She pointed to the apple bucket. “Have you done it yet?”
He backed away and appeared to be looking for an escape route. “Actually, no, I—”
She grabbed his shirtsleeve and tugged. “What about all that bragging I heard this morning?”
The people around them overheard and began chanting, “Yeah, Will. Come on, Will. Take a turn.”
He shot Hannah a glare, but she only smiled at him. He handed her the partially destroyed popcorn ball and, taking a mock bow, stepped forward, reaching for a towel to drape over his shoulders. “Okay, if you want me to show the rest of you up.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” she teased.
He lowered himself on his good knee and ducked his face into the water.
Hannah stifled a laugh with her hand as she watched him stalking the apples with his mouth. The children standing around the bucket shouted, “Go, Will! Go, Will!”
Will’s head dipped again and again, and sure enough, within twenty seconds he jerked out of the water, an apple held prisoner between two rows of white teeth. He turned to Hannah and lifted both palms in the air in an “I told you so” gesture.
She bowed to his obvious apple-bobbing prowess, and then shrieked when he came to a halt in front of her, shaking the water from his hair like a shaggy dog.
“Will!”
He leaned forward and offered her the apple with his mouth. The children were laughing and cheering him on. She had no choice but to take it.
Will lifted his head and gloated, his hands on his hips. “So what’s my reward?”
She let the apple drop into her hand and, grinning up at him, reached for one of the blue construction-paper ribbons they’d designed for the winners.
“I made that one, Mr. Kincaid,” Janie Clemens piped up from the circle around them.
Hannah patted the ribbon against Will’s chest and then, punching the words with her finger, declared with a grin, “Extra Ordinary Apple Bobber.”
He looked down at the honorary insignia and grinned. “Well, I think…I’d say that’s quite an honor. Extra ordinary, huh? Thank you, honey.” He reached down and gave the little girl a hug, careful not to get her wet.
Janie Clemens all but melted. And looking up at the big, good-natured man before her, Hannah knew exactly how she felt.
Chapter Forty-one
For Hannah the day would have been perfect had Tom Dillon not decided to put in an appearance. The thought that he might show up had flitted through her mind a time or two, but she’d pushed it away, determined not to let anything mar the day.
But half an hour after the apple bobbing, she looked up from where she and Will stood talking to the mayor. Her knees nearly buckled at the sight of the deputy making his way toward them.
“Ah, excuse me,” she said, interrupting Mayor Nichols who had been congratulating them on a job well done. “I need to check on the—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish before Tom slapped Will on the back and said, “Don’t rush off, Hannah. Wanted to let you know what an impressive show the two of you put on here.”
Still wet from his dips in the dunking machine, the mayor excused himself, and Will nodded to him before saying, “Thanks, Tom.”
“Lot of hard work must’ve gone into this little production, huh, Hannah?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You could say that.”
“Lotta late nights, I bet.” There was no denying the implication behind his words.
Will sent Tom a strange look, then glanced at Hannah. She tried not to let on that the other man’s presence bothered her.
“That’s why you haven’t made it out to Clarence’s yet, Will. I knew it wasn’t because you didn’t want to see your old friends.”
Will’s gaze narrowed. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get out there. But it’s been one thing after another.”
“Know what you mean. Now that you won’t have Hannah to keep you busy, you come on out, you hear?”
Will watched curiously as Tom locked eyes with Hannah and then turned on his heel and left. He remained silent for a long moment before saying, “What is it with you two?”
Hannah balled up the napkin in her hand and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Then why did you freeze when you saw him?”
“I didn’t.”
“Hannah, I can see. What is it about him that makes you so jittery? Seems like more than just a case of nerves about an old boyfriend.”
“He was never my boyfriend,” she shot back, cheeks flushed.
Will’s features were etched in disbelief. “Did the two of you date or not?”
“One date,” she said softly.
“One?”
“One.”
“Come on. You went out for weeks. We didn’t see Tom for at least six Saturday nights in a row. From what I understood, you were pretty involved.”
She stared up at him, her arms folded protectively across her chest. “And just where did you get that information?”
“From Tom. Where else?”
She bit her lip and forced her voice to remain even. “And I guess you’d believe everything he said.”
“Did I have a reason not to?”
“I don’t know, did you?”
“Why would he have lied?”
She glanced away and then said, “Maybe you didn’t know your best friend as well as you thought.”
He looked down at her in exasperation. “Hannah, what the hell are you—”
“Next time, check out your sources a little better.” And with that, she stomped off, her shoulders stiff.
The scene with Will left a black mark on the day, but Hannah forced it to the back of her mind and pretended it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Will believed the lies Tom had told him. It didn’t matter. It didn’t.
By five o’clock that afternoon she had almost managed to convince herself. The carnival was scheduled to last until nine. And it looked as though the crowd might just hold up until then. She made her way outside, where a line of children stood waiting their turn at the pony rides.
