Truths and Roses Read online

  Hannah cleared her throat and said, “Louella. How are you?”

  “Not as good as you, obviously.” The woman sent Will a knowing look. “How you doing, Will? Wondered when you’d get around to visiting us. Never thought Hannah’d be the one to bring you in.”

  “Yeah, well, she insisted, so…” He let the words trail off, casting an amused glance at Hannah, before he said, “You’re looking good, Louella. Life must be treating you all right.”

  “Not as good as it’s been treating you.” She laughed and with her gaze still on Will, she added, “Nor Hannah, apparently.”

  A wave of heat blazed a path on Hannah’s cheeks. She remembered only too well the torch Louella Hanes had carried for Will in high school. How dare he bring her here, subject her to the scrutiny of half of Lake Perdue, then act as if she’d initiated the whole thing? “I’ll have some coffee, Louella,” she managed through set lips.

  “Regular or decaf?”

  “Regular.”

  “How about you, sugar?” Louella directed at Will.

  “The same. And a couple biscuits with apple butter to go with it.”

  Louella sent him another smile that could have melted the stainless-steel utensils set out before them. “Be right back.”

  As Louella headed for the counter, Hannah leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “What was that all about?”

  “Those feathers again. I kinda like them ruffled.”

  She looked away and refused to let the smile tickling the back of her throat break past her lips. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

  Will played the confused innocent. “A cup of coffee?”

  “Putting myself on public display for the whole town of Lake Perdue to gossip about.”

  His voice softened. “Why do you care what they say?”

  She avoided his eyes. “I don’t have to tell you that you’re the hottest topic on record around here. I’d rather not give the likes of Louella any reason to link my name with yours.”

  He clasped his hands and leaned forward to force her to meet his eyes. “That would really bother you, wouldn’t it?”

  Taken aback by the chagrin in his voice, she said, “It’s just…I’m a private person.”

  “So I’ve seen.”

  She looked up at the knowing note in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  “You keep to yourself.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  His head tilted. “Not if you’re ninety-four and in poor health. But you’re twenty-eight. And you look perfectly healthy to me.”

  Before she could reply, Louella returned with the coffee and biscuits. She set Hannah’s down in front of her, sloshing some of the hot liquid over the side of the cup. She then turned to slide Will’s across the table with an efficiency that kept the biscuits and apple butter firmly in place and every drop of coffee in the cup. She laid the check in the middle of the table and said, “Good to have you in, Will. You come on back again.”

  Hannah reached for a napkin and began soaking up coffee, resisting the sudden urge to laugh. When Louella sauntered off to another table, she whispered, “And leave her at home.”

  Will glanced up with a startled look on his face. “She didn’t say that.”

  “She didn’t have to.” Hannah took a sip of coffee, wondering where that remark had come from. And what difference did it make, anyway? “Don’t worry. I know I’m not here as your date. And so does everyone else. Your efforts to head an old maid off at the pass are admirable but not necessary.”

  “Anyone ever accuse you of being direct?”

  “Louella’s perfectly welcome to flirt with you all she wants. Whether I’m here or not.”

  He rolled his eyes and, picking up his knife, sliced the biscuit in two. “Louella was not coming on to me.”

  She gave him an appraising look. “I may not get out much, but I’m not blind.”

  “All right. So she was,” he allowed with a shrug. “Since it bothers you so much, we can go somewhere else.”

  She fiddled with the edges of a napkin. “It doesn’t bother me in the least.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “I was merely pointing out that it was a mistake to bring me with you. You’d be freer to do as you choose—”

  “Hannah,” he interrupted, “I’m doing exactly what I choose to be doing tonight. And if you would just forget about Louella, maybe we could talk about something else. Besides, don’t you think the term old maid is a little outdated?”

  She shrugged indifferently. “Figure of speech.”

  “Twenty-eight is hardly an old maid.”

  She lowered her head and took a hasty swallow of coffee, scorching her tongue in the process. She pressed her lips together, her eyes squeezed shut.

  He reached across the table and put his hand on top of hers, “Are you all right?”

  She jerked back her hand, his touch more unsettling than the hot liquid that moments ago had singed her tongue. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Here, let me see.”

  An exasperated sigh accompanied her reply. “I am not going to stick my tongue out for your inspection right here under the noses of half the town.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ll look at it in the car.”

  He started to get up, but she reached out a hand to stop him.

  “Please, don’t make a scene. I live here. You can create a stir wherever you go, because you won’t be around to hear about it. That’s not true for me. So, please—”

  “Okay, Hannah.” He sat back down, his tone gentle as he added, “Sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine.”

  Awkwardness hung in the air as she searched for a way to change the subject. She finally asked, “What are you doing here, anyway, Will?”

  “Here, as in this very moment?”

  “In Lake Perdue. You don’t belong here anymore.”

  He cocked a brow. “That’s blunt.”

  “You’ve been gone ten years. Lake Perdue must seem incredibly boring after living in Los Angeles.”

