Second Chances

by Nicole Andrews Moore

  Hannah was twirling around the room, squealing happily. Her bathrobe had come undone and was radiating out about her as she moved, exposing her entire bathing suit clad body. Realizing she was no longer alone, she stopped, cinched the belt, and rushed over to grab Gavin’s hand. “Look!” She tried to draw him into the room to see the miraculous transformation that had taken place while she was at work.

  The walls were a silvery blue, just like she had originally imagined. The carpet was a plush contemporary shag in a light cream that she couldn’t stop running her toes through. New brushed nickel curtain rods had been installed over the windows and held gauzy cream crushed crepe curtains. On the bed was a silvery blue comforter piled high with pillows.

  “I can see from here,” Gavin said shifting uncomfortably. His hand had unconsciously tightened around hers, but still he couldn’t be compelled to enter the room.

  Seeing he wouldn’t budge, Hannah walked closer to him, head cocked to the side, radiating joy. She eyed him for an instant, as if measuring him, his mood, his height, and then with a moment’s hesitation, stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his nose. He wrinkled it in response, earning a giggle. “Thank you,” she said, as if in explanation. And without taking her eyes off him, she backed up three paces, released his hand, and slowly shut the door.

  As soon as the door closed, Hannah’s cheeks were ablaze. How did this man inspire such responses from her? She kissed his nose! It was so uncharacteristic. She lay back on the bed for a moment and gazed up at her tray ceiling. Maybe he was simply inspiring her to be more like the woman she wanted to be. Maybe she had been tense and uptight for far too long. Maybe it was time to relinquish the reigns some and let someone else in. She shuddered at the thought, until she remembered his eyes. They had seemed a cold, distant, even icy blue, until today. Today, his eyes seemed warmer, cheerier, and beckoning.

  Beaming, Hannah laid out paper plates around the coffee table in the hearth room. She giggled a moment later when she caught herself humming. From where had that bubbled up? In the center of the large square wooden table she opened the take-out containers, pleasantly surprised. There were three different varieties of chicken wings, boneless wings with ranch, buffalo, and honey mustard style dipping sauces. And it appeared he had purchased every side on the menu at Wing Stop. They had the homemade fries, potato salad, coleslaw, and baked beans. Hannah shook her head, imagining that most of the food would go to waste.

  That was where he found her, staring down at the spread of food, hands on hips, frowning. He paused, trying to understand her reaction. “You disapprove?” His brow knit together as he tried to decide how to remedy the situation.

  Startled, Hannah looked up and carefully masked the emotion of her overly expressive face. “It’s not that,” she attempted to explain. “I just hate seeing food go to waste.”

  Instantly he understood. She had spent the majority of her life carefully watching her spending, the last few months being the worst, with no extravagances, nothing to spare. He studied the table, seeing it for the first time through her eyes. Though he had meant only to have all his bases covered since he still had no idea what everyone liked and disliked, to her it would look excessive. He sighed. Then as though he suddenly realized his surroundings, he scowled.

  “Why are we eating on the floor?” He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  “We’re not eating on the floor.” Hannah explained patiently, her eyes twinkling.

  “We’re not?” He challenged, pointing to the lack of seating.

  Giggling, she replied, “Nope. We’re having a picnic.” She tugged at her chin and frowned. “A rather high end picnic, apparently.” She could feel his eyes boring into her, compelling her to explain. Sighing, she collapsed on the overstuffed sofa that was fast becoming her favorite piece of furniture in the room.

  “I always tried to make mealtimes fun after Brett left,” Hannah said quietly. “The food wasn’t always much to look at, so I at least wanted to provide some atmosphere.” She offered him a half smile before continuing. “I would lay the table cloth on the floor that I used to camouflage the card table which doubled as a dining room table and then we would have picnics. The food looked better by candlelight.” She chuckled. Motioning around, she added, “We never had so much food to share or such a nice way to picnic.”

  Gavin stood silently staring first at her, then at the coffee table loaded with fast food. He could hardly bear to hear the stories of her past. Every time it sparked a fury in him that someone could desert her, desert the girls, and leave them destitute. Then he felt something else. It was pride. His Hannah had persevered. He swallowed and did a mental head slap. His Hannah?

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she asked, “Have you ever had a picnic?”

  “Of course,” he replied indignantly. “Mother would have us eat out on the patio quite often growing up.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Your childhood makes me sad.”

  “What?” He spluttered.

  “That’s not a picnic.” She glanced outdoors. He had this lovely yard, perfectly manicured, an abundance of flowering trees and plants that he never took the time to appreciate. “When it gets warmer,” she assured him, “we’ll remedy that.”

  The girls were utterly charming at dinner. Their past had not allowed them to try all the various sides offered, so Hannah encouraged them to branch out and try new things. The results were hilarious. Neither of them liked baked beans, complaining both of the texture and flavor.

  “It feels like when I ate chalk that time,” Zoe mourned.

