she was playing near the fence that separated the two properties, and Caleb had a feeling this time she would talk to him.
The thought of connecting with her filled him with incredible anticipation and an equal amount of dread. Everything he’d done in the past month had been in the hope of making contact with Hannah Marie Clemmons.
When he’d arrived in St. Louis two weeks ago, he’d rented a motel room, only intending to drive by the house where she lived, hoping to see her alive and well, playing like any other normal, healthy five-year-old. He’d thought that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
It had been on one of his drive-bys that he’d noticed the big old two-story house next to the one where the little girl lived, was for sale. His reasons for buying it were twofold. First and foremost, it offered immediate proximity to Hannah. Secondly, his hands had itched to turn the handyman’s nightmare into something regal and wonderful again. In the past year, he’d gotten so caught up in the running of his business, he’d forgotten how much he loved to build…to do the physical labor of transformation.
He’d needed a vacation from the business, had needed to get back to what he loved. And this house, neglected and in total disrepair, offered such an opportunity. He figured he’d renovate the house, and sell it when he decided it was time to return to his life in Chicago.
“Hey, mister.”
Caleb looked up from the four-by-six he’d been measuring.
She stood at the fence. “Could you get my ball?” She pointed to the ball, which rested near where he’d been working.
“Sure.” Caleb’s fingers trembled as he picked up the bright red globe. This would be his first, really up-close look at her. He walked to where she stood at the fence.
Brown eyes. He’d hoped they’d be blue…as blue as the spring sky overhead…as blue as his Katie’s. Hannah was a pretty little girl, with gamine features framed by a curtain of long, dark hair. The utter antithesis of blond-haired, blue-eyed Katie.
As he handed her the ball, the familiar weight of grief crushed against his chest. What he wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms, breathe deeply into her hair, see if she smelled like Katie…that wonderful blend of sunshine and little girl.
“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile, then she turned and ran back toward the tiny house where Caleb knew she lived with her mother.
The agony inside his chest expanded as he watched her go. The little girl who lived because his little girl had died.
Caleb wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the renewal of the anguish of loss. He stumbled through the back door of the house, half-blinded by tears he’d thought he no longer had the capacity to cry. Sinking into a chair at the table, he drew in deep, steadying breaths, wondering if this all wasn’t an incredible mistake on his part.
He hadn’t realized it would be so hard. Where was the healing, the closure he’d come here to find? Maybe his expectations had been too high. After all, grief was a long process. Surely he couldn’t expect to be healed by a single meeting with Hannah.
Time. That was what he needed. Time to get to know Hannah, who was forever bound to him through a miracle of modern medicine.
He didn’t want to tell Hannah or her mother about his connection to them. His grief was private, and far too big a burden for them to bear.
He’d come here to meet them with two goals in mind. The first was his need to witness that Hannah Clemmons’s life was good, that she had all the things he’d ever wanted Katie to have.
The second reason was his longing to find out what the heart remembered. When the doctors had taken Katie’s heart and placed it into Hannah’s chest, had any memories been transferred, did pieces of Katie’s soul somehow migrate into Hannah? He knew the very idea was probably crazy, but it was a hope he hadn’t been able to let go of until he discovered the truth for himself.
The next afternoon he was once again working on the porch when Hannah came out into her backyard. She didn’t even pretend to be playing catch, but rather walked right up to the fence and offered him a sunny smile.
“Did you buy that house?” she asked.
Caleb nodded. “I sure did.”
“It’s a wreck,” she said with childish candor.
He smiled. “Yes, it is. But, I’m fixing it.”
“It’s a big house. It’s gonna take lots of fixing.” She smiled again. “What’s your name?”
“Caleb. Caleb McMann.”
“I’m Hannah. Hannah Marie Clemmons. And my mommy’s name is Erica.”
Caleb walked over to where she stood at the fence. Just like yesterday he felt a curious mix of interest and anxiety. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Hannah.”
She giggled, and the sound of girlish joy wrapped around Caleb’s heart and squeezed painfully tight. Did all little-girl laughter hold that special timbre of gaiety, that sense of utter elation?
She sobered and eyed him curiously. “Are you going to build a tree house in that tree?” She pointed to the old oak that towered over his backyard.
Caleb tilted his head and looked speculatively at the tree. “Now that you mention it, those thick limbs make a perfect place for a little tree house, don’t they?”
Hannah nodded. “One with real windows and pink curtains, and you’d let me come over and play in it anytime I wanted.”
A burst of laughter erupted from Caleb, surprising him. Maybe he would build her that tree house she dreamed of. After all, he had time on his hands and it would obviously make Hannah happy. And that was what this was all about, right? It had been almost a year since he’d had anything to laugh about. It felt good…natural.
“Hannah.”
They both looked toward Hannah’s house, where a young woman stepped out the back door. The first thing Caleb noticed about her was her hair, a long curtain of dark strands that gleamed with red highlights in the afternoon light.
“That’s my mommy,” Hannah explained.
As the woman drew closer, Caleb saw the immediate physical resemblance between mother and daughter. Like Hannah, Erica Clemmons had petite features and large eyes, only unlike Hannah’s, Erica’s were the blue of a summer’s day.
“Hannah, you shouldn’t be bothering people,” she admonished as she approached.
“I’m not bothering people,” Hannah protested. “I’m just talking to Mr. Man.”
“Hi. Caleb McMann.” Caleb held his hand out over the top of the fence.
She hesitated a moment, then shook the hand he offered. “Erica Clemmons.” She dropped her hand and placed it on Hannah’s shoulder. “I hope she hasn’t been bothering you.”
“Not at all,” he said hurriedly. He smiled at Hannah.
