“Andrew gave me your address.” He withdrew his hand from his pocket and held out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Why did Andrew—” she started to ask but stopped herself when the answer dawned.
Have you told Todd? Andrew’s words from that long ago night flashed through her mind. The youth minister and his future wife, Serena, had counseled her when she’d first discovered she was pregnant. She’d denied Andrew’s assertion that Todd was the father, and neither of them had pressured her to reveal her secret.
The secret that had come back to haunt her today.
Hannah sighed, suddenly exhausted by the energy it had required to keep the truth hidden. “Todd, what are you doing here?”
Todd’s teeth chattered as he zipped his jacket higher. “I told you I want to talk to you.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. Now that the shock of seeing him was beginning to wear off, old, mixed emotions began to resurface. Anger she realized she had no right to feel and long-buried hurt collided, leaving her insides feeling exposed. “After five years? Why would we have anything to talk about?”
“We do. I know I do.”
Hannah stared at him. He’d surprised her again with his certainty when she felt so unsure. “Maybe in a few days but not yet. I’m not ready—”
As she spoke those last three words, she started closing the door. Todd pressed his foot into the space before it could close completely.
“Isn’t five years long enough?” he said.
Staring at his dress shoe, Hannah waited, but he didn’t say more, so she finally lifted her gaze to his. In his eyes was a look of anguish so stark that Hannah could only remember seeing an expression like it once before. She’d found it in the mirror the day that Todd’s family left for the airport.
He glanced away and back, and the look was gone. “I’ve waited five years to apologize to you. I’m not leaving until you let me do it.”
Hannah blinked, her mind racing. A million times she’d imagined Todd’s reaction when she told him the truth. Now she only wanted to run and hide with her secret again, to protect her daughter from the fallout and herself from the blame she deserved.
But she couldn’t run anymore. Todd was right. It was time.
“Then I guess I’d better invite you in.”
Chapter Three
As Hannah pulled open the door, Todd released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. His foot ached, more likely from standing out in the cold than from where she’d squeezed it in the door, but he didn’t care. He was here, she was here, and that was all that mattered.
“Nice place,” he said before he even stepped on the mat and took a look around.
And it was nice. Though one of the four smallish apartments in a renovated older house, Hannah had made it look warm and homey with overstuffed furniture and soft pillows. It was decorated in earth tones and dotted with artistic, framed black-and-white photographs of children.
The Christmas tree he’d first glimpsed through the front window radiated warmth, as well, with its homemade ornaments, popcorn strands and spatter of silvery icicles. No hand-blown glass balls and fussy velvet bows for Hannah’s apartment.
The woman herself looked as warm and casual as her house, dressed in well-worn jeans and a black long-sleeved top. She had fuzzy slippers on her feet. But her expression showed she was anything but comfortable with him in her space, and she looked as if she’d been crying.
“Yes, we like it.”
We? The smile that had formed on his face slipped away as he turned to her. What had he missed? Hannah took a few steps into the living room and motioned for Todd to follow.
There in the corner that he couldn’t see from the front door was a tiny blond girl, surrounded by baby dolls, blankets and play bottles. For several seconds, Todd stared at the child who was looking back at him with huge, haunting eyes. She looked familiar somehow.
“Come here, honey,” Hannah called to the child. When the little girl stood under her protective arm, Hannah turned back to face him.
“Todd, this is Rebecca. She’s my daughter.”
Daughter? Hannah had a daughter? He looked back and forth between them, his thoughts spinning. Though their features were slightly different, they both had lovely peachy skin and light, light hair. They were clearly relatives.
When he glanced away to collect his thoughts, his gaze landed again on the amazing photos dotting the walls on either side of the Christmas tree. The subjects of those photos, taken in a variety of natural backdrops, weren’t children, but rather one child—the same sweet-looking little girl standing right in front of him.
Clearing his throat, he turned back to them. “Nice pictures.”
“Thanks.”
“The photographer did a great job.”
She nodded but didn’t look at the portraits. Instead, she turned to her daughter. “Rebecca, this is Mr. McBride.”
“Hi,” she said quickly before taking refuge behind her mother’s jeans-clad leg.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
Todd shook his head, trying to reconcile the new information. Parts of this puzzle weren’t fitting together easily. Was Hannah married now? Was that what Andrew had been trying to tell him when he’d suggested that healing the relationship might not be easy? If that was it, how could the minister have been so cruel as to let him go on believing…hoping?
His gaze fell to Hannah’s left hand, the one she was using to lead the child back to her toys and out of earshot of their conversation.
Hannah wore no ring.
Suddenly all of Todd’s other questions fell away as one pressed to the forefront of his mind: a question too personal for him to ask. Still, when she returned to him, he took hold of her arm and led her around the corner to the entry so he could ask it.
“Who’s her father, Hannah?”
She shot a glance back at her daughter, as if she worried Rebecca had overheard. He couldn’t blame her if she shouted, “How dare you” for the private question and more. He deserved it.
But instead of yelling, she began in a soft tone. “You have to understand—”
“Who is it?” He couldn’t help it. He didn’t want an explanation; he wanted a name. Jealousy he had no right to feel swelled inside him, burning and destroying. The thought of another man touching her left his heart raw. If only he and Hannah had waited, their story might have turned out differently. Hannah might have been his wife. Her child, theirs.
Hannah stared back at him incredulously, as if she was shocked that he’d had the gall to ask. It wasn’t about wanting; he had to know.
“Is it that blond guy from church?”
“Grant?” Her eyes widened and then she shook her head. “He’s just a friend.”
“Do I know him then?”
“Of course you do.” She spat the words.
Strange, she sounded exasperated. She seemed to think he was an idiot for not knowing the answer. He stepped around the corner and studied the child again. She was so fair and beautiful, just like her mother. Rebecca must have sensed his attention on her because she looked up from her dolls and smiled at him.
And he knew.
His gut clenched, and he felt helpless to do anything but stare. Why it wasn’t immediately apparent to him he couldn’t imagine now. Her green eyes had looked familiar