Timing, page 17
Yes, it had been a good day, maybe one of the best since…
… There it was again, the sadness of losing her father.
An instant wave of guilt came over her as she realized it was the first time she'd thought of him all day.
Shit.
Why did this always have to happen?
His memory was a ravenous Jack-in-the-Box. It would pop up out of nowhere and snatch any morsel of happiness she'd managed to accumulate. Sometimes, it would even catapult her into a downward spiral of misery and despair.
And although it was happening less and less, when it did happen, it still dampened her sense of joy and her levels of contentment, both of which she'd worked so desperately to reclaim.
And it would inevitably trigger an avalanche of other thoughts—thoughts mainly centered on all of the other crazy complications in her life.
Like her mother's boyfriend. How long was Hannah going to pretend she didn't know? Or was Jackie already in on it? There was a very good chance Paul had already mentioned the call to her mom…
Then of course, there was the other little tricky situation she was currently facing… one-half of which was lying right next to her this very second.
Alexander Stastny had caught her completely by surprise. Right at a time when she'd been falling hard for someone else… at least she thought she was.
And what about Boone, anyway? He was someone she'd never imagined as more than a friend… until recently. Maybe she'd be better off if they just stayed friends.
But just because she'd done a couple of things with Alexander didn't mean she had to sever the umbilical cord with Boone… did it?
Maybe, for now, it would be better to keep Boone under wraps. Or maybe, if the right time ever presented itself, she could casually drop his name around Alexander.
Then there was the question of whether or not she should she tell Boone about the Russian…
Perhaps she should keep that a secret too. But then it was only a matter of time before he found out…
Hannah rolled onto her back and pulled a side of the blanket under her chin. Her smile had faded and tightropes of uncertainty had appeared along her forehead.
Alexander noticed the sudden change in her mood.
He knew about her loss and occasionally caught a glimpse of the pain—a pain that scampered across her expressions from time to time.
Like right now.
He sat up and touched her arm, his hand sending a shockwave of pleasure into her core. "Tell me about him," he said quietly.
She opened her eyes and rolled her head toward him, briefly meeting his gaze before letting them close again. She didn't want him to sense the way he affected her, and she certainly didn't want to be a crybaby in front of him.
When she was finally able to compose herself, she glanced over at him and asked softly, "What do you want to know?"
He answered her in Russian.
She smirked at him. "You forget… I only know Pig Latin."
Ten seconds of silence passed before she finally gave in.
"Okay. Okay. You win. What does it mean?"
He laughed. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stand it much longer." He lowered his tone. "What I said was I want to know everything about you."
Hannah could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat.
No guy had ever said things like this to her. He was a dream, from some other planet. She thought about pinching herself to see if this was real.
She looked away and then back. "It would take all day."
"We have all day." His dark stare disarmed her. Man this guy was unnerving.
Eventually, she pushed herself up and sat facing him, and even though she knew he was waiting for some sort of response, she wasn't in any hurry. And neither was Alexander in a rush for her answer. Perhaps that's why she finally opened up to him about it. He let her do it on her own terms.
Just like Boone had.
She took a drink of her soda. She smoothed out the blanket around her and flicked an ant off its edge. Finally, her shoulders lifted and fell, and the sound of her voice was soon to follow. "There's lots to tell. It's hard to even know where to begin. We were close—a lot closer than me and my mom." She leaned back. "I've sometimes wondered why God took him and not her… isn't that horrible?"
"I think it's probably natural," he said lightly.
"He was a big, burly rancher—do you know what that means?"
"Sure. I've seen westerns." He assumed an American accent, deliberately enunciating the phrase, "Cow-uh. Man-uh."
Hannah laughed.
"Like John Wayne," he added.
"Yeah. You're actually pretty good. And he was a horse man. He took care of everything. And he'd always take me along. When I was little, I'd ride in front of him on the saddle. He'd have one hand clutched around my waist." Her lips softened into a whimsical smile. "He'd say to me, 'Stack your hands like pancakes onto the horn, Hanny, so you don't go flying off.' We'd head out, check the water, look after the calves, things like that. When I got older, I'd ride my own horse, Zane, and we'd really cover some ground." She glanced up and stared across the river, squinting her eyes from the water's glare. She didn't dare look at Alexander.
Her voice went flat. "The day I found him, he was still alive. I watched him die, you know." She yanked at a long blade of grass and began to gnaw on one end of it. "Right in front of me. And there wasn't a thing I could do." Her face turned to stone. "When the guys got there, they tried CPR, but he was already gone. I could tell he was dying—or at least I thought I could tell that he was—but I was so helpless. If only I'd gotten there sooner, or called for help before I did, I might have—"
Alexander had scooted even closer to her and just as she'd said it, he grabbed hold of her shoulders. His voice was calm, but stern. "Don't do it, Hannah. Don't second-guess yourself. It wasn't meant to be. You did all you could."
