d left it on the backseat of his car, along with his tie. “You look cold.”
“It’s the absence of body heat,” she joked. “I’ve been okay as long as I’ve been in a group of people. I’m like the poor kid stealing next door’s milk from the stoop.”
>
She started to shiver. Not teeth clattering, full on shudders, but her body was shaking enough to make him want to do something about it. He stood for a moment, reasoning with himself that if it was any other female friend, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull them closer and wrap his arms around them. Maybe run the palms of his hands over their skin until the shaking stopped.
She didn’t seem like any other female friend, though. Standing there in front of him, her face was illuminated by the floodlights dotting the lawn. She looked like the Hanna he used to know, the one who dribbled on him in parks, and flirted with him at parties. She looked like his Hanna.
“Come here.” It was a demand, not a request. He didn’t wait for her answer. One step forward and he had his arms around her, breathing in the fragrance of her shampoo as he gathered her body against his.
Jesus, she was cold. Her skin felt like ice to the touch, and he was kicking himself for not doing this earlier. It wasn’t a sexual embrace at all. It was the gesture of one human to another, offering warmth and comfort.
That was his line, and he was sticking to it.
Hanna opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was drowned out by the noise of the first of the fireworks exploding overhead. Purples and greens cascaded through the air, drawing a collective gasp from the crowds.
She was holding herself awkwardly in his arms. Like she was afraid to move, or put her arms around him, and it made him hold her closer still. She felt like a wild animal, curious enough to allow itself to be picked up, but nervous once in his arms. He willed Hanna to let herself relax, let him warm her up, because right now she felt like a frozen icicle, all rigid and inflexible.
When the second firework exploded, Hanna lifted her head to watch, her features fixed in an expression of wonder. Maybe that was why he found her so much more fascinating to watch than the display of pyrotechnics overhead.
“Did you arrange these, as well?”
Hanna suppressed a smile. “When you mention kids and 9/11, it’s amazing how generous people can be.”
She caught his eye for a moment, and it was enough to make him twitch. As her body warmed up, his need to protect her was being replaced by something stronger and more primal. This was a dangerous line he was treading. He’d forgotten what it was like to be involved in a maelstrom of emotions, his heart beating faster and his blood racing. Was it preferable to the calm, reassuring certainty offered to him by Meredith?
He wasn’t sure.
“It’s amazing how generous you’ve been.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, causing a shock of surprise to flash across her face. “You’ve spent the last few months sorting this out, and I know you’ve given up so much of your free time, not to mention your vacation.”
She was so still in his arms, he thought she might be in shock. He wondered if she was afraid, like he was, of breaking down the walls they’d so carefully constructed. They’d both made separate deals with the devil, promising not to step over the invisible line if it allowed them to be in each other’s lives. They’d made the mistake once before of trying to be lovers, and look how that turned out.
“I like being able to help…” Her voice was just a murmur, her words trailing off when the next round of fireworks started up. This time she didn’t watch, just stared at him as her face reflected the colors of the explosions in the sky. She went from orange, to green, to red, and he licked his dry lips, trying to decide on his next move.
Letting go wasn’t an option he considered.
“Hanna,” he murmured, so quietly she couldn’t hear him. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to. He dropped his forehead to touch hers, her eyes widening when she saw the expression on his face. He thought of his wild animal analogy again. She was never going to be his, but it was enough to see her, watch her from afar, to ensure she was safe and happy.
Nineteen
February 9th 2010
Hanna wasn’t sure how she’d ended up sitting in the corner of a dingy bar, pouring the dregs out of a bottle of wine. Her wine glass was well used, marred by lipstick and finger marks, red droplets clinging to the rim. She nodded at the barman to order another, figuring she may as well end this day the way she had begun it.
In a complete state.
She hadn’t even realized the significance of the date until she was on the subway train, rocking on her tiptoes so her fingers could grasp the rail to prevent her flying into a fellow commuter. The man next to her was reading the New York Times, folding it up into quarters so he didn’t disturb anybody else, and it was then that her eyes had flicked over the numbers on the corner of the page.
It had been years since she’d last had a panic attack, but Hanna recognized the symptoms straight away. Her heart raced, her breath became harsh and she felt as if she was about to fall down and convulse on the dusty train floor. It seemed like the worst place in the world to have a seizure. It was all she could do to hang on to a thread of sanity before the train came to its next stop.
