Chapter 22 Thomas
THOMAS
Hannah is so cute. For a moment, I thought she was getting lost in her head in the barn. I watched as she pinched herself in what seemed like an attempt to bring herself back to the present, and her eyes took on this lost quality that scared me, but seeing Fern helped.
Hannah walks beside me, with Arson on her other side as we follow Ron and Dottie toward their front porch.
A sudden, rhythmic thumping echoes louder as it gets closer, and Ron turns on his heel, sticking out an arm without even looking.
A blur of dark feathers flies through my vision, and Arson barks, stumbling back into my legs.
When the motion stops, I can fully take in this ginormous bird.
It’s taller than my six-foot frame, with beady bright brown eyes and a sharp-looking beak.
Ron has his hand around its neck, not tightly, but enough to hold him back.
The bird makes a noise that can only be described as an echoing thumping from deep in his chest.
“This is Dave,” Ron explains, pushing the giant bird back.
Hannah presses herself into my chest, and my arms reflexively wrap around her.
She cowers into me at the sight of the large bird in front of us.
“He can be a little territorial, but once he gets to know you two and Arson, he will be your best friend, I promise. Now go on, get,” he says to the bird, who surprisingly listens, darting off toward the barn.
“He can be chaotic, but he’s a sweetheart,” Dottie says. She waves us toward her, heading up the creaking wooden steps. I unwrap myself from Hannah’s body, moving my palm to rest on her lower back again. We walk up the stairs as Dottie opens the front door for us.
When we walk in, a blast of cool air hits my skin, sending a shiver across my body. The entryway is small, with family photos hanging on the walls, as well as a few religious verses in fancy script.
We kick off our shoes and follow them into the kitchen. The kitchen has a lingering scent of coffee and bacon, the perfect combo. Ron gestures to the table, pulling out a chair for Dottie and Hannah. Hannah sits, glancing up to make sure I’m sitting next to her.
It’s moments like this where I can really see her anxiety shine through.
She mentioned to me earlier that she feels most comfortable when she’s with someone she knows well.
I hope that now, and hopefully in the future I can be one of those people for her, and not only because she has to lean on me, but because she knows she can.
I sit down beside her, scooting the chair closely so our thighs are almost touching. I put my arm around her shoulder, and notice that she relaxes ever so slightly.
“Coffee?” Ron asks, coming to the table with the pot and a few mugs.
“Please,” I confirm, and Hannah nods. He pours us all cups, and grabs the cream from the fridge, and a little container of sugar. Hannah pours a generous amount of cream into her coffee, adding a small scoop of sugar, while I do the opposite. Lots of sugar, not a lot of cream.
It’s these little details about her I log into my memory for the future.
“How long have you two been together?” Dottie asks as both Hannah and I take our first sip of coffee. Hannah sputters over her drink, and I pat gently between her shoulder blades.
“Sorry,” she says between her muffled coughs. “Swallowed wrong.”
To be fair, I wasn’t totally expecting her to ask that question, nor is it something that Hannah and I have discussed, so I choose to wing it.
“A few months. But, a lot of our relationship has been very private while we got to know each other. We only very recently got engaged.” I clear my throat at the end, hoping it conveys nonchalance, which I definitely don’t feel right now.
“A whirlwind romance,” Dottie says with a swooning sigh. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Ronnie?”
“Sure does,” Ron replies, leaning over to kiss his wife on the cheek.
Hannah has stopped coughing now and is leaning back in her chair. She’s looking at Ron and Dottie with fondness, a look I haven’t seen on her face before.
“We met when I was nineteen and he was twenty-two,” Dottie explains.
“Three months later, we were walking out of the courthouse with a signed marriage license. When you know, you know. Everyone who says it’s too fast, or that you don’t know each other well enough is simply jealous.
Love comes first, and the rest will fall into place. ”
Ron looks at his wife with so much love and adoration that I have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. That is the kind of love that I want, and it’s something that I hope I can have with the girl sitting next to me.
“That’s beautiful,” Hannah says, her voice soft with emotion.
“I have a feeling your love story will be just as beautiful,” Dottie says.
“Thank you,” I reply, completely genuine. “Are all the photos of your children?”
“They are,” Dottie replies proudly. “We have four children. Two boys, two girls, and eight grandchildren.”
