2. Hannah
2
Hannah
Hannah cursed herself for being so careless. Hadn’t her dad always scolded her, telling her to slow down and watch where her tornado landed? She had tried to forget that her dad had referred to her as a walking tornado multiple times during her childhood—needing to touch down everywhere she could—but it was hard.
Now look at what she’d done. She could almost hear her mom’s exasperated sigh.
Hannah stared at the paint-splattered sidewalk and groaned. At least not many kids requested orange. There was no saving any of it. She grabbed the empty container and headed for the front doors to find water and a trash can. Hopefully, she could find out the guy’s name too.
She stopped short. He didn’t want anything to do with her. He hadn’t said as much, but she could tell. His disgusted, disgruntled expression had spoken volumes.
Hannah started toward the building anyway. She had to at least try. She filled up the empty can with water from the nearest water spigot that the blood-drive organizer had pointed out, washed away the paint from the cement, and then dropped the empty container in the trash. Then she found the nearest bathroom and cleaned herself up before approaching the front desk.
The main receptionist of Glen Clinic stared with wide eyes as she gestured Hannah forward. Hannah looked down at her waterlogged clothes and tucked her paint-speckled arms behind her back and smiled.
“Can I help you?” The lady stood up as if Hannah were a threat.
“Yes, um, I splattered a guy with paint, and I think he works here. I was hoping I could apologize to him.”
Understanding trickled through the receptionist’s expression. “Ah, I saw him come inside. That was Jason. I wondered what had happened.”
Jason. His name seemed fitting. A little rigid. Conforming. He hadn’t even broken a smile when she had tried to laugh it off.
The receptionist looked Hannah over. “You must be doing the event outside.”
“Yep, and I have to get back to it. But before I do, where can I contact him? Does he work on this floor? I’ll bring him a new shirt tomorrow to replace his ruined one.”
“Jason is the assistant office manager on the fifth floor. I can get him if you’d li—”
“No, no,” Hannah said, cutting her off. The man needed some time to cool off... and to change. “As long as I know where he works, I can contact him another time.”
The woman nodded. “Anything else I can do?”
“Nope.” Hannah reached over and patted the woman’s soft skin. “Thanks for your help.”
The woman jerked her hand back in disgust before realizing what she had done. “Sorry, knee jerk reaction from working during germ season in a doctor’s office.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. I tend to touch people when I talk.” She looked at her spotted hands and frowned. “Sorry, that never comes out right. I did wash my hands in the bathroom, but sometimes paint doesn’t come off for a few days.”
“No problem. Have a nice day.” The woman gave a nervous laugh and then pumped a few squirts of disinfectant into her hands and vigorously rubbed them together.
“Sorry again.” Hannah backed up, holding her hands out in front of her, and then turned when she heard the automatic front doors whoosh open.
What a day, and she had only just started.
When she returned to her face-painting tent, Gretel was waiting for her.
“There you are.” Gretel Marshall, the organizer of the event who had hired her, stepped toward Hannah. “A whole group of kids just showed up, and they’re all asking for you. Hurry.”
“Sorry, I had a little spill,” she said, “but that’s exciting.”
Gretel grinned and straightened her blood donor T-shirt. “Yes, well the kids have been very satisfied with your art. You’re quite creative.”
“Thank you.” Hannah beamed all the way back to her stool where a long line of kids waited for her, many of them from her PE classes.
“Miss Hannah, we’ve been waiting for you,” one of them called.
She could see the relief in their parents’ faces. “Sorry for the holdup everyone.” She looked at the first kid in line and smiled. “You made it, Adrian.”
He was a first grader who loved her class more than any subject in school. Most kids did—another reason why she etched hours out of her week to do some part-time work at the school .
“Hi, Miss Hannah.” He dropped his adoring gaze and bit back a smile.
Hannah squatted next to him and held both of his shoulders. “What would you like me to draw?”
He lifted his chin and met her eyes. “A dragon,” he said without hesitation.
She nodded and grabbed the black paint from her cart. “All right, then. Settle yourself in my chair and buckle up. You’re about to get a whole lot fiercer.”
She loved the feel of thick paint on her hands, especially when it dried and caked on her skin.
Just as she shifted the paintbrush to his face, she saw Jason in the distance. No longer wearing a paint-splattered shirt, he headed for the parking lot, a bag of something in his hands. Now that he was far enough away, she could really study him. He was... so handsome. He looked in her direction and frowned. Tall, dark, and handsome, but worry lines were etched into his forehead, giving him an intensity she rarely saw in men.
Her cheeks burned, and she turned away, sure he was searching for someone else. By the time she looked back, he was gone.
While Hannah was packing up her supplies a few hours later, Gretel pulled her aside.
“Thanks for coming today, Hannah. Are you interested in future events? We have a fair coming up this summer.”
With school ending in a few months, she would need a job or two to keep her busy. “Oh, that sounds fun. Yes, I’m interested.”
“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a hit? We got the most donations from your crowd, and the blood drive was packed.”
“Well, I appreciate the opportunity. I rarely get to paint these days, so it’s nice to brush up on my skills.”
“You’re really a Jill of all trades, and your students adore you. How were you able to get away from your classes? Did you have a sub?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s just part-time work. I fill in for PE teachers around the city when they need me, and I have my own class three times a week in the mornings.”
“It must be nice.”
“It is.” She wheeled the cart next to her out of the way and then reached over and hugged her new friend close. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
“Oh,” Gretel said, taken aback.
