A Home For Hannah (Reunion: Hannah, Michael & Kate #1)

by Pat Warren

  Three walls had had to be taken out in order to make the kitchen big enough to accommodate the twenty or more folks usually in residence. Three years ago, when Lee Stanford had started Sanctuary, she’d quit a lucrative job at the Boston Globe to do work she’d thought far more important. Her connections at the paper had resulted in much publicity and many donations, which was why she’d been able to secure the house, get the remodeling done and buy badly needed furniture and supplies. Since then, contributions had slowed as people had moved on to other favorite charities.

  Undaunted, Lee never lost hope or quit fighting. Hannah found her sitting at the far end of the large oak table alongside Cookie, the chief cook and bottle washer, who’d been with Sanctuary from the start. Cookie was in her forties, weighed well over two hundred pounds and could make nutritious meals seemingly out of nothing, which she was called upon to do on a regular basis.

  “That should do it, Cookie,” Lee said, handing her the list. “Keep track of what you put in the cart so you have enough money to pay for it all at checkout.” She handed the woman several folded bills. “Hopefully, next week, we’ll be able to do better.”

  It was something Lee said every week. “Don’t worry, Lee,” Cookie told her. “We’ll manage. We always do.” She heaved her bulk out of the chair and waved to Hannah. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot. Can I get you a cup?”

  Hannah had met these people a few short weeks ago. Once they learned she’d come offering legal help to anyone in need, they’d all treated her with respect and admiration, surprising her with their enthusiasm. Every day, she vowed not to let them down.

  “Thanks, Cookie. It’s cold out there.”

  Hannah watched Lee rub her forehead and knew it to be an unconsciously weary gesture. Lee Stanford was thirty-eight, a tall woman, five foot nine and solidly built. She was strong yet motherly, which made her perfect for her chosen line of work.

  Hannah slid onto a chair. “I hear it’s been an interesting weekend.”

  Lee held out her mug for a refill as Cookie came over with the pot. “Yes, indeed.” As they sipped coffee, Lee filled Hannah in on the new admittances and updated her on Ellen Baxter.

  “I think I’d better go talk to Ellen,” Hannah said. She rose, glancing into the next room, where two small children were sitting on the floor watching television and a young pregnant woman was dozing in a rocking chair.

  “I have another problem,” Lee said with obvious reluctance. “I don’t know if you want to take this one on.”

  Quickly, Lee told her, then got up and went to the sideboard, returning with a piece of paper she handed to Hannah. “Here’s her name, address and phone number. I hope you can help her. She’s just a kid.”

  Hannah looked at the note. Lisa Tompkins. Date rape. “I’ll look into it.” She drained her coffee and picked up her briefcase. “First things first. I’ll go find Ellen.”

  Stuffing her hands in her jeans pockets, Lee smiled encouragingly. “Good luck.”

  “Naturally, everything you tell me will be confidential,” Hannah said into the phone.

  The voice at the other end was soft, almost muffled. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do.”

  Of course, the girl was confused. Only nineteen and a freshman at Boston University, Lisa Tompkins had told Hannah she’d been thrilled when the handsome senior had asked her out. He’d been a perfect gentleman on their first date, then had turned into someone she didn’t recognize on their second.

  “I understand how difficult this is for you, Lisa.” Hannah leaned back in her desk chair, trying to sound reassuring. “Did you tell your family?”

  The yes that followed was so low Hannah barely heard her. “How do they feel about…about the young man?” The shame was deeper because Lisa’s uncle was friendly with the young man’s father, she’d just been told.

  The answer was hesitant and slow in coming. “My mom said that if my dad were alive, he’d kill Lyle with his bare hands. We haven’t told Uncle Bill. I just know he won’t believe me. The trouble is, Lyle’s family’s gotso much money. They know everyone in Boston. Who’s going to believe me over them?”

  Hannah suspected she had her work cut out for her. “We need to discuss this in person, Lisa. Can you come to my office or would you prefer that I go to your home so we can talk about what happened in depth?”

