When she stepped up onto the second-floor landing, it was like a fist struck her square in the solar plexus. She looked at the three open bedroom doors, hazy childhood memories flooding her brain.
A little girl’s laughter echoed in the silent, stuffy air. Squeals of utter delight danced a jig around her. Wraithlike giggles raced from the master bedroom to the one Hannah remembered as being her own, chased by a deeper, more masculine laugh.
The experience wasn’t frightening in the least. Because Hannah knew without a doubt that what she was hearing was in her mind. Sounds conjured solely by her imagination. Memories of happy times with her father when she was a toddler.
The delighted sounds she heard were the remnants of joyful moments she’d spent with the one person she’d loved more dearly than all others.
Before she even realized what she was doing, Hannah had pushed open the door of the master bedroom. She took a step inside and then another.
The same wrought-iron bed sat at one side of the cramped room, the heavy walnut dresser at the other. Hannah grinned, remembering how her father had chuckled at her while she’d jumped on that bed, making the coils squeak and groan. But he would always shoo her off the mattress when the sound of her mother’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. He’d chase her then, from his room to hers, where he’d tuck her into bed and sing her a lullaby.
“Oh, Daddy.” The words were wrenched from her throat, like rusty nails being torn from a piece of dry rotted wood. Hot tears of sorrow seared her eye sockets and blurred her vision.
Why had he sent her away? Why had he made her go with her mother, when all she’d wanted to do was stay here with him?
Reaching up to smooth back a strand of her hair, movement caught her eye and she swung her gaze to the left and saw her reflection in the mirror.
What is the matter with you? she chided.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she’d never find answers to her questions. The possibility of that had died and was buried with her father.
Using the fingers of both hands, she rubbed away her tears. She needed to set the grief away from her. Far away from her. Surely Tammy would be home soon. How would the poor girl react to finding a sobbing, disheveled woman in her house?
“Get yourself washed up,” she ordered her reflection, feeling more in control with the renewed strength she heard in her tone. “You want to be ready when your sister arrives.”
Water from the bathroom sink was cool as she splashed it over her face and arms. She’d found a washcloth on a shelf and used it to scrub away the dust and perspiration on her skin. She was rinsing out the cloth, intending to hang it up to dry, when she heard the screen door open and then shut with a bang.
Hannah moved into the hallway and then to the stairs. She paused, her hand resting on the top of the newel post. Her heart pounded in her chest. Even though she had no idea what to expect, regarding just how mentally alert her sister would be, Hannah was so excited at the thought of seeing Tammy again. However, at the same time she felt a tinge of fear creep over her.
What if Tammy didn’t like her?
Stop it, she told herself. She’ll like you. She’s your sister.
She’ll like you, the voice silently continued, if you don’t scare the poor child half to death.
Hannah’s eyes went wide with the sudden thought. Tammy would surely be frightened to death finding someone—a complete stranger—in the house.
Keeping her steps as light as possible, Hannah crept down the stairs. She heard her sister moving about in the kitchen. And then Tammy began to sing. The angelic sound filled Hannah with warmth, and she stopped in the middle of the living room to listen. She recognized the tune as an age-old religious hymn.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound ...”
A loving smile tugged at the corners of Hannah’s mouth. Indecision fought a quick battle inside her—she wanted to interrupt, yet at the same time she wanted to remain where she was and listen to the beautiful song. After only a fraction of a moment, Hannah’s eagerness to meet her sister prevailed.
“Tammy?” she said softly, taking a tentative step across the threshold of the kitchen doorway.
The young woman spun around from where she stood at the sink, her gem-green eyes never losing a single measure of their merry twinkle at the sight of this stranger.
“Hi,” Tammy said, her tone expressing not fear at all but a marvelous and pleasant surprise.
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. Her sister was lovely. No, she was absolutely beautiful. There was something...unearthly, almost ethereal, about the young woman.
Waves and waves of liquid gold trailed over Tammy’s shoulders and down her back. She hadn’t inherited the coppery-colored hair that Hannah had, hers shone a bright flaxen and was thick as could be. As Hannah looked closer, she guessed the ethereal quality she’d first noticed had to do with the innocence she saw in her sister’s gaze. A purity of heart, a guilelessness that was clearly evident at first glance.
“Hello,” Hannah said, her voice trembling with deep emotion. Memories of holding Tammy as a baby came to her... the only memories she had of her sister.
“I went fishing.”
Hannah nodded. “I know. I read your note.”
“Oh,” Tammy said. “I caught lots of trout. Enough for dinner.” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “Trout is my one weakness.”
Her face brightened as though an idea flashed in her head like a lightbulb.
“I even caught enough so that Mrs. Blake could have some for her dinner.” She grinned. “She thanked me for bringing them to her. It’s a long walk to her house.”
Tammy was so pleased with the notion of her good deed that Hannah had to chuckle.
“It was awfully nice of you to share,” she said.
Suddenly Tammy’s forehead crinkled with a frown. “Mrs. Blake is blind”
Feeling the need to commiserate, Hannah commented, “Aw, that’s a real shame.”
The young woman stuck her index finger up in warning. “But don’t go helping her too much. ’Cause she’ll snap your head off.” Then she nodded, knowingly. “Mrs. Blake is very independent. It’s best to wait until she asks you to do something for her.”
At a loss for how she should respond, Hannah simply said, “I see ... I’ll keep that in mind.”
Suddenly Hannah realized that Tammy hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in her identity. Like finding a stranger in the house was no big deal. That worried Hannah. Terribly. Apparently her sister lacked the all important protective instinct that was meant to keep her safe.
“Tammy,” she said softly, “do you know who I am?”
A quirky smile was the young woman’s first reaction.
“Silly,” Tammy said. “How can I know you when we just met?” Without waiting for a reply, she commented, “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
“But aren’t you concerned,” Hannah went on, “coming home to find a stranger in your house?”
Tammy shrugged. “You cleaned up really good. The kitchen looks wonderful.” Wrinkling her nose, she admitted, “I hate to clean.” Her smile returned. “I figured I should be nice.”
Hannah found this the most puerile thinking. Quietly she asked, “How do you know I was the one who cleaned the kitchen?”
Her sister’s innocent green eyes blinked. After a long moment she asked, “You did, didn’t you?”
Frustration welled up in Hannah.