Hannah Grace (37 page)

"That was quite a story you told,"

She swiveled back in place and turned shining eyes on him. My, but she had the knack for making his head swim. "It was true, every bit of it," she said, poking out her chin.

He chuckled. "Yeah? And you believe it?"

"Everyone does, as far as I know."

"Really, now? I'll have to ask around,"

"You do that,"

He reached across and snagged one of her stray curls to finger its silkiness. She didn't even move, but he did hear her quick intake of breath. "I know, I know," he teased. "You have a beau," He inclined his head and said on a whisper, "I'll try to watch my step."

Only a hint of a smile played around her lips, her eyes connecting with his in a way quite foreign to him-thoughtful, inquiring. "You're somethin' else, Hannah Grace."

He scooted forward, fully intent on planting a kiss on her forehead, but Jesse's ill-timed interruption foiled his perfect plan. "Hey, you guys!" he called. "Let's go exploring!"

Gabe sighed and Hannah giggled, already rising to her feet.

He followed suit, looking over her shoulder to discover Jesse starting to climb another slope behind the big tree. Hannah gazed down at the remains of their picnic.

Gabe shrugged. "We'll come back for it later." He watched the boy ascend the dune and heaved another breath. "I hope you know you started something with this hidden treasure story, madam."

She covered her mouth to hold back another spurt of laughter.

"Come on," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her along. They laughed on their way.

At the top of this particular dune, they had an even better view. They saw a few ships and barges leaving the channel to enter rough waters, moving south toward Chicago, and a lone sailboat about a mile offshore, dipping and rising with the white-capped waves. Directly in front of them stood the lighthouse, tall and serene at the end of the catwalk like a beacon of hope.

"What a beautiful sight," Hannah said, looking out over the waters, palm shading her eyes from the lowering sun, her skirts billowing in the chilly breezes.

Gabe's eyes focused on something else as he bent close. "Yes, beautiful," he murmured in her ear, mesmerized ever since she'd removed her hat to allow the wind full liberty with her hair.

They stood there, the three of them, each wrapped up in private thoughts. Suddenly, Jesse broke into their silent musings and asked, "Who lives up there?"

Hannah and Gabe's eyes traveled to where Jesse's outstretched finger pointed at a two-story, mansion-like structure built into the side of a hill, wooden steps leading down the steep incline to the beach.

"No one, now," Hannah replied. "Hard to believe, but that's just a summer cottage. It belongs to Harold and Nora Morrison, who live in Chicago. They come up here only in July and August."

At first, Gabe thought little of Hannah's remark, except to muse that the cottage looked like something his own parents might build if his father would ever consider giving up the ranch and lessening his hours as county judge. He knew his mother would enjoy a summer retreat. However, something else caught his trained eye, some sort of movement inside the house-a fluttering curtain, a shadowy figure. And then, there were the horses tied outside, their heads barely visible over the crest of the hill.

Gabe went stone still for a full ten seconds while he pondered the unspoken possibility, surveyed the house and its surroundings, tried to see through thick drapes that covered a wide picture window by beading up his eyes. He removed his hat and scratched the back of his head, then set it back in place, all the while staring at the house, then at the horses out back.

"What is it?" Hannah asked. Jesse had already lost interest in the house and had bent over to study a few blades of dune grass and an ancient piece of driftwood.

Gabe looked down at her. She hadn't seen the horses, probably because she was too short to spy their heads over the summit. Nor had she detected any movement inside the big house. Gabe decided it was best not to alarm her over something for which he had no ready answers. His job as sheriff sometimes meant holding back information until he'd investigated a situation fully. Now was one of those times.

"Nothing," he said, keeping his tone light while touching her elbow. Looking at his watch, he breathed a sigh. "Well, we best get back down the hill. After all, you do have a date with the cavalier doctor tonight, right?"

She grimaced, as if resenting the reminder.

Good. He wanted her to put the man straight out of her head.

"Come on, buddy," he said to the squatting lad with a handful of dune grass. "Time to go back,"

"That was a fine supper, Hannah," Ralston said that evening when they returned from Culver House. He led her to the dimly lit front parlor of the Kane residence.

Helena busied herself in the kitchen; Jacob retreated to his upstairs quarters. Maggie Rose set off on a brisk walk with a friend directly after supper, and Abbie Ann was spending a couple of days with Katrina Sterling so she wouldn't have to be alone while her husband was away on a business trip with his father. The Sterlings were big-time farmers in the area, mostly dairy, as far as she knew.

"Well, Grandmother made most of it," she replied. Ralston extended an arm, inviting her to sit on the divan.

Once they settled in, Hannah wracked her brain for a good topic of discussion before launching into the inevitable one in which she'd break the news she'd decided not to marry him. She prayed God might pave the way.

"Did you have a nice meeting with Roland Withers today?" she asked, smoothing out her flowered skirt.

He ran a hand along the back of the sofa, and she hoped he wouldn't drop it to her shoulder. `Absolutely. We walked the property where the hospital will one day stand. It's quite exciting to envision it-a two-story, L-shaped, brick structure with plenty of hospital beds; fine, state-of-the-art medical equipment; and a number of physicians and nurses running the place with cool efficiency. Withers already said they'd consider me above all others for chief. How about that?

"Of course, there's much to consider before any of this will come to fruition, the finances, for one thing," he rattled on, giving her not a second to put in a word. "But it's looking like even that will work itself out. Several government grants await our applications, not to mention the potential monies available from numerous other untapped resources Withers is only now learning about."