  The young woman took her time deciding. Finally, she spoke, her voice a bit stronger. “I’ll come to you, I guess. I don’t want to talk about this in front of my mom and my sister anymore. It’s too upsetting, for all of us. Where are you located?”

  Hannah gave her the address and directions. They agreed that tomorrow at ten would be best. Hannah hung up with a frown, wondering if Lisa would show or talk herself out of working with an attorney. Rape victims were frightened and unpredictable, often feeling as if they’d somehow caused the violation. Still, Lisa’s family seemed to be behind her. That was important.

  “Working late again, Hannah?” Will asked from the doorway of her office. “It’s nearly seven, and Marcie told me you beat her in this morning. Don’t you need food and sleep like the rest of us, or are you still living on apples and four hours of snooze time a night?” His words were teasingly affectionate but laced with concern. In the three weeks she’d been in town, two since moving into his building, he’d scarcely seen her except coming and going.

  “Work keeps me out of mischief,” Hannah said, removing her glasses and smiling at Will. He was so kind to check on her, such a nice man.

  “You, mischievous? Highly doubtful.”

  “Did you catch any fish last week?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Enough to share some with Sanctuary. Didn’t Cookie tell you I hauled over a mess of ‘em couple of days ago?” Ever since learning of her interest in the shelter, he’d lent a helping hand whenever he could. “She’s some cook, that lady. Fried up some on the spot and made me stay for lunch.”

  Her smile warmed. “That was sweet. Thank you.”

  “Hell, I’m not sweet,” Will protested. “Just can’t eat that many fish at one time.” Unbuttoning his suit coat over his vest, he sat down on Hannah’s settee. The fragile-looking furniture in the room made him feel big and clumsy, but he wouldn’t tell her so. Instead, he thought he’d probe a little. “How are you getting along with Joel?”

  Hannah busied herself packing her briefcase with the files she’d been working on to look over later. “Fine, I guess,” she answered. “Our paths haven’t crossed much. He’s pretty involved in a court case right now.”

  “Yes, Amanda Fowler. I wonder how it’s going.”

  Hannah had wondered, too. She’d almost stopped in to listen for a while when she’d been at the courthouse earlier filing some motions. It would be interesting to watch Joel in action. “It’s a tough one. She’s not the only one who had a motive.”

  Will raised a craggy brow. “Did Joel discuss the case with you?” That surprised him.

  Hannah locked her briefcase. “Some. He seems a little worried about the outcome. I hadn’t thought him to be the worrying kind.”

  “We’re all the worrying kind, Hannah. Some more than others.” Slowly, he got to his feet, grimacing at the arthritis that made straightening painful. “Joel’s like an iceberg. He only shows ten percent of himself to most people.”

  Downstairs earlier, she’d heard Marcie take a message for Joel from someone named Bubbles. She doubted that he lacked for a friendly ear if he felt like confiding in someone. “That’s why icebergs are so dangerous, Will,” she told him with a smile.

  “Joel’s a pussycat when you get to know him,” Will insisted.

  “Really? I guess his friend Bubbles thinks so. She was hunting him down today. I overheard Marcie take a message.”

  Will chuckled. “Bubbles. That’s a good one.” He stuck his thumb in his vest pocket and turned to Hannah. “Women like that are after only one thing.”

  “Yes, and I’ll bet I can guess what.”r />
  “His money.”

  “Oh, that.” Grinning, she slipped on her jacket.

  “You got Joel figured out all wrong, Hannah. I doubt he even calls those girls back. Why, last summer, he spent more time going to the ballpark with me than dating.”

  Hannah picked up her briefcase and shoulder bag. “Is that a fact? Well, you’re good company, Will.”

  He decided to give it up—for now. “So, you’re finished for the day?”

  “Yes.” A quick stop at the market, a long soak in the tub with a glass of white wine, followed by a seafood salad. Then she’d look over tomorrow’s files before an early lights out. “And are you calling it a day?” She followed him out into the hall and down the stairs.

  “Just got to clean off my desk, then I’ll head home.” And how he wished someone other than Benjie, his aging cat, would be there waiting for him.

  At Will’s office door, Hannah squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” At his nod, she headed for the back door.

