As soon as the others had left, Hanna went back to the room and found Jazz still asleep. An hour later, when a nurse looked in, she was still sitting by the bed.
“I’d go home if I were you, Miss Casey. You’ll see her in the morning. She’s safe here with us.”
Hanna could hardly bear to leave Jazz in the white sterile bed, dressed in a hospital gown and hedged in by machines. Still, the nurse was right. Sitting here made no difference. And anyway, she realized, she was bone tired.
The receptionist gave her the number of a car service and reminded her not to use her cell phone in the building. When she walked out the air was still chilly even though the sun had risen. Malcolm would be well on his way back to London, she thought, and Mary would be home in the bungalow. Now, before she could reach for her phone, she heard Brian Morton’s voice. He had been sitting on a bench near the door, and, as he came toward her, she saw he was carrying her coat.
“It’s cold. I thought you’d need this.”
Hanna looked at him in disbelief. “Have you been sitting there all night?”
“No. But I do live just around the corner and I called to see how things were. They said the rest of the family had already gone home and you were just leaving. And I remember how cold early mornings can be after a long night in a hospital.”
He helped Hanna to put on the coat.
“They wouldn’t say much about the patient but I gather she’s okay.”
“She’s sleeping. They say she should be fine.”
“Well, I thought I’d come round and offer you a lift home.”
“God, I never even thanked you for bringing me here.”
“Well, you can do that in the car.”
As they walked to the car, he asked her where he should take her.
“The hideous bungalow?”
Hanna managed a weak grin. “No, please! It must be almost breakfast time and I couldn’t stand the hairy rashers.”
He drove her to Maggie’s house between hedges that were shining with dew. Leaning back in the passenger seat, Hanna felt her muscles, which had been tensed for hours, begin to relax.
Then, as Brian pulled up in front of the gate, she realized that the coat he had brought her had been on the back of her seat in the council chamber. After he’d driven her to the hospital he must have gone back to the meeting.
“Yes. Well, I didn’t want to intrude. I just thought I’d get out of the way and phone later.”
“So you must have been there for the vote. What happened?”
Brian got out of his seat and went round to open the passenger door. As she stepped out of the car she saw the look on his face.
“Hanna, I’m sorry, the proposal went through.”
“You mean the council’s proposal?”
“Yes. It was a small majority, and they did debate your submission at length. But in the end the original motion was carried.”
Brian took her by the elbows and told her he was sorry. “I know how much it meant to you.”
Hanna felt numb. It didn’t seem possible that all the creativity and effort that had gone into the submission had been for nothing. And now, sleepless and exhausted by the shock of Jazz’s accident, she could hardly remember what it had all been about in the first place. She didn’t want a conversation, she just wanted to close her eyes and escape from everything. Yet there was one thing that it seemed important to say.
“Look, I’m sorry. This whole thing started off shrouded in secrecy. And a couple of times when you and I talked I know I was less than honest.”
“That’s bad.”
“Like I say, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you and I hated it when I did.”
“Well, I guess that’s good.”
Brian opened the gate and they walked down the path by the gable end of the house. When they turned the corner, the huge sky at the end of the rutted field was shining like mother-of-pearl. Hanna breathed in deeply. After the overheated antiseptic smells of the hospital, the salt tang of the ocean air was delicious. They came to the door and she turned at the threshold. Brian, who had been holding her arm, let go and looked at her. In the pause that followed, Hanna knew that they both wanted him to stay. She would open the door and the house with its wide hearth and painted walls would welcome them. She’d light a fire against the chill of the morning and brew coffee and serve it in the wide pottery bowls. Maybe they’d talk or maybe they’d just sit there and drink it. Or maybe they’d go through to the bedroom, to the deep warmth and comfort of the brass bed she’d not yet slept in.
They looked at each other, sharing the thought of all the possibilities, but Brian didn’t move. Had it been Malcolm, things would have been different, but Hanna knew that with Brian the decision would be up to her.
Brian looked down at her grave expression. It would have been easy for him to have followed his instincts, swept her into his arms, and carried her through the door, like the hero of a novel. But this was real life. And this was Hanna—vulnerable, angry, clever, stupid, and now exhausted. If they made the wrong move now, he knew, one or another of them would probably have to leave Finfarran. But if they got this right there was a chance it might transform their lives.
Hanna reached out and placed her hand against his shoulder. Under the thick wool of the jersey he was wearing she could feel the hollow of his collarbone. That was the place on Malcolm’s shoulder where she’d laid her forehead when she’d run to him in the hospital; she could still feel the raindrops on Malcolm’s overcoat and the familiar strength of his arms. Now she linked her hands behind Brian’s neck and drew his head down to hers. Then, pressing her two hands against his shoulders, she pushed him away.