Timing, page 20
"That's how kids are."
"It's just that Vance knew how to handle her."
"Jackie, you do a great job. Just let it be. She's not going to change. And neither are you."
Her voice turned childlike. "Will you stay for Hannah's Homecoming stuff? And her birthday?"
He dropped his gaze. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
She rubbed her forehead. "No, probably not. But she might win something in the Homecoming contest. And it's her eighteenth birthday. And I really want you to."
"Jackie, listen to me." Paul leaned forward and put his forearms on his thighs. "We really don't need to push things right at this very moment. At this point, Hannah knows about us, knows about me. For now, I think it's probably best to leave it at that. It's a lot for her to digest. Just let it sink in for a while."
"You're probably right." She exhaled.
"I am right."
"When is your flight?"
"Day after tomorrow."
"At least it gives us a little more time together." She moved to the edge of her seat. Any trace of defeat instantly vanished. "You can be damn sure, Paul, that the very second Hannah's stuff is over with, I'll be on the first plane back to DC."
CHAPTER 26—COLD WAR
"And the winner is…" Drums rolled while the voice on the intercom paused, building up the suspense to the point where Hannah wanted to scream.
She closed her eyes. She could hardly stand it. Stony's arm was linked with hers, and she could feel him shaking.
Never would she have guessed that a ridiculous queen contest would make him nervous. Typically, he was the definition of Cool Cat—but not tonight. And his jitters were completely contagious.
Hannah's heart had started thumping so loud that she was certain he could hear it. She opened her eyes just long enough to glance down at the line of other contestants.
Each of them had been escorted by their father. Stony had stood in for hers.
When they announced "Hannah Bailey" over the loudspeaker, for a few seconds she felt like she was outside of her own body, almost like the grass on the football field was swaying beneath her. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the tears.
They were tears for her father who wasn't there with her, tears for something good in the midst of everything bad.
"Here, darlin', take this." Stony handed her his handkerchief. "I sure am proud of you," he said into her ear. "And I hope you know how pretty you look."
She didn't think Stony even noticed such things.
"Thanks, Stony."
He stood proudly beside her as they put the sash around her and the crown on top of her head. Afterwards, he walked her to the edge of the field and helped her onto the back of the convertible.
She rode with Lukas Green—Homecoming King—in a baby-blue 1964 Mustang, waving as they circled the field on the track in front of the grandstands.
She spotted her mom and Marie and Eliza—all of them were near one another in the stands—waving and smiling and yelling things at her like, "We love you" and "Congratulations."
Afterwards, she was shown to her throne—a gaudy chair which had to be leftover from one of the school plays—on a stage constructed in front of the bleachers.
All of the princesses and other attendants exchanged pleasantries and offered their congratulations to one another.
In truth, the attention and hoopla made Hannah feel somewhat embarrassed, but she put on a smile and made it work.
Not once, in all of the turbulence of the recent months, did the thought ever cross her mind that she would be named Homecoming Queen.
It wasn't long before Alexander was at her side. "Congratulations," he said in a deep voice. "You look wonderful."
She met his dark stare. "Thanks, Alexander."
Tonight, her gaze radiated up at him like polished gems of blue topaz, their color made all the more stunning by her matching floor-length dress. Her eyes never ceased to amaze him. And their blue was chameleon-like. Sometimes they didn't even look real.
"Are you all ready for tomorrow night? I ordered your corsage yesterday… I hope you like it."
"I'm sure it'll be perfect," she smiled. "Yeah," she adjusted a bobby pin in her hair, "I guess I'm ready… although, to be honest, I'm not really a dance person. I've only ever gone to a couple."
"Don't tell me you were never asked."
"It's not that—it's just I've never really had anyone I cared to go with."
"Well, I hope that's not the case this time."
Hannah's pupils suddenly expanded to the size of peppermint patties, and she didn't get a chance to answer him, because out of nowhere—and coming up behind Alexander at that very moment—was Boone Grassle… with an enormous bouquet of red roses.
And these weren't just your ordinary dozen roses that you'd buy at Shopmart or your local grocery store, these were the most beautiful, long-stemmed roses she had ever seen. Each one was roughly the size of her fist. They must have cost a small fortune.
Her focus instantly turned toward the bearer of the roses.
And for a few uncomfortable seconds—as she struggled to find her own voice—she couldn't help but contrast the two guys standing before her.
The list of comparisons came one after another as if she were receiving a series of text messages sent from the depths of her mind.
Exquisitely handsome vs. Ruggedly appealing
BMW vs. Pickup
Foreign accent vs. Cowboy drawl
Dangerous vs. Dependable
Russia vs. America
Just as soon as the last thought crossed her mind she realized the rather funny situation she was in: she was smack dab in the middle of a Cold War.
They'd been studying the time period in history class recently, and she couldn't believe how perfectly it described the scenario before her.
Yet ironically, they also shared two things in common. Both of them were vying for her attention, and each one played to win.