Here, the air smelled of a combination of hay and oats, manure and saddle leather. On the grass just outside the makeshift ring Henry Lawson had set up for the day, a group of children darted back and forth in a game of tag, their shrieks and laughter ringing out beneath the blue spring sky. Henry raised the bill of his hat as Hannah approached and said, “Looks like you’re gonna have enough money for that new bookmobile.”
“It sure does,” she agreed. “Everyone’s been so supportive. I appreciate all your help, Henry.”
Henry helped a little boy off one of the Shetland ponies and boosted up a small girl with long blonde braids in his place. His granddaughter set off leading the child around the ring. “Guess you caught up with Will the other day? Ever figure out why he took off like that?”
She shook her head. “He said he had some things to do.”
“Oh.” The older man looked down at the ground and scuffed his boot toe in the dirt. “Thought I might’ve had something to do with it.”
“Why would you think that?” she asked, frowning.
Henry stared out at his granddaughter, now laughing as she tugged the reluctant pony along. “I never told you this, Miss Jacobs, but I, ah, heck, might as well say it. I can’t read. All those books I look at every afternoon, that’s all I’m doing. Just looking. I think Will might’ve figured that out and, well, I thought he might’ve been a little disgusted.” The words came out in a rush.
Hannah stared up at the older man and swallowed to keep the emotion from rising within her throat. She knew what the admission must have cost him. She touched his shoulder. “Why didn’t you ever let us know, Henry?”
He looked down at the ground. “Too ashamed, I guess. That little granddaughter of mine can read better than me.”
“That’s because she’s had a chance to learn
,” Hannah said in a compassionate voice. “Did you?”
He shrugged. “Don’t reckon I did. Dropped out in the third grade to work on the farm. I missed so many days before then I never really caught on.”
Hannah listened to the story with sympathy. Many of the kids from Henry Lawson’s generation had never finished school. In rural communities, working on the farm and helping out with the family had often been more important. “Do you want to learn?”
Henry Lawson’s lined face appeared torn between the desire to say yes and the certainty he’d never accomplish it. “I suppose it’s a bit late now.”
“It’s never too late. Never. And if you want to learn to read, Henry Lawson, I’ll see to it that you do. Even if I have to teach you myself.”
Jenny sauntered over then. A smile lit her face as she looked up at Henry. “Why so serious? Aren’t you all having fun out here?”
Henry nodded. “Fine time, Miss Dudley. Just fine.”
Jenny proceeded to go on about the success of the carnival and how Hannah deserved most of the credit.
“It was Will’s idea,” Hannah asserted.
“Both of you deserve a pat on the back in my opinion. Don’t you agree, Mr. Lawson?” Jenny prodded.
Henry nodded again and traced a pattern in the dirt with his boot toe. “Sure do. My granddaughter’s already wonderin’ when the bookmobile will be getting out our way.”
Hannah stayed and chatted for a few more minutes, then turned and headed back into the armory, her mind already working on how she could help Henry Lawson learn to read. She’d have a talk with Jenny on Monday. Between the two of them, they could use the time he came in each afternoon to teach him. Jenny would help. Hannah knew she would.
But something Mr. Lawson had said nagged at the back of her mind. Why would Will have left the man with the impression that his inability to read bothered him? That didn’t sound at all like Will. Maybe Henry was just extra sensitive about it.
Something tugged at her heart at the thought of a grown man going through his whole life trying to hide such a secret from the rest of the world. She couldn’t imagine Will feeling disgusted with a man for that. It had been Henry’s imagination. Born of years of being ashamed. Nothing else, she was sure.
Chapter Forty-two
By nine that night, Hannah’s limbs ached with exhaustion. But it was a wonderful fatigue, the kind that let you know you’d worked hard and earned something for the effort.
It had been an extraordinary day. And by last count, they’d taken in enough to make a significant contribution to the purchase of a new bookmobile. The realization had Hannah smiling and shaking her head in disbelief.
“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” Will teased as he approached the front table.
The last of the crowd had dwindled out, leaving the two of than standing alone in the foyer. Jenny had disappeared somewhere in the back to help clean up the kitchen. Forgetting about the words they’d had that afternoon, she looked up at him, unable to hide her happiness. “This is unbelievable to raise so much money in one day. I still can’t get over it.”
He nodded. “Most folks believe in a good cause.”
She kept her gaze even with his. “A lot of them came to see you, you know.”
He looked down at one running shoe. “Nah.”
“They did. I never heard so many oohs and aahs from fourteen-year-olds,” she said, enjoying his embarrassment.
He looked up with a half smile. “What about the town matrons?”
“You had a few of them in a tither, as well.”
With a directness that took her off guard, he asked, “And just what would it take to get you in a tither, Hannah?”
She glanced away. “I’m a little past tithering.”
