Chapter Fifteen

Hannah slept in fits and starts, pulling the covers up to her chin while she shivered, then kicked them off when she woke sweating. In an endless battle to conquer her demons, she remained in bed long after she knew there would be no more sleep for her that night. She hated admitting defeat.

With burning eyes and a heavy heart, she slipped on a Chenille robe and headed for the kitchen. She ran water into the coffee pot, then scooped grounds into the basket before setting it on the stove to percolate. The bag of coffee Mr. Hughes had given John was almost gone, but they had really enjoyed the reprieve from Postum. Although better than nothing, it really was a low quality substitute for real coffee.

While it brewed, she sat down at the small table and leaned her head forward to rest on her hands. With eyes closed, she rubbed her forehead and fought tears that threatened to take her current fuzzy, full-headed feeling and help it blossom into a full-fledged, splitting headache.

After John had called the previous night to say he’d be missing dinner because he had to work late, she’d gone to bed early and dreamed about him.

“Well, not a dream…more like a nightmare,” she muttered, shivering at the memory of a shadowy figure telling them they were in the mafia and there was nothing they could do about it. At one point, the faceless voice had called her his daughter and said the mafia was in her blood and it did no good to argue the fact.

Thank goodness it had only been a dream, but even now, her thoughts kept returning to John and his denial that he was part of anything to do with the mafia.

He can’t be part of the mob. He just can’t.

He was gentle and caring. But was he also a good actor?

When the coffee’s strong aroma filled the apartment, she stood to pour a cup, then cradled it between both hands and held it under her nose before taking several deep breaths.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon. Fortunately, her boss was understanding when she’d called the afternoon before and arranged a second day off. Now, she could relax with her coffee. The apartment needed to be dusted, and she needed to do laundry, but not today. During the sleepless night, she’d come to a decision, and now wasn’t the time to start procrastinating.

With cup in hand, she headed for the bathroom to wash her face and put on enough makeup to hide at least the worst of the restless hours before slipping on a pair of slacks and an over-sized white shirt.

She ran a brush through her hair, smiling at herself in the mirror to see the final effect, then groaned aloud. “This is as good as it’s going to get.”

After refilling her cup and pouring one for John, she slipped out of her apartment and crossed the hall to knock on his door. She almost took a step back when the door immediately swung inward, and he stood there, larger than life and twice as angry.

“Oh, sorry. I…come in.” He smiled when she held out the second cup of coffee. “Please tell me this is for me and you’re not just teasing me with that wonderful smell.” He accepted the cup after she nodded. “Care to sit on the sofa or at the table?”

“It doesn’t matter.” But she headed for the sofa and perched on its edge, holding her cup in one hand and running a finger around the rim with the other. “I um…how are you this morning?”

He released a breath and chuckled softly. “I didn’t sleep well, if you must know. I was concerned about you.” He settled down on the opposite end, turning slightly to face her. “You don’t appear to have slept well either. Are you feeling okay?”

She shrugged, taking a sip of coffee before continuing. “I went down to the county building yesterday, looking for a copy of my birth certificate to see who was listed as my father.” She relaxed the grip on the cup when he focused intently on her, concern etched in his slight frown.

“Did you find it?”

“No. My mother put ‘unknown’ on the line instead of my father’s name.”

He only nodded.

“So, then,” she continued, sucking in a breath and holding it a moment before delivering the next bit of evidence that condemned her mother. “I checked for a marriage license for my mother and the man she said had been my father. There wasn’t one. Last, I called the police department and asked them to check their records, but the lady couldn’t find a Charles Montgomery,” she finished with a sigh.

John reached for her cup and, along with his, set them on the coffee table before reaching for her hand and tugging until she scooted closer. Wrapped in his arms, she leaned against his body, allowing his strength to hold her steady and help block out the prior day’s disappointments. He radiated heat that seeped in and warmed her chilled skin. With her eyes closed against the world’s ugliness and hurt, she slid her arms up around his neck and nuzzled her nose against the softness of his neck. He smelled of shave cream.