She didn’t bother to look to see where she was, just ran out through the sliding doors and up the platform, panicking again when her card didn’t open the barrier the first time. Her hands were shaking hard, the feeling of nausea bubbling away at the pit of her stomach, and she only cleared the exit by a couple of feet before she doubled over and pebbled the floor with the remnants of her breakfast.
The morning rush hour had carried on around her. People walking into the station entrance gave her a wide birth, assuming she was either inebriated from the night before, or was some sort of mad woman, muttering to herself as she leaned against the dirty brick wall of the subway station. She was a small inconvenience—probably forgotten by the time they’d stepped onto their train—a tiny speck in the myriad of eccentrics that populated the great city.
It was times like this that Hanna wished she was still in London. She would have called up Natalie, or Tom, or maybe caught a cab to Claire’s to throw herself into her arms. She would have been plied with sweet tea and hugs until she cried herself out and braced herself to face the day.
Instead, she was alienated in Manhattan, with a cell phone filled with numbers of work colleagues and acquaintances, but no friends that she could confide in, or ask for help. Nobody who would understand exactly why this day was so hard for her.
The time passed faster than she’d thought possible. Breakfast in a diner, and hours spent browsing in a book shop were followed by an early dinner in the corner of a dingy bar in Soho. How she’d ended up there, she wasn’t sure, but she felt more at home in this part of the island than anywhere else.
The last couple of hours had been spent drowning herself in a wine glass, and batting off advances of guys who thought she was easy game. Even in her inebriated state, the last thing she wanted to do was forget her mother with an easy lay.
And here she was, full circle, thinking about the last five years and how she’d royally fucked things up. She glanced at her watch, trying to work out—through the haze of alcohol—what the time would be in London. It was way too late to call up Claire or Ruby. They’d both be tucked up safe and warm in bed.
That left one other number. She dialed it before she’d even thought it through, like she’d left all common sense at the bottom of her empty wine bottle. It only rang twice before she was connected.
“Hanna?” His voice was soft and warm, with a hint of concern.
“Richard.” She took another sip of wine. “I just wanted to call and say how sorry I am.”
“Are you okay?”
She could hear a thrum of voices in the background. Hanna wondered if she had disturbed him, maybe taken him away from dinner with Meredith.
“The way I left you after mum died. I should never have walked out on you without explaining why. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—”
“Christ, I hadn’t even realized the date. I’m so sorry.” He sounded agitated. She could imagine him running his hand through his thick, coarse hair. He was probably the only other perso
n thinking about the day her mum died five years ago.
She laughed harshly. “I really shouldn’t have called. I know you’re with Meredith now, and I’m so pleased you have found each other. You deserve happiness.” Her words slurred off her tongue and into the mouthpiece.
“Have you been drinking?”
“A little. But I’ll let you get back to your evening.”
“Are you at home?” he asked.
“I’m in a bar.”
“Alone?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck,” he swore softly. “I’ll send Jack over to drive you home. Where are you?”
She looked around for evidence of the bar name, coming up short when she realized there was nothing on the inside of the room. Then she glanced down, noticed the beer mat and smiled.
“Murphy’s. In Soho.”
“Don’t move.” His words were a command, and she took him seriously. She didn’t even want any more of the claret sitting in the bottle in front of her. All she really craved was the soft warmth of her duvet and the cleansing oblivion of sleep.
She sobered a little in the fifteen minutes she was waiting. The bartender brought over the tab, and a glass of water, and she swallowed it down, hoping to cleanse her system of alcohol. Then he was walking into the bar, carrying his black woolen coat over his arm.
“Richard!” Just seeing him there made her jump. “I thought you were sending Jack.”
“I decided to come with him,” he answered quietly, his eyes scanning her face in concern. “It was a good excuse to leave dinner early.”
He looked tired. In the dingy light of the bar she could see lines pulling at the corner of his eyes, dry and deep. She bit her lip, aware he was being kind.
“Is Meredith with you?” She swallowed hard. Knowing he was with another woman was one thing—seeing them together while she was at her lowest ebb was another.
“She’s visiting her parents. It was just me and three hundred and fifty of New York’s finest.” He grimaced. “So believe me when I say you did me a favor.” Standing up, he pulled her coat from the hook at the side of the booth. “Now let’s get you home.”
