Chapter 20 – Michael
Chapter Twenty
MICHAEL
“ W hat can I get you?” I crouch next to my king-sized bed, where Katie and I have gotten Hannah settled under a pile of blankets.
She smiles at me—which seems to take a lot of effort since she’s clearly in pain. “This is good. Thank you.”
“We can watch a movie,” Katie says.
I’m about to tell her that we need to let Hannah rest—since she wanted to be alone last time, I assume she wants that again—but Hannah speaks up.
“A movie sounds great. What do you want to watch?”
My jaw drops, but I quickly close it and try to hide my flurry of emotions. I’m glad that she decided to come home with us, as I’ll be able to keep a close eye on her. Plus, she shouldn’t have to leave bed to get herself things. And the whole matter with her aunt is another boatload of issues. What does it say that Hannah didn’t feel comfortable enough going home with Carol?
“Anything Disney,” Katie says. “I’ll go get my DVDs.”
She hurries out of the room, and I take advantage of the stolen moment. “You okay?” I ask Hannah.
“Yeah.” She smiles from her mountain of pillows. “I’ll be better after some rest.”
“I mean, when it comes to your aunt.” My jaw tightens. The way Carol acted at the hospital was uncalled for. As a parent myself, I get it; she’s worried about her niece.
Hannah isn’t eleven, though, like Katie. She’s a grown woman who’s been managing her health on her own for years now. Carol’s help was only making the situation more stressful. I could see it in Hannah’s pinched face, in how she seemed to grow even weaker every time Carol spoke up.
“I feel bad.” She lowers her gaze. “Not going home with her. I just…” Her voice cracks. “She tries to help, but sometimes it’s too much, you know?”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I reach for her hand. “I get it. I know that her intentions are coming from a place of love. I can also see how they can cause more burden than help.”
“Yeah.” She sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “I’ve never pushed her away like that.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“I am, though.” She twists her lips.
I stroke my thumb across the top of her hand. “It’s okay to take breaks from people. I can tell that she just doesn’t understand the effect she’s having.”
“I should tell her.” She blinks at the ceiling.
“Another time.” I wrap it up at the sound of Katie’s approaching footsteps. “Right now, you need to take it easy.”
She lifts her head, smiles at me. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” I say just as Katie walks into the room. “For trusting me enough to come here.”
Her gaze softens, and there’s so much more in her expression waiting to come out, but Katie is climbing onto the bed with a stack of DVDs.
“Which one?” Katie spreads the movies out across the bed.
“That one.” Hannah points, and Katie gets to work popping in the DVD.
“You should probably eat some dinner.” I resist the urge to brush hair off Hannah’s forehead, not wanting to hurt her by touching her the wrong way. “How about potato soup? I’ll order delivery from the deli.”
This time, her smile lights up the room. “That would be delicious. Thank you.”
I leave the room to place the order while she and Katie start the movie. It’s not until I’ve arranged the delivery and I’m in the middle of doing the dishes that are in the sink that I realize just how nerve-racking this whole evening has been.
Not only was I concerned about Maya, but setting foot in the hospital was a whole other experience. The last time I was there, it was when my dad died.
And then there’s Hannah flaring, which is enough to make me sick with worry. And then, on top of that is Carol’s response to Hannah’s flare.
But at least everyone is okay now, and there was one bright spot to being in the hospital—seeing Hannah teaching everyone in the waiting room how to knit.
She has a way with people, which she might not even be aware of. While her anxiety comes to the surface during most interactions, she’s clearly in her element when teaching. She knows how to make a community, how to bring the light to even the darkest, scariest place—like a hospital waiting room.
And all by being herself.
Or maybe…
I pause, hands in the soapy water.
Maybe that’s just how she makes me feel, like the world isn’t as heavy as I once thought it was, like there’s something wonderful to be found in each and every day.
The doorbell rings with our delivery, my time for reflection over. Drying off my hands, I head to the door.
But it’s not our dinner. It’s Carol.
She stands tall, her chin tipped up. “Hi, Michael.”
“Hey…Carol.” I consider inviting her in—that would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?—but if Hannah hears her voice, she’ll become even more stressed. “Hannah is resting.”
She nods, but her shoulders tighten even more until they nearly reach her ears. My heart nearly cracks in two, because it’s like I see her for the first time. Or, rather, feel her. Feel what she’s going through.
“Would you like to have a chat?” I gesture at the chairs on the front porch.
She’s stiff as she lowers herself to sit, hands shaking. “This was a bad idea.”
“Actually…” I sit in the metal chair next to her, one with peeling paint that I picked up at the secondhand shop. “She’s happy over here. She’s getting some quiet.”
“No. I apologize. I don’t mean coming to your house. I mean… Coming to Pine Island. Opening this shop.” She sniffs. “It’s more than someone in her condition can manage.”
