the expanse of the living room that challenge he had sensed earlier reared up. If she was staying at the refuge as its manager, then he would have to find a way for this situation to work. He didn’t want the kids to feel any animosity between him and Hannah. They’d had enough of that in their short lives. Before he left tonight, he would find out exactly why she was wary of him.
Chapter Three
Hannah stood in the entrance into the living room and observed the children interacting with Jacob. She hadn’t intended to stay and watch them play, but for some reason she couldn’t walk away. Jacob had a way with the kids, as if he knew exactly where they were coming from and could relate to them on a level she didn’t know she would ever reach.
The bottom line: he was good with them. Very good.
When the trip to the zoo had come up at dinner, she hadn’t wanted Jacob to come. Now though, she saw the value in him being a part of the outing.
A fact: if she stayed, Jacob would be in her life whether she wanted him to or not. She was a realist, if nothing else, and she would come to terms with her feelings concerning him for the children’s sake.
Andy yawned and tried to cover it up with his palm over his mouth. When he dropped his hand away, however, his face radiated with a smile as Jacob directed a comment to him.
“Gotcha! Sorry but you’ve got to go back to the start, buddy.” Jacob triumphantly removed Andy’s peg from its slot and put it at the beginning.
Gabe took his turn and brought one of his pieces home. He pumped the air and shouted his glee. “I’ve only got one more out. I’m gonna win!”
Hannah needed to check to see if the others were doing their homework. But she found she couldn’t leave. There was something about Jacob that kept her watching—after years of hating the man for what he’d done to her family.
At Gabe’s next turn he jumped up and pranced about in a victory dance as if he’d crossed the goal line. “I finally won!”
Andy tried to grin but couldn’t manage it. Instead he blinked his eyes open wide and yawned again—and again.
Hannah entered the room. “Gabe, please put the game up. It’s time for bed.”
“But we haven’t played enough.” Gabe stopped, a pout pushing his lips out.
Jacob began removing the pegs from the board. “You’d better do as she says or I might not get to read you a story. If there’s not enough—”
Gabe leaped toward the table and scrambled to put up the game. Andy’s head nodded forward. Nancy stifled her own yawn.
Hannah made her way to Andy’s side and knelt next to him. “Time for bed.”
His head snapped up, his eyes round as saucers. “No. No, another game. I haven’t won yet.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to wait for another day.” Hannah straightened.
“Andy, I’ll make you a promise, and you know I don’t go back on them. The next time I’m here, we’ll play any game you want.” Jacob stood and moved to the boy, saying to Hannah, “Here, I’ll take him to his room,” then to Andy, “I think everything has finally caught up with you, buddy. You’ve been great! I can’t believe you went this long. Most kids would have been asleep hours ago after the day you had.”
As Jacob scooped up the eight-year-old into his arms and headed to the boys’ side of the house, Andy beamed up at him, then rested his head on Jacob’s shoulder.
After hurriedly putting the game away, Gabe raced to catch up with them. “We share a room.”
Nancy looked sleepily up at Hannah. “I want a story, too.”
“How about if I read one to you? You get ready for bed while I check on the others finishing their homework.”
Nancy plodded toward the girls’ side while Hannah went back into the dining room where Terry and Susie were the only ones still doing their work. “How’s it coming?”
Susie looked up, a seriousness in her green eyes. “We’re almost done.”
“Need any help?”
“Nope.” After scratching his fingers through his red hair, Terry erased an answer to a math problem on his paper. “Susie had this last year in school. She’s been helping me.”
Leaving the two oldest children, Hannah walked to Nancy’s room and found the little girl in her pajamas, stretched out asleep on her twin bed’s pink coverlet. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor beside her. Her roommate was tucked under her sheets, sleeping, too. Hannah gently pulled the comforter from under Nancy and covered her, then picked up the child’s clothes and placed them on a chair nearby.
With the youngest girls in bed, Hannah made her way to the boys’ side to see how Gabe and Andy were doing. The evening before, her first night in the cottage, both of them had been a handful to get to bed. Even with Andy half asleep, Jacob could be having trouble.
Sure, Hannah, she asked herself, is that the real reason you’re checking on them?
At the doorway she came to a halt, her mouth nearly dropping open at the scene before her. Andy was in bed, lying on his side, desperately trying to keep his eyes open as he listened to the story Jacob was reading. The doctor lounged back against Gabe’s headboard with the boy beside him, holding the book on his lap and flipping the pages when Jacob was ready to go on to the next one. Neither child was bouncing off the walls. Neither child was whining about going to bed. Jacob’s voice was calm and soothing, capable of lulling them to sleep with just the sound of it.
Cathy is right. Jacob would make a good father.
That thought sent a shock wave through her. She took a step back at the same time Jacob peered up at her, the warmth in his gaze holding her frozen in place. For several seconds she stared at him, then whirled and fled the room. She didn’t stop until she was out on the porch. The night air cooled her face, but it did nothing for the raging emotions churning her stomach.
How could she think something like that? For years she had hated Jacob Hartman. In her mind he wasn’t capable of anything good. Now in one day her feelings were shifting, changing into something she didn’t want. She felt as though she had betrayed her family, the memory of her brother.
Her legs trembling, she plopped down on the front steps and rubbed her hands over her face. Lord, I’m a fish out of water. I need the water. I need the familiar. Too much is changing. Too fast.
She leaned back, her elbows on the wooden planks of the porch, and stared up at the half-moon. Stars studded the blackness. No clouds hid the beauty of a clear night sky. The scent of rich earth laced the breeze. Everything exuded tranquility—except for her tightly coiled muscles and nerves shredded into hundreds of pieces.
She’d lived a good part of her life dealing with one change after another—one move after another, the accidental death of her husband after only one year of marriage. She had come to Cimarron City finally to put down roots and hopefully to have some permanence in her life. Instead I’m discovering more change, more disruption.
“Hannah, are you all
