Timing, page 6
"Hello?" she said somewhat absently while she perused through the documents. From what she could tell, it had nothing to do with Santa or Christmas, it only referenced Martial Law—numerous times.
Her search, she quickly concluded, had ended in nothing particularly interesting, certainly nothing that mattered to her.
"Hello, Hannah? Hey, were you in the middle of something?" She sounded distracted to him.
"Oh, no… it was nothing."
"You sound far away or something—are you at home?"
"Yeah, well, not exactly. I'm at my mom's place in DC."
"Oh wow. All the way in Washington. I didn't know you guys were headed there. Are you having a good time?"
"Not exactly. You know how I hate big cities." She carefully re-taped the envelope.
"How long are you there for?"
"Just the weekend. I've got to get back and get a few things organized before school starts."
"That's right. Gosh, I almost forgot. It's hard to believe the summer is already winding down."
"Yeah, I know."
"I am glad, though, that you got away. Sometimes that's the best thing."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Hey," he was suddenly serious, "are you doing okay? I've been really worried about you. I stopped by a few times and called and stuff, but you weren't around." It wasn't like Hannah to turn into a recluse. But he knew death sometimes had that effect on those still living.
"Yeah, I know… thanks… but I'm fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, I mean as fine as can be expected I guess."
"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to make things better?"
"Nothing makes it better, Boone."
"Have you been riding?"
"No."
"Did you get the tree?"
"Yeah, Stony and I planted it. So I can see it from my bedroom."
"I thought you might like it better than flowers," he said.
Hannah's voice grew soft as she remembered. "I did… I really did, Boone… I mean it, I loved it."
Boone had sent her mother flowers, and he'd given Hannah a five foot tall Ponderosa to plant in her father's memory. When the nursery delivered it just a day after the graveside service, she'd been blown away by his kindness.
It had touched her more than anything anyone had done for her since the funeral.
"Thank you for being so thoughtful," she said.
"It was nothing, Hannah. I wish there were something more—"
"It was more than enough. And it means the world to me. I'll never forget it."
Silence passed. Almost like an unspoken embrace across the distance separating them.
Boone finally let go of her. "Have you been out of the house at all?"
"Now I have." She half-grinned. She'd just put the old-fashioned key back in the kitchen drawer.
"Hah. I mean before now."
"Not really."
"Maybe we could do something when you get back. Like go fishing or riding, or maybe even take a hike."
"Maybe," she said. "I just haven't felt up to much lately."
"I know. It's okay to feel like that. I felt just the same when my mom died. It was like the entire light of the world went out. And for a long time, I thought it would always feel like that."
"Did it ever get better?"
"Eventually."
"What made it better?"
"Time mostly. And staying busy, I suppose."
They talked for several more minutes before Boone had to go. As they said good-bye, Hannah realized she didn't feel as lonely as she had before. Talking to him had been comforting and somehow soothing. For all this time, she'd avoided him because she was afraid he would remind her of everything she'd lost. He'd been her dad's friend and had always been like a brother to her, ever since she was little. She could now see that she'd been incredibly selfish lately. Mostly just because she'd been consumed with feeling sorry for herself. Boone had to be hurting too, and she hadn't even asked how he was doing.
That needed to change. She needed to change.
He'd helped her to recognize the need to move forward and look ahead. Even if only slowly at first. He'd given her a calming sense of warmth and reassurance she hadn't felt from anyone since that day.
Unexpectedly… it was the same type of feeling she'd always gotten from her father.
CHAPTER 5—BOONE
It had been over three weeks since the funeral, and Jackie and Hannah had gotten back from DC the previous evening. The rest of the weekend had actually been quite pleasant after her mom had finished up with her business. They'd gone shopping and bought some really cute clothes and had walked around the Mall at night and seen all of the memorials in the almost mystical glow of artificial light. Hannah had been surprised that she'd enjoyed herself as much as she did.
But she'd been looking forward to being back in her own bed, and so she was glad when they arrived back home. She loved sleeping in, like she was on this morning.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted her slumber.
She thought she was dreaming at first, but when the stupid thing kept ringing and ringing, she knew it was real.
She pried her body out of the warm sheets and slugged her way down the stairs, still half-asleep and muttering curses under her breath.
By the time she reached the foyer, the imbecile had resorted to knocking. She cracked open the front door and was surprised to see Boone standing there with one arm propped up on the doorway.
"Hi," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm here to take you riding."
"Boone," Hannah exclaimed. She couldn't believe he was standing in front of her while she had nothing on but her robe. She hadn't even bothered to pull her hair back or brush her teeth. God, she must look a mess. "Um, hi. Yeah, like I'm not even dressed," she said, tightening the belt around her. "Or ready for the day," she added with a yawn.
"Throw some stuff on and get ready," he said cheerfully. "I don't mind waiting. I've got somewhere I want to ride to," he shrugged, "and I thought you might like to come along." His eyebrows lifted as though issuing her a challenge. "If you're up for it."
Hannah's mind was still full of cobwebs. What time was it anyway?