She leaned away slightly and studied his clean jawline. “You already shaved this morning. You don’t have to leave early for work, do you?”

“No, but I planned to stop by your apartment and check on you, then I was going to walk down to the corner diner and have breakfast. I didn’t have the inclination or energy to make my own. Do you have enough time to go with me? I’d love for you to join me so we can talk, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

She couldn’t make herself turn down his offer, despite the recent hurt he’d caused. Her smile was weak, but she nodded. “I called work yesterday and arranged a second day off.”

He instantly flashed that special smile that melted her heart and sent her emotions into overload.

John held the door for her, and soon they were walking outside in the warm morning. Summer was waning, and the children would be heading back to school within a week, but in the meantime, and despite the early hour, a couple boys played stick ball in the street, running for the sidewalk when a car rumbled by.

Hannah enjoyed watching children play, although she’d seldom been involved with outside games as a child. Her mother had kept her pretty close to home and constantly under her supervision. With what she’d learned recently, it was easy to imagine how she must have feared her real father finding her and whisking her away.

Her mother had worried for nothing.

“What are you thinking right now?”

Hannah glanced at John, then focused on the sidewalk, trying to avoid the cracks that could trip up a person who wasn’t paying attention. “I’m thinking about all the lies and deception, but I’m also thinking about what you asked me the other night. Would I want things the way they were before, and not know the truth?” She blew out a breath. “Truth, at least truth as I knew it, seems to have boarded a plane and taken a one-way flight to parts unknown. I don’t seem to know what the truth is any more.”

They walked the rest of the block in silence while she pondered her conclusion one last time before continuing. Why was she having such a difficult time sharing her feelings? John had lived through a different, yet similarly unstable situation. She was sure he’d understand, even if he didn’t agree with her conclusions or her chosen course of action.

She sighed, knowing why the situation was so hard. If she stated her feelings—and shared her preference of living on as if she’d never been told, then John would think she was hiding and not strong enough to face reality.

And maybe he’d be right.

At the diner, she released her held breath, despite knowing the reprieve would last only a few minutes. The silence continued while they were seated and their coffee was delivered.

Once their meal was ordered, he leaned forward in the booth, his arms resting on the table while he sipped coffee. “Well?”

The heavy, white mug became her focal point while she gathered her thoughts. When she was ready, she glanced up, relieved to connect with a non-judgmental stare, but she still felt trapped. He wouldn’t let her get away without telling him what he wanted to hear.

Easy for him.

An inner groan pushed her forward, despite mentally kicking and screaming like one of the big-screen actresses being dragged away into the dark of night to be held for ransom.

“I’ve missed having a father all these years, but I’ve done okay. And this Vince might have had someone watching, but apparently there was no reason for the person to intervene.” She waited a couple heartbeats for him to dispute her assumption. When he remained silent, she continued. “So, I’m just going to continue on as before and forget there’s any chance he is my real father.”

There, she’d said it out loud—and the world was still turning, and she was still breathing, although her breaths were short and shallow, her chest rising and falling faster than she cared to admit. She lifted the mug for a fortifying swallow.

John took a moment before responding. “Hannah, I can’t make the decision for you, but I think you should go see your father—go see Vince.”

“No!” Immediately, she lifted her gaze to glance around the cafe, noting a few heads turn to glance in their direction.

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

She vigorously shook her head, turning her attention back to the mug of cooling coffee.

“Don’t you wonder why he never contacted you or your mother when he obviously knew where you were?”

After another quick glance around the cafe, she leaned forward and spoke just above a whisper. “I don’t owe him anything. My mother worked hard to raise me and keep a roof over my head. He did nothing. Nothing,” she hissed emphatically, glaring at him.

How dare he even suggest she owed that man even a moment of her time? He might be her natural father, but he’d failed when it came to supporting her and being there when she needed anything. Her mother deserved all the credit. Vince Giovanni deserved absolutely nothing.

