Hannah Grace (13 page)

They each pulled out a chair and sat. The clock on the fireplace mantle struck half past five. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and a light breeze billowed the curtains, cooling the room to a pleasant temperature. Before long, fall would be upon them, and children would be traipsing back and forth to school. Hannah wondered about Jesse. Had he attended school last year? If so, where? Should they attempt to send him to Sandy Shores Grade School if the school year started and Gabe still hadn't found Jesse's family?

"Hmmmm," Jesse whined, poking his finger on the first page, impatient for her to commence reading.

She laughed. "What?" Daily she asked him questions, as if she expected a verbal response, but every day, he said nothing in return. He stabbed at the first word again and frowned.

"Do you know that word?" she asked. "Did you learn to read last year? What grade were you in?"

To all three questions, he merely stared at her.

She sighed and touched her forehead to his. "I know you're listening, Jesse Gant. Why won't you talk to me? Don't you know by now you can trust Gabe and me, not to mention Maggie Rose and Abbie Ann?"

He pulled back and clamped his mouth in a tight line, then proceeded to shove his chair back. She seized him gently by the arm.

"Okay, okay, no more pushing." Removing a thick lock of hair that blocked his vision, she cocked her head at him. "You're a mystery, sweet boy, you know that?"

After a half hour, Hannah found herself engrossed in the lovely tale, whether Jesse was or not. He'd put his head on her shoulder midway through chapter two, and, at the close of chapter three, "How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow," had closed his eyes in slumber. She angled her head slightly to study his profile-the pointed little nose peppered with freckles, the sun-bronzed cheeks, the perfect little mouth, and the long, black, sweeping eyelashes-and quietly closed the book.

With her back to the stairway, she hadn't even heard Gabe's entry, perhaps due in part to her drifting thoughts.

As soundlessly as possible, Gabe removed his hat and invited himself to sit in a chair opposite her, rewarding her with a rare smile before focusing his attention on the sleeping boy, whose head was fast sliding down her arm.

"He's tuckered out, I see," he whispered.

"He found a stray dog out back and played with him until it started raining. I kept checking on him, mind you," she added.

"Who, the pup?"

"No, silly. Jesse." A ridiculous flush crept up her face, starting at her neck. She thanked the Lord for the darkness of dusk and its concealment.

He chuckled. "I'm not worried about you slacking off, Hannah."

The way he said her name, like a whispered song, sent her stomach tumbling. His presence always did strange things to her-made her nerves jump around in confusion. Like the pause between lightning and thunder, there came that tiny bit of anticipation at seeing him every day, no matter how foolish it was. It wasn't as if they stood around for long periods and talked about their days. Most nights, he arrived at six o'clock sharp to pick up Jesse, and the two would walk out five minutes later. She studied his silhouette in the dimly lit room, observing how the shadows cast a soft darkness over the clear-cut lines of his face, transforming his azure eyes into gray, his profile into a hazy mask. In her edgy state, she swept at her hair-a wasted effort, as it never ceased to fall out from its bun before day's end. She sought to see where he looked, but the dimness of the room made it hard to know.

"Did you feed him?"

It seemed a foolish question. "Of course I fed him. I took him over to the Culver House Cafe for lunch."

She heard rather than saw the smile. "Nice. But I was referring to the dog. Did you feed the stray dog?"

A childish giggle shot out of nowhere. "Oh. Yes. Maggie Rose ran across the street and got some meat scraps. The last time I checked, the food dish was empty. I put out a bowl of water, and that's half gone."

A silence fell between them. Across the street, the piano music at Charley's Saloon started in full swing.

"I suppose he'll be wanting to keep it now-the dog."

"I suppose."

"We needed the rain," he said, apparently in an attempt to keep the conversation moving. "I got stuck in it after lunch. Nearly drowned."

"It came down in sheets."

Downstairs, Maggie Rose sang "Amazing Grace" at top lung capacity. As usual, she sang louder than necessary. It would have been one thing if she could carry a tune. "I can always tell when she's locked the store and hung the `CLOSED' sign out:'

Gabe chuckled, "She's not that good."

"She's terrible," Hannah breathed.

Jesse slipped farther down her arm and made a snuffling sound, his wet breaths pooling on her sleeve. Hannah adjusted herself in the chair and drew the boy's head to her lap. He never stirred, just snored louder.

Gabe leaned across the table and folded his hands, his face coming into full view. If ever she had wanted to run, it was now. He looked as solemn as a marble statue. "Someone's offered to take Jesse:"

"What?" Her breath caught and held.

When he swallowed, his Adam's apple poked out like the head of a tortoise from its shell. "Herb and Lizzie Monroe. You know them?"

"They have about a dozen kids,"

"Six."

"I don't care. It's too many. He'll get lost in all that chaos. He'll stay silent forever."

Their gazes locked. "Hannah, he's not our responsibility."

"Yes, he is," she shot back. "He's grown accustomed to us. If we abandon him now, he'll run off again, and probably just about the time you figure out where he belongs, too. Then what?"

He tipped his eyebrows up in a curious slant and studied her for several seconds. "So, now he's our responsibility? I thought you said..."