"Hannah—who's at the door?" Red silk pajamas appeared at the top of the staircase. Jackie had heard the commotion. "It's early," her words floated down to her daughter, "really early."
No kidding, Hannah thought to herself.
"It's just Boone, Mom," she yelled up the stairs. "He wants to go riding."
"Well, for heaven's sake, don't leave him standing there. Invite him in. I'll get some breakfast going. Marie's off for the weekend."
Over pancakes and eggs, Boone made himself at home like he'd done on so many other occasions. When Hannah's dad was still alive, he would sometimes show up early just like he had this morning and chat with her father over breakfast. Despite their age gap, they'd been pretty close. Vance had always said that the boy had a good head on him and knew how to work—high compliments coming from the owner of one of Colorado's most prestigious ranches.
Boone's family owned the adjacent ranch, sharing a west property line with the Bailey's for what was going on thirty years. A few years back, his father, Lonnie, had suffered a heart attack. Afterwards, with Boone being the only child, he'd assumed most of the day-to-day duties of the ranch.
Boone was now twenty-six and single, and running the ranch took every last bit of his time and energy. Getting hitched was about the last thing on his mind. He had many other priorities, and finding a gal had never been particularly high on his list. Besides, he figured when the time was right, he'd know it and settle down.
Hannah knew darn well half of the county was trying to match up their daughters with him. Not only was he an eligible bachelor, but he also happened to be a very rich one. And, in Hannah's book, it didn't hurt that he was eye candy to look at. Boone's face looked as if it had been sculpted by Michelangelo, and his skin—regardless of the time of year—always seemed as if it were kissed by the sun. Everything about him screamed natural. Organic. Wholesome. Like honey straight from the beehive.
There was nothing fancy about him. Nor did he put on airs. Still, he exuded a supreme and powerful aura of confidence that some might find intimidating.
Hannah often wondered how it was he got along so great with her mother. Probably because they were such polar opposites.
He pushed his bar stool back from the kitchen island and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Well, Senator Bailey that was one of the finest meals I've had in some time."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Boone. I only wish my husband had been here to enjoy it with us."
He had to stop himself from wincing. Why had Jackie felt the need to bring that up? As if it wasn't hard enough on Hannah, she certainly didn't need to be reminded of the tragedy every two seconds of every day. That's part of why he'd come over this morning. He'd been worried about her. He'd left voice messages and sent countless texts, but she hadn't responded until just a few days ago. And when they had talked, she sounded weary, almost dazed. Nothing at all like her normal self.
Boone noticed the instant shadow that had fallen over Hannah's eyes. He quickly changed the subject.
"Well, kiddo, how about you join me on a ride today? I could use some help mending some fences, and I'd really enjoy the company."
"Why don't you, Hannah?" Jackie urged. "It would do you good, honey."
"I don't know that I'm up to it, Boone," Hannah said honestly. "I just—"
"Listen, just finish getting yourself ready while I give my horse some grain." He stood up. "Then, come on out to the barn. We'll get Zane all saddled up, and then we'll just see how you feel." His gaze met Jackie's and then settled back on Hannah.
Jackie looked expectantly at her daughter over the brim of her coffee cup.
After several seconds Hannah said, "I guess." And yet as the words left her, she felt less reluctant than she had expected.
"Good, then," Boone smiled. "It's settled."
*
It felt good to be on her horse again. It was the first time she'd ridden him since the day she'd found her father. Hannah was grateful, at least, to be going in the opposite direction.
Summer had baked the late-August forest into an invisible fragrance of nutty pine which swirled around them with every impulse of the wind. Puffy cumulus clouds filled about half of the sky above them, perfect cover for the sun to play hide-and-seek.
They rode along in silence, broken only by the steady cadence of hooves.
It was something Hannah enjoyed about being with Boone. They shared a real love for the land, which made them feel like a part of it. And neither of them needed to fill empty spaces with words. Quiet was their way of speaking.
It had been the same with her dad.
Occasionally, one of them would pull up and point at something, or yank their head in a particular direction to indicate something of interest. Otherwise, their rides together were typically uninterrupted.
Around noon, they stopped along Quail Creek for lunch. They sat along its bank, nibbling on biscuits, jerky, and trail mix. After downing a few of the biscuits and wetting her throat with a swig of cream soda, Hannah finally turned to him.
"Thanks for rescuing me," she said in a monotone voice.
"Anytime." Boone glanced her way, uncertain of whether she wanted to talk more about it. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He hesitated before continuing. "I sent you a bunch of texts… tried to call you and stuff… I was just worried."
"Yeah, I know." She paused. "I still haven't really talked to anyone." She took another drink. "All of this still seems like a bad dream. Like I'll wake up tomorrow and realize Dad is still here with me. You know the worst part about someone you love dying?"
Boone looked at her. His mother had died when he was twelve. So he knew exactly what it was like to have someone close to you pass away. Heck, Hannah's dad had been like a second father to him. In his own quiet way, he'd been mourning, too.