Her hands were still curled into fists when he spoke again.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about your father, but I do know a few things.”

“Name one,” she ordered, her words shoved out between clenched teeth.

“He bought that boardinghouse.”

Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be true.

“That’s why I think he might have had a hand in your mother getting the manager’s job. The job comes with a rent-free apartment, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, but words were impossible as anger flowed from her body like water down a drain. Hannah sagged onto the bench seat, her emotions—the hatred and haughty attitude—dying a rapid and emotionally painful death. “You might be right. He was probably around all along.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of course, Mother might have known and chose not to tell me. She didn’t mention anything, either way, in her letter, so I have no way of knowing.”

“Did you get any help with your schooling to learn to do make-up and hair?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her answer hesitant. “I saved some money, and I also had a scholarship.”

“After I graduated college and went to New York to visit him, he told me he’d paid for your schooling. Only after talking with you recently did I realize that he must have only paid for a portion, not all of your expenses like he did for me. He owes it to you and needs to make it right.”

Her body began to tremble. “No, he owes me nothing.” She could read the pity in John’s eyes. This was obviously painful for him as well, but why did he have to drive another nail into the coffin? The more he told her, the more she realized how much her mother had kept from her. Every good memory was being tainted.

She swiped at a tear cascading down her cheek. Who was she fooling? The damage had been done—she could never go back to an easier and more innocent time. The realization stabbed deep, ripping at her heart.

John nodded as if reading the reluctant acceptance on her face.

“Here you go. One bacon and eggs over easy with toast and one with eggs scrambled.” The waitress set the plates in front of them, halting all discussion as they each thanked her, then only stared at the food.

Hannah raised a hand up to rub across her stomach, no longer hungry, but knowing she’d eat, having been trained not to waste food.

They ate in silence for several minutes, but already she could feel the greasy food churning in her stomach. A silent prayer winged heavenward that she’d keep it all down and not embarrass John or herself.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the meal was over and they left the stuffy, odor-filled diner. Outside, she turned her face toward the sun and allowed the warmth to help settle her squeamish stomach. Still, she knew the conversation still hung out over an abyss, unfinished.

What should I do?

She followed his lead when he started walking toward the boardinghouse. John thought she should meet the man and judge for herself—not run and hide. From the distant past, she remembered a time she’d told her mother about being afraid to stand in front of the class and give a book report. She’d never forget her mother’s response. “When you’re afraid, that means you either need to be careful of some danger, or it means you need to step up and face that fear and do the very thing you’re afraid of. That’s the only way to get rid of fear.”

“You’re obviously having a tough time with this,” John began, breaking the silence. “But I have one last thought, and then I won’t bring it up again. Okay?”

She nodded, hoping his comment would help her decide the best thing to do.

“I’m just wondering how you’ll feel down the road if you choose not to meet him, and then he’s killed some day. Will you regret your decision? When it’s too late, will you wish you’d chosen differently and had at least met him?”

She’d never given any thought to seeing the man, and definitely not what she’d think or feel years from now. Would she care if he died, taking away her choice? Suddenly, a shiver ran through her body. Why was John really in Los Angeles, and what all had he agreed to do for that man?

“Did he send you here to get me to go back to New York?”

“No,” he retorted.

His emphatic denial of her veiled accusation gave her a little reprieve.

“In fact, he swore me to secrecy. I’m breaking a promise by telling you what I know. If, or when, he finds out that you know, that’s something I’ll have to face with him. But I couldn’t live any longer keeping things from the woman I’m in love with.”

She halted near where he’d need to catch the trolley and turned to stare up into his gaze. “You’ve implied that a couple of times now, but I’m not sure what those words mean to you.” Her heart pounded, praying they meant the same to him as they did to her.

With each passing second, her hopes faltered, and her silent prayer became more fervent.