  And collided with a tall form in the dim back hallway. Hannah let out a yelp as her briefcase went flying. Stepping back, she looked up into amused blue eyes. “I might have known. Were you lurking in the shadows just waiting for me to come around the corner?”

  Joel laughed as he reached for her briefcase and handed it to her. “Actually, I was coming to get you. We have to hurry or we’ll be late.”

  Puzzled, Hannah frowned. “Late for what?”

  “Dinner. The reservation’s for eight. If we leave right now, we can stroll through Faneuil Hall on the way over.”

  Was she losing her mind? “I don’t recall making plans for dinner.” She’d been so preoccupied, but surely she’d remember a dinner engagement.

  Opening the back door, Joel hustled her out. “You didn’t, exactly. But you have to eat—and look!” He waved at a clear sky. “It’s a beautiful night. I’ll bet you’ve never even been to Faneuil, Boston’s famous marketplace.”

  He was railroading her, and she didn’t have to go along with it, she reminded herself. “No, I haven’t. But I’ve got too much work to do yet tonight and…”

  On the landing, he turned to her, his eyes beseeching her in the soft overhead light. “I personally stopped at Cherrystones and reserved a table by a window looking out on the harbor. Their fish is so fresh it thrashes on the plate when they bring it to you. Surely, you wouldn’t be cruel enough to subject me to eating dinner all alone?”

  He was a charmer. She felt herself weakening. How long had it been since she’d gone out for a quiet dinner in a nice place? Forever. “I don’t believe you ever need to eat alone. I understand Bubbles was looking for you earlier.”

  Joel looked momentarily chagrined, then smiled. “Nice girl. Met her at the library. Deep philosophical thinker. But I’d much rather eat with you. Come on, it’s a great evening for a stroll.” He held out his hand. “Stash your stuff in the car and let’s go.”

  Maybe because it was a cold, crisp night with a sky full of stars. Maybe because she’d put in a long day and was more than ready for a little relaxation. Or maybe because Joel Merrick was just too hard to resist.

  She did as he requested.

  It was chilly inside the two-story granite marketplace known as Faneuil Hall, but the tantalizing bakeshop aromas mingling with freshly brewed exotic coffees gave off a warmth of their own. Visitors and locals elbowed one another along the aisles, peering through glass cases at delectable fudges and tangy Greek souvlaka, as well as raw oysters. A ragtag band at one end played not well but loudly, and a variety of peddlers could be heard hawking their wares.

  Hannah was enchanted.

  “Mmm, it smells wonderful in here.” She inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing like this where I come from.”

  Joel took her hand and threaded it through his arm as a rowdy group of teenagers, laughing at their own nonsense, pushed past them. “We’ll have to come back and eat here one night. Just about any ethnic food you like is here.”

  Hannah paused to stare at a display that claimed to be the largest selection of New England scrimshaw jewelry plus rare engraved whales’ teeth and original Nantucket lightship baskets. “Now, who would ever think to engrave a whale’s tooth? And how would you ever obtain them in the first place?”

  “Very carefully,” Joel said as he moved them along to the next storefront, featuring a vast variety of puzzles from jigsaws to mazes to brain teasers. “Look at this collection.”

  Hannah all but pressed her nose to the window. “Oh, I love puzzles. My brother used to let me help him sometimes and…” She stopped, shocked at her own comment. Memories of those early days so seldom popped into her mind anymore. Or was it that she’d pushed them back for so long that they’d stopped coming?

  Joel looked down at her face, her expression disturbed. “I didn’t know you had a brother.” Will had told him very little, but he had said she had no family left.

  “I did, once. A long time ago.” She’d adored Michael. He’d been fourteen when she’d last seen him, all long legs and gangly arms. And he’d been crying.

  “What happened to him?”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Isn’t that pottery lovely?” she asked, dragging him on to the next shop, effectively changing the subject.

  All right, so her family, dead or alive, was off limits. He could handle that. But it was puzzling.

  They moved to the upper level, where it was less crowded, walking on past wind chimes and unique scented candles and a store that featured every imaginable kite. “Too bad it’s winter,” Joel commented. “We could get one of those red-and-yellow sailfish, take it out by the harbor and let her rip.”

