'It doesn't matter now,' Hannah said in a tight, unemotional voice. Awkwardly she patted the older woman's hand.
The inarticulate sound that escaped Ethan's throat made her look up. 'Ethan!'
Alexa gasped and twisted around. When she saw Ethan standing in the doorway she went deathly pale. 'I didn't mean any harm.'
Ethan's lips were a bloodless gash; his eyes had narrowed to slits. Hannah could see the inner battle he had to control his turbulent emotions before he eventually spoke. 'Get out of my sight.' He closed his eyes as the woman scuttled past him with a sigh of relief.
'What can I say?' he asked Hannah hoarsely.
She shrugged. 'It doesn't matter now.'
'Of course it matters,' Ethan grated. He reached out to touch her arm and she shied away. He couldn't fail to miss the spasm that contorted her features, as if his touch made her skin crawl. He drew a sharp, ragged breath as he momentarily averted his face. 'I had no idea she...' He paused. Words seemed woefully inadequate to express his regret.
'I told you.' The blankness in her eyes was somehow worse than reproach.
'I haven't forgotten. Are you ever going to forgive me?'
'I suppose a resentful wife would make life uncomfortable. Poor Ethan—you didn't bargain for all this when you gave me the job, did you?'
He shook his head from side to side as she spoke. 'Talk to me, Hannah,' he pleaded urgently. 'If you hate me, just come out and say so. Yell at me if you must!'
Hannah just looked at the upturned palms of his outstretched hands and slowly her gaze shifted to his so familiar face. Did she hate him? Was that what happened to love when it went sour?
'I can't perform to order just for you, Ethan. Besides, what would the nurse say if I started throwing things?' she asked drily as the figure in white appeared behind him.
The wheelchair seemed excessive, but Hannah was quite happy to fall in with hospital policy. Ethan carried the accumulated clutter of her stay, but even as she got into the car he didn't touch her; she noticed that.
'I asked Mother. I thought you might like to see her,' Ethan said as he opened the big front door at home.
'That's nice,' she observed without any real enthusiasm.
The pain started when she walked into the living room. The part inside her which had been frozen started to thaw. The ice had been so tangible, she looked down half expecting to see a pool of water around her feet. The room was full. They all seemed so happy to see her. Faith's new husband was beside her, and Drew. Even Mrs Turner had forgotten her usual reserve. There were flowers everywhere.
'Grandma fetched them for you,' Emma said excitedly when Hannah admired them. 'I baked biscuits for you. Alison helped me.'
Hannah looked incuriously at the tall, strapping figure of the young girl standing in the corner of the room. The girl smiled back shyly. Emma was obviously reluctant to let go of Hannah's hand, but when Ethan motioned her to fetch the plate of home-made biscuits for Hannah she did so.
Hannah was surprised the crumbs would go past the immense, aching constriction in her throat. 'You're all so kind, but it's a bit...'
'Overwhehning,' Faith said, immediately noting the tell-tale signs of disintegration on the drawn face of her daughter-in-law. 'Come on, children, let's go for a walk before tea. Come along, Robert.' She tugged at the arm of the tall, distinguished-looking figure of her new husband. 'Alison, will you get the children's coats on?'
Hannah could hardly see them through t^e mist of unshed tears that welled hotly in her eyes. Ethan was still there—he was the last person in the world she wanted to display her weakness in front of.
'Who is Alison?' She willed back the tears and even managed a stiff smile.
'A girl from the village. You needed help.'
'You mean Mrs Turner needs help. What's happened to Grace?' Grace was the student who supplemented her grant helping Mrs Turner with some of the domestic chores.
'Not with the house; with the children.'
Hannah's eyes followed him as he walked over to the baby grand piano that sat in the comer of the room. He lifted the lid and played a single chord.
Suddenly her heart was racing with panic and anger. 'Whilst I was in hospital, possibly. I'm home now.' She'd already realised her place here was tenuous. Was he trying to wean the children away from their dependence on her? She loved them as if they were her own and she couldn't even contemplate the idea of losing them. She'd fight Ethan over that.
'You'll still need help.'
'No, I don't,' she insisted belligerently.
Ethan viewed her dogmatic denial with thinly concealed frustration. 'She's well qualified,' he said, as if she hadn't spoken. 'She hopes to get a job in a kindergarten eventually—she was quite honest about that—but as a short-term measure—'