He cut the thought off there, still strangely unwilling to let himself think about it.
He thought instead about the day he’d finally cornered her at school after a week of looking everywhere for her. He’d had no idea what he would say, simply that he had to know if what Tom had told him was true. Hannah had been facing her open locker, staring at a book on the top shelf, her back straight, her shoulders rigid.
His steps had slowed as he approached her, the words stuck in his throat. He touched her shoulder with one hand.
She whirled around as if he’d burned her, stumbling back against the locker.
The look in her eyes caught him off guard. “Hannah, hey I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She stared at him for several uncomfortable moments while something he couldn’t identify hung between them. And then without saying anything, she grabbed her book and slammed the door shut. Without looking at him again, she stormed off down the hall.
Something propelled him after her. He reached for her arm and pulled her to a stop. “Why are you avoiding me, Hannah? Did you not have the guts to admit you were going out with my best friend?”
He watched the color leave her face. She swallowed visibly, wrenching her arm free from his grasp. “Don’t touch me, Will! I don’t ever want you to touch me again!”
He’d stood there staring after her, while all the doubts he’d had about himself and the likelihood of someone like Hannah being interested in him were confirmed.
Will got up from the crate now, his cheeks burning with the memory. During the last two months of their senior year, they never spoke to one another again. But in the ten years since, he hadn’t forgotten that incident. A person never forgot some things, whether it was a decade or half a century.
So why hadn’t he recognized her yesterday? Something told him this Hannah Jacobs was not the Hannah Jacobs he’d taken to the lake that spring afternoon all those years ago. The young girl who’d laughed and teased when they’d given in to a little craziness and gone swimming together.
There had been no laughter in this Hannah’s eyes. She’d made herself plain. Plain as most women her age would never think of doing. Camouflaging herself. Making herself as unnoticeable as possible. And that car. Who drove something that looked like that?
And for some reason, she’d pretended not to know him.
That was the part that really burned.
He knew as surely as he was standing there that the best thing he could do was forget he’d ever seen her. Put the memories back in the past where they belonged.
But he also knew he couldn’t do that. He wanted to know what Hannah Jacobs had done with her life.
With a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt since the night he’d ruined his knee, Will made for the stairs, heading for the one place in Lake Perdue where everybody knew everything.
Chapter Six
An hour or so later, Will made his way into town at a more sedate pace than he had the afternoon before. He now sat behind the wheel of a new Jeep Cherokee. After the parade he’d called the local dealership and learned they only had one four-wheel drive left on the lot. He’d told the surprised salesman he’d take it.
And if the truth were known, he preferred a Jeep over that temperamental piece of Italian finery Hank Calhoun had insisted he accept. He flipped on his signal light and wheeled into Tate’s One Stop Gas & Go, coming to a halt beside the pumps.
The teenage boy ambling out of the store spotted Will and hightailed it across the lot with a grin on his face. “Hey, Will! How ya doin’?”
Will climbed out of the vehicle and said, “Don’t tell me you’re Carl Johnson’s boy.”
The boy nodded, his grin widening. “That’s right. Tim.”
“You’ve done a little growing in the last few years. If you don’t watch out, you’re gonna be taller than your daddy.”
Tim shrugged, his grin broadening. “Nah.”
Will pointed to the Jeep and said, “How ‘bout filling this thing up for me?”
“Sure thing, Will.”
He watched for a moment as the boy eagerly yanked the nozzle from the pump and scurried for the tank. He felt as if he was seeing himself as he had been ten years ago, pumping gas for Aaron Tate every summer, carefree and maybe a little cocky, certain that regardless of his other shortcomings, football would be his “Let’s Make a Deal.” Behind the first few doors, he’d found more than most people ever dreamed of finding. Behind the last one, however, he’d found a bum knee and a road to nowhere.
“Aaron around, Tim?”
“Yeah, man. He’s inside.”
Will headed across the gravel lot toward the old white clapboard store. Climbing the concrete stairs, he stepped inside to find that here, unlike the rest of the town, nothing had changed at all. The old cash register still sat to the left of the door—the kind you punched in by hand with a lever to open the drawer. Taped to the register hung the rules by which everyone who entered Tate’s had abided for as long as Will could remember. Yellowed by the years, it read:
Granny Tate’s Rules of Order
Grandma doesn’t approve of:
smoking drinking alcohol bad language
conduct unbecoming to a lady or a gentleman
Will smiled every time he saw it. To the right of the register sat an old Coke cooler. The room smelled of fresh-baked ham and homemade bread, no doubt for the sandwiches local workers came in to buy at lunchtime. The same group of old-timers sat around the wood stove in rickety chairs, chewing tobacco and sharing the latest gossip. “Mornin’, boys,” he said.
A chorus of greetings went up as they all turned around at his voice.
“Well, hey, Will.”
“Heck of a game, Will.”
“Welcome home, boy. Glad to have you back.”
A round of hand pumping and back thumping followed. Aaron Tate stepped out of the back storeroom just then, customary pipe in hand, his tobacco-rasped voice bellowing out a welcoming, “Well, I’ll be darned. Will. Good to see you, too, boy. Wondered when you’d come by.”