It took Alexander less than a nanosecond to realize that competition had arrived. But to his credit, he stepped back, like a true gentleman, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Boone," Hannah exclaimed, searching for just the right words. "It's really good to see you."
"I brought you these—thought you'd like them."
He bent down right in front of Alexander and gave Hannah a hug lasting longer than it should have, and then he unabashedly planted a soft, almost sensual, kiss right on her cheek.
For a second there, she thought he was going in for the kill, but he pulled back just before reaching the apex of complete and utter awkwardness.
God, if he had kissed her on the lips in front of Alexander, she would have seriously hyperventilated.
"Congratulations on getting queen," he said.
"Wow, Boone, thank you so much." She brought the flowers to her face and inhaled their sweetness, the whole time watching Alexander squirm.
And she was thoroughly enjoying it.
So much so, that she decided to lay it on even thicker… just for fun.
Her face lit up, and her words came out oozing with gratitude, "I really love them—they might be the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen. Where in the world did you get them?"
"Now that, Hannah," he said coolly, eyeing Alexander up and down for the first time, "is a secret. And, unfortunately, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"Is that right?" she said, her dimple drawing in. "Well, at least I'd go down having achieved queen status like Anne Boleyn. Do you suppose they'd bury me in Westminster Abbey or someplace famous like that?"
He looked as if he were seriously contemplating her question and then answered with an oh-so-sexy smile. "Doubtful."
They both burst out laughing.
At this point, Alexander still remained on standby. But he was listless, emotionless. And his face was like granite.
"How've you been, Boone, anyway? I've been wondering why you haven't been over to take me for a ride," she said, very aware of Alexander's growing displeasure.
The Russian's hands submarined into his pockets.
Hannah could have sworn that steam was coming out of his nostrils and ears.
And before Boone could even answer her, she decided that she'd probably tortured Alexander enough for one night. "Oh, Boone, Alexander, please forgive me. I've forgotten my manners," she said innocently, as if taking a page out of the playbook from Scarlett O'Hara. She gestured as she introduced them.
"Boone, this is Alexander Stastny. From Russia. Alexander, this is Boone Grassle."
Daggers flew from Alexander's gaze.
But Hannah wasn't intimidated or fazed. She sent back a heated stare and offered him further explanation, laced with the charm of a southern belle. "Boone and I grew up together. His ranch is adjacent to ours."
The two exchanged brief glances and a curt handshake, but neither one hardly said a word.
"Well, Hannah, I'm going to head out," Alexander said tartly, clearing his throat. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
Without a word to Boone, and without even waiting for a response from Hannah, he turned and left.
"What's his problem?" Boone asked.
"I'd say jealous."
"Jealous? Of what?"
"You. Didn't you see the way he was scowling?"
"Not really," he said. Then, all at once, the light bulb went on. "So you and him are together?"
She looked away and then back at him.
"I… well, we… we've gone out," she shrugged noncommittally, "and we're going to the Homecoming dance tomorrow night."
"So you like him." It was a statement, not a question.
"Sure. It's no big deal, Boone. He's really nice, and we get along well."
He got up close to her face and grabbed hold of her shoulder. "Well, all I can say, Hannah, is I think you should stay away from him. I got a weird vibe from him, like he's not a good person."
"So, you're an expert judge on guys, huh?"
His eyebrows raised. "I've been around a lot longer than you have. Known more people than you. All I'm telling you is that you should be careful."
She hadn't planned on saying it, but it came out before she could even stop it.
"And this is coming from the guy who planted a kiss on me when I wasn't even coherent enough to know better."
As soon as she said it, she knew she'd crossed the line.
His entire face iced over. "Yeah well, remind me never to do that again," he said brusquely. He went to leave. "Enjoy the flowers, Hannah," he said half-facing her, just before turning to walk away.
CHAPTER 27—FALLING
Hannah and Alexander froze in their tracks.
The scene was out of a storybook, the gymnasium transformed into a dream world—a mixed concoction landing somewhere between Venice and Tara. Thousands of strands of tiny white lights dangled from the ceiling, like Spanish moss on Cypress, creating coves and tunnels beckoning for exploration. Trees, shrubs, and ornamental grasses—all in various sized containers—gave the illusion of being outdoors, as if you were strolling on the grounds of an Italian villa or meandering down the pebbled walkways of Mirabell Gardens. A stream wound its way through the setting and couples floated down it, passing beneath bridges and winding alongside cobblestone paths, in small gondolas propelled by a lazy current.
"This is really something," Alexander said.
"Yeah, it is," Hannah replied. "I've always heard that the decorations are fabulous, but never in a million years did I imagine they would be this amazing. I guess I should have gone to Homecoming last year when Luke Green asked me."
Alexander let go of her hand. "If you'd rather, I can go find him right now…"
She peered at him out of the corners of her eyes. "Mmm… I don't think so right now. But if you don't behave, I might take you up on it."
"Well, if you don't behave," he countered, "I might just do it."
"Hah, hah. I'm the good girl around here. There's nothing to worry about with me."