"I've gone over and over it in my mind. You have no idea. And I have these dreams—" Her voice cracked, and tears started to gather at the corners of her eyes. The only person she'd ever opened up to about her father's death was Boone and, even then, she hadn't really spoken about the darkest things which had happened on that day.
Since the funeral, she'd had opportunities to get things out in the open. Marie had asked her faithfully if she was okay, if she needed anything, if she wanted to talk. Her mom had gotten her tons of new clothes, a new cell phone, and a new iPad which, Hannah knew, was her strange way of showing consolation; at one point, she'd even suggested that Hannah visit a shrink, but she'd put the nix on that one fast.
She now realized that, other than Boone, she hadn't really talked with anyone much about the actual day she'd found him… the thing that still haunted her most.
For some time now, she'd digested the whole thing up inside of her, regurgitated it, and then swallowed it… over and over again.
Today—with Alexander—was the first time she'd discussed it with anyone in such detail.
And Alexander listened.
That was, in part, what intrigued her about him. When he spoke, he was witty, challenging, interesting. But along with that quality, he was one of the best listeners of any friend she'd ever known.
That is, he listened all the way up until the heavens above them split wide open.
It caught both of them unaware. One second Hannah was telling him about the strange dreams she'd been having of her father, and the next second, quarter-sized droplets of rain started plummeting from the sky.
The weather had been a menace to them all day.
She squealed when it started coming down. "Aggh!… Alexander, we're gonna get soaked."
Almost immediately the huge raindrops turned to sheets of rain, and within less than a minute it had completely drenched them.
Alexander looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower.
And for some odd reason, when they were scrambling to round everything up, he suddenly stopped right in front of her. Through the curtain of rain she could make out a wily, boyish grin spread out like a hammock across his lips.
It was the kind of grin exchanged between two people who shared secrets.
Hannah couldn't help but grin back at him.
And then, completely out of the blue, his expression turned serious, and he reached out and touched the side of her face.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. When she opened them, his face was just inches from hers. Water dripped down their foreheads and cheeks as he moved in slowly to kiss her. And as his lips met hers, the cool taste of rain trickled into her mouth.
The kiss was so soft, so tender, it almost made her cry.
When he finally pulled away, he said, "We'll never forget this day, will we?"
Hannah shook her head. "No."
"We probably should head out, huh?"
"Probably," she admitted.
"Okay, let's finish getting this stuff packed up and get out of here." He pressed the keys into her hand and handed her the food basket. "Here, run this to the trunk. I'll get everything else."
She ran as best she could while lugging the heavy basket, finally reaching the vehicle which had to have been a good football field away. When she got there, she used the remote entry to pop up the back end of the car.
She set the container inside of the trunk and was just about to close it, when something caught her eye. The object was shiny and partially covered by a blanket.
Hannah instantly froze. She looked off toward Alexander and then back down at it.
He would be here in no time. If she were going to do it, she'd have to act fast.
She pulled back the Indian print blanket.
Behind it was a 45 mm pistol, partially dislodged from a leather holster.
Alarms went off in Hannah's head. Rational competed with irrational. Why in the world would Alexander have a gun… in his car? Was it for protection… if so, from what? And was it even his? It's very possible, she reasoned with herself, that he didn't even know it was there. Maybe she should just forget about ever seeing it. Or should she confront him? She was pretty sure there would be a simple explanation…
She really didn't know what to do, and Alexander was jogging to the car that very moment.
She had to decide.
"Hey," he called out to her. He was almost at her side.
She shoved the gun back into the holster and covered it.
"Hey," she said, glancing up.
"Did we get everything?" His hand came to rest next to hers on the propped up lid, his eyes scanning the contents of the trunk.
"Yep. I think so."
"Good."
She stepped back as he shut the lid.
She made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle, but he dashed out in front of her and grabbed the door's handle.
"Here, let me get that for you."
"Thanks, Alexander."
"Sure." He shut the door and ran around to the driver's side.
As he got in, he tossed something toward her. "I thought you might want this."
Her phone landed in her lap, just as his face instantly hardened.
It must have fallen out of her pocket.
Droplets of rain were smeared across the glass, but the moisture was not nearly enough to hide the mustard yellow message box centered in the middle of the screen.
The message might as well have been a billboard plastered right in front of the vehicle's windshield.
It read: One New Text Message, Boone G.
Without even so much as looking at her, Alexander turned on the ignition and pressed almost immediately onto the gas pedal, screeching the tires against the pavement beneath them.
Hannah's seatbelt locked with the jolt of the force. She was pretty sure he'd left some skid marks. She put the phone in her purse and concentrated on looking out her window. Everything passed by in a blur.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel.
Finally, after several miles down the road, Alexander broke the silence.
"So, Hannah," he said, in as condescending a voice as he could muster, "what did Eliza have to say this time?"
