Truths and Roses Read online

  And now the last thing he wanted to do was make small talk with Tom, who immediately brought Hannah to mind with less than pleasant memories. It was the first time they’d met face-to-face since the day Will had gotten back to town. As a boy, Tom had been an All-American Opie Taylor. But the years had thinned his reddish-brown hair to a thatch that resembled a rooster’s comb. And his eyes were a little too close together, giving him an air of perpetual befuddlement.

  Will had only run into Tom a couple of times in the past ten years. It had been just as well. By the end of their senior year, their friendship hadn’t been the same.

  As they’d slipped from boyhood into adolescence, Will had grown more and more uncomfortable with Tom’s claims that Will got more than his fair share of athletic genes and that the rest of them had been shortchanged. Will had forgotten all about that, until now. But Tom still seemed to think Will walked on air. Will wished he knew how to tell him it wasn’t so.

  Aaron clapped Will on the shoulder and said, “See you later.” The other men moved away, as well, leaving Will and Tom standing together against the cement-block wall.

  “When you gonna get out to Clarence’s for that beer?” Tom asked with a grin, one thumb hooked in his pants pocket.

  “Been meaning to do that. Guess I haven’t felt too much like socializing since I got back.”

  “Aw, I can understand that,” Tom sympathized with a shrug that emphasized the folds of his now too-thick neck. “Heck of a bum rap, messing up that knee for good. Any idea what you’ll be doing now that you won’t be playing football?”

  Will took a sip of lemonade, surveying the room over the rim of his glass. “Nope. Guess that’s the problem.”

  “Be kinda hard to come back here after the life you must have had out in L.A.”

  “It had its drawbacks,” Will said, looking toward the front of the room again.

  “Who you looking for?” Tom’s forehead wrinkled in a frown.

  Will shot him a startled glance. “Nobody,” he said quickly.

  “Well, what do you know.” Tom did a double take as he looked in the direction of the door.

  Will’s gaze followed Tom’s across the room, and he knew then what he’d been looking for.

  She looked different tonight. Maybe it was the conspicuous absence of the wool cap and scarf she’d been bundled up in the afternoon he’d run into her. Now she looked more the way he remembered her. Standing there in the crowd, she had the same full, vulnerable mouth and that air of, “There’s a secret here, but I’m tough enough to handle it, so don’t you worry about it.”

  “Haven’t seen her out in ages,” Tom said when Will remained silent. “That friend of hers must have dragged her in by the ear.”

  Will frowned at Tom. “What do you mean?”

  “She don’t get out too much. Keeps to herself, you know.”

  “Why?”

  Tom shrugged. “How should I know? Guess she likes being an old maid.”

  Tom’s resounding laughter grated on Will’s nerves. Suddenly he’d had enough of his old friend. But despite his desire to escape, he found himself asking one more question. The one that had been at the back of his mind for years. “Whatever happened between you and Hannah, anyway? Thought you were pretty hot and heavy for a while there.”

  Tom shrugged awkwardly. “Guess she decided variety might be the spice of life.” He chuckled, a just-between-us-guys laugh that made Will feel a little sick.

  He stared at the other man for a long moment, straight-faced, wondering why the words didn’t quite ring true.

  “Not that it makes a whole lot of difference. Doesn’t look the way she used to, does she? Too skinny for my taste.”

  Will frowned. It was time to put some distance between himself and Tom Dillon. He had no reason even to like Hannah Jacobs, and yet he found himself wanting to defend her.

  “I should mingle,” Will said abruptly. “Be seeing you, Tom.”

  “You come on out to Clarence’s, now. We’ll see if we can’t pick up your spirits a bit.”

  Will ignored the invitation and walked away.

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah pulled her coat closer about her as she and Jenny stepped through the doorway and stopped on the edge of the crowd. From the looks of things, every citizen within the county limits had decided to show up tonight in support of the volunteer fire department. She’d never seen anything like it. The walls were lined with people.

  The smell of barbecued meat vied with the odors of cigarette smoke and brewing coffee. Conversation rose like a lion’s roar from every corner of the room, and Hannah had to read Jenny’s lips when she suggested they go hang up their coats.

  When Jenny saw someone she knew and went over to say hello, Hannah found a corner and parked herself. Perhaps if she pretended not to be there, no one would notice her. The technique had worked when she was a child. No reason it still couldn’t.

  Just as she began to relax, she spotted a set of wide shoulders moving toward her. She let her gaze travel up to the eyes that now stared directly at her. She stepped back as though the corner might somehow shield her. But it did not, and she stood there, panicking when no escape route materialized.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” The voice was low and controlled.

  She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward, trying to smile but failing miserably. “Hello, Will. I understand you’ll be speaking after dinner.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Let’s hope they’re saving coffee after the meal. Wouldn’t want everybody to fall asleep.”

  Hannah clasped her hands in front of her and looked down. “I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that.”

  He watched her for a moment and then said, “I saw an old friend of ours a little while ago.”

  “We never had mutual friends.” She kept the remark deliberately light.

  “Yes, we did.”