His brow went into a temporary frown. "I meant to speak with your father about all this over dinner, but your grandmother seemed bent on spending the entire time talking about that shooting incident over at the Elwood place, and how the sheriff had sent you all upstairs on the chance you might be in danger." He shook his head and sniffed. "Doesn't take much to stir up this little town, does it? All that hoopla over a man who's fast losing his buttons. Harmless of coot." He chuckled, which reminded her that the only times he ever laughed were when he made a remark that he found humorous.

"I thought I'd catch your father after the meal, but I notice he escaped to his room straightaway. Well, no matter, there's plenty of time later for seeing whether he wants in on the ground floor of this hospital project. This is an exciting time for Sandy Shores, you know. I'm certain Withers wants to keep its citizens abreast of our plans, and particularly the business owners."

"Yes, you're probably right about that." His opinion that her grandmother-and everyone else, for that matter-had overreacted to the shooting incident galled her plenty, but she decided to let the matter pass. "I wanted to talk to you about something, Ralston," she inserted. "Something else altogether."

"Really?" She detected his smile from the corner of her eye. "And I have something on my mind, as well." As feared, he put a hand around her shoulder and tugged her close, so close his coffee breath lingered near her nostrils, making her cringe. "Do you want to go first, or shall I?"

Please, Father, give me the proper words, words that won't jab or be hurtful, but will nonetheless get the job done.

"I suppose-"

"Well, I'll start, then," he said, intentionally cutting her off "I proposed marriage some weeks ago, Hannah, and I'd truly like to get on with our plans." He turned her chin until their gazes met. His eyes were nothing like Gabriel's azure ones-Ralston's were brown and sadly drab, shaded under heavy lids and thick brows, too thick when compared with his thinning hair on top. Gabe's eyes were a melting blue and virtually magnetic.

"I've been thinking a June wedding would suffice. The Reverend Cooper will perform the ceremony, of course, and we'll have a fine reception at Culver House. I've the resources, you know, to make this a dandy affair."

He leaned ever closer, his breath falling on her neck and making her skin prickle.

"I never actually told you this, Hannah, but a very large sum of money awaits me on the day of my marriage. Very large," he restated. "In fact, my lawyer will be among our guests. When Mother and Father passed, one of the stipulations of the will was that each of us children must marry before receiving his or her inheritance. As you know, I'm the last of the lot to accomplish that goal."

Goal? She hardly had the wherewithal to speak. Had he purposely kept this news from her in the hopes it would serve as additional ammunition, should the need arise; that it would make his proposal that much harder to refuse? She scratched an itchy spot above her temple and stared at him, barely able to move. "Let me get this straight, Ralston. Your goal is to marry me so that you may obtain your inheritance?"

He gasped and spewed a nervous laugh. "My goal-well, no, yes-no! Oh, my dear, you misunderstand me. I suppose it did come off sounding like that, didn't it? Truly, what I wanted was for you to see what awaits you by marrying me. Don't you see? You'll never want for another thing as long as you live,"

"But I don't want for anything now, Ralston,"

"And you never shall," he emphasized. "Think of it, never having to work in that-that dusty general store again."

"That-dusty general store is all I've known, Ralston. It belongs to my father and-I believe it will one day be mine for the asking."

"Precisely!"

"What?"

He looked heavenward, then settled himself more deeply into the sofa cushions.

"All right," he stated, as if he'd just received a marvelous breakthrough. "Think about it this way, Hannah Grace," His eyes, though normally dark and distant, rose to a sparkling chestnut color. "With the money I'm to have in my possession, I shall be able to take you to parts of the world you've never seen, much less heard about. I could show you the pyramids of Egypt, the cathedrals of Rome. Or, how does deepsea fishing sound to you?"

"Dark,"

"Whales! We'll catch the whales and sea lions off the deep southern coast,"

"You actually catch them?"

"Or even Africa. How does an African safari sound to you?"

"Far away," she answered in a whisper.

"Think of it. The untamed wilds of Africa,"

His eyes gleamed with self-indulgence, having not heard a word she'd said.

Her heart sank, not for herself, but for his wasted energies. "But Ralston, I'm happy right here in Sandy Shores,"

He scoffed. "Nonsense. That's because you've never gone anywhere. Why, there are places out there that will make you swoon, Hannah, high mountains, low valleys..."

"I dislike swooning, Ralston-I've told you that. I hate that dizzy, sweaty feeling it leaves me with,"

"...rivers so wide, you'll think they're lakes," he continued, never missing a beat, oblivious to the sentence she'd inserted,

Ralston Van Huff was a terrible listener-he didn't even know her passions, her desires to one day make Kane's Whatnot her own. He didn't know, or even care, how much she loved Jesse Gant. And then, there was the matter of Gabriel Devlin, but more important, her faith in Christ.

Her faith in Christ! How often she'd put the Lord in the background of her life, even making a mindless ritual out of reading the Holy Scriptures. She'd been praying and asking Him to guide her and reveal His divine will to her, but how could He do that if she refused to listen for His still, small voice? Well, enough! Time to stop making decisions that didn't include consulting God.

She opened her mouth to explain her newfound revelation, but Ralston blocked her chance with a sudden kiss. A kiss! One that totally lacked emotion and pleasure and pressed hard against her mouth-so hard, in fact, she might have described it as painful. Why, if Gabe hadn't kissed her beforehand, she would have considered the whole act of kissing a most unpleasant pastime.

In haste, she wedged both hands between them and pushed on his chest. It took some persuading, but he did unloose his lips, leaving hers numb and tingly. "Ralston," Breathless, but not from any thrill from his touch, she immediately put space between them.

A puzzled expression washed over him. "Did I do it all wrong?"

Lord, please give me the right words. She gave a deep sigh and repositioned herself in front of him. "No, but, well, I-I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ralston, but-I simply can't marry you.