  And as she feared, entirely too much food remained to be squirreled away into the refrigerator. As she picked up, Hannah hummed happily to herself while the girls spent their last few minutes before the evening ritual began in their room.

  “Let me help you,” Gavin suggested as he replaced the top to the slaw and headed toward the fridge.

  “I can do it,” she murmured, feeling suddenly very pampered and lazy.

  “I know you can,” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. She could never just accept his help, his chivalry. She always had to take on the world alone. He could strangle Brett. He let go of that thought for a moment and realized that he had found the perfect opportunity to discuss his new plans for her.

  Taking a deep breath, Gavin prepared to broach the subject he dreaded. “So, I believe I mentioned that you wouldn’t be working at the office anymore.”

  Again, Hannah froze in her tracks on the cold travertine floor as she awaited his next revelation. Since he took longer than she could stand, she said, “And?”

  “Well, I thought you could work from home, be my personal assistant from here.” He watched her for a reaction. So far, she was completely devoid of expression. “I have a hundred things that need to be accomplished around here and in my life that I put off because I just don’t have the time. You could change all that.”

  Hannah tilted her head to the side. The idea did have merit. She was so organized and efficient; she could probably manage to squeeze out some time to accomplish some of what she had to do as well. She nodded slightly while chewing on her lower lip.

  “I mean, first of all, the entire house needs to be redecorated. You pointed it out to me. Someone really needs to be here to help make the decisions, keep the job moving along, that sort of thing.” He could see the warmth returning to her face so he rushed to continue. “I have a hundred little errands that I need accomplished, notarizing, dry cleaning, my meals…” He trailed off. He knew she had a degree, didn’t want to insult her.

  “Okay,” Hannah said slowly. “Let’s give it a try.”

  Half an hour later, Gavin found himself pacing impatiently in his study. He had long given up reading through any of the files he had brought home to work on after his hasty departure from the office earlier that day. It was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate once he discovered he had read and reread the same page three times and s
till couldn’t remember a word his eyes had skimmed over. Sighing, he glanced once more at the clock on the mantle in the study. Only two minutes had passed since he had last glanced at it. Standing, he marched over to the buffet and began to prepare a drink.

  Suddenly, having a drink seemed foolish, unnecessary. Gavin knew what he really wanted. Feeling utterly defeated, he exited the study, marched solemnly up the stairs, and headed toward Hannah’s room. The sickness that usually spread through him as he neared the room had waned to a slight discomfort that he tamped down by focusing on the sight before him.

  As expected, the girls were on either side of their mother, their damp heads pressed close to her arms as they listened to her reading. They had that pink sheen of freshly scrubbed kids. Once again, the girls glanced up as he neared and one of them gave a shy wave. He answered with an equally shy grin, feeling as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Only this time, Hannah paused in her reading and he froze.

  “Are you just going to stand in the doorway?” She asked, a playful tone in her melodic voice.

  “That was my plan,” he admitted, stiffening at her acknowledgement.

  Hannah closed the book entirely and he could see the girls begin to worry and protest. She silenced them with a look and turned her attention again to Gavin. “You are more than welcome to join us, you know,” she said quietly. “There’s plenty of room.” And she motioned to encompass the rug, chairs, and even the end of the bed.

  His eyebrows rose slightly at the thought of ever being back in the room, let alone on that cursed bed. “I’m good right here,” he said. “Please continue.”

  The girls smiled up at their mother, confident that the reading would commence once more. Hannah frowned at him, clearly thinking him foolish for staying in the hall, but opened the book and picked up where she left off. “If I’ve told you these details about Asteroid B-612, and I’ve given you its number, it is on account of the grown-ups.”

  The sound of her voice reading the story soothed his soul. Gavin found him clinging to each word as though it was a life preserver and him a drowning man. Or maybe it wasn’t just her voice. Maybe it was the story, too. Whatever the reason, it spoke to him, made complete and utter sense. He loved numbers. He was a businessman. Maybe he had grown old. Frowning, when the reading stopped, he turned and headed back to the study.

  Carefully, Hannah had watched his reaction as she read. She had seen how the story affected him. He was truly listening, with his whole heart. For some reason, that made her very happy. She had purposely selected this story when she first began reading it at Gavin’s house. She had hoped the girls would understand it well enough to not get sucked in by the wealth that surrounded them, had hoped they would understand what was important in life, and hoped, more than anything, that they would become the best kind of grown-ups as they matured. And once she had noticed Gavin lurking in the hall, lingering as she read, she held the slightest hope that he would take something from what she read. Judging by his reaction, at least that much was falling into place. Smiling to herself, she tucked the girls in and glided down the stairs.

  Knowing where she meant to go, Hannah rapped lightly on the door before pushing it open and walking in. He didn’t seem surprised to find her standing in the doorway when he looked up from his desk. She wanted to ask him about the story, what he thought, if he understood it, how it was impacting him. She longed to discuss matters of true importance, but chickened out the minute her eyes met his. He looked…sad.