“How’s it going, Aaron? Man, it’s good to see you.”
Aaron reached up to give Will a loose hug and a few welcoming slaps on the back. “Doing fine. You been gone too long. Here to stay awhile, I hope?”
Will shook his head and shrugged. “Don’t really know yet. Have to see how things go.”
Aaron made for the old cooler and pulled out a grape Nehi, wiping it across his overalls before slipping the neck of the bottle into the opener and popping the top. “Believe that used to be your drink of choice.”
Will accepted the soda with a laugh. “Don’t you know the rest of the country’s quit selling these things in bottles?”
“Don’t taste the same in cans far as I’m concerned.”
Will guzzled half the bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sure don’t.”
The corners of Aaron’s mouth lifted in a grin that revealed a missing molar. “Since you were her most famous student, Betsy’s kept up with your comings and goings in the papers. I’d say you deserve a vacation if anyone ever did. How’s the knee?”
Will relaxed for the first time since he’d been back. Why was it that he’d always felt more at home in this old store, among these people, than in his own father’s house? “Better.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Will cleared his throat and lowered his voice so that only Aaron could hear. “Wanted to ask you a question, Aaron.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t know if you heard about it, but I had a little accident yesterday afternoon.”
“Yeah, yeah. In that fancy car.”
Of course Aaron had heard. Nothing stayed secret in Lake Perdue. Especially if it made it to the Tate grapevine. “Ran into the back of Hannah Jacobs. I need to talk to her. Any idea where I can find her?”
Aaron hooked his thumbs through the straps of his overalls. “Still lives over on Wilmington. But she works down at the town li
brary. ‘Spect she’s there right now. It’s open on Saturday morning. Till noon, I believe.”
“Great. Thanks, Aaron.” Will gave the man a fond slap on the shoulder.
“You come on back when you can stay and talk awhile.”
“I’ll do that,” Will said.
Chapter Seven
At exactly one minute past twelve, Hannah and Jenny, along with Henry Lawson, stepped outside the library doors. Hannah pulled a set of keys from her purse and closed the glass door, yanking at it to make sure it had locked. Fishing through the ring, she glanced up to see the blue Cherokee parked beside her car. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man sitting behind the wheel. The steps that propelled her toward her car were no longer slow and ambling. She scrambled to get the key in the lock, pretending not to have seen him.
But Will Kincaid got out of the Jeep and crossed the asphalt. He was standing beside her before she’d opened the car door.
“Hannah.”
Shock surged through her at the sound of her name on his lips. So, he’d finally remembered.
“Hannah, wait. I want to talk to you.”
“I really have to go. I don’t have time to—”
He caught hold of her wrist and turned her to face him. He looked down at her in confusion. “Why didn’t you say who you were yesterday?”
She bit her lip and for the first time let herself really look at him. She’d avoided doing so the day before, telling herself she didn’t want to see the ways in which he’d changed. Now, she realized, the changes had been for the better. The years had hacked away the boyishness of his high-school days, leaving in its place a man with nothing boyish about him. Those eyes. How could she have forgotten? Intelligent eyes in the face of a boy who did everything possible to present a very different image. Eyes she’d always had trouble meeting. Eyes that drew people to him.
As she recalled, it had always been that way with Will. Gazes followed him, lingered, assessed, yearned. Boys and girls alike had watched him, perhaps trying to determine the source of all that arresting charisma. And ten years ago, Hannah had been no exception.
Shaken now by the reality of the man who stood before her, she blinked once and said, “I recognized you.” The accusation in her voice sounded ridiculous even to herself, especially when she’d deliberately made herself unrecognizable.
Will let go of her wrist, then raked a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long time, Hannah.”
“Ten years.” Although her hands were shaking, her voice held no trace of the turmoil inside her.
“You looked different. With that hat and those glasses—” Will gave her a look of bewilderment. “What are you doing, Hannah?”
“Going home for the day.” She was so calm. So cool. So surprised by this indifference she’d dredged up from within herself.
He sighed and said, “That isn’t what I meant. What have you been doing with your life?” He waved a hand in the direction of the old Cadillac and then up and down the plain navy wool jumper revealed beneath her open coat. “This isn’t the Hannah Jacobs I knew.”
“You never knew Hannah Jacobs.” The assertion was soft and certain. She turned back to the car and tried once again to insert the key in the lock.
“What is this? I haven’t seen you in ten years and you…wait a minute,” he said as she went on fumbling, giving a cry of frustration when the key refused to go in.
“Hannah, wait. Please.”
His voice had gone soft. She heard the note of compassion in the words. And for the first time in years, sorrow welled inside her. If she didn’t get away from him now, she would make a fool of herself. That couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t allow it. She closed her eyes for a moment and searched for words cutting enough to make him leave. “What made you come here today? Was it the realization that not everyone might have fared as well as you? Did you want to gloat?”
Will’s eyes grew wide and he stepped back. He stared down at her and then held up a hand. “Okay. I can take a hint. Sorry I interfered,” he said in a careful voice. “I can see you’ve got everything under control. I don’t know what I was thinking. What you do with your life is none of my business.”
