Mom stood up and beckoned to Luke. “I wasn’t sure this would be appropriate, but I think it is. I have something for you, but you’ll have to help me bring it in.” She led the way out to the car while Hannah wondered what Mom had up her sleeve. Probably bakery goods.
But she was wrong. Mom and Luke returned, each carrying large plastic storage containers. Mom set them down in the middle of the floor. “Christmas decorations,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I have so many, and we’ve already decorated as much as we can with the girls so small. I thought it might cheer up your dad when he came home if the house was decorated.”
Luke studied the boxes, then looked back at Mom. “I don’t know what to say. I... After what Dad did at Thanksgiving, you’re offering us your decorations to cheer him up?”
“He’s had struggles,” Mom said simply. “I understand that.” She walked over to the girls. “Now, I’m going to take these tired young ladies home. Hannah, you stay and help Luke decorate.”
Hannah frowned. “I thought you were staying for pizza.”
“I’ll take a piece home. Honestly, I can’t wait to get them bathed and to bed, then put on my pj’s and read my book.”
It sounded legit, but Hannah looked at her mom suspiciously. Was she purposely pushing Hannah and Luke together?
But there was no stopping this train. Mom put jackets on the girls, and Luke helped her get them into her car, while Hannah stood in the middle of the kitchen, left to her dangerous attraction.
* * *
As he came back inside, Luke remembered all the old urges.
A woman, in a good mood, in a house alone. Both of them unattached.
The old Luke knew exactly what to do in that situation. But this was Hannah, and he was a different person now. A man of faith, a man who honored women.
He couldn’t entirely forget what he knew. He’d seen the way Hannah looked at him. She wasn’t immune to the feelings that sparked between them.
He wouldn’t consider acting on those feelings, though. Even if he hadn’t felt protective due to their shared past, and even if he hadn’t been a changed man, there was what her mother had said. After they’d gotten the twins into the car, as he’d been turning back to the house, she’d stepped in front of him and given him a look that was, he imagined, a look most mothers knew how to give. “You take care of my daughter,” she’d said, staring hard at him. Implied: you know exactly what I mean.
He’d nodded and said, “Of course.” It had felt like a bit of a vow.
He walked into the living room, looked at Hannah standing there, so pretty and kissable and completely unaware of it, and brushed his hands together. His old ways had been tamped down, but were not entirely gone. He really wanted to pull her into his arms. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke abruptly. “So. I guess we need to get to work.”
“Hey.” Hannah’s voice sounded small, and she looked at the ground. “If you don’t want to decorate or you don’t want me here...”
He didn’t need to act like a jerk to keep his hands to himself. He was old enough and man enough to be respectful. “No, I do,” he said, forcing friend vibrations into his voice. “Come on, let’s look at what your mom brought.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure.” He kneeled beside the bigger container, opened it and stared blankly at the jumble inside. “I definitely need help figuring out how to deal with all this.”
“How to deal with it?” She opened the other container. “Not much for decorating?”
“Look around you,” he said, waving a hand at the blank walls. “I can clean, but decorating is something else.”
“You never put up a tree?” she asked, looking incredulous.
He had a sudden memory of decorating a tree with Nicolette and her mom when they’d first gotten together. It had, in fact, been a first for him, since they’d never decorated growing up. They’d had a good time, especially with Nicolette clapping her hands to see the colorful lights and shiny ornaments.
Tonight would be different in all kinds of ways. Rather than talking about it, he changed the subject. “Strings of lights. Do they work?” He pulled out a big tangle and took them over to one of the outlets. They all lit up, in various colors.
“We did white lights at Mom’s this year,” she said, “so looks like you get the colored ones. You okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? They’re pretty. And beggars can’t be choosers.” He looked around the room, then back at Hannah. “Problem is, I don’t have a tree. So how do we put them up?”
“We’ll figure something out.” She patted his arm. “Let’s see what else is here and then we’ll decide.”
What was it about women that got them all happy around holidays and decorating? He didn’t exactly share the feeling, but being here with Hannah was fun. She had him wind garland around the banister, then stepped back and studied it, frowned and made him move it from one side of the staircase to the other. She rummaged through Dad’s cupboards until she found a white bowl, then she filled it with ornaments and set it on the coffee table. She made him hunt down pushpins—who would have guessed Dad would have those?—and climbed up on a stool to string the colored lights around the upper corners of the room.
When she swayed, he hurried over to steady her. “I should be the one climbing around,” he said.
“I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. Hold these.” She handed him the rest of the lights, climbed down and moved the stool over. Then she climbed back up, took the lights from him and continued stringing them around the room.
He stood beside the stool and handed her pushpins, then steadied her when she overreached. Actually, he was just fine with playing a supporting role.
Fine with being close to her.
They sorted through the rest of the ornaments and statues—a Mickey Mouse that lifted its hands and recited “Merry Christmas,” a couple of candles and a stuffed Santa made to perch on the edge of a table or hearth. He set that one on the end table, then frowned. “If Goldie gets in here, she’ll think that’s a toy,” he said.