  Frowning, she decided to discuss grown-up things. “So, do you have any ideas for the redecorating?” And without waiting for him to invite her in, she made a beeline for the leather chair across from his desk, and sat curling her legs up under her and leaning on the arm in such a way that demonstrated he had her full attention.

  Without thinking, Gavin smiled. She was so…cute. He found himself thinking that more and more. Shaking his head to rid himself of that thought, he folded his hands and pasted a serious expression in his face. “I haven’t really given it much thought,” he admitted. He glanced about the study, imagining what he might alter in the room.

  Almost alarmed, Hannah shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no,” she said sternly. “Not this room.” He looked at her with his head tilted to one side. She shrugged. “There isn’t a single thing I would change about this room.” She stood suddenly and walked around the room, appraising the décor.

  Fascinated, Gavin watched her as she turned around studying the place. Her hands were clutched behind her back at first, like one does in a museum, in an effort to not reach out and touch the artwork. Then, it was as if she couldn’t help herself when she came to the bookcases. And her hands flew to caress the spines, study the titles. He could hear her murmuring appreciatively at the leather-bound collection. “You approve?” He asked with a smile. And suddenly her approval seemed very important to him.

  “Oh, yes,” she said with her back still to him, completely focused and nearly awed at the literature before her.

  He chuckled. “No, I meant the room.”

  Blushing slightly, in a way that completely charmed him, she smiled faintly and took a deep breath before speaking. “I can honestly say that this is the one room in the house that I wouldn’t alter one bit.” She glanced about and nodded. “This is the one room that is completely and utterly you.” Her hands were clutched behind her back once more. And suddenly feeling self-conscious, she moved to curl up in the chair across from him once more.

  “Hmm. It’s me, huh?” Gavin looked about, wondering what made this room ‘him.’ More than that, it made him wonder how she saw him. Was it the collection of classics and contemporary fiction that spoke of his serious analytical nature? Was it the carefully chosen paintings of woodsy scenes? Was it the color? The furniture? He was intrigued.

  With a smirk, Hannah responded. “Yeah. The room is uptight with aspirations of homey.” She could see him taking it all in and knew he wasn’t entirely satisfied with her assessment. Sighing, she decided to elaborate, knowing he would never drop the subject if she didn’t. “I see you at odds,” she began slowly; “I see evidence of what you think you should be, what you’re supposed to be. At the same time, I see hints of what you would like to be, could be with a little encouragement.” She stopped to study his face. He was frowning. “Okay then. Just know that I’m not changing this room one iota.”

  And without saying another word, even a murmur of goodbye, she headed to the door and gently shut it behind her, leaving Gavin to ponder the truths she had revealed.

  The next morning, Hannah prepared to follow a new routine. She woke up and readied herself for the day, but instead of wearing her business casual wardrobe, she wore her ripped, torn comfy clothes. It felt rather nice, actually. She hummed to herself as she and Madge worked together in the kitchen. Once the girls had been fed and were heading upstairs to brush their teeth before going to preschool, she decided to get Madge’s opinion on the changes for the kitchen and hearth room.

  “Listen,” she began slowly, “you spend at least as much time in this room as I do. How would you like to see it decorated?”

  Even though she hadn’t finished wiping down the black granite counter, Madge stopped and turned to face Hannah. “Are you asking for my opinion?” Her mouth hung open slightly as she awaited the response.

  Brow furrowed, Hannah said, “Naturally.” She moved closer to the woman she worked to bond with. “Why does that surprise you so?”

  “Well, Miss Hannah,” she said, tears forming in her ancient eyes, “no one ever does.”

  Smiling, she shook her head, “Surely, you’ve gathered I’m not like everyone else by now.” Then she walked around the counter, looped her arm through Madge’s and walked her to the sofa. The coffee table was laden down with kitchen idea books and paint keys. Gesturing to the couch, she said, “Let’s get to work.”

  That evening, after dinner had been consumed and cleaned up after, once the girls had been b
athed, read to, and tucked in for the night; Hannah made her way to the study armed with her kitchen selections and a notepad. She smiled as she did the knock and enter that had become her hallmark.

  Leaning back in his chair, Gavin was smiling at her from his desk. He had anticipated her arrival ever since slinking back to the room following her nightly reading. “So, what brings you here?” He asked, feigning surprise.

  Smirking to show she saw through him, Hannah curled up in her chair and began to relay her business. “Well, we came to some decisions about the kitchen that I had hoped to get your approval on.” She leaned forward to lay the paint keys on his desk, along with a cabinet finish sample and with a slight hesitation, a slab of the Silestone she hoped he might consider.

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “First of all: we?” He looked at her confused.

  “Oh, yeah. I asked Madge for her input.” She tried to turn his attention back to the samples, but he was simply staring at her.