Finally, John reached out and took her hand. “Love to me, as a youngster, meant someone spending time with me and giving me things. As I grew up, I realized love means that I’d do anything for that person. I’d give my life, if necessary. It also means that I want that person to be with me all the time—every day.”

“Would you say you love Vince?”

His brow furrowed, as if in thought, but it didn’t take him long to answer. “I care about Vince, but he lives outside my definition of sacrificial love. People who love you unconditionally don’t give to get. In other words, they don’t pay for your college and then ask you to be a party to lies and deceit.” He glanced at his watch before his next comment. “We have time enough for me to walk you to the boardinghouse. Come on.”

He reached to take her hand as they walked. The building came into view, standing solid with the morning sun reflecting off the front windows, but today, she actually saw it—actually thought about the building being home. Despite who owned it, it contained happy memories.

Maybe that’s what John alluded to—memories made with a person who was willing to sacrifice everything for her was the person deserving her love. Her mother had lied, but she’d loved with all her heart and given up things to keep her safe. Though Hannah wasn’t a mother, she could understand that kind of sacrificial love.

John unlocked the boardinghouse door and allowed her to enter first.

Once it was closed behind them, blocking the outside noise of playing children and passing vehicles, she turned toward him. “You’ve said you love me, but will your feelings change if I choose not to go see Vince as you think I should?”

He stepped in closer, sliding a hand along her waist to reach around and hold her close while he rested his other palm on her cheek. “I don’t give love expecting to get you to decide the way I want. I offer love,” he whispered, “because you’re beautiful, inside and out, and I can’t imagine life without you in it.”

Her heart pounded as he lowered his head, brushed his lips across her cheek, and then feathered kisses down to trail along the jaw to her lips. When his tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip, her legs buckled. His arm tightened to hold her against him while he leaned in to devour her lips.

Her head swam, foggy and confused while groping to focus on the sensations that slammed into her body—sensations she wanted more than her next breath. Sensations she wanted to continue forever. Her arms tingled, and her body floated on a sea of desire and longing.

“Well, bless my soul.”

Hannah jerked back at the interruption followed by wheezing laughter that came from behind them.

With as much stealth as possible, she slid her hand from John’s grasp. “Oh, hi, Mr. Nolan. We, um, we just got back…” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this embarrassed.

A quick glance at John showed him recovering from the initial surprise, but then a smile widened as he watched the older man limp forward.

“Child, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just glad to see you have a handsome beau who respects you and makes you happy. You two kids go ahead, don’t let me stop you,” he added, chuckling as he hobbled past and out onto the porch stoop to drop onto a chair.

She watched as the door slowly closed behind him, then looked back at John. His wide grin was contagious, and she started to laugh. He joined in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing before stepping away.

“I didn’t know we had an audience. Sorry.” He looked sincere, although he still had a broad smile.

“It’s okay. He’s a sweetheart—only grandfather I ever had.”

“I’m glad you had someone to fill a void. I had a grandfather, but he wasn’t as much fun as Mr. Nolan. Anyway,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I’ve only got a few more minutes with you, and then I’ll have to head to the trolley.”

“Okay, but I’ll miss you.” She went up on her toes and brushed a light kiss on his lips. “Before you go, I wanted to tell you that I’ve thought about your question, and you’re right. I should meet the man and form my own opinion. I should give him a chance to tell me his side of things. Besides, it might answer some of the questions I figured would never be answered.”

A grin slowly spread across his face. “I’m glad to hear you’re willing to face the unknown.” He gave her a squeeze. “And I will be there with you, every step. I just hope you get all your questions answered.”

She ran her tongue along suddenly dry lips. Was she making a bad decision? What if her father didn’t like her, or what if he got angry with John for telling her the truth after he’d promised to keep the man’s secret?

With a deep breath, she mentally forced her worries to take a step back. This was a case where John knew more than she did, and she needed to trust him.

“Well, from what you’ve said, he doesn’t know that you’ve told me about him, so what’s the next step? What do we do now?”