Free What Happened to Hannah by Mary Kay McComas Page B

small foyer to exit in front of her father.
    But she stopped in front of Hannah first.
    “Sorry about before,” she said, quick and stiff. She met Hannah’s eyes and while the apology sounded sincere enough, she wasn’t entirely sorry for her outburst—and neither was Hannah.
    “I’m glad you said something, Lucy. I can’t solve a problem until I know what it is, right?”
    Her expression guarded, she lifted one shoulder in a most expressive shrug. “Whatever.”
    Whatever? Such an indeterminate word, yet the way she said it removed most of the ambiguity and left Hannah feeling like a failed diplomat.
    “Good night, ladies.” Grady gave both aunt and niece an encouraging nod before he followed Lucy out, pulling the door behind him.
    Hannah followed the door closed, her hand inches from the knob until it latched. She was suddenly alone with the lion. Automatically, she reached up to lock it. The dead bolt was tight and hard to turn.
    “I forgot. You don’t lock your doors here.”
    “Yes, we do. That one, we do. Gran’s always afraid someone will wander in off the road.” She stalled, realized she’d used the wrong tense, and swallowed the emotion that it evoked. “It’s probably stiff because we never use that door. We always left the back one unlocked.”
    “Okay.” That one word seemed to finalize the discussion. She scrambled. “Look, I meant what I said to Lucy, just now and at dinner. I want to be honest with you. I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m flying blind and feeling my way through this. Like you are, I imagine. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you. So, please, don’t leave it to me to guess at what you need or what you want. Chances are it might not even cross my mind. I don’t even know what time to have your breakfast ready in the morning. Or what to cook for that matter.”
    Anna looked a little worried, and desperate to take Hannah at her word. “I don’t . . . actually, eat a regular breakfast.”
    “You don’t. Well, see there? Problem solved. And we have something in common. It’s a twofer.” She grinned and watched the first thin layer of ice melt away from Anna’s protective coating—felt a layer of her own thawing as well. “I’m coffee and a piece of toast till noon.”
    “I’m toast and juice before I run and then I’m an apple and a protein shake on the bus. I make the shake.”
    “Great. I’ll make the apple.” She wondered if she should write things like this in a notebook. “Let’s try that again. I’m early to bed, early to rise.”
    “Makes a girl healthy, wealthy, and wise.” Anna grinned, and Hannah heard the rhyme echo in her mother’s voice.
    “You and I were clearly raised by the same woman.”
    “I like to read at night but I’m dead by ten, usually before,”
    “I’m right behind you, after the ten o’clock news. Except maybe tonight. I feel like it’s been a really long day. How about you?”
    She nodded. “Do you want me to lock up?”
    “Maybe you could show me the routine.”
    She bounced off the last step and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want to lock the back door?”
    “No. That’s all right.” Was it too much to hope for a burglar in the market for stuff? Lots and lots of stuff?
    “That’s about it,” she said, after checking on the coffeepot, turning out the lights in the kitchen and living room, and turning the heat down for the night as she’d been taught to do. “When Lucy stays over, Gran leaves this lamp on so she doesn’t kill herself coming down to the bathroom . . . she used to, leave it on.”
    “That’s a good idea. I’ll do it, too, for the first few nights at least.” She paused. “Anything else I should do?”
    Humor quirked the girl’s mouth and twinkled in her blue eyes. “Like reminding me to brush my teeth?” Hannah gave her head a feeble wag. “No. I’m good. Good night.”
    “Good night.” She watched the tops of the girl’s slim, muscled legs