"I don't care what I said. We're sharing the load, and because of that, I ought to have some say." Jesse stirred, and Hannah pulled her fingers through his freshly cut hair until his deep breathing resumed. She heaved a long breath of her own. "He can't go out there, Mr. Devlin. They're a nice family, but they won't do Jesse any good. He has big needs right now. Putting him in an environment where he can't get a word in edgewise will make him shrink back all the more." Her heart felt near to collapsing as she pled her case. "If you can't keep him with you, then I'll take him to my house. If my father and grandmother put up a fuss, I'll-"

He put his hand out. "Shh. Okay, okay, it'll be fine,"

Threatening tears stung the backs of her eyes. "How?"

He sighed and looked down at his lap. Had he detected her imminent tears? "As long as you don't mind watching him during the day, he can continue staying with me. I'll admit I didn't like the idea of sending him out there either. They may be wonderfully generous people, but they don't know him as we do. I guess I had to see if we were of one accord, you and I:'

"Oh." She relaxed.

He started to stand. "Bear in mind, though, that he'll have to go once I figure out where he belongs."

"Well, of course, but only if he has a suitable family to go home to."

He seemed to consider that before standing and walking around the table to lift Jesse into his arms. "Oh-it looks like I'm buying a house." After some adjusting, the boy settled against Gabe's broad shoulders.

"Really?" She didn't know why the news should strike a chord of exhilaration in her, but it did. "Where?" She pushed back her chair and followed him to the top of the stairs.

He turned to face her. "Out on Slayton Street. Folks by the name of Bronson."

"I know them. They moved to Lansing to be closer to her ailing folks,"

"That's them."

"It's a pretty house. We've ridden past it many times. Ralston always comments about the nice rose arbor in the side yard."

A shadow crossed his face. `Ah, Ralston, your gentleman friend. So, when do you plan to marry him?"

"What? I-no date has been set."

"But he's already proposed, right?"

The final verse of "Amazing Grace" echoed up to the rafters, and the distraction almost pleased her.

"Hmm?" he asked, leaning close enough for their breaths to mingle.

She stepped back instantly, but it took her the better share of a minute to collect herself. "No, he-he hasn't asked me-yet. But he will,"

After hesitating a moment, Gabe said, "Well, I'm sure you must be sitting on pins and needles just waiting for him to pose that question, hmm?"

Flustered, she blew a wisp of hair off her forehead.

He grinned and nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, Miss Kane."

id you wash behind your ears?" Gabe and Jesse had readied themselves for a good night's rest, Gabe on the bed, Jesse in his usual spot-the chair in front of the window.

Jesse wagged his head and walked to the dresser, where an array of toys lay scattered in wait. Gabe couldn't think of one day since Hannah had started watching the lad that she hadn't sent him home with something from the store. First, it was a collection of toy soldiers; then, a miniature farm set; a few days later, a ball; and, today, a couple of children's books. The woman had a soft spot for Jesse, no doubt about it. How will it be for her once we return Jesse to his rightful family? Gabe wondered. Shoot, how will it be for me?

He thought about the events of the afternoon-how he'd came upon Jesse sleeping against Hannah's shoulder and discovered a deep-set ache to know her better. Then, the instant berating he'd given himself. Hadn't he just escaped a near-marriage to Carolina Woods? The last thing he needed, or wanted, was some woman putting expectations on him. Besides, Hannah Grace Kane was betrothed, or close to it, according to her.

He stretched out on the bed with his newspaper before him and scanned the headlines. No sooner had he started an article about the country's sorry financial state than Jesse let out a sorrowful squeal! Gabe lowered the paper and looked into eyes filled with terror. "What's the matter?"

When Jesse just stood there, baying like a hound dog, Gabe leaped from the bed, knelt down on one knee, and grasped the child by his shoulders. "Jesse, are you in pain? Tell me what's wrong. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jesse wriggled free of him and ran to the door, grabbing hold of the latch with both hands and giving it a couple of frenzied twists, but it was locked. "Jess, what are you doing?"

"Aargh," Jesse groaned in frustration, continuing to try the door.

"It's locked, buddy. I'm not letting you go. Come on, tell me what's wrong."

Suddenly, Jesse pointed at the bed. "What?" Gabe asked. "The bed?"

"Hmm," Jesse protested, shaking his head back and forth.

Gabe swallowed down a hard knot. He tousled Jesse's thick mop of black hair with tenderness. "Talk to me."

Jesse walked to the bed and pointed at the newspaper. By his terrified expression, one might have supposed he'd uncovered a poisonous snake camouflaged in the bushes.

Gabe snatched up the paper and scanned the front page, where he beheld the source of Jesse's distress: the photograph of Rufus McCurdy.

He looked from the photo to Jesse, his heart thudding like a rock. "Do you recognize this man's face?"

Jesse ran to the chair and buried his head under the hotel blanket. A clap of thunder roared in the distance.

A yawning sigh welled up and pushed past Gabe's chest, Dear God, help him see his way through the blackness and into the safety of Your arms-and mine.

He got back down on his knees and rubbed the boy's frail shoulders through the woolen fabric of his nightgown. Now was not the time to press.

Within ten minutes, Jesse drifted off to sleep.