Ruth Logan - Mended Hearts

Not exactly the emotions he’d been going for, but at least they were normal. Understandable. He glanced at his watch, nodded his thanks to the young waitress and tried to exit with his head high, fairly sure half the dining room was just too polite to stare.

They didn’t need to. He felt conspicuous enough as it was.

She’d call Helen first thing tomorrow, Hannah decided as she kicked off her shoes in her apartment fifteen minutes later. If she had to embrace this task, she’d take the helm and do it alone. The idea of dealing with a power-hungry ladder climber like Jeff Brennan touched too many old chords. Her teaching success. Brian’s drive and goal-setting passions. The perfect couple when all was well.

No, being around Jeff nudged too many insecurities to the surface. She was better, she knew that.

But still scared. And scarred. Emotionally, if not physically.

The doorbell rang.

Hannah headed to the front entry, surprised. She stopped as her heart shifted somewhere closer to her gut.

Jeff stood framed in the glass, a to-go sack in his hand, his expression sincere, almost as if he was truly sorry for setting her off when he’d done nothing wrong except evoke bad memories.

Self-recriminations assaulted her from within. She opened the door, and sighed, letting the door’s edge offer support. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that.”

“Why did you?”

Hannah refused to open that box, although lately the cover seemed determined to inch off on its own, a concept that both worried and strengthened her. “You struck a nerve.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t demand an explanation, just stood there looking truly apologetic. He hoisted the bag. “I can’t eat these alone. I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

The gentility behind this surprise move softened her heart. Meg had proclaimed Jeff to be a downright nice guy, invested in the community. At this moment, Hannah couldn’t disagree. “Come in.”

He smiled, not triumphant or teasing, but amiable and friendly as if he’d teased her enough for one night. A part of her wished she could play those getting-to-know-you games she used to be good at, but she’d lost that skill and had no interest in resurrecting it.

Get it back.

She sensed the inner admonition, felt the internal thrust forward and resisted, her fear of risk standing its ground.

“Do not be afraid for I am with you… .”

Isaiah’s words tinkered with her heart, her soul.

“I will strengthen you and help you… .”

“This is nice, Hannah.” Jeff swept the front room an approving look, then raised the bag again. “Here or in the kitchen?”

“The kitchen’s fine.”

“Lead the way.” He followed her, set the bag on the table, then faced her.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have run away.”

“Interesting turn of phrase.”

She grimaced acceptance. “A trait I’m trying to change.” Tonight, with him here, delicious smells wafting from the to-go containers, a part of her longed to embrace change. And food. “I’ll get some plates.”

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but by coming here he’d leveled their playing field. Brian would never have swallowed his pride and come calling to make amends. She withdrew two plates from the cupboard and turned to find Jeff procuring silverware from the drawer alongside the sink.

“These okay?” He held up two knives and two forks.

She nodded. “Fine, yes.”

“Then let’s eat.” He drew her chair out, a gentlemanly gesture, then sat in the chair opposite her.

Hannah flushed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What?” He looked genuinely puzzled about her meaning.

“Sit over there. Here would have been fine.” She indicated the chair to her right with a nod.

He raised a brow in amusement. “If you’d prefer …”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

The smile deepened. “I’m good here for the moment. The extra space gives me a buffer zone.”

This time Hannah smiled. His banter was tinged with a hint of compassion, just enough to help calm the encroaching waves within. Her therapist had told her she’d know when to test the waters, dive back into the game. Hannah hadn’t believed her then, and longed to believe her now, but mingled fears constrained her.

She wanted new memories. New chances. New beginnings. Wasn’t that why she’d come to Jamison in the first place?

You came here to hide. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then she wanted to stop hiding.

A rustle of wind brushed the leaves against the windows. The sights and sounds of fall leveraged her anxiety, but only if she allowed it to happen.

Determined, she sat forward, met Jeff’s gaze and nodded toward the food. “Will you say grace or shall I?”

He reached for her hand and it felt nice to have Jeff grip her fingers as he asked the blessing, his tone thoughtful, the strength of his hand a blessing in itself.

He 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.