Loving Tenderness (3 page)

“When I went in,” she continued, “the apartment was empty, except for the note, but then I—”

Andrew held up his hand to halt her. “What note? He left Hannah a note?”

“It’s in the box.” She gestured to the two boxes near the doorway. “It’s vicious. Jack said he’d find her and get even. He said JJ was his and so was she, and he had every right to use her as he wanted.”

The sick words rang through Andrew’s head, and his thoughts flew, imagining the true danger of the man.

“Jack’s a lowlife,” Carla said. “Hannah’s such a sweet woman, and I can’t figure out how they got hooked up. She said he’d changed after they married, but since I’ve been here, Jack’s been nothing but a rat. Hannah says it’s because he drinks too much. I suspect drugs.”

Drugs? Andrew’s pulse gave a swift kick.

“But I have to admit,” Carla said, “he’s never hurt JJ. Still I was relieved when she made him move out, but that hasn’t stopped him. He’s sick.”

Andrew stepped back, startled by the words that flew from her mouth. But could she be correct? Had Jack gotten hooked on drugs?

Apparently noticing the look on Andrew’s face, Carla’s eyes widened, and she blinked. “I’m so sorry to rattle on like this. You’re a stranger, and I must sound horrible. I’m not a judgmental person normally, but when I watch a woman—”

“Please,” Andrew said, lifting his hand to calm her, “I’m not judging you. I’m just surprised. I don’t really know Hannah. I picked her and her son up along the road the night she left.”

“That poor boy,” Carla said, shaking her head, her features filling with sadness. “He’s never had a father. Jack’s only around when he has nowhere else to go, and then he’s a madman. I’m surprised JJ is the sweet boy that he is.”

Hearing the woman’s words, Andrew’s gut ached, wondering about the child’s future. And Hannah’s.

“Hannah.”

Hannah looked up when she heard Annie calling outside her bedroom. A tap-tap followed. She rose and pulled open the door. “Hi.”

“You have company.”

Company? Her pulse skipped as possibilities flew through her mind: police, detective, social worker, nurse? “Who’s here to see me?”

“Andrew Somerville.” She motioned toward the living room. “He has the things from your apartment.”

“But I thought—”

“Rules are made to be broken.” Annie grinned. “He’s been so helpful, and it’s not like he’s a stranger. Now
that your paperwork is filled out and you’ve settled in, I see no reason for you not to have a visitor.”

Hannah felt heat roll up her chest. “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

Annie nodded and walked away while Hannah darted to the small mirror hanging in her room to check her hair. She looked at her lips to see if they still had color. Lipstick was the only makeup she’d carried in her purse the night she arrived. She found her comb and dragged it through the tangles, uncomfortable with the strange feelings that now assailed her. Her pulse had skipped when Annie said Andrew’s name, and she barely knew the man. She dropped the comb onto the dresser and drew in a lengthy breath to settle her nerves, then headed to the living room.

Andrew stood near the door with two large cartons at his feet. “Hi,” he said as she came through the doorway.

She felt a flush rise up her neck. She’d forgotten how good-looking he was. “Hi,” she said. They’d only spoken on the telephone since he’d dropped her off the few nights before, and now in the light she admired his strong jaw and well-shaped mouth, curved into a smile.

The warm look grabbed her heart and gave it a squeeze. She raised her hand as if to fend away the sensation that confused her. She gestured toward the boxes. “Thanks. I’m anