by Pat Warren
Flattery again. Why did he do that? She wasn’t beautiful. She was the smart one, and Katie had been the pretty one. People had always said so. “I do all right alone.” Yet already, his fingers laced with hers were making her pulse race. Oh, Lord, now that she’d had a taste of being in his arms, how was she going to be able to fight those feelings?
Joel downshifted to pass a lumbering station wagon, then signaled before exiting up the off ramp. But his mind was on the mostly pleasant day they’d shared. And on one particular incident that would belie her odd statement about not wanting children. “I noticed you and Mandy with your heads together in the library.”
“Yes. She’s very bright, you know.” And reminded Hannah of the girl she’d once been. Mandy was nine, his brother Sam’s daughter. She was a sweet girl, almost painfully shy. Hannah thought that one day she’d be a beauty, but for now, she was all long legs and would soon need braces for a bad overbite, which made her even more self-conscious.
“Don’t tell me she showed you her journal?”
She turned to him. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess. She’s shown it to very few, actually. She must have really taken to you.”
“I could relate to her. I used to keep a journal when I was her age.” And she still had them, one for every year from eight through twelve. The children of the foster family where she’d been living at the time had made fun of her because she was always scribbling in her notebooks. She’d stopped then, not wanting to give them more reasons to criticize her.
Hannah had quickly learned, even at an early age, that the best way to get along was to not make waves, to do what was asked of her unquestioningly and not draw attention to herself. That philosophy had effectively subdued her personality during those difficult years.
Joel turned onto her street. “And what did you write in your journal? About all the boys who wanted to kiss you?”
She had to smile at him. Men sure had a different way of looking at things. “A girl of nine or ten, at least back when I was that age, and I’d guess the same applies to Mandy, isn’t thinking about kissing boys. That’s a guy thing.”
He had to agree. “If I’d have kept a journal, I’d have had it full of the names of girls I wanted to kiss.”
“And I imagine you kissed them all in time.”
“My fair share.” He swung into her driveway, coasting all the way to the back stairs, and stopped the car. “However, Miss Richards, my conquests have been greatly exaggerated.” He angled toward her, suddenly serious. “Do you believe me?”
The moon reflecting on the snow allowed her to see his features quite well. Did she? Maybe a little. “I’m not sure. Joel, you have everything, always have had. Good looks, charm by the barrelful, a great family that also happens to be wealthy, an exciting occupation. What girl could resist you, then or now?”
He reached over to place his hand on her shoulder. “You resist me. Why?”
“I resist you? Who was that kissing you right up those stairs before we left? And in the snow in front of half your family?”
“All right, so you kiss me occasionally. But inside, you resist me, or at least you want to resist me. I can tell. Why?”
Hannah brushed back her hair. There was no point in denying the obvious. “It’s a long story, one we don’t have time to go into right now.”
Joel checked his watch. “It’s only nine. We have lots of time.”
“It’s been a long day. I really need to get some rest.” She gripped the door handle. “Thank you for a wonderful day.”
He shifted closer, his hand tightening on her, inwardly cursing the damn console. “Why can’t we talk about this? I think you know by now that I want you, Hannah.”
She let out a shaky breath. This was about the last thing she wanted to go into right now. “Now, you do. For a while. But I’m not looking for a quick fling.”
“It wouldn’t be quick,” he said, his lips twitching.
“Cute. But I’m not joking. You want me perhaps, for a short time. But later, you’d find reasons to leave. Everyone moves on.”
“I’m not like that, Hannah. I’ve tried to tell you that.”
“Everyone’s like that, Joel. I can’t go through that.” Her voice was beginning to tremble, as were her hands. Why couldn’t he have just let it go?
He was quiet a long moment, studying the stubborn set of her chin, the troubled eyes. “He must have hurt you badly,” he finally said, taking a guess.
Hannah looked down at her hands, now nervously grasped together in her lap. “Yes, he did. And I’m never, ever going to let another man hurt me like that again.” She had to get out of there, to be alone. Hurriedly, she opened the door and rushed up her back stairs.
He wasn’t going to let her go like that. Joel went after her, his long strides reaching the top landing even as she did. “Wait a minute.” As she fumbled for her keys, he pried them from her hand, opened her door and followed her inside. “We’re not going to leave it like this.”
Hannah tossed her shoulder bag on the nearest chair, then yanked off her leather jacket. She was too warm, too upset, to think clearly. “Please, Joel, I don’t want to talk any more tonight.”
“Fine, then let’s not talk.” He pulled her to him roughly and took her mouth, her stubbornness fueling his anger. Why was she comparing him to another man, one who’d obviously hurt her? Why wouldn’t she listen to him, believe that he wasn’t the run-around she thought he was? Why wouldn’t she give them a chance?
His arms crushed her to him, and for the first time in recent memory, he chose physical persuasion over a verbal jousting. She wouldn’t pay attention to his words. Maybe she’d respond to this.
He knew he was being unreasonable and he didn’t care. He only knew he had to make her see. That they were good together. That they were explosive together. Already, her taste had him drowning in her special flavors, his mind emptying of anger and filling with her. Only her. And he believed that she felt the same, though she denied it.