“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” She was more than just a hugger—she was a seeker of touch. Her psychologist called it a sensory seeker or a craver. She didn’t like those terms as much and refused to go to therapy after being diagnosed.
“Oh, that’s all right. It was just surprising. You’re such a darling person.”
“Thank you.” That wasn’t something she heard very often, at least not from people she barely knew. Most people, like Jason, were turned off by her forwardness.
“I’ll be in touch,” Gretel called to her before she left.
Hannah waved one last time and headed to her car, a sleek red Buick that she’d bought off a friend months ago. Even though it was ten years old, it was in mint condition and had barely been driven.
Before she reached her car, she passed the clinic’s front door and paused. A hiring sign was posted on the grass. Part-time office assistant position, hmm? I wonder if they would work with my schedule. She made a mental note to get online that night and apply. Another steady part-time job was just what her bank account needed. Plus, she’d never tried her hand at office work. Could be fun.
She stuffed her art cart in the back of her car with the rest of the miscellaneous supplies she needed for odd jobs and headed to the Carters’ house. On Tuesday and Thursday, she walked their two large mastiffs in the evenings. She really was a Jill of all trades, and because it satisfied her needs, she filled her schedule with odd jobs that kept her life in constant motion.
On her drive over to the Carters’, she thought about which recipe she wanted to try out, not wanting to wait too long before she brought a treat to Jason. She probably had enough in her account to buy him a nice shirt, and with a batch of freshly baked lemon macarons, she was sure she’d win his forgiveness. And while the cookies were baking, she could fill out her application.
Turning the rock music up loud, she smiled and sped down the highway with the windows rolled down and the wind blowing in her face.
It was great to be alive.
A few hours later, she pulled into her parking spot and turned off the engine. She spotted a neighbor across the lot and scrambled to get out of her car. “Hey, Christina.”
Christina spun around and waved when she realized it was Hannah. “Hey, Hannah.”
When they were only a few feet apart, Hannah asked about Christina’s mother who’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few months ago.
“This week is worse than last. I caught her stuffing socks in the microwave.”
“Cold feet?” Hannah asked with a grin .
She laughed. “She’s a little old to be getting married, but yeah. I’m not sure what was going through her mind. I just have to endure a few more weeks, and then she’ll have around-the-clock care. We were just approved at the nursing home down the street.”
“That’s great. I’m making macarons tonight, and I’ll bring some over tomorrow.”
Christina held her arms out and hugged Hannah. “You’re the best neighbor.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“No, I mean it. The guy who lives at the end of this townhouse community is the biggest grouch. He barely even waves to me from his car, and I rarely see him outside.”
“Hmm,” Hannah said more to herself. She hadn’t ever noticed the man. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for him.”
“If anyone can butter him up, it’s you. Now, you better go shower. You’ve got paint everywhere.”
“Right? I had a blast painting all those cute faces.”
“Call me if you have time for a walk later tomorrow. I have it off.”
“Will do.”
Hannah turned and glanced at her car. Her paints could stay where they were. It had been months since she had pulled them out, and she was sure she could incorporate them into a PE class. Mrs. Ann, the art teacher at one of the schools where she worked, would probably be thrilled she was incorporating art into her lessons.
Hannah had heard her pet bird before she’d even exited the car. Her blue parakeet squawked at her from the moment she opened the front door until the moment she filled the food tin with seeds.
“All right, Tweety, hold your horses,” she said, taking the little blue parakeet from her fingers and transferring her to the tin’s edge. “Eat some dinner. ”
She laid her keys on the counter and winced as she looked around. The house was a mess, as it usually was when she was in a hurry. When was she ever not in a hurry? Pancake batter was all over the counter, and the jam mess she’d made the previous week still decorated the counters and floors. But for now, she needed a shower and then macarons. If she had time between baking and applying for the new job, she’d clean.
After a quick scrub in the shower, she headed to the kitchen in a long T-shirt that reached to her knees. After she turned on her computer, she gathered ingredients and whistled as she threw everything together. She’d made macarons so many times that she no longer needed a recipe. In fact, when she didn’t use one, her treats always turned out better. She made a double batch with plans to bring the extras to Christina and her mom and Mr. Jensen, who’d just had foot surgery.
macarons made everything better.
While the cookies baked, she filled out the office assistant application, making sure to list her many references. Since high school, she had never held a job longer than a few years. Not because she didn’t love it, but because she loved trying new things. A full-time job would take too much of her time, and there were so many things yet to try. During the Christmas season, she’d waitressed at a local diner, and before that, she’d made candles at a factory downtown. Life was full of experiences, and she was bound and determined to have as many as she could.
Just as the timer dinged on the stove, she submitted her application. “All right, I’m on a roll.” She put her goodies on the counter to cool and then set another timer to clean.
Hannah lived in an organized mess and rarely deep cleaned her house. But every night, she set a timer on her phone and attacked her messes for ten minutes. She didn’t do things habitually very often, but the timer was a necessary evil, especially with a messy bird who loved to pick up random things in her house and move them around. In her ten minutes, she washed all the baking bowls she’d used in the last few days, straightened the front room, and gathered a load of laundry and started it. The jam was still there, there were plenty of other unwashed dishes, and cleaned clothes lay in baskets, waiting to be put away. But those things would have to wait. She yawned and headed to her room.
The next day was Friday, and since no subbing jobs had come in, she only had to do her newspaper route—the job she’d held the longest—and then the rest of the day would be hers. There were lesson plans to write, clothes to put away, and cookies to deliver, but first... sleep.