  “Things move a little faster there, I’ll admit. But believe it or not, the change in scenery has felt good for the most part.”

  “Why did you come back?” The question wavered on her lips. The answer seemed suddenly very important.

  “I could probably give you ten different reasons. Only problem is, I’m not sure any of them would be accurate.”

  “Try.”

  He surveyed her silently, then said, “One, it seemed like a good time to straighten things out with my father. Two, I was at a turning point and didn’t know what else to do. And three, there’s just something about home that you never find anywhere else, no matter how far you go.” He paused. “Well, that was three, anyway.”

  She looked away, pleased for some reason to learn that Lake Perdue still appealed to him. “Are you…I mean, I guess you’re trying to decide where to go from here.”

  “You could say that.” He looked down at his coffee cup. “This injury sort of pulled the rug out from under me.”

  Her voice softened. “That unexpected, hmm?”

  “I’d been warned it was a possibility. But absolutes are a lot harder to swallow than maybes.”

  “Then your playing days are definitely over?”

  “That’s what they tell me. I’d prefer to wait and see.”

  She sent him a surprised look. “What if you weren’t able to walk on it again? You’d risk that?”

  He sighed and slid lower into his seat. “On the days when I think about the future and wonder what I’m going to do with my life, yes, I’d risk it.”

  “But there are so many other things to live for.”

  “For other people, maybe. But when the only thing you know is football….”

  She opened her mouth to disagree, then closed it abruptly, looked down at her lap and said, “It’s hardly my place to be giving y
ou advice on how to spend the rest of your life. We barely know each other.”

  His voice dropped a note or two when he said, “We were always so different. And a lot of years have gone by. But I felt like I knew you then. I still do for some crazy reason.”

  She looked up at him. How many times had she felt the same thing? She could have counted on one hand the occasions they’d been alone together. But there had always been something there. Some instinct of self-preservation pressed her to deny it. “We lived in different worlds, Will.”

  “I’ll admit that, but what about you, Hannah? I never thought you’d stay around here.”

  “And become an old maid?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She tried to smile. “Sometimes the maps we draw for ourselves create their own detours.”

  “You went on to college, I heard. What happened to that Ivy League school you were headed for? Your plans to teach at a university, to write a book one day?”

  She looked down at her fingernails and blinked back a short start of pleasure. He’d remembered the hopes she’d admitted on that long-ago afternoon by the lake. How could she tell him that writing about the problems and realities of other peoples’ lives seemed impossible for someone who could not face those in her own? “I decided to go somewhere close by. I wanted to be able to help Aunt Sarah with things at home.”

  “And the book?”

  “A person doesn’t have to create them to enjoy them.”

  Will frowned and took another sip of his coffee. “I remember hearing your aunt at church one day, bragging about your being chosen class valedictorian. She seemed happy that you’d be going up north somewhere.”

  Hannah reached for a sugar packet. “Like I said, Will, things change.”

  “Yeah, I guess they do.”

  She slid her coffee cup toward the center of the table and said, “I need to be getting home now. It’s late.”

  He watched her for a moment, looking as if he wanted to disagree. “All right, Hannah. If that’s what you want.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will awoke earlier than usual the next morning, a tension headache pounding at his temples. Dreams had punctuated his sleep, disturbing images of himself sitting in a reclining chair, white-haired and old without ever knowing again the fulfillment of doing something worthwhile.

  Worthwhile. A lot of folks would debate the worthiness of a football career. Granted, he hadn’t saved starving children or discovered a miracle cure for some serious illness. But football had been Will’s reason for getting up every morning.

  Now, he didn’t have one.

  The doorbell interrupted his bout of self-pity, the quick staccato sound making his head pound all the harder. Will closed his eyes and groaned.

  He swung out of bed, reached for his robe and made his way to the door. Jerking a hand through his hair, he unbolted the latch and yanked the door open, squinting against the sudden onslaught of sunlight.

  “Dad. What are you doing here?”

  John Kincaid stood almost eye to eye with his son. Dressed in pleated khaki pants and a starched white shirt with a red silk tie, he was a handsome man. He’d held his age well. With a casual shrug, he said, “Can’t a father come visit his son once in a while?”

  “A father would do well to call first,” Will said wryly, waving him inside.

  “Since when do I need an invitation?”

  Will let the question go unanswered as his father stepped in and closed the door behind him, his glance taking in the pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen counter and the empty beer cans decorating the coffee table. “I see I took you by surprise,” John said.

  Will rubbed at his eyes. “You could say that.”

  “Looks like you could use Fannie’s help out here.”

  Will went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of orange juice, answering over his shoulder. “Aunt Fan doesn’t need to come out and clean for me.”

  “Well, someone does,” John Kincaid argued with a wave of his hand. “Neatness never was your strength.”

  Returning to the living room, Will took a gulp of juice and leveled a stare at his father. What had been his strength? “No one sees it but me. What’s the big deal?” He crossed the room and sank into a chair.