He looked down at her. "What are you saying?"
"You know what I'm saying."
"Maybe you'd rather be with someone boring… uninteresting… like maybe your little Cowboy."
Now she was getting pissed. He loved seeing her like this, loved provoking her.
"I'm here with you, aren't I, Alexander? At least for the moment. Now you'd better drop it before we really get into a fight, and I do resort to my other options. Which, by the way, I do have plenty of," she said haughtily.
"What interests you in him, anyway?"
They'd made their way into a corner of the gym, not too far from the landing where couples were getting onto the boats.
But their raised voices had started to attract some attention.
"Hush up, people are staring at us." She flashed a half-smile at the onlookers. "Who said I'm interested in him, anyway?" she said through clenched teeth.
"Don't play dumb with me, Hannah. I know damn well you're interested when he's calling and texting you while we're on our date."
She whisked her head around to look at him, her eyes now ablaze with heat. "He didn't call me, he only texted."
"Which, by the way, you lied about."
"Because I knew you'd fly off the handle. Just like you are right now. Besides," she hissed, "it's none of your business, Russia."
"You are my business, Bailey."
He'd started calling her that lately. It irritated her, and he knew it.
"You don't own me."
"Maybe I should."
Their bodies were close, and if not for his significant height advantage over her, their faces would have been just inches apart.
"No one will ever own me."
"What you need is a damn hard spanking. On that cute little behind of yours."
"And I suppose you think you're the one who should administer it."
"Possibly," he said. "You obviously didn't get enough of them when you were a child."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means."
Right then, Mr. Wayward was making his way over to them, probably the result of some "concerned" tattletale who had nothing better to do than to stick their nose in other people's affairs.
Why couldn't people just mind their own business?
It's not like fighting was unusual or unnatural—even animals did it in the wild.
The principal, who was wearing a too-small tuxedo in baby blue, was literally glowing from the reflection of all of the lights, and Lymas was sitting on his shoulder sporting a ridiculous miniature bowtie.
Hannah spotted him first. "You'd better be nice," she warned. "Wayward's coming over."
Just then, the principal spoke up. "Hannah. Alexander. Hi there. It's nice to see you both dressed up."
Alexander hooked an arm around her waist and spun them toward him.
"Hi, Mr. Wayward," he said, "you're looking awfully spiffy this evening."
"Yes, well, I do on occasion bring out the old tux just to make sure it still fits." He cleared his throat. "Are you guys doing okay? Having a good time?"
"Yes." They'd said it at exactly the same time.
Hannah and Alexander looked at each other and, for some reason, they simultaneously burst out laughing.
And before long—really for no apparent reason—Wayward had joined in.
When their fit of laughter finally died down, Alexander offered his hand. "Well, Mr. Wayward, it was nice seeing you here. I guess we're off to navigate these waters."
Wayward shook it firmly. "Yes, yes, by all means, Alexander. You two have a great time."
"Thanks, we will," Hannah said over her shoulder.
After Hannah refused Alexander's help to get in the boat, they drifted along in silence for a while, neither of them particularly eager to take the blame or offer an apology for the argument.
But the boat ride was enchanting… relaxing… and with Alexander by her side, Hannah eventually decided that she might as well break the deadlock. No sense in ruining the entire evening.
"Miss Dialander and her crew had to have set up camp at the school for a while to pull off all of these decorations. I mean, it must have taken them hundreds of hours to get this all set up."
"No kidding," he replied. "I'd hate to have to be the one to clean it all up."
As they turned a corner, Hannah gasped, "Alexander, look at that bridge."
"Wow," he said, "Now that's something you don't see every day."
The bridge was larger than all of the others and looked like an upside-down "U" written in cursive.
"This is like being in an old movie," Hannah exclaimed with a giggle, "where the couples smooch under the bridges."
"You mean like this?" He smacked her lips before she could even respond.
"Quit," she scolded, pushing him away. "I hate it when people do that kind of stuff in public."
"Fine, I'll save it for later."
"That's what you think."
He settled for holding her hand.
Like always, his touch gave her a nervous feeling in her belly, the same feeling she experienced every time he was near.
"Alexander, it's just magical." Her face lit up like a child. "Look at the chocolate fountains… oh my gosh, they look so good."
"We'll have to try them," he said, trying to contain his amusement. He'd never seen her this lively, this animated.
She pointed to a silo-shaped structure they were now approaching. It was right along the border of the water and was probably twice as tall as Alexander. "Is that supposed to be the Leaning Tower of Pisa?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
"Have you ever seen it in person?"
"I have."
"You're lucky to have traveled so much. I can't wait to see the world."
"Someday, we'll go see it together," he squeezed her hand tighter.
"Let's do it," she said enthusiastically.
In the time since they'd met, he'd noticed a gradual change in her… he supposed she was regaining some sense of her old self.
And this evening he was beginning to notice a carefree quality about her he'd never noticed much before.
He hoped, even if only in some small way, he was helping her to enjoy life again. Helping her heal from the heartache she'd experienced.