  Hannah studied him as he gazed at the kites like a little boy. He was wearing his usual boots, jeans and sheepskin jacket tonight. He’d explained that court had let out early and he’d gone home to change before looking for her. There was such a look of longing on his face that she wondered at it. “Didn’t you fly kites when you were growing up?”

  “A couple of times. Dad took us out, but he was always in charge of the kite, unwilling to let me or my brothers handle it alone. It wasn’t much fun that way.” Suddenly serious, he met her eyes. “Ever know anyone like that? Hell of. a nice guy, but he has to run every show.”

  She was beginning to understand why he’d rebelled at home as a boy. “I’ve met a few. Control freaks, I think we call them these days.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Back then, we just thought of them as bossy and demanding.” He was saying too much again, revealing things he hadn’t intended. There was something about Hannah that caused him to open up. Joel decided he should watch that.

  A light breeze coming through the open double doors at the far end caught her hair and whimsically rearranged it. He reached up to brush it back and found his fingers lingering in the thick waves. “I love your hair. It’s such a great color. Did you inherit it from your mother or your father?”

  “Neither, really. My mother was dark and my father very blond.” So long ago. Such a short time to know even a small measure of happiness. “They’re both gone now,” she heard herself say, then felt her thoughts skitter and slide as his fingers touched her scalp.

  He saw her eyes meet his, then slowly darken with awareness. Her hand still rested in the crook of his arm, and he felt her fingers tighten as she stared up at him. What was she thinking, feeling? he wondered.

  Something there, Hannah acknowledged. Something in his eyes that told her he was more than she’d originally suspected. Handsome, certainly. Self-assured, definitely. But something more, something that hinted of vulnerability and even loneliness. Odd how she hadn’t noticed that before.

  And that something reached out to her.

  She’d warned herself not to let Joel Merrick get too close. She’d told herself repeatedly that no good would come of any alliance between them. He was Beacon Hill, Harvard and Hyannis, teeming with family and friends, Man of the Year. She was small-town, no family and few
friends, a stranger in a strange town. If he wanted her, it was only temporarily, as a plaything, to be discarded when he tired of her.

  Hadn’t she been through that already? Wasn’t she way too smart to stick her hand into the flame twice?

  Why, then, was her heart beating much too rapidly as his hard, strong fingers massaged her scalp and his deep blue eyes caressed her face? Why did she want him, she who had no business wanting a man? Why wouldn’t she learn that giving in would mean getting hurt?

  Hannah pulled her gaze from his and, with a trembling hand, brought his arm down. “I think we should leave. Our reservation…”

  Stepping back, Joel swallowed hard. He wasn’t mistaken. He was too experienced to be mistaken. He recognized a look in a woman’s eyes that told him she was attracted to him. Hannah had that look. Yet she’d slammed on the brakes and turned from that attraction as easily as she’d turned from a display window full of jewelry she couldn’t afford. What was it about him that made her turn from him so often so easily?

  He meant to find out.

  Cherrystones Seafood Restaurant sat on Commercial Wharf on Atlantic Avenue, a short walk from Faneuil Hall. The aroma as guests entered was overwhelmingly of fish, though the menu was varied. By the time they were ushered to their window table, Hannah’s mouth was watering.

  “Do you know I haven’t had fresh seafood served in a restaurant since I arrived in Boston?” She took the menu from the waiter with a smile. “I can hardly wait.”

  “Good. I’d about decided that you lived on apples.” Joel picked up the wine list. “Would you like a drink?”

  “White wine would be nice. Chardonnay is my choice, if they have it.” She perused the menu while he ordered their wine, then turned to gaze out the window. The harbor looked icy and cold but still fascinating. “There’s something about the sea, isn’t there? Mesmerizing.”

  Joel leaned forward so he could watch her stare out at the sea. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s a lot to be said for open land, acres and acres of it, filled with hundreds— no, thousands—of cattle and horses that belong only to you. And endless blue, blue sky like nowhere else on earth.”