Vance's passing had, in fact, caused a lot of his own memories of death to surface. Like the vacant look in his mother's eyes as she lay in her bedroom dying. Her bony, almost transparent hand she'd clutched so tightly around his. And he knew he'd remember until his dying day the sound of her struggling for her last breaths, the choking, panicky look on her face when her lungs finally gave out. She hadn't wanted him there at the end and had insisted he say his good-byes before then. But he hadn't been willing to miss any minute with her. He'd wanted to hold her until she had no more life left in her to hold.
Still, to this day, he could recall every single minute of her end. It was dreadful. Ghastly. Something one never forgot.
And now Hannah had experienced the same thing.
Maybe that was why he'd been unexpectedly drawn to her, even more than ever before. He'd felt as if he wanted to be near her and had needed to comfort her. Still, he wasn't entirely sure why.
He didn't answer Hannah's question, he just waited for her to go on. He knew she needed to talk about it and needed someone to share the whole thing with.
Beside him, she'd gone still. She was staring straight ahead, undoubtedly lost in her own thoughts and memories.
A leaf with yellow edges hovered in the stream, an early victim of autumn's prelude. It lingered in the water right in front of Hannah for only a moment before riding the belly of a rock and floating downstream.
It's like my life now, she thought. The current of life had carried her away from what she'd loved most.
Boone observed her. He knew her insides were churning. He understood the past little while had been pure hell. If only he could take away the pain. Help her move past it. But he knew the best healer was Father Time and, even then, she would always feel the loss, never truly get over it.
Hannah hugged her knees into her chest. "I guess a lot of things go through your mind," she continued, her eyes focused straight ahead. "Knowing you will never hear their voice again, or touch them. Never have them give you a hug or a smile." She stopped and looked at Boone. "You know how we used to tease each other all of the time?"
He nodded.
"I already miss that… so much that it makes me ache inside." Her eyes were swimming. "Boone, I literally ache. I mean, my dad won't even get to see me graduate this year. Or from college. And I know it probably sounds silly, but I think about how he won't be there to walk me down the aisle at my wedding." She forced out a faint smile. "That's assuming I ever get married."
"Oh, you will, Hannah," he said, looking away and toward the water.
"And then…" her voice dropped to a whisper, "… then there are the mornings when you wake up—nighttime really is the only relief—but then waking up you almost wish you had never slept because it's like re-living the loss all over again at the beginning of every day. Each morning since he's been gone, I've awakened only to have it all sink in again. It's like I wake up sometimes feeling pretty fresh and ready to greet a new day, and then suddenly a cloudburst of anguish moves over me and makes it even difficult to breathe. And then I begin to sob, Boone. I mean really sob, like a blubbering baby… and I can't control it."
He shifted his eyes from her view—only for a second—and used his fingers to wipe them dry. It killed him to watch her suffer and to know she'd been bearing the burden alone. "Why didn't you call me, Hannah? Or text me? I would have come over right away."
"I didn't want you to see me like that. And besides, there's nothing you or anyone can do. The only thing that would make it better is if I could have my old life back. And obviously that's not going to happen. Not even my mom can help me."
"How is she doing?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said dryly. "We've had our usual bickering, which is nothing new. But I kind of think this is harder for me than her. At least in some ways. I don't know—" Hannah shook her head. "—I'm not really certain she even loved my dad all that much."
"I'm sure she did in her own way," he soothed. "Everyone is different in how they show it."
"You know my mom," she said. "She's mostly concerned about her politics and her pedicures. And this whole situation has certainly helped her chances for reelection…"
"You don't honestly think that's what she's worried about right now." It was more of a statement than a question. "I know she's concerned for you."
Hannah shrugged and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She had a sudden urge to touch him.
He gnawed mindlessly on a long piece of grass and was leaning in her direction with one arm propped behind his body. His sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and the weight of his body revealed every muscle of his forearm, his prominent veins bubbling up and through his skin like tiny tributaries flowing with masculinity.
When she'd finished tracing the lines of his arm, her eyes lifted.
Boone was watching her.
Hannah caught her breath.
He held her stare. Longer than he'd meant to.
Her lips parted and her head tipped slightly to one side.
His heartbeat quickened and a shot of adrenaline jolted through his body. And then it hit him. She was no longer a little girl.
It took every last bit of his energy to pull himself away from her gaze. She was so enticing, so invigorating. But he also knew she was really vulnerable.
He rubbed the palms of his hands together and then offered her his hand. "Ready little lady?"
His fingers wrapped around her hand like an oversized glove. His touch sent warm and pleasant tingles down her spine.
She'd never thought of Boone as anything but a brother… but now Hannah wasn't exactly sure what he was to her.
Something had happened between them she couldn't quite define.
And she could tell he felt it too.
Her hand sent flames right down his throat and straight into his gut. He let go before he was tempted to linger.
Hannah was surprised at how disappointed she was when he unclasped his fingers from hers.
She dusted off her backside and forced herself to sweep away thoughts she didn't quite understand, thoughts she chalked up to her heightened emotional state.
"Well, where are we headed?" she asked, trying to distract herself.