First surprise, then anger had Hannah rigid and unresponsive. Her first instinct had been to fight him, push him away. She knew enough about Joel to know he wouldn’t force her. But she also knew enough about herself to realize she couldn’t push him away, not after that first moment, that first heady taste.
He was behaving recklessly, and she gloried in it, craving his passion to make her forget all the unhappiness of the years before she’d met him that had surfaced unexpectedly on this holiday. She needed him to chase away the memories, the demons who lived inside her and wouldn’t allow her to be like other women. She wanted him to make her feel like a desirable woman, not a ragtag child no one wanted, abandoned, alone and forgotten.
She needed to feel loved, if only for a moment. She wound her arms around him and let him take her deeper.
Joel felt the change in her, the gentling that was less surrender than acceptance. Her body entwined with his felt right, as if they belonged together. Couldn’t she see that; couldn’t she feel it? Possessively, his hands moved between them, then under her sweater to cover her breasts. He wasn’t sure the moan he heard came from her or himself.
She let him stroke her yearning flesh for just an instant, the unfamiliar touch taking her breath away. Then she stepped back, pulling his hands from her, knowing that if she let this go on, she’d soon be leading him into her bedroom.
“All right,” she said unsteadily. “You wanted to prove that you could make me want you. You win. You can.”
He didn’t feel like a winner as he saw her struggle for control. He felt like a rat. He raised a hand to her cheek, his voice thick with regret. “Hannah…”
She moved aside. “Please, I need to be alone.”
Joel dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”
She felt crushed inside, unable to fight him and herself, too. For the moment, she hated him for making her face her own needs. “No, you’re not. Maybe you’re more like your father than you th
ink.”
He sucked in a painful breath. It did no good to tell himself she was hurting and wanted to hurt him back. Without another word, he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
With trembling fingers, Hannah slid home the dead bolt. She hadn’t cried in years, not the soul-shattering sobbing that came from deep inside, having schooled herself while living in the homes of strangers to lock away her feelings. But as she ran to her bed and flung herself onto it, she let the tears come.
Antiseptic hospital smells surround me as I lie in my solitary bed. Time has little meaning, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. The pain in my chest is constant, like a living thing, and the coughing weakens me even more.
But the ache in my heart is even worse. Where are my children? Daily, almost hourly, I relive the afternoon the ambulance came for me. I see their faces—Michael trying to be so brave, Hannah struggling to hold back her tears and little Katie openly weeping—standing by the porch railing as they whisked me away. Social workers told me all three would be well taken care of in foster homes. But since then, no one tells me anything.
My mother is old and not well herself. She had to move back to New Mexico, for I could not take care of her. I’ve failed everyone—Lance, the children, my mother. I couldn’t keep up the farm, and now that’s gone, sold to pay the expenses. I wouldn’t care about that, if only I could see my children, know that they’re all right..I wouldn’t even care about the tuberculosis that keeps me here, a prisoner in this hospital in the contagious ward. If only I could hold my babies again.
Who is’ there to help me? I feel so alone. I grieve still for Lance. I need my children, need a reason to get well, to fight this disease that keeps me helpless and frail. But there’s no one, no hope to cling to.
I want to die.
Chapter Seven
Lisa Tompkins’s thin shoulders shook as she wept out her relief. She ignored the tears flowing down her cheeks and hugged her attorney in the hallway outside courtroom A. “Hannah, thank you. I was so scared, but you did it.”
“You did it, Lisa,” Hannah told her, holding the young woman at arm’s length. “You had the courage to press charges and follow through.”
Lisa turned to accept her mother’s tearful hug before facing her uncle. “Are you still angry with me, Uncle Bill?”
A muscular man in his midfifties, Bill Tompkins seemed to wear a perpetual frown. Since the untimely death of his brother, he’d felt responsible for Aaron Tompkins’s small family, and it often weighed heavily on him. “I wasn’t so much angry as concerned, honey. I didn’t want them to make you have to say all those terrible things on the stand. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Not easy, but necessary. Maybe now, Lyle will get the help he needs so no other woman will have to go through what I did.”
Just then, Lyle Freeman, flanked by his parents and a deputy, stepped out into the hallway. His father’s face was flushed, his mother was crying and Lyle’s eyes were downcast. The four of them turned and walked in the opposite direction.
Hannah was pleased with the verdict. Guilty. But the sentence was important, as well. Two years in prison, suspended only if Lyle would enroll in a psychiatriccounseling program that would evaluate his problem and offer treatment for as long as deemed necessary.
She’d gotten lucky. Preparing for the case, she’d located two other coeds who today had come forth and testified that Lyle had also date-raped them. “I’m not utterly convinced a man who’s raped several women can truly be cured, but I’d like to think so,” Hannah commented.
“I’ve revised my opinion of you, Ms. Richards,” Bill Tompkins said. “Something I rarely do, since I consider myself a fair judge of people. You handled a touchy situation very professionally. My friendship with Lyle’s father clouded my vision, I’m afraid. You were right and I was wrong.” He touched his niece’s arm. “I owe both of you an apology.”
“Oh, Uncle Bill,” Lisa said, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for that.”
