Truths and Roses Page 11

  Hannah with her wide hazel eyes and soft voice.

  Hannah. Something about last night had felt right, too. Like home. She had a way of putting people around her at ease, of making the simplest of moments important and memorable. Like sitting there on that bench with her, looking out at the lake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed. He’d been at any number of Hollywood parties where the sight of big-screen faces was an everyday occurrence. He’d never enjoyed any of those moments as much as those quiet ones by the lake.

  For the first time today, he let himself think about kissing her. What had made him do it? For the life of him, he didn’t know. Except that he’d remembered being eighteen and wondering what it would be like to hold her in his arms. He also remembered what it felt like when he finally had.

  How many times after that long-ago afternoon by the lake had he tried to work up the courage to ask her out? How many times had he told himself that a smart girl like her wouldn’t have a date’s worth of topics to talk about with a dumb jock like him? And then to have to step back and watch her with Tom….

  All Will had known last night was that he wanted to kiss her. And so he had.

  Only he hadn’t counted on the softness of that mouth beneath his. The little gasp of surprise when his lips had brushed hers. As if it was all new and startling. And, at the same time, achingly familiar. Over the years, he’d grown used to aggressive women, women who knew what they wanted and how to get it. Not women caught off guard by their own sexuality.

  No, he hadn’t counted on any of that. And he certainly hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming feelings of resentment that had swamped him. Resentment of Tom. And Hannah, as well. Resentment of what might have been.

  Chapter Thirty

  Will hadn’t wanted to go to Brad Manning’s party that Saturday night. He’d wanted to drive over by Hannah’s house and see if her bedroom light was on.

  Since the afternoon he’d taken her home, he’d imagined all sorts of scenarios, trying to find an excuse to see her again—a flat tire a block from her house, accidentally running into her after she got off from work, anything to be with her again.

  But none of those scenarios had come to pass. He told himself he was being ridiculous. Despite what had happened between them at the lake, they were very different people. What would the smartest girl in the class want to do with some jock who’d be lucky to graduate by the skin of his teeth? But he’d thought of little else since the day he’d let things get so out of hand. He lay in bed at night picturing the look on her face after he’d first kissed her, feeling her soft skin beneath his hands. Even his father had begun to wonder what was wrong with him.

  “You got a girl on your mind, son?” he’d asked when Will had come down for supper that night.

  Will’s face had gone just red enough to belie his denial. “What makes you think that?”

  “You’ve been moping around here for close to a week now. Can’t think of what else it’d be.” He passed Will a bowl of mashed potatoes and said, “No point in letting yourself get involved now. Fall will be here before you know it. Won’t do to have anything but football on your mind then.”

  At that moment, football was the last thing on Will’s mind. He couldn’t think of anything but Hannah. He knew they had nothing in common. Well, almost nothing. He knew that once she got to know him, she’d see it, too. He’d held his breath the entire week they’d worked on that chemistry project, for fear she’d discover the truth—that he was a fraud—and end up hating him for it.

  No. He and Hannah had nothing in common. And as much as he wished it could be otherwise, he didn’t know how to change the fact.

  He’d gotten to Brad’s that night around eight-thirty. Since Brad’s parents were away, the party promised to get out of hand.

  Will stepped through the front door of the house, hands in his pockets. He met Brad just inside. “Hey, Brad.”

  “Will, glad you could make it, man. Come on in. Get you a beer. Tom’s around here somewhere. And you won’t believe—”

  Brad broke off as another group of kids crowded through the door. Will moved toward the keg and poured himself a beer. He had no taste for it tonight, so he merely sipped at it, ducking his head into several rooms to look for Tom.

  He found him out on the deck. Several other guys surrounded him, laughing and punching Tom on the arm.

  Tom spotted Will and ducked through the circle. “Will. Thought you weren’t gonna make it. Where you been?”

  He shrugged. “Just being lazy. What’s up?”

  Tom hooked his thumbs inside his belt loops and smiled mysteriously. “Got a date tonight.”

  “Yeah? How much does she weigh?” Will threw him a half-hearted right hook.

  Some of the guys standing nearby snickered.

  Tom’s forehead creased in a frown, and the smile slipped from his face. “When are you gonna stop thinking all the girls in school are crazy about you?” The words were light, but failed to disguise a note of bitterness. “And if I had to guess, I’d say about a hundred and five.”

  Will leaned against the deck railing. “Who….”

  But before he’d finished the sentence, Hannah appeared by the sliding glass doors. Her eyes widened as she spotted Will beside Tom.

  “Over here, Hannah,” Tom called, a touch of bravado in his voice.

  The two boys stared at one another silently. The surprise on Will’s face was there for all to read, the seeming nonchalance in Tom’s was as easily interpreted.

  Will stared at her as if she’d sprung from his imagination. When his mind made the connection between Hannah and Tom’s “date,” he blinked in disbelief and cursed his own cowardice. Why had Tom asked her out? Had he guessed he was interested in Hannah? But that was ridiculous. He hadn’t given him a reason to think so. Other than their working together in class. Maybe he was getting paranoid. He and Tom had been friends for years, ever since second grade.