“Good point. Maybe put it on the mantel.” She frowned. “You know, this is going to be a bit of a job to take down. How long do you think you’ll stay in Bethlehem Springs?”
“Good question.” He leaned back against the couch. “Until Dad can manage on his own, obviously. After that... I don’t know. There’s lots to consider.”
She started untangling the last string of lights. “Like what?”
“Whether we can get the new structure ready to go so I have a full-time job, that’s one,” he said. “Also...” He trailed off, because he didn’t want to burden her.
“What?” she asked. Her face was kind, open. “What’s bothering you?”
He sighed. “It’s being a Hutchenson in Bethlehem Springs,” he said. “We’re the family everyone tries to stay away from. Makes it hard to get a fresh start.”
“I know what you mean, but most people aren’t judging. Everyone has problems of their own. Oh...” She’d been digging through one of the tubs and she pulled out something small and blue. “Mom must have left this in here by mistake. I know she’d never get rid of it.”
“What is it?” He held out a hand. “Can I see?”
She swallowed hard and placed the object into his hand.
It was a flat piece of plaster, with a small handprint, painted bright blue. Around the bottom, MARNIE A. was carved in capital letters. The disc hung on a red ribbon. Probably supposed to be put on a Christmas tree.
He handed it back to Hannah, and she stared at it, her eyes shiny with tears.
The urge to comfort her physically was strong, but he didn’t. “Put it somewhere safe,” he said. “It’s a keeper.”
She wrapped it back up in newspaper and tucked it into her purse. Then she found a tissue and blew her nose.
/>
Poor kid. She’d lost her big sister, and here she was raising her sister’s daughters, getting reminded of her loss every day. And it was Christmas.
He was just about to pull her into a friendly hug when she took a big step away from him, pulled a Christmas tablecloth out of the box, carried it to Dad’s rickety dining table and draped it over. Then she dug out a fat red candle and holder and set it in the middle of the table. “There! You’ll have more cheerful meals now.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t really see him and his dad sitting down to home-cooked meals at a table.
“So,” she said, still sounding brisk as she took a roll of red ribbon out of the box, “what was the army like? How long were you in?”
It was a clear effort to keep the conversation away from Marnie and loss and sadness, but that was understandable. “Ten years,” he said, “and it was...the army.” What more could he say? He hadn’t hated it, but he hadn’t loved it, either. It had been a living.
“Were you overseas?” She strung the ribbon through the greenery along the banister.
“Part of the time I was stateside, but yeah. I spent some years in Iraq.”
“Did it leave an impact?”
“Hard to say.” How much did she know about his past? he wondered. He busied himself with unwrapping what turned out to be a small, predecorated artificial tree. “I never really thought I was affected by the years in the military—” he said, and broke off. And then, looking at her good-listener face, he figured he might as well tell it all. “I did get pretty screwed up when I came home,” he said, “but that was to do with Bobby, too.”
Her face tightened, just like it did every time he mentioned his brother. Why? He decided to push it. “You didn’t really know him, did you?”
“No!” She said it abruptly. “I mean, I knew him, just like you know everyone around here, but we weren’t friends. He was more friends with Marnie.” She grabbed the little tree he’d found, plugged it in and tried to straighten out the branches.
She didn’t look at him.
Maybe mentioning Bobby brought up sad memories of Marnie, since they’d been friends. “I remember Bobby and Marnie were close for a while.” They’d shared an interest in trouble, that was why.
She frowned, stood and set the tree on an end table. “So...you were saying you got screwed up? What happened? If that’s not too nosy of a question.”
He shrugged. “I can tell it if you want to hear it.”
“I do. I’m curious.” Then she flushed like she’d said something revealing.
She’d definitely gotten jumpy, nervous. The happy holiday mood was gone, so he might as well tell her his sad-sack story. “Being in the army, I got into some drinking. When I came home, it escalated.”
“To the point where it was a problem?”
He shrugged. “Kind of. I kept control because I didn’t want to be like Dad, but I definitely drank too much.” He flashed back to an evening he’d come home drunk while Nicki was still awake. The confusion in her eyes had stopped him cold, and he’d quit drinking immediately.
That had lasted until the breakup. Without Nicki’s sweet innocence to hold him to a higher standard, he’d gone straight downhill.
No need to go into the worst of the details. “I had some bad times,” he said, “and I ended up at a mission for the homeless in Cleveland.”
She looked puzzled. “Working there?”
He had, eventually. He could just say yes.
Tell the truth. “All of us who lived there did some chores.”
“You...lived at a mission?”
He focused on straightening up the remaining decorations, stacking them neatly in one of the containers. “For a couple of months. They helped me a lot. But...just not in time.”
“Oh, Luke.” She reached for his arm, squeezed it and then wrapped her arms around her knees, not even pretending to focus on decorating. “What do you mean ‘not in time’?”