  She looked up and said, “No, we—”

  “Tom Dillon.” He dropped the name like a water balloon from twenty stories, his eyes searching her face as if waiting for its impact.

  She made sure she disappointed him, smiling when she said, “How nice.”

  “Guess you run into him pretty often?” he fished.

  “Actually, no.” This without elaboration.

  He shrugged and then shot her a grin. “Hey, you wanna call a truce for the night?”

  Trying to stay calm, she said, “Since we aren’t likely to run into one another again, I don’t really see how it would matter one way or the other.”

  The fire chief picked up the microphone just then and asked everyone to take a seat for the meal.

  Will stared at her for a long moment, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ahh, would you like to sit with me at dinner?”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

  He shoved a hand in his pocket, his voice a little gruffer when he repeated, “Would you like to sit with me?”

  She remained silent for a full five seconds, caught completely off guard. She looked around the room. The only available chairs were at the table where Tom Dillon sat. She swallowed and found herself saying, “I guess…all right.”

  Will’s eyes widened when she agreed. He nodded once, then took her arm and led her to the front of the room where a couple of seats had been reserved in his honor.

  Chapter Eleven

  A half hour later, Hannah began to feel a little less like she’d stepped into a dream. Jenny had spotted her at the front and given her a look that promised a whole truckload of questions at the first opportunity. She’d then moved to a table where Henry Lawson held her a seat.

  Hannah and Will shared the table with six others, among them, Will’s father, John Kincaid, who’d been shooting her curious looks from the moment they’d sat down. She knew little about the man except that he’d grown up in what amounted to a tar-paper shack outside town, had made a fortune in real estate and married the only child of what
had once been one of the county’s most prominent families.

  It was obvious at a glance that Will was his son. Physically, anyway. Otherwise, she’d always heard there were many differences.

  John Kincaid had acquired a reputation around Lake Perdue for his ability to convince others. He had charm, they said. But it was different from Will’s. There was nothing boyish or innocent about it. The elder Kincaid’s methods of getting what he wanted ran in a different vein. He left one with the impression that if it wasn’t offered, he would simply take it.

  Next to Kincaid sat Mayor Nichols, who reminded Hannah of a Mr. Potato Head with his oblong face, bushy brows and short protruding ears. He’d made a ten-minute speech to the rest of the room about how grateful he was to Will for making an appearance this evening.

  Once the mayor sat down, Will set out to make Hannah more comfortable. Although the men seemed intent on keeping him talking about football, he took every opportunity to turn to her and discuss such things as whether the library still ran its weekly bookmobile. The bookmobile had driven to different parts of the county once a week with a new selection of books for those who might not have a way to get into town.

  “We had to stop running it last year,” Hannah told him, surprised at his interest. “We ran out of funding.”

  The mayor looked up from his plate and shot them all a diplomatic smile. “Can’t keep everything the same. Had to cut somewhere.”

  Will took a swallow of ice water. “I remember Aunt Fan used to take me out to meet it once a week. Dad was usually too busy to go into town, so it worked out better that way. Bet a lot of kids are in the same situation.”

  John Kincaid pulled out a cigarette. “Don’t know why you wanted all those books, anyway, son. You never read them. Just looked at the pictures.”

  Will swallowed visibly and glanced away. When he looked back again, his smile held no indication that his father’s words had bothered him. “Never was much of an academic, was I?” The remark was light, but self-deprecating, nonetheless.

  “That you weren’t,” the older Kincaid concurred.

  Hannah spoke up for the first time since they’d sat down. Her voice sounded surprising even to her ears. “Lots of children prefer looking at the pictures until they can read on their own. Children love being read to.”

  Will met her eyes, a half smile playing on his lips. “Aunt Fan always thought so. Couldn’t see worth a darn, but she always made sure I had a story before I went to bed.”

  “As a single parent, I didn’t have much time for that myself,” John said defensively. The table remained silent for a moment before he added, “Looks like my boy made out all right, though, doesn’t it?”

  The table broke into motion again, faces smiling, shoulders shrugging, hands fiddling with forks. The mayor slapped Will on the shoulder. “Sure does. We’re all proud of you, Will.”

  Hannah sensed that more had been said than she or anyone else might have guessed. Will looked up, his gaze meeting hers. For a brief moment, the faces and voices around them faded. In his eyes, she glimpsed something she’d imagined she’d seen once or twice in high school. Uncertainty. Vulnerability. The day of senior assembly when he’d been recognized as having won two senior superlatives: Best-Looking and Best Athlete. The day Mr. Wilks had bragged to the class about the chemistry project she and Will had completed.

  She was startled to glimpse traces of that uncertainty and vulnerability now, when he’d made it to the top, as far as the rest of the world was concerned. She saw those things in herself. But to see them in Will Kincaid? Impossible. She’d imagined it. With his bounty of confidence, the idea of his being uncertain about anything seemed laughable.

  She didn’t have a chance to second-guess herself, though. The sudden smile that Will flashed her extinguished any traces of what might have been in his eyes only moments before.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Will had given his speech and thanked the crowd for inviting him that evening, everyone began standing up to leave. Hannah said goodbye to the other people at her table and cut a path for the front door. She’d gotten halfway through the crowd when Jenny caught her arm and said, “Wait up. Boy, do you have some explaining to do!”