  His friend Tom now put an arm around Hannah’s shoulders as she edged her way into the group beside them. She stiffened and tried to smile at Will.

  “Hi, Will.”

  “Hey, Hannah. I—I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “She’s kinda shy about this sort of thing,” Tom answered for her. “Doesn’t like to come out by herself. Guess I took care of that, huh?” he said with a wink.

  “Will, I—” Hannah began, but Tom interrupted her.

  “I should’ve offered to bring her out sooner. Guess I had to work up my courage.”

  Will and Hannah looked at each other. And Will knew it wasn’t just his imagination that Hannah wished he had made the offer first.

  Then why was she with Tom?

  Did you ask her?

  No, he hadn’t. He’d been too much of a chicken. He’d cared too much about what everyone would’ve thought about a dumb jock dating the class brain.

  He’d cared even more what Hannah would think if she ever discovered the truth about him.

  The conversation went on, talks of the previous night’s basketball game, the picnic at Louella’s the next day, but Will’s thoughts remained on Hannah. And with every chance he got, he let his gaze stray to her, noting the white cotton blouse tucked into slim-fitting blue jeans, and the way the shirt accentuated her shape, the way the jeans molded her hips. Their eyes met once, and Will wondered if the silent messages between than were his imagination. He didn’t think so.

  Tom took Hannah’s arm just after eleven and declared it time they left. The sly look he sent Will was accompanied by a low, “Hadn’t meant for this party to be the focus of the evening. Got better things in mind.”

  And Will knew one thing for certain. Paranoid or not, he hated Tom that night.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Monday morning after first period, Will’s resentment grew. He’d spent the rest of the weekend stewing because he hadn’t had the courage to ask Hannah out first. Because he’d spent a week of agonizing whether or not to pick
up the phone and call her, he’d let Tom beat him to the punch. He had no one to blame but himself.

  His mood didn’t improve when Tom sauntered up to his locker and slapped him on the back. The bell rang, and students dashed down the hall for class.

  “I know you’re dying to hear all about it. And if I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t tell you. But nobody ever accused me of that.” Tom laughed.

  Will turned around and looked at his friend, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me what?”

  Tom leaned back against the locker and shot Will a conspiratorial look. “Everybody’s got that Hannah figured wrong. Man, she’s a firecracker.”

  “What?” He stared at Tom and hoped he’d imagined his friend’s implication. “What are you talking about?”

  “Everybody thinks she’s a cold fish, but I’m telling you it ain’t so.” Tom’s shoulders puffed back like a banty rooster.

  Will remained silent for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, “Are you saying you and Hannah—”

  “Man, do I have to spell it out for you? I scored. Jeez, Will, what’s wrong with you?”

  Will swallowed and leaned back against his locker, feeling as though a wrecking ball had just landed him one in the gut. “You’re a real hero, Dillon.”

  And with that, Will set off down the hall, determined to find Hannah and see if it was true. All he’d have to do is look in her eyes. And he would know.

  But he didn’t see her that day. Or for the rest of the week, either. Somebody said she had the flu.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The telephone rang, snapping Will back to the present. He ran a hand across his face and picked it up, his voice a little gruffer than usual.

  “Will? You asleep or something?”

  “Oh, hi, Aunt Fan. No, I’m not asleep. What’s up?”

  “Just wondered how last night went. Everything all right?”

  “I’m sorry. I meant to call you. It was delicious. As usual. Hannah said to tell you so.”

  “I’m glad. You two have a good time?” The older woman’s voice sounded a bit hopeful.

  “Don’t go getting any ideas, Aunt Fan. It wasn’t a date.”

  “Who said anything about ideas?” she denied with an indignant squawk. “You must be the one with the ideas.”

  Will laughed. “It won’t work, Aunt Fan. You’re not tricking me into admitting anything. Not that there’s anything to admit.”

  She chuckled on the other end of the line. “Suit yourself, boy. You get on out here and see us soon. You hear?”

  “I will, Aunt Fan.” He hung up and sat there staring at the wall.

  He had a number of reasons for staying in Lake Perdue for a while. He had a few fences to mend with his father. And there was the carnival. Not to mention that he’d reached a point where he’d have to step back and admit his shortcomings now that the one skill at which he’d been competent no longer existed.

  But none of it had anything to do with Hannah. Did it?

  He shook his head. No.

  No? Then why had he kissed her last night? And why was he thinking about something that happened ten years ago, something that had nothing whatsoever to do with his future?

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Hannah didn’t hear from Will again until Thursday. And it was just as well. The incident with Tom in the grocery store on Monday night had shaken her. She spent the first part of the week trying to convince herself that the meeting had been accidental, refusing to dwell on Tom’s taunt about the women in Will’s life.

  Jenny had noticed Hannah’s quietness, but no amount of prodding pulled a confession from her. On Tuesday, Hannah barely said a word the entire day. On Wednesday, she smiled at one of Jenny’s silly jokes. And by Thursday morning, she’d determined that she wouldn’t let Tom Dillon throw her life off course again.

