Guy didn’t seem to hear him. He touched the package of cookies.
“I think the ‘hello’ is all you’ll get out of him for now,” Hannah said. “He’s kind of shy around new people.”
Craig grinned at her. “Like mother, like son,” he said. “He has to be yours, he’s a great-looking kid.”
“Well, thanks,” Hannah said. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to thank you for handling that rude customer the other night. After saving my life, you just disappeared.”
“I wanted to make sure he didn’t try to go back in the store.”
“Well, anyway, thanks. I owe you big time.”
“Really? Then maybe you’ll let me take you out to dinner—or lunch?”
Hannah gave him a wry smile. “That was very sneaky.”
“Yeah, do you like how I just slipped it in there?”
She nodded. “Very smooth.”
“Mom, can I get out of here?” Guy asked.
“Here, let me,” Craig said. He quickly set down his shopping basket, then hoisted Guy out of the cart seat.
Hannah automatically reached out to take her son from him. She thought Guy might protest, but he seemed comfortable in Craig’s arms.
“So—you didn’t answer my question,” Craig said, rocking Guy a little. “How about dinner? If you need Guy to chaperon, the three of us could go to a family place, my treat.”
She laughed, then took Guy from him. “How about
Craig nodded. “We’ve got a date.”
Lunch with Craig Tollman; it would be her first date in over five years.
Hannah didn’t linger in the supermarket. She kept thinking she’d run into Craig again in one of the aisles, and she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to make small talk again, and she couldn’t stand the silences—even when they were fueled by an unspoken attraction. If she’d ever had any talent for flirting, she’d lost it long ago. Craig made her nervous. Now they had a date. Well, she’d deal with it on Wednesday, when the time came.
Walking home, Hannah carried two well-laden bags by the paper handles—certain to break at any minute. Guy struggled with his little plastic bag containing two rolls of paper towels. He was huffing and puffing as if he were lugging a bowling ball. “You sure that’s not too much for you, honey?” Hannah asked.
“I got it,” he said, his blond head tilted down.
“Let me know if you get tired,” she said.
Finally, he slung the bag over his shoulder, which seemed less awkward for him. After a moment, he asked, “Did Craig know my dad?”
Hannah hesitated. “Um, no, sweetie. Craig’s a friend of mine from the video store.”
“How did my dad die?”
“I’ve told you before, honey,” Hannah said. “He died in a car accident a couple of months before you were born.”
Guy nodded. “Oh, yeah.” He was quiet for a while.
Hannah walked a step behind, studying him.
She’d decided while in the hospital, recuperating from the beating Kenneth had given her, that in her new life she’d tell everyone that Guy’s father had died in a car accident. After all, a car crash was the excuse Kenneth had given for how she’d landed in Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Hospital.
The worst part of her hospital stay was the separation from her little boy. Guy was eighteen months old at the time, starting to talk and trying to get around on two feet. Every day was a new adventure for him, and she missed out on that. Hannah whiled away the days in that hospital bed making decisions about a whole new life for Guy and herself.
She had to run away with her son and start fresh someplace else. Seattle came to mind. The TV show
She would need money, of course. Her plan was to make gradual, intermittent withdrawals from their joint account and tuck the cash away. She figured it would take about eight months to save five thousand dollars.
She’d have to change her name, erase her past, and sever all connections. Kenneth and his family weren’t going to let her steal Guy away—not without an extensive search.
The more she planned her escape, the more obstacles she saw. Sometimes it seemed utterly pointless. And there was no one she could confide in. She had people visiting her in the hospital every day: Kenneth (on his best behavior), her in-laws, and Mrs. Woodley’s country-club friends. Nearly everyone on the hospital’s staff seemed to like Hannah, and they were always dropping by her room. People kept sending flowers and cards. She’d never felt so popular—or so alone.
No one wanted to hear what had really happened to land her in that hospital, bruised and broken.
During her last week there, she was starting to eat solid foods again. One afternoon, the Woodleys came with Guy and his nanny, and some of their country-club friends. They made a big deal of wheeling her to the second-floor lounge, where an outside terrace overlooked the park and the lake. Several hospital staff members joined in what turned out to be an unveiling.
From the terrace, they all watched Kenneth, looking very dapper in his blue suit. He waved to them from the street. Then, in a showy gesture, he pulled the parachute-like draping off a new-model red Jetta. Tied around the car was one of those ridiculous large gold bows—the type rich people put around gift cars in TV commercials.
Everyone applauded. Hannah tried to smile. But she was embarrassed. A couple of the nurses with them on the terrace were struggling to support families. Here she was, getting wheeled back and forth from her private room. And her in-laws were giving her an expensive new car to replace the one she was supposed to have smashed up.
Standing beside Hannah—and wheeling her around that afternoon—was a husky, brooding, Latino orderly named Juan. He didn’t applaud with the others. Of all the hospital staff, he was the only one who didn’t seem to like her very much. He was terse and sullen around her. Juan became more talkative when someone speaking Spanish was in their vicinity. Then he’d go on and on in his native tongue, and Hannah figured he was deriding her half the time. She wondered what “rich bitch” sounded like in Spanish.
Kenneth joined them on the terrace. He gave Juan a bottle of champagne to open, then started passing out paper cups. One of the doctors pointed out that it was against hospital regulations to drink on hospital property, but he cited this as a special occasion. Everyone except Juan toasted to Hannah’s remarkable recovery.
The celebration didn’t last long. The doctors and nurses were on duty, and Kenneth and his father had to return to work. Kenneth took her new car. Guy’s nanny announced that it was time for his nap. For a few minutes, Hannah was stuck on the terrace with Juan, her mother-in-law, and a couple of the country-club ladies. They were still talking about the new Jetta.
“Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty vision,” Mrs. Woodley said. “But I wish we’d have given her a nice new car last year, instead of that horrible old hand-me-down.
“I feel partly responsible for Hannah ending up in here,” she went on. “That piece of junk used to be my car. Well, you girls remember. I always had the worst time driving it. Poor Hannah, it’s really not her fault.”
Kenneth’s mother was still going on about it after she and her friends pecked Hannah on the cheek and said good-bye. Hannah sat in her wheelchair and gazed out at the choppy gray water. The sky was turning dark. She listened to Mrs. Woodley talking to her colleagues as they headed inside for the elevator: “I never should have given the old car to Hannah. That automobile had terrible brakes….”
“That automobile also had a mean right hook,” Juan muttered.
Hannah glanced up at him. “Pardon me?”
“It wasn’t the car that put you in here,” Juan growled. “I know, Mrs. Woodley. I know. I don’t blind myself like everyone else around here. I know the truth. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