She ignored him.
Jerk.
She didn't need to defend herself because she'd done nothing wrong. Well, maybe she'd fibbed just a smidgeon, but it was for his own good—he wouldn't have wanted to know the truth. And besides, what was the truth about her and Boone Grassle? There was nothing, absolutely nothing she could have said about him that would have satisfied Alexander anyway.
How could she explain something to him that she couldn't really even explain to herself?
Fine, she thought to herself, give me the silent treatment.
Two can play that game.
Eventually, they passed a speed sign marked sixty.
She glanced at his speedometer. Now, he was only going five miles over the limit.
She raised her eyebrows and let them fall as she exhaled. Maybe he's starting to cool off, she thought. At least it appeared that he'd given up on breaking the sound barrier.
It wasn't long before he draped a free hand across the armrest so that it was only inches from touching her.
Hannah kept her arms folded.
From there, his arm moved toward her until his fingers grazed her elbow.
He glanced over at her.
But, he'd underestimated her. She immediately yanked her arm away from his touch and sent him a heated, "don't mess with me" glare. Then, she scooted as far away as the bucket seat would let her, wrapped both of her arms around her ribcage, and fixed her eyes straight ahead.
He cranked up the music… loud.
She rolled her eyes.
Finally, though, after turning down the tree-lined lane to Aspen Ridge Ranch, he lowered the stereo's volume and put an end to the standoff.
It might have been the first time Alexander Stastny had ever admitted defeat.
And as they sat there parked in front of her house, he angled his body toward her. "Hannah, I'm sorry. It's none of my business, I know. And I was wrong."
She refused to look at him.
"Will you please forgive me?"
His plea pinballed between them for several, elongated seconds, until she flipped the steel ball right back at him with one swift motion. "You're right, Alexander. It isn't any of your business. And if I want to tell you things, I will… otherwise, I won't. I don't owe you anything."
"You're absolutely right. You don't."
Her hand moved to the latch on the door.
"Hannah."
"What?"
"Will you at least let me make it up to you?"
She didn't answer.
"Please?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if you look at me, I'll tell you."
She paused and snuck a glimpse of him with one eye.
"No, I mean turn all the way around."
"Why should I?"
"Please just do it."
She begrudgingly complied.
"Now, move closer to me."
Out of nowhere, her heart began to do jumping jacks.
"What?"
She was suddenly annoyed, agitated.
"Closer, please." He meowed like a homeless kitten. And she was starting to feel a tiny bit sorry for the guy.
Still though, she wasn't entirely convinced. "I don't want to."
"Please, Hannah. Just look at me, please."
Their faces were now only inches apart. It was as if somewhere above them a puppet master was finagling them together.
Their eyes finally met, and that was it.
Alexander grabbed her head and crushed their lips together.
Hannah whimpered.
Before she knew what was happening, her hands had fastened around his neck.
Their bodies zipped together in one, elongated motion.
And at the height of the urgency, Alexander finally managed to pull himself back. But it was not without some serious objection from his body… and his heart.
"I just needed to kiss you one more time before I left," he stammered.
She nodded.
He kissed her again, this time with a soft, tender brushstroke which only left her wanting more.
"I'll talk to you soon," he whispered.
"Yeah. See ya."
She wobbled out of the car, her knees weak and jittery.
Before closing the door, she took a deep breath and leveled her eyes with his. "Thanks for everything," she said. "I had a really great time."
"Me too. We'll do it again," he smiled. "Soon."
Hannah smiled, and then quietly disappeared inside her house.
Alexander waited until the door shut behind her before pulling away.
CHAPTER 21—PREMONITION
Hannah lay in bed that night with a myriad of thoughts running through her head, most of them centered on Alexander. She'd had an amazing time.
That is, until the phone fiasco.
But he'd capitulated… and earned his points back with his heartfelt pleas…
And she'd hands down won the battle… which, in the end, was all that really mattered.
Yep, there was no doubt about it: Hannah was crazy about him. She was surprised at how much she'd enjoyed his company, and how much pleasure she'd experienced with his kisses and affection.
And the ongoing teasing between them was like wind on a fire. It fueled her. Made her feel alive. Significant. Real.
But, it also made her feel vulnerable.
Seemingly overnight, Boone and Alexander had crept into her life and had started to erase some of the agonies of the past.
In a weird sort of way, she'd felt bad about straying from the memories of yesterday. They'd held her in bondage. Until now.
Until Boone. And Alexander.
Together, they'd helped her think about the nows and the tomorrows. It was liberating, invigorating—like a rush of sea air.
She was beginning to pick back up the pieces of her life.
And goddamnit, she deserved it after everything she'd been through. It felt good. Right. Normal.
But just when she felt sure that she was falling in love with Boone Grassle, Alexander Stastny had appeared out of nowhere.