He chuckled and said, “Twenty-eight is over the hill, huh?”
Looking away, she fumbled with the cash box and ignored the comment. “I—I don’t know how to thank you for all this.”
“There’s no need to.”
“There is. This will mean so much to so many children.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence.
She looked up at him and knew a sudden sorrow that they would no longer have a reason to spend time together.
When they spoke, their voices collided in midair.
“Hannah, I’m sorry if I upset you earlier—”
“About this afternoon, Will—”
They broke off at the same time.
She made a pretense of brushing dust off the lid of the box. “I’d just rather not talk about Tom.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why.”
“Then why do I get the feeling it does matter?”
She shrugged. “Let’s just forget it.”
A fluorescent light above them flickered. Somewhere in the back of the building pots and pans rattled.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked quietly.
“Cleaning up here in the morning, I suppose.”
“I’ll come over and help.” He hesitated, then said quickly, “What would you think of going for a picnic somewhere after that?”
Pleasure skipped through her, followed by a wave of disappointment. “I have to visit Aunt Sarah. I didn’t go last week. She’ll be expecting me.”
“Why don’t I go with you? You said she’s up at Meadow Spring, right? It’s a pretty drive. What do you say?”
She tried for nonchalance, while inside she felt like bursting with sudden happiness. “Are you sure you want—”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
Just then Jenny shuffled out of the kitchen, heading toward them. “Terrific day, you two,” she said with a wave. “See you in the morning.”
“You need a ride, Jenny?” Hannah offered.
“No. Actually, Mr. Lawson’s dropping me off.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “I thought he left earlier to take the ponies back.”
“He did. But he was coming back, so….”
“So,” Hannah said with a knowing look.
Jenny blushed and hustled out the front door, bidding them goodnight over her shoulder.
“Do I smell romance in the air?” Will asked as Jenny shut the door behind her.
“Maybe. Mr. Lawson’s an awfully nice man.”
“Widower, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” She hesitated and then said, “He told me something today that I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t picked up on.”
He glanced toward the door and said, “Oh?”
“He can’t read. All those years of coming into the library and I never guessed.”
Will shifted from one foot to the other, but remained silent.
She met his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?”
He looked away. “I picked up on it the other day.”
“He mentioned that. He seemed to think you might have been bothered by his not being able to read.”
Will frowned. “Why on earth would he think that?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe he’s self-conscious about it.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s a lot more to a man than whether he can read or not. Henry Lawson’s a fine one.”
“He wants to learn.”
“Good. I’m glad for him,” he said, his expression blank.
“I’m going to try to teach him. I plan to talk to Jenny on Monday about helping.”
“That’s nice, Hannah.” With jerky movements, Will began folding up chairs and standing them against the wall. “I’ll start cleaning up now. I’ve got too much energy to go home yet.”
She folded her arms across her chest and watched as he set about stacking tables and putting away chairs with surprising zeal, considering the fatigue he’d admitted to minutes earlier. She studied him a moment longer before reaching for a chair and helping.
Chapter Forty-three
As it turned out, Hannah’s own energy level picked up enough that she stayed on until she and Will had put the p
lace back in order. The only thing left was the sweeping and mopping, and the armory had agreed to have a janitorial service do that.
The courthouse clock had long since struck midnight by the time they locked the doors and headed for their cars. Will walked Hannah to hers, stopping to lean against the front of the “green boat,” as he now referred to it.
The moon rode high in the sky and the crisp night air felt brisk on her cheeks. Somewhere in the distance a trash can fell over, and a cat let out a yowl.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at her for the first time since they’d begun cleaning.
“I’d planned to leave around noon.”
“I’ll come by and get you.”
“All right.” She fumbled for her keys and turned to open the car door.
She could feel his eyes on her back. And then, as if the words were beyond his power to hold back, he said in a voice so low she thought she might have imagined it, “Hannah, come here, please.”
She froze. “I-I really should go, Will. It’s late.”
“Come here, Hannah.”
Three such simple words. A choice. Go to him. Or leave. So simple for some. But a turning point for Hannah. Her pulse throbbed. Her palms grew moist. She glanced over at him, releasing the door handle but remaining where she stood.
He moved to stand in front of her, saying nothing, allowing his eyes to speak. With his back to the car, he spread his legs and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him.
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. She could not take her eyes off him. She was frightened and yet warm with a startling anticipation. She placed her hands on his chest, wanting to lean into him, wanting to push away.
Before she could do either, Will’s head dipped low, blocking out the moon behind him, and his mouth brushed hers, tentative, testing, tender in a way that sent her inhibitions scattering.
A small gasp of surprise escaped her. But rather than push away, she found that she wanted nothing more than to slip her arms around his neck and wind her fingers into his hair.
And so she did. Uncertainly. Hesitantly. A whisper of longing rose from somewhere deep inside her.
Truths and Roses Page 13