“I thank you also, Mr. Tompkins,” Hannah added. “It means a lot to me.”
“Well,” he blustered, “when you’re wrong, I always say, be man enough to admit it.” He kissed Lisa’s cheek, then slipped his arm around his sister-in-law’s waist. “What say we all go have a celebration lunch? My treat. You’re invited, too, Ms. Richards.”
“Sounds good to me,” Lisa’s mother said, dabbing at her eyes.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll have to take a rain check.” Hannah shook hands all around and left them. She had something important to take care of, something she’d put off too long already.
Noticing a Christmas wreath hanging on the front door of the office brought Hannah up short. It was only the first week of December. The holiday had sneaked up on her. Of course, she’d been hearing carols on the radio, but disk jockeys began playing Christmas songs earlier each year. Time surely was zipping by, she thought as she walked over to Marcie’s desk.
Waiting for the secretary to finish her phone call, she removed her coat, laying it across the chair by the reception desk. Since she’d parked in front, she didn’t know if the other two attorneys were in. Will’s door was closed, but Joel’s was ajar. She was about to walk over when something Marcie said grabbed her attention.
Pausing, she waited until Marcie hung up, then stepped closer to the secretary’s desk. “Did I hear correctly, that Joel is involving himself in a food-stamp fraud case?”
“Yes, indeed,” Marcie replied. “The plaintiffs are six separate families, all living in the neighborhood of Mac’s Market. The owner is accused of cheating them on the food-stamp program. Joel’s investigated and believes they’re telling the truth. That was Mac’s lawyer on the phone, wanting to postpone the preliminary-hearing date.”
It wasn’t Joel’s usual thing, Hannah thought. Maybe he was expanding his client list.
Marcie made a notation on her pad, then smiled up at Hannah. “How are you feeling these days? We haven’t seen much of you.”
She’d avoided coming in the past few days, doing much of her telephoning and research at home. But avoidance in a small office building could only go on so long. She’d finally come to grips with her problem and decided to do something about it today. “I’m fine.” She handed the folder she’d been holding to Marcie. “This is the Tompkins file. Would you close it out, please?”
“Did you win?” Marcie asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Hannah smiled. “We sure did.”
“Good for you. That young girl’s got guts to take on a family with clout.”
“Yes, she does.” Hannah glanced down the hallway, trying to work up her courage. “Anything else going on around here since I’ve been out?”
Marcie looked up. “Joel’s new clients surprise you?”
“To say the least.”
The secretary leaned forward confidentially, her backcombed blond hair shiny with lacquer. “Not only that, but Will told him about a tenement that had a fire due to the landlord’s neglect, and you should have heard Joel! He did some digging and learned that a local city councilman owns the place. He marched right over to his office.” Marcie chuckled. “I’d love to have been asked to take notes at that meeting.”
“Did anything happen?”
“Not yet, but you can bet it will. When Joel gets his dander up, the fur flies.”
Yes, and she’d best be prepared for it. She hadn’t seen him since Thanksgiving night, when she’d deliberately hurt. him. She’d felt rotten about it ever since. She was about to eat some crow. “Is he in?”
“Sure is. He’s not really that tied up. Just doing some research, so he asked me to take that call for him.”
Hannah squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Good, because I need to talk with him.” She walked purposefully toward Joel’s office. At the open doorway, she paused. He was making notes on a yellow pad, his head bent, several law books open on his desk. She knocked lightly.
He looked up, his expression inquisitive but far from warm and friendly.
“I won the rape case today,” Hannah said.
“Congratulations.” Joel didn’t move, didn’t put down his pen or lean back. Didn’t invite her in.
She walked in anyway. “You may remember I mentioned that the victim had an uncle who’d warned her not to bring the boy to trial, that she couldn’t hope to win?”
He nodded noncommittally.
“After we left the courtroom, the uncle apologized to his niece and to me. He said something that impressed me. He said that when you’re wrong, you should be man enough to admit it.” She walked closer, until she. was standing right in front of his desk so that he had to sit back to look up at her. He still didn’t speak, didn’t encourage her.
“I was wrong, Joel. I lashed out at you cruelly. I said you were more like your father than you thought—and you’re not at all, from what I can see. I was hurt because you forced me to…to face my feelings. I’m ashamed to admit that I felt cornered and I reacted badly. I’m sorry.”
His eyes warmed as he rolled his pen between his fingers. “It’s hard, isn’t it, apologizing?”
She let out a long breath. “Very. But I mean it. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I knew that. I figured that, in time, you’d come around.” He pushed back his chair, rose and walked over to shut his office door. Then he went to her and took her in his arms, hugging her fiercely. “I’ve missed you.”
Hannah closed her eyes, more relieved than she’d anticipated. “I missed you, too.” It was nothing but the truth. Not that much time had passed, and yet it felt as if she’d been away from him for ages. What was she going to do about this incredible need?
He eased back from her and searched her eyes. “Friends again?”
She nodded, her eyes just a little bright.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please, allow me.” Rising on tiptoe, she reached to kiss him, to hold him, to welcome him back. The kiss went on and on, yet wasn’t long enough.