Her chin tilted a fraction of an inch, and she pressed her lips together to keep from replying.
“Let me know if that’s not enough money to fix your car. I’m staying down at Tarkington’s Cove,” he added as he backed away from her. He turned around and limped toward the Cherokee, slamming the door and then gunning it out of the parking lot.
The light wind pressed the boxwood hedges closer to the library walls. The breeze whipping at the bottom of her coat, Hannah wrapped her arms around herself and watched him go, eyes dry, swamped by feelings she’d thought shut away years ago.
Chapter Eight
The remaining weeks of February were the longest Hannah had ever endured. A cold spell set in, and the temperature hovered just above freezing. She tried to forget the fact that Will was in Lake Perdue, living just minutes away from her, but restlessness tugged at her.
She felt as if she’d been on a bland diet for years, and someone had added a little seasoning to her food, making her suddenly aware of what she’d been missing.
Outwardly, she went about business as usual, getting her car fixed, going to work each morning, doing the children’s hour at noon and chatting with Mr. Lawson on the days he came in. But inside she was a wreck.
Jenny persisted with attempts to discover the reason behind Hannah’s pensive mood. Although Hannah assured her it was nothing more than the winter blahs, the other woman never let up. One Wednesday in March, Jenny fixed the two of them a cup of hot chocolate and brought them out front before saying, “The only way to lift your spirits, Hannah, is to get out a little more.”
Hannah looked up from the computer where she had been logging returned books back into the system. “I’m happy with my life as it is, Jen. Why would I want to change it?”
Jenny gave an unladylike snort. “You haven’t looked all that happy to me lately. Anyway, it’s not natural, I tell you. A young girl like you, never getting out and having fun. In the six years I’ve known you—”
“Twenty-eight hardly makes me a young girl,” Hannah interrupted quickly.
“Well, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Since Sarah moved into Meadow Spring, the only people you ever see are me and the people who come and go in this library.”
Hannah made a note to repair the spine of one of the books. “If that’s true, then it’s by choice. Besides, you ought to be working on your own social life. Shouldn’t there be a man at home waiting for you every night?”
The other woman rolled her eyes. “At least I’m looking. I’ve got my bingo game every Tuesday night. And then there’s the ladies’ breakfast club every Thursday morning. How much looking is a woman supposed to do?”
Hannah thought of Henry Lawson. He was the only person capable of making Jenny Dudley tongue-tied. She smiled and said, “Maybe you aren’t looking in the right places.”
“Maybe not. But we can look together on Friday. Mr. Tyree down at the County building called yesterday afternoon. There’s a fund-raiser at the firehouse Friday night. He’s expecting both of us to be there as a show of support.”
Hannah looked up from the cards she’d been sorting. “What?”
“Friday night. No ifs, ands or buts. It’s perfect, if you ask me. You might actually enjoy yourself.”
Just then, eight-year-old Mary Jane Kelly scuffed up to the front desk in sneakers that squeaked against the linoleum floor and plopped her books on the countertop. Jenny smiled at the little girl, thanked her for returning the books and then continued on in a nonchalant voice, “At least it won’t be boring. Will Kincaid’s agreed to be there. Fire department’s hoping to sell a lot of tickets that way. It’s nice of him to donate his time, don’t you think?”
Jenny’s last words were lost on Hannah. She’d heard nothing other than that Will Kincaid would be there. He’d
be there, and she would not. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go, Jenny. I—”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Jenny said, wagging a finger at Hannah. “Mr. Tyree said mandatory attendance. And I’m not going to cover for you. Do you think I’m passing up this opportunity to get you out of that house of yours? Uh-uh.”
Hannah pressed her hand against her forehead. How would she face Will Kincaid after what had happened the last time they met? How many times since that afternoon had she relived the scene, berating herself for letting her emotions get so close to the surface? She couldn’t see him again, she couldn’t. But she didn’t have a choice.
She didn’t have a choice, and she could forget all about any help she might otherwise have gotten from Jenny.
Chapter Nine
On Friday night, Will stood near the back of the Lake Perdue firehouse, surrounded by a group of men that included Aaron Tate and Tom Dillon. It was the first time he’d been out in public in weeks. He could now walk without limping, and although his knee was better, his attitude wasn’t. The only time he’d left the house was to drive in to Roanoke to have an orthopedic specialist take a look at his leg. Other than that, he’d sat in front of the television watching tapes of some of his best games. And brooding. Brooding about a future he refused to contemplate.
And while he cursed himself for his own stupidity, he’d spent far too much time thinking about Hannah Jacobs. Replaying their conversation in the library parking lot. History had a way of repeating itself, so they said. Indeed, it had. And he’d helped it along with the same blind spot he’d been guilty of ten years before. Refusing to see her for who she was. Certain she wasn’t the person Tom had made her out to be.
So he tried not to think about her. He went fishing one day and poked a hook in his finger when his thoughts strayed to her. Another afternoon, he rented a boat over at the Lake Perdue dock, wrapped himself in a winter parka and cut waves up and down the lake, only to be reminded of an afternoon he’d spent with Hannah on this same lake years earlier.
Truths and Roses Page 3