“Wow,” Hannah breathes. “All of your kids have children, then?”
Ron shakes his head. “Our youngest, Fletcher, is still single. He plays hockey for a team in Minnesota. Maybe you’ll meet him. He’s coming for a visit in a few weeks.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I state. I’m curious to know what team he plays for, but Ron changes the subject, so I’ll ask later.
“How did you guys become a safe house?” I ask.
Ron chuckles under his breath. “It’s a long story.
I was in the FBI for most of my working years, and a lot of that time was spent traveling.
This place, my home, my family, was my safe haven.
When I retired, I knew I wanted to be able to provide that for people like you folks, so ever since then we help when we can.
Sometimes the timing doesn’t work out, but we’ve helped quite a few people throughout the years. ”
“Wow,” I breathe. “That’s amazing. Thank you so much. You’ve helped so many people.”
Ron shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”
We continue to chat for a while, and when I look at the clock next, it’s nearly noon. Arson has been sitting at our feet the whole time, but I can tell he’s getting antsy to get outside and explore, so it’s probably time to head back.
Hannah also looks like she’s dead-on-her-feet exhausted. “I think it’s time we head back to the cottage, don’t you, freckles? We are still getting caught up on our rest.”
“Oh, of course,” Dottie tuts, rising to her feet and collecting our mugs. Hannah stands slowly, letting out a yawn as she does.
As we head to the front door, I remember part of the reason I wanted to chat with them in the first place. “Say, do you two need some help around the farm while we are here?”
Ron raises his brow. “No, no, we are fine,” he responds. “You should take this time to relax, spend time with your love.”
I shake my head. “I mean, I’m going to take advantage of the time with her, for sure,” I say, taking Hannah’s hand in mine and leaning down to kiss her temple.
She tenses briefly, and I take note of that reaction before continuing, “but I also know it will be nice to put myself to work a bit. I can help with whatever you need. Cleaning stables, working on machines, handyman work, you name it. I like to be busy.”
“In that case, I may take you up on a few things,” Ron says with a chuckle, reaching out his palm to shake mine.
“My grandpa was a woodworker, so I grew up helping him in the shop. I’m good with my hands.” I raise my hand in a weird semi-jazz hand.
“Ooh, maybe Thomas can fix my jewelry box,” Dottie says, her voice raising in excitement.
“Absolutely,” I state. “My brother took over the business, so he’d be better at it, but I can patch it up, no problem.”
“I would appreciate that,” she replies. Arson whines quietly at my feet, and I take that as our cue.
“We should probably head out before this one ruins your rug.” I gesture to the front door. “Thanks again. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning and get to work.”
They try to protest, but I wave them off as Hannah and I walk out the front door. Arson darts to the first tree he spots, relieving his bladder.
“They’re so nice,” Hannah mumbles as we get further from the house. Arson follows, running ahead of us on the gravel path toward our cottage.
“They are,” I agree. My hand is still entwined in hers, and I’m hesitant to let go. I love every second of contact that I can have with her, and the thought of letting go hurts. “Do you want to take a nap? I think I need another few hours of sleep before I can fully feel like a human again.”
Hannah nods. “Yeah, a nap sounds good.”
I decide to bring up the couch. “If you want, I can take the couch from now on. I should have done that in the first place, but I was too tired to think straight last night.”
Hannah’s blue eyes dart up to mine in an instant. “Why would you take the couch?”
“Because you would probably be more comfortable sleeping alone?” I think back to the way she tensed earlier in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything other than that I was excited to spend more time with her, one-on-one, but perhaps it came across differently.
She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly.”
A flush burns my skin. Oh, does that mean she likes the thought of sleeping by me? The real question is, do I push a little and flirt? Or do I be cordial and thank her?
What can I say? I’ve always been a bit of a flirt.
“Aww, freckles. Does that mean you liked snuggling with me last night?” I watch the blush creep up her freckled chest and feel the slight twitch in her palm.
She clears her throat. “It makes more sense to share the bed, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” I murmur. “We can kick Arson to the floor tonight. He’s a bed hog.”
That gets a chuckle and a smile out of her. “Yeah, he kinda is. He was plastered to my body all night.”
“I feel bad, because that’s how he usually is with me,” I say. “Ever since he was a puppy, he has been a velcro sleeper.”