“The main reason I wanted to get my life together was to help Bobby,” he said. “But by the time I was healthy enough to seek him out, he was on trial.” He swallowed hard, made himself say the rest. “For felony murder. He didn’t pull the trigger himself, but he was right there, participating in the armed robbery, when his buddy went nuts and shot the cashier.” He’d been in the courtroom when Mrs. Singh had made her victim statement, shown the jury pictures of the three school-age children she’d now be raising alone.
If only he’d gotten it together in time to stop Bobby’s downhill slide. Luke was the big brother. Bobby might have listened to him.
Hannah scrambled to her feet. “That’s awful, Luke, I’m so sorry.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Look at the time. I have to get home.”
He pulled his mind out of the past and looked at her blankly. She was so kind and understanding, a wonderful Christian. But any mention of Bobby seemed to send her running.
Not that he blamed her. What Bobby had done had resulted in a man’s death, had devastated a family.
He knew from experience that going down that rabbit hole of shame and anger and grief would do him no good. He stood and looked around the room, purposely pushing away the past and focusing on the present moment, on the Christmas decorations they’d put up. The room was actually looking good.
“I can walk you home,” he said.
“No, I have the car, remember?” She was grabbing her parka from the hook on the back of the door.
He moved across the room to hold it for her, but she stepped away.
A brush-off. Clear enough. “Get some rest,” he said as she scuttled out the door. “We really have to put in the hours tomorrow if we want to catch up.”
As he closed the door behind her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction to hearing Bobby’s name. She didn’t seem put off or disapproving; she seemed scared. But why?
Chapter Nine
The next day, Hannah walked through a cold drizzle into the old barn, now dog-training-area-in-progress. She was a woman with a goal.
She intended to do her work today and stay distant from Luke. Cool. Friendly, but not too friendly. No repeat of the emotional roller coaster of last night.
Decorating Luke’s dad’s house with him had felt domestic and warm and wonderful. Even when he’d told her about his past mistakes, she had compared it to the man he was now and admired him for all he’d done to repair his life. There was no doubt he’d come from a disadvantaged past, full of poverty and neglect and maybe even abuse from his dad. No wonder he’d slipped and fallen. She was impressed that he’d gotten back up.
And then he’d mentioned Bobby. After that, being impressed and admiring had seemed like a big, major mistake. One she kept making.
Today would be different. Mom had kept the twins home today, planning to take them to an appointment with a pediatric developmentalist for some testing, so she didn’t even have the small distraction of dropping them off or wondering how they were doing at day care. She’d focus entirely on her work. Not on Addie and Emmy, and definitely not on Luke.
She put down her coat, grabbed her clipboard and studied her to-do list. She had to source some used bleachers and help Luke measure heights for a couple of jump sets. They had to cut PVC for the weave poles, and though he’d seen them once at the facility they’d visited, she needed to find him some pictures to work with.
That should keep them busy and focused and nonromantic.
Luke walked in, and her heart did a big, hard flip.
He’d revealed a lot of himself last night, his background, the trauma of what Bobby had done. She’d seen in his demeanor that he thought the stories would turn her off, but they’d had the opposite effect; they’d given her sympathy, made her admire him more.
Now, seeing his rough morning face, she wanted nothing more than to go to him, ask him how he’d slept, give hi
m a hug. Girlfriend things.
She drew a line through the tasks she’d planned to do with him, put initials by the ones they’d each do alone. She couldn’t keep her distance while working closely together. It didn’t make sense.
But it also didn’t make sense to avoid the work they were being paid to do so that she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Reluctantly, she erased the cross-outs.
“What’s on deck for today?” he asked as he came over to where she was standing. He slung his coat carelessly on a chair. That smile...
Her heart beating hard, she turned away, scanned her list and focused on individual tasks. “You need to get the walls framed up,” she said, keeping her voice businesslike. “I have some equipment to order.”
He finished his job in less than an hour and approached her again.
She took a big step back.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned at her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” She looked around, grabbed her trusty clipboard. “I’m just stressed out, that’s all. It’s important to me to get this done so I can have a job with insurance.” She realized how selfish she sounded. How selfish she was being. “So we both can,” she added quickly, although for Luke to get a permanent job here meant he’d continue living next door to the twins indefinitely, unaware that he was their uncle.
His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to one side. He wasn’t going to buy it. He was going to make her talk to him about what was wrong, and what could she say?
Then, to her relief, he shrugged and lifted his hands, palms up. “That’s important to me, too. What’s next?”
Focused on a goal, they worked together for the rest of the day. Reese stopped in at lunchtime, bringing hoagies and bags of chips from a sandwich shop. “I didn’t want you to have to slow down,” he explained. “Our benefactors want to visit next week.”
That lit a fire under them, and they worked silently and efficiently through the afternoon, laying artificial turf over a big section of flooring and tacking it down. She showed him a video of weave poles and then held the PVC pipes while he cut them to the right length. Dimly, she heard car doors slamming in the distance; the day-care kids were getting picked up.
Finding a Christmas Home Page 9
