Hanna thought the woman would pass out, her face reddened so. “Apologize?”
“It’s customary to apologize when you’re rude to someone.”
The woman sucked in a sharp breath. Then, through gritted teeth, she said, “I’m sorry you were offended by what I said. I’m just a protective mother.”
Gregory looked ready to protest, but Hanna shook her head at him.Let’s just get her out of this room.“We got off on the wrong foot,” she said. “I’m looking forward to showing you I’m a good addition to the household.”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Hanna, this is Darlene Pierce,” Gregory said. “My mother. We lost touch for a while, but we’re trying to mend that now. She’s just going to freshen up for dinner.”
“I’ll see you at supper, Missus Pierce,” Hanna said.
“Miss Pierce,” Darlene said, a last, waspish rejoinder before she beat her retreat. She paused by the door to hug her son.
Gregory rested his hand on her back in lieu of an embrace, then stepped away so she could leave. After she’d taken several steps out, he moved into the room and closed the door.
“My God. I am so sorry,” he said.
Hanna plopped down onto the bed. The air in the room had lost its hot, sharp quality, and left her empty and trembling in its wake.I probably need to eat. When did I have food last? I’m so glad it’s almost supper. Except it will probably be awkward, now.“She’s very, um, intense. It’s all right. She just caught me off guard.”
“It’s not all right. She has no call to speak to you like that. Can I sit?” He gestured to the bed.
Hanna scooted over. “Of course. Thanks for coming to my rescue. I wasn’t sure how to get out of that.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.” The bed dipped as he sat down on it, his weight pulling the mattress surface lower.
She found herself shoulder-to-shoulder with him, their arms touching as the sudden change in the space surprised her. His arm was warm, firm, muscled under his shirt. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t scoot over far enough.”
“No. It’s all right. I should have sat further down.” Embarrassment reddened the back of his neck.
There was a pause as neither moved. Hanna held still, part of her hoping neither of them had to.He’s my boss. This is totally unprofessional. Yes, he’s gorgeous, and smart, but he’s entirely out of my league and his mother is crazy. Don’t give that woman any more fuel for her griping. You’re the governess. That’s all.
Still, Hanna lingered longer than necessary with their arms pressed together, and scooted away without much urgency. “So, I don’t want to pry, but it sounds like you and your mother have had a difficult relationship.”
“Almost right. We haven’t had much of a relationship at all. What we have had has been, mm, fractured.” He chose the word with care, she could tell.Even after all that, he’s too polite to slur her to me.“She left me with my grandparents when I was about five. Just up and disappeared, went off partying with people she met as she worked her way across the country. I’d like to say she had no interest in being a mother, since I was not a welcome surprise to her, but it seems more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“There were comments my grandfather made, and Gran still makes, that imply my mother had a difficult time. I get the idea something happened, something bad, that shook her life up like a snowglobe.” His brow furrowed. Lines dug themselves in around his eyes, which stared into the distance.
“What was she like before she left?” Hanna asked.
Gregory blinked. “I’m not sure. I honestly don’t remember much about her.”
That’s odd.“She left you when you were about five, but you don’t much remember her?”
“The truth is, I don’t remember much of anything before I lived with my grandparents. I always thought I was too young, but…” His words trailed off.
“That might be the answer in itself,” she answered with as much delicacy as she could. “Five is kindergarten age. Most people remember their first days of school, and the time just before it. Our minds do like to protect us, though. If you don’t remember, maybe your home life wasn’t safe to remember.”
“It’s possible. After that, I only remembered thinking about her now and then. Usually to wonder why I wasn’t good enough for my mother to stay.” Old, wry pain surfaced in his tone, quiet and worn but still there.
She set her hand on his without thinking. “If it helps, I don’t think it was about you. I think it was about her.”
“I know that now. Most days. There are still times when I find myself staring at her and wondering what I could have done differently. Or listening to her and feeling– sad. Empty.”
“You’re mourning.”