  When Will called Thursday afternoon, she was finally more like herself. “I hadn’t expected to hear from you,” she said.

  Will cleared his throat. “You busy?”

  “Not really. Just finishing up a few things for the day.”

  “I’ve been doing some work on the carnival. Rounding up support from some of the local businessmen.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Yeah. Actually got a few checks in hand.”

  “That’s great. You have been busy.”

  “What do you think about two weeks from Saturday?”

  “So soon?”

  “I think we can get it all together by then. I called and checked on the armory. It’s available that weekend.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Good. Then I’ll call back and confirm it. You want to get together Saturday and make some calls?”

  Hannah thought about what had happened on the bench by the lake. How impersonal this conversation seemed in light of that kiss. She touched a finger to her lips and wondered if he regretted the impulse. “After the library closes?”

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll pick you up just after twelve.”

  “All right. See you then.” She put down the phone and studied the wall of books in front of her.

  She told herself she wasn’t excited about seeing him again. Once the carnival was over, she’d have no reason to see him. No reason at all.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Will sat waiting in the parking lot at five minutes past twelve on Saturday. He got out of the Cherokee and opened the passenger-side door, smiling at Hannah as he helped her inside.

  The silence hung between them like a thundercloud. Hannah’s hands clasped and unclasped. Will’s thumb rapped a steady tattoo against the steering wheel.

  Just as they whipped past Tate’s Gas & Go, Will spoke, blurting out the words as though they’d been choking him for the past couple of days. “Look, Hannah, about the other night…I was out of line. I had no right to kiss you.”

  She looked at him. “There’s no need to apologize.”

  “I just didn’t want you to think….”

  She pressed her hands in her lap and fixed her gaze on the road. “I didn’t think anything, Will.”

  “Okay. Then we’ll just forget it. All right?”

  “Fine.” She made sure her smile convinced him.

  It almost convinced her, too.

  Despite the strained relationship they’d established, those warm early days of April were the best Hannah could remember knowing in a long time.

  They worked late one Saturday afternoon and ordered a pizza for dinner. Hannah declared she’d soon gain twenty pounds if she kept hanging around him.

  Will sent her an innocent look and said, “Work it off—that’s the key.”

  “I probably couldn’t run out to the car and back.”

  The next morning she discovered he’d decided to put her to the test. At just past seven, she found him pacing her front porch in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. She pulled open the door, and asked in surprise, “Will, what are you doing here so early?”

  He shrugged, looking like a little boy with a secret in his back pocket. Except that he was a man, and his secret was a bike standing in the back of his Cherokee. A pair of spanking new running shoes dangled from his left hand. He held them up and said, “How about it?”

  “You aren’t serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Which we’re going to work on avoiding. I picked these beauties up last night,” he said with a nod at the shoes. “Saleslady told me they’re the latest in running wear.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “How did you know my size?”

  “I peeked when you went to the bathroom last night. You left your shoes by the couch.”

  She continued to stare at him.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  “I wouldn’t make it past the Kinseys’ house. And it’s only a block away.”

  “You might surprise yourself. Come on.”

  She fumbled for an excuse. “How can you run with your knee—”

  “The bike’s for me. We’ll go at whatever pace
you want.”

  Unable to think of another excuse, Hannah waved him inside and went to change. When she came back wearing an old pair of red shorts and a white tank top, Will said, “You look like a pro.”

  She laughed and gave him a skeptical look. “It won’t take long to change your mind.”

  But despite her pessimism, she surprised herself when she made it past the Kinseys’ with energy to spare. In fact, she followed Will all the way down Wilmington and halfway down Rutherford, admittedly at a slow pace, before her lungs gave out.

  She stopped and leaned over, taking in great gulps of air. “Will?”

  He turned around and pedaled back to her. “That was great! See? You surprised yourself.”

  “You’re right,” she gasped. “I’d forgotten what it was like not to be able to breathe.”

  He chuckled, pedaling circles around her. “Admit it. You liked it.”

  Catching her breath a little more easily now, she said, “I’ve always been one for self-inflicted torture.”

  “Just think of it this way. It can’t get worse than this.”

  “Oh, thanks. I feel much better.”

  “Come on. Keep walking. And then we’ll run a little more.”

  He took off, and she followed. Once her lungs stopped panicking, she did feel as though she could run a bit farther. She broke into a jog and set off after Will, who was half a block ahead, doing figure eights in front of her. They headed off Rutherford onto Main. A couple of blocks down, Will circled back and said, “Okay, that’s enough for today. Don’t want you to be too sore tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  “Day two of our program.”

  “Day two? Is this supposed to become a habit?”

  “Yep. Come on, keep walking. I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

  When Aaron Tate drove by blowing the horn of his old truck in greeting, Hannah nearly jumped into the bushes. By the time they reached the cafe, Hannah suspected her face had gone three shades of red. “Couldn’t you have taken a side street?” she asked, puffing as she jogged up to Will where he stood leaning against the door.