  John studied him as if he didn’t quite recognize him. “You got a hangover?”

  “What is this? An inquisition?” Will kept his voice even. Considering that he wasn’t in the mood for this scene, it was an effort.

  John answered the question with one of his own. “What are you doing, son?”

  “Is this a loaded question?”

  John ignored that. “What are you doing with your life?”

  Will clasped his hands behind his neck and let his head fall back against the chair. A thread of irritation knotted its way up his spine. What right did his father have— He cut the thought off there. Funny that he’d asked Hannah the very same thing. “I don’t think I can answer that. To be honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

  “You’ve been here a month now,” John managed with just the right note of incredulity. “You must have some idea of the direction you’re headed.” He paused for effect. “Your mother would be disappointed to see you floundering like this.”

  “I’m sure she would, Dad.” The response held a note of belligerence.

  John Kincaid sighed and sat on the couch. “You have so many options. What about all the commercials you’ve been offered? Engagements you’ve been asked to speak at?”

  “The last thing I want is to wake up in a year and see myself on TV telling someone why I prefer a certain type of underwear. Is that so wrong?”

  John made a visible effort to curb his frustration. “Right now you could pick and choose what you wanted to do. And the money—”

  “I don’t need it. The amount I’ve made over the past few years is obscene. I couldn’t spend it all if I tried.”

  “That’s not the point, Will. You earned it.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got a ruined knee to prove it.”

  “Is this pity I hear in your voice?” John asked gruffly. “My God, son, do you know how many people would give anything to be where you’ve been?”

  “Been is the key word.”

  “Like I said, there are a lot of options open to you.”

  “Most of which I’m not interested in.”

  John sighed heavily. “So you’d rather hang around here doing nothing for the rest of your life? Escorting the likes of that Hannah Jacobs around town when you could be in California dating movie stars and models?”

  The clock over the mantel chimed eleven and seemed to keep time with the pounding in Will’s head. He pressed his lips together and remained silent until the last dong sounded. “I wondered when you’d get around to that.”

  “It looks absurd. She’s the town librarian, for God’s sake. Your mother—”

  “—would have liked her had she known her,” Will finished for him. “The years haven’t shortchanged you on directness. My mother taught me to look beyond the surface. She once told me it was something she wished she’d practiced earlier in life.”

  The dig was unmistakable. John blanched. “I’m only looking out for what’s best for you, Will.”

  “Who I see while I’m in Lake Perdue is up to me. Hannah Jacobs is an old friend. And I’d appreciate your keeping your opinions to yourself.”

  John rolled his eyes. “What the hell do the two of you have in common, anyway? Most people think she’s a recluse.”

  “Maybe most people don’t know her.”

  John let out a sigh and gave Will a wide smile. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. But it’s time you got on with your life. Following the only path a famous football player can. Doing something worthwhile.”

  “Being seen with the kind of woman you think I ought to be seen with,” Will interrupted.

  John shrugged.

  Will made a tent of his fingers and leaned forward to rest his chin on them
, pondering his father’s words. A fragment of last night’s dinner conversation ran through his mind. He did a mental backtrack and dwelled a moment on the idea that suddenly spawned. It only took a second for the notion to blossom and grow, leaving him for the first time in weeks eager and curious. A fraction of that enthusiasm showed in his voice when he said, “You’re right about one thing, Dad. It’s time I did something worthwhile. Maybe I’ll get started today. So, if you don’t mind, I need a shower. I’ve got a few things to do.”

  “That’s my boy. I knew you’d come to your senses sooner or later.” John stood and slapped Will on the back. “You know I only want what’s best for you, son. That’s all I ever wanted. If I sometimes push a little too hard, it’s—”

  “Yeah, Dad, I know.”

  John shrugged into his coat and moved toward the door. “Let me hear from you.”

  Will stood at the door watching as his father climbed into his Mercedes and backed out of the driveway.

  Chapter Fifteen

  At ten minutes past twelve, Hannah stepped outside and locked the library door behind her. She’d been on her own this Saturday. Jenny had woken up with the flu and called in sick. Although she’d felt sorry for Jenny, Hannah hadn’t minded being given a day’s reprieve from the barrage of questions the other woman would no doubt have in store for her concerning the Friday night fund-raiser.

  Hannah had known some strange Saturdays, but this one topped the list. The morning had started off with Hal Downing coming into the library for the first time since she’d been working there. He’d been widowed for three years. And according to Jenny, he was looking for a wife.

  He’d thumbed through a few books in the nonfiction section and then, picking one out, brought it up to the desk, greeting Hannah with a smile that emphasized the wrinkles around his eyes. All in all, he was an attractive man with work-roughened hands and an easygoing manner that gave him a certain appeal.

  “Reckon spring ought to be on its way anytime now,” he said with a nod as he waited for her to stamp his card.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, smiling at him.

  Hal took the book from her and cleared his throat. “Saw you at the fund-raiser last night. A good turnout, I’d say.”