Mended Hearts. Ruth Logan Herne
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smiled, released her hand and gave a delighted sigh as he opened the containers. “Since we’re main-coursing this stuff, I had them pack two slices of strudel, too. I don’t know about you, but I never have room for dessert if I eat a full meal, and Susan Langley’s apple strudel is amazing stuff. I wasn’t sure if you’d like raisins, so I got the one without them.”
“Thank you, Jeff.” She looked in his eyes and for the first time in ages didn’t question the sincerity and integrity in another person, or the veracity of their smile. She let herself bask in the moment and realized how good she felt to be there.
So far as the east is from the west has He removed our transgressions from us… .
She wanted to believe that, the sweet psalm anointing her, but she’d found out the hard way that simple faith was anything but easy.
And yet …
Something in Jeff’s look and his manner made her want to take the chance she’d been refusing to contemplate for years.
“You’ll know when,” Lisa had promised, offering her professional and personal opinion before Hannah moved east. “And when it happens, seize the day. Grasp the moment.”
Hannah hadn’t believed her; the thought that time eases pain was too simplistic to embrace then, despite the therapist’s assurance.
But maybe now …
“Try this.” Jeff speared a piece of shrimp, leaned forward and held the fork up, his encouraging look somewhat boyish and endearing.
She shouldn’t take the morsel. Sharing food was too personal, but she leaned forward, the moment charged with awareness. She paused at the last moment, rethinking her choice.
It’s shrimp. Nothing more.
Hannah knew better, despite her recent holding pattern, like a jet circling O’Hare in a snowstorm. But she took the bite anyway. The combination of cream and spices was melt-in-your-mouth good. “That’s amazing.”
Jeff grinned. “I thought you’d like it. Try another.”
She raised her fork, putting off another tidbit from his. “Feeding myself was one of my basic skills in college.”
“Where I expect you did very well,” he countered, following her lead, adeptly moving the conversation. “I did my undergrad and masters at MIT.” His interested expression invited her to reveal the same about herself.
“I was at Penn.”
“Philadelphia.”
She nodded. “My father and stepmother live there. That got me the occasional home-cooked meal.”
“Which always tastes better when you’re away from home. And you never fully appreciate the things of home until they’re gone.”
Hannah knew that firsthand. Her parents had split up amicably just shy of her ninth birthday. Both had remarried. Both marriages were still intact, but she’d never had a place to truly feel at home from that moment on. No matter which home she visited, a level of disconnect followed her as she figured out behavior that suited her stepfather and stepmother, a slippery slope for a kid. She’d hedged toward perfect, swallowing emotions, pasting on smiles, unwilling to make a scene, skills that turned against her later on.
As a science lover, she understood the intricacies of adaptation. What she didn’t quite get was how to turn it off and move ahead. And if she couldn’t do that, then all the adjustments in the world were of little importance because mere existence couldn’t equate with life. Ever.
“The quieter you get, the more I delve.” Jeff sent her a pointed look, his eyes amused but direct.
Hannah raised her fork in salute. “I only reveal things on a need-to-know basis, Jeff.” She leaned forward before hiking one brow. “And right now, all you need to know is that I’m amazingly grateful for this food. Thank you.”
“And the company?”
Ah, the company. She smiled, raised a glass of water and dipped her chin. “Even better.”
His grin said more than words as he sampled a piece of stuffed mushroom. Was his look of delight meant for her or the delicious food?
She wasn’t sure but a big part of her hoped it was for her. That sent her onto dangerous turf, but for the first time in a long time it felt good to laugh and tease with someone.
Real good.
Success.
Partially, Jeff admitted to himself as he headed back toward Wellsville later that evening. They’d exchanged fundraising ideas, scoped out the time frame and brainstormed how to bring the library project to the forefront of people’s minds. Spring and summer offered many opportunities, but winter in their mountainous foothills narrowed the selections. If they could target the Farmer’s Fair at the end of October, the Christmas Salute to Veterans concert in December, then the Maple Festival in March as their big fall/winter projects, they should have a successful launch. Throw in the direct-mail campaign and fundraising on the Jamison green on Sundays …
Jeff hoped it marked a strong beginning. His mother’s ringtone interrupted his thought process. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“You know that Matt’s back.”
Jeff’s gut tightened. “Yes.”
“I’ve invited him to supper tomorrow night.”
“Perfect. I’m busy.”
“Exactly why I scheduled it then,” Dana Brennan explained. “I won’t have you boys fighting at my table, or have you make him feel like he’s to blame for your father’s actions.”
Perfect. Just perfect. The prodigal comes home after two decades of doing whatever and gets the welcome-to-the-table speech while Jeff got the shaft. “I can lay plenty of his own actions at his door, Mom. He made sure of that twenty years ago.”
“He’s changed, Jeff. He grew up. And he paid his price.”
“Tell that to Katie Bascomb. Every time I see her I remember that night, that weekend. He’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”
“Yes. But Matt wasn’t given an easy road to travel.”
“And I was?”
Dana sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying, honey. I know how rough things were for you and your sister. And maybe I tried too hard or stayed too long with your father, thinking he would keep his promises.”
“Which he didn’t.”
“No. But you do, Jeff. You always have and I’m proud of you for it. I just wish …”
“That I would embrace your rainbow-colored world, forgive Matt and sing kumbaya? Didn’t you just admit to trying too hard with Dad? I might be the one that looks like Dad, but Matt’s got his personality down pat and I don’t want to see you or Grandma get hurt.”
“Or maybe you’re protecting yourself.”
“From?”
“Memories. Fears. Anything that reminds you of your father.”
Jeff sighed. It had been a long day already, up early to get a jump on work Trent Michaels would have done if his foster father wasn’t sick, but with Trent gone …
“I’m tired, Mom. While you’re entertaining Matt, I’ll be kicking off a fundraising campaign I don’t have time for. That seems to be the trend lately—‘If no one else can do it, ask Jeff.’”
“You know I’ll help. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. You love going 24/7, it’s intrinsic to your nature. And Grandma and I both appreciate your time and your devotion to the library project.”
Right then, Jeff didn’t feel appreciated. He felt put out,