The therapist’s face lit up. “We’ve got two boys who run us ragged. They’re four and five. And Cheryl is pregnant again. If you’re interested, I’ll bring pictures the next time I’m here.”
“I’d love to see them.”
Owen looked at his watch and picked up his bag and the folding table. “I’m late. It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny. Take care, Hannah.”
“You, too.”
“I’ll be back at eleven on Tuesday,” Owen said to Jake.
“Nemo?” Jake asked Hannah when the other man was gone.
“He’s a character in an animated movie, about a little clown fish and its father. One of Danny’s favorites.”
“Nemo gets kidnapped and his dad goes looking for him through the whole ocean,” Danny said. “Mommy, do you think my daddy is looking for me? Maybe he got lost and doesn’t remember where we live.”
Hannah’s face froze. “Your father isn’t... That is, he knows we’re here in Mahalaton Lake. He just travels a lot. Now we need to start cleaning the house.”
Danny stuck the toy in his pocket. “I’ll get the trash. That’s my job.”
When he was gone, Hannah put her chin up with an air of defiance as she turned to Jake. “You said it was all right to bring him, and he likes to feel he’s helping me.”
Exhausted, Jake sank down on a chair. “It’s fine. Does Danny ask about his father much?”
“He’s starting to more and more. But how do you explain to a seven-year-old boy that his dad is a womanizing ba...” She stopped and visibly drew a breath. “Never mind.”
“Sure. Oh, did Danny give you the money for the loaf of bread?”
A flicker of emotion crossed her face, though he couldn’t guess the reason. “Yes.”
“I appreciate him bringing it over. I started thinking about it afterward and realized I should have asked first. He also brought me some chicken. Thank you.”
“Thank Danny. It was entirely his idea. Now, please excuse me, I have work to do.”
Jake decided this wasn’t the right time to ask about the grocery shopping. He slumped deeper in his chair and closed his eyes, his body throbbing with the effort he’d put into the therapy. But he refused to lie down. Given their testy relationship, he didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hannah. Or maybe it was the age-old vanity of men in most societies, hating to appear less than virile in front of a woman. Especially such a beautiful woman.
There were noises around the house now. Domestic noises. Very different from what he’d hear in the highland villages of Nepal above Kathmandu, or deep in the Amazon. Yet it seemed as if there was a common rhythm to housework. Sweeping. Washing. Tidying. Even Danny’s voice, asking his mother what else he could do, wasn’t unlike the chatter of children in the dozens of cultures Jake had experienced from the day he was born.
It was better than the silence of the past few days, he thought, and far better than the echoes of the plane crash that still roared in his ears at the oddest moments.
* * *
THE TWO PIZZA boxes Jake had said to leave on Tuesday were on the kitchen floor, and Hannah stuffed them in a bag. Danny cheerfully took the bag out to the garbage cans.
Sugar was spilled across the counter and onto the floor as well, and she swept it up, thinking of what Gwen had said about some artists being slobs.
Maybe, maybe not.
However, it appeared that if something fell on the floor, Jake simply left it there, and she found it hard to believe that was a common custom in other parts of the world. Of course, it could be because of his injuries—it might be hard to bend over and pick something up. But when she went into the bathroom and saw the mess on the countertops and sinks, Hannah decided to go with slob.
She scrubbed everything, keeping Andy Bedard’s comments in mind about the need to keep everything sanitized. Andy was nice, a regular mother hen. And unlike some of the skiers who’d rented the lodge in the past, he and his guests always left things in good order.
After two hours, Hannah tied the dirty linens into a bundle, belatedly realizing she hadn’t seen Danny in a while. She found him sitting cross-legged on the couch in the sunroom, listening to her tenant recount a story about trekking into the Australian outback. Danny’s eyes were round with excitement as Jake described hanging over the water from a tree branch, taking photos of prowling crocodiles who’d like nothing better than to have him for lunch.
“Were you scared?” he asked.
Jake shrugged carelessly. “Not really.”
“I bet they could bite me in half.”
“Maybe not in half, but they’ve got really powerful jaws and can drag a grown man under—”
“Danny, I’m done. Can you take the laundry over to our house?” Hannah interrupted hastily.
“Okay,” Danny agreed, though he looked torn.
When he’d clattered down the steps from the sunroom, Hannah turned to Jake. “Look, I appreciate your being friendly to my son, but he’s prone to nightmares. Besides, a child his age doesn’t need to know the details of how a crocodile could kill him.”
“Hey, I saw my first wild croc when I was four,” Jake said defensively, though he also seemed to be embarrassed. “It never gave me nightmares. And after that we spent several months on an African savannah while Josie photographed a lion pride.”
“Josie?”
“My mother.”
“Okay, fine. That was her decision. But I’m worried about Danny waking up at two in the morning, screaming bloody murder because he thinks a crocodile has climbed into his bed.”
Jake winced. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids.”
“I understand that, but please keep in mind that certain things shouldn’t be talked about in front of an impressionable child. Besides, I bet you did have nightmares—you just don’t remember.”
“If I did, they obviously didn’t scar me for life.”
Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Being scarred for life was a matter of opinion. Jake seemed to lead a solitary existence where taking high-risk photographs was more important than human contact. Perhaps she was biased, but even the greatest photograph in the world wasn’t worth dying to get.
IT WAS A QUIET Friday afternoon at Luigi’s, and Barbi opened one of the books Hannah had given her to study. She chewed her lip, knowing she should give as much attention to math and proper English as other subjects, but history was a lot more interesting than adverbs and dangling participles.
“Good, you’re studying,” Luigi said with approval. He was a nice boss. If she could make enough money working for him to live on, it wouldn’t be so important to get her GED.
Wrong, whispered a voice inside her head. She couldn’t keep working for Luigi; she had to get out of Mahalaton Lake. When her father wasn’t in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior or boozing it up at the bar, he was coming over to her place, demanding money or getting maudlin over her mother’s death.
She tried not to carry more than twenty bucks in her wallet, but it helped to have a little cash because Vic got ugly if she didn’t have any...especially when she’d been delivering pizza. Her father knew she ought to have tips on delivery nights, though