Donna Clayton - Her Dream Come True

Hannah Cavanaugh had said she had to get back to New York where, she’d intimated, she had an all consuming career to get back to. He doubted she had a husband. Or children. Nope. He highly suspected she was far too focused on herself for that.

Well, he had news for the beautiful Hannah. He was making a vow, here and now. One way or another he was going to toss a wrench into those nicely greased cogs she called her plan.

A plan? A plan? Had she really told Adam Roth that she had a well-thought-out plan?

Well, she might have arrived in Little Haven with a strategy: sell the house and furniture and procure long-term housing arrangements for Tammy. However, discovering that her sister wasn’t living in an institution had changed everything.

Hannah paced across the kitchen’s worn linoleum floor as she waited for Tammy. She’d found a note taped to the rickety screen door. Apparently her sister had written it to let visitors know she’d “Gon fishing.” And that she’d “Be bak soon.” And then Tammy had signed her full name.

A smile had pulled at Hannah’s mouth when she’d read her sister’s carefully printed, block-lettered words. Hannah was pleased to learn that Tammy could write. And if she could write, she could surely read. At least at an elementary level, anyway.

It was the note that had made Hannah realize how little she knew of her sister. All she had were a few perceptions that had been based on little, and sometimes no, information. The one time she’d forced her mother to talk about Tammy, Hannah had been disturbed by what she’d learned ... and what she’d learned hadn’t been much, before the incident had turned into a huge argument.

So Tammy was a stranger. And Hannah only had a week, two at the most, in which to garner her sister’s trust.

The thought was daunting.

If you aren’t careful, you’ll send that child into a tailspin. Adam Roth’s words floated through her mind like an immutable echo.

What did he know? Nothing, that’s what. Hannah was here to help Tammy. And she wouldn’t let Adam Roth, or anybody else for that matter, keep her from her goal.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the grimy window. Dust floated in the hot, dry air. The curtains were faded and dingy and full of what looked to be weeks’ worth of dust.

This place needed a good cleaning, and since she could just as well ponder another plan while she was washing a few dishes and wiping down the countertops as she could standing idle, Hannah set to work.

After washing what she guessed were Tammy’s breakfast dishes, she scrubbed the tabletop and the counters, too. Then she spent a full thirty minutes wiping down the massive stove. The thing was an ancient monstrosity. Hannah guessed it was one of the very first models of gas ranges ever to be manufactured.

While she rubbed at the accumulated grease, she mulled over how she would deal with this new situation. She didn’t want to upset Tammy by selling the house. But Hannah didn’t see any way around it. She couldn’t very well leave her sister here in Little Haven all alone.

Learning that Tammy had been on her own here in this house since Bobby Ray’s death made Hannah feel horribly guilty. Had her mother really received three letters alerting her to her ex-husband’s death before she’d responded? Hannah shook her head. Well, she did know her mother had thought Tammy was safe and sound in a state home.

Hannah shook the curtains out on the back porch, scrubbed the grime from the window and then hung the curtains back on their rods. And as she attacked the floor with a broom and then a mop, she continued to reflect on what she should do about her father’s estate and Tammy’s living arrangements. Maybe her mother could give her some advice.

No, came a firm, silent reply. You can handle this. Besides, every single time you ask for her guidance you always end up regretting it.

Before Hannah realized it, the sunlight was casting long shadows across the floor. The linoleum was too worn to shine, but at least she knew it was clean.

Where could Tammy be? she wondered, glancing out the now-crystal-clear window.

Hannah’s skin felt hot and tacky with dust and dirt. She went to the front of the house and up the long staircase to find the bathroom. Somehow, she just knew the house didn’t have one on the first floor.

When she stepped up onto the second-floor landing, it was like a fist struck her square in the solar plexus. She looked at the three open bedroom doors, hazy childhood memories flooding her brain.

A little girl’s laughter echoed in the silent, stuffy air. Squeals of utter delight danced a jig around her. Wraithlike giggles raced from the master bedroom to the one Hannah remembered as being her own, chased by a deeper, more masculine laugh.

The experience wasn’t frightening in the least. Because Hannah knew without a doubt that what she was hearing was in her mind. Sounds conjured solely by her imagination. Memories of happy times with her father when she was a toddler.

The delighted sounds she heard were the remnants of joyful moments she’d spent with the one person she’d loved more dearly than all others.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Hannah had pushed open the door of the master bedroom. She took a step inside and then another.

The same wrought-iron bed sat at one side of the cramped room, the heavy walnut dresser at the other. Hannah grinned, remembering how her father had chuckled at her while she’d jumped on that bed, making the coils squeak and groan. But he would always shoo her off the mattress when the sound of her mother’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. He’d chase her then, from his room to hers, where he’d tuck her into bed and sing her a lullaby.

“Oh, Daddy.” The words were wrenched from her throat, like rusty nails being torn from a piece of dry rotted wood. Hot tears of sorrow seared her eye sockets and blurred her vision.

Why had he sent her away? Why had he made her go with her mother, when all she’d wanted to do was stay here with him?

Reaching up to smooth back a strand of her hair, movement caught her eye and she swung her gaze to the left and saw her reflection in the mirror.

What is the matter with you? she chided.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she’d never find answers to her questions. The possibility of that had died and was buried with her father.

Using the fingers of both hands, she rubbed away her tears. She needed to set the grief away from her. Far away from her. Surely Tammy would be home soon. How would the poor girl react to finding a sobbing, disheveled woman in her house?

“Get yourself washed up,” she ordered her reflection, feeling more in control with the renewed strength she heard in her tone. “You want to be ready when your sister arrives.”

Water from the bathroom sink was cool as she splashed it over her face and arms. She’d found a washcloth on a shelf and used it to scrub away the dust and perspiration on her skin. She was rinsing out the cloth, intending to hang it up to dry, when she heard the screen door open and then shut with a bang.

Hannah moved into the hallway and then to the stairs. She paused, her hand resting on the top of the newel post. Her heart pounded in her chest. Even though she had no idea what to expect, regarding just how mentally alert her sister would be, Hannah was so excited at the thought of seeing Tammy again. However, at the same time she felt a tinge of fear creep over her.

What if Tammy didn’t like her?

Stop it, she told herself. She’ll like you. She’s your sister.

She’ll like you, the voice silently continued, if you don’t scare the poor child half to death.

Hannah’s eyes went wide with the sudden thought. Tammy would surely be frightened to death finding someone—a complete stranger—in the house.