“I think Hannah is more resilient than you give her credit for,” I say, aware that I’m nearly parroting what Jenny said to me about Katie. “She can handle a lot. She has been handling a lot. Knit Happens is a huge success.”
“Yes, but at what expense?” She gives me a sharp look.
I stretch out my legs, considering how best to answer. “If you’re anything like me, or most parents, then Hannah is your number one priority. Am I right?”
She doesn’t skip a beat. “Of course.”
“She told me a little bit… About her mom passing, and her going to live with you. How you taught her how to knit, then came and looked at the storefront for her when she was sick… That’s more than most parents would do.”
“She needs me.” She frowns, worry lines forming between her eyebrows.
“I won’t argue that, but is it possible that she doesn’t need you as much as you think?”
Carol gazes into my dark yard, and I’d like to think she’s considering my words.
“What do you mean?” she finally asks.
“The last time Hannah flared, we were out together. I drove her home. She could barely walk. I wanted to come inside with her.” My chest tightens in pain. “So badly. I wanted to take care of her, but she wouldn’t let me. I don’t know, maybe she didn’t want me to see her that way… The point is, she took care of herself. I stayed by my phone for days, ready to run over there if she needed a thing. And she never did. She was good.”
Carol twists one of her rings around and around. I take it as my invitation to go on.
“Hannah appreciates everything you’ve done for her. She has nothing but good things to say about you. And while the fibromyalgia does mean she needs extra care, for the most part, she’s able to provide that for herself.”
Carol cocks her head at me. “You’re trying to tell me she’s flown the nest?” She laughs dryly. “And I’m holding her back, clipping her wings?”
I just look at her. It’s probably best if I don’t answer that.
She seems to do that for herself anyway, because she sighs and looks at her lap. “She’s here, at your house, because of me. She doesn’t want to be with me.”
“She doesn’t want to be babied,” I correct.
Carol lifts her head and murmurs in agreement. “Here’s the thing about kids. You’ll see this eventually. They ‘grow up’ technically, but to their parents, they’ll always be little. Someone to be protected at all costs.”
“And that’s why you’re one of the best parents in the world.” I mean it one hundred percent.
She dabs at the corners of her eyes. “I need to apologize to her. Not now, of course.”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow that you came by.”
She stands. “I would appreciate that.” She takes a step toward the yard then pauses. “You’re a good man, Michael. I’m glad Hannah met you.”
Emotion clogs my throat—God, I hope she’s right, hope I can be the man Hannah needs—so I just nod.
Carol slips into the night, and I watch her car’s headlights journey down the road. Standing, I brush the paint off my jeans, remind myself to get some proper chairs once I have the time, and head inside.
I’ve barely closed the door when I hear another car pull up, though. Our dinner has arrived.
Tipping the driver and grabbing the bags, I dish up the soup and breadsticks and find a serving tray to carry it all on.
Following the sounds of Katie’s and Hannah’s laughter, I walk across the living room and peek into the bedroom. They’re sitting up in bed, watching the newest Disney movie.
An unexpected wave of emotion hits me, so fast and hard that I almost drop the tray.
This is it. What I’ve been missing out on all these years.
And what Katie has been missing out on as well.
The two of us have been a good team, but something has always been lacking, as much as I didn’t want to admit it. I’ve wanted a woman around, and Katie has needed that as well.
Could this be it? What they call the real deal?
Hannah letting us stay with her this evening suggests that she’s seeing it too. The first time she started flaring around me, she couldn’t shut the door in my face fast enough. And now…
She’s showing me the most sensitive part of her life. Trusting me with it.
And I get it. I see why she has to plan everything out, why she always has to measure her spoons. I also see why she hides it to some degree—not everyone is understanding.
But I can be. Hell, I can be more than understanding.
I can embrace this part of life. Work with it.
If she’ll let me.
Katie notices me hovering outside the doorway. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, nothing. Just didn’t want to interrupt what looked like a good part.”
I busy myself with distributing the food, and the three of us sit together, eating and watching the movie. I don’t register one thing that happens on the screen, though. For me, it’s all about who’s in this room with me. These two people are the most important ones in the world—it doesn’t matter that I’ve only known Hannah a handful of weeks.
She feels like family. Like the place I’ve been aching for all these years.
Finished with her soup, Katie snuggles under a throw between Hannah and me, her eyelids getting heavy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hannah smiling. Despite her pain and exhaustion, she’s happy.
Just as happy as I am right now?
The thought makes my heart so full, it nearly bursts from my chest.
Catching me watching, Hannah looks at me.
I love you , I silently mouth.
She gazes at me for a long moment. I don’t expect her to say it back. I simply couldn’t keep it in any longer, couldn’t keep walking around with her not knowing.
I love you, she mouths back.
We hold our gaze, and I’m sure that life continues on around us. People go to work. They walk their dogs. Pay their bills. Watch the sunset.
But if that’s happening, I wouldn’t know it. For me, the whole world is right here, right in front of me.