  Hannah turned and shot an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “Not now, Jenny. I’ll explain later. Are you ready to go?”

  But before Jenny could reply, Will stepped up to Hannah’s side and put a hand on her arm. “There you are. Thought I’d lost you.”

  She looked up and tried to smile. She could feel her friend’s eyes boring into her back, and so, against every instinct, she turned and said, “This is my friend Jenny Dudley. Jenny, Will Kincaid.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Jenny exclaimed. “So nice to meet you, Mr. Kincaid.”

  “It’s Will,” he returned with a smile that Hannah felt certain would dissolve Jenny’s insides.

  “I’ve kept track of your career. It’s so nice to have you back in Lake Perdue. Why, Hannah didn’t tell me she knew you—”

  “We can leave now, Jenny, if you’re ready,” she interrupted.

  The other woman pulled her gaze away from Will and nodded with a frown in Hannah’s direction. “All right. I’ll get the car.”

  “Did you come here with Miss Dudley, Hannah?”

  “It’s Jenny,” the older woman asserted. “And yes, she did.”

  “If it’s all right with you, Jenny,” he said, “I’ll give Hannah a lift home. I’m going in that direction, anyway.”

  Hannah began shaking her head. “No, no. Really. Jenny goes right by my house.”

  Jenny looked at Will and then Hannah. Her face lit up. “That might be better. I’d like to hang around a bit longer and since you’re ready to go….”

  “I can wait,” Hannah said quickly.

  “I’m ready, too,” Will said, taking Hannah by the arm and turning toward the door. “No sense holding your friend up. Be seeing you, Jenny. I’ll get her home safely.”

  Hannah only caught a glimpse of Jenny’s mischievous smile before Will had led her out of the room.

  They had barely cleared the doorway of the firehouse when Hannah rounded on him, her shoulders stiff with indignation. “Why did you do that?”

  “I offered to take you home. That’s all.” He shrugged, as though the gesture had been planned for months.

  She looked away, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t want you to take me home.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “You know?” Her chin jutted.

  He nodded again. “Yes, I know.”

  “Then, why…what….”

  He shoved a hand in one pocket. “From what I’ve seen since I’ve been back, you work pretty hard at looking as blank as that concrete wall behind you. It was worth the chance you might have me arrested for abduction just to see you with your feathers ruffled.” His face broke out in a grin. “They’re definitely ruffled.”

  “They’re not ruffled,” she denied.

  Will’s smile grew wider as he soundlessly mouthed, “They’re ruffled.”

  She tried to move her lips, but found that no sound came out. When the words came, they were calm, measured. “Now that you’ve cracked my composure, I’m supposed to call a cab?”

  His shoulders shook with silent laughter. He took her by the arm and pointed her in the direction of the parking lot. “Nope. I have every intention of taking you home.”

  “A true gallant.”

  “I’ve been accused of worse.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

  He stopped in the grass just beyond the firehouse and looked down at her. An overhead streetlight illuminated them. They stood that way for long moments, studying one another with questioning eyes. Several people turned to stare at them, nodding amiably as if the town’s very flashy, very famous pro football player standing on the lawn chatting with its very subdued, very unremarkable librarian was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Why don’t you take
me home before the whole town gets a chance to wonder if we’re both crazy?”

  His smile dimmed. “All right,” he said. “But only if you agree to a cup of coffee first.”

  She wanted to hate him for the innate gift he had of convincing. In that respect, he hadn’t changed in the past ten years. In that respect, neither had she. She was no different from the girl she had been. She could do nothing more than nod in agreement.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Lake Perdue Café sat on Main, next to the courthouse. At some point in Lake Perdue’s history, it had been a general store. In the years since, it had become a restaurant, its front windows accented by green shutters, the double wooden doors decorated with a grapevine wreath topped by a bow of the same color. The cafe was well known for its homemade Southern-style biscuits. Gladys Carter had been making them three times a day for the past twenty-five years, serving them with anything from gravy to apple butter.

  When Hannah and Will stepped inside the front door, most of the patrons seemed to forget about the food in front of them. Heads popped up, and the place fell silent.

  Hannah swallowed the urge to turn and run.

  Will, on the other hand, appeared not to mind in the least that the gazes followed them to the back of the cafe. She supposed he’d grown used to it. He smiled at Aaron and Betsy Tate, who looked as surprised as the rest of the crowd. Will raised one hand in greeting, keeping the other at Hannah’s elbow, as if aware she might bolt at any moment.

  He didn’t know how right he was.

  He helped her off with her coat and then stood as she slid into the booth, before taking the seat opposite her.

  A waitress appeared immediately, menus in hand. When Hannah looked up and met Louella Hanes’s gaze, she wanted to melt into her seat. She’d graduated with Louella, who now stood at the edge of the table, looking from Will to her as though certain she must be seeing things.

  “Hannah Jacobs. Haven’t seen you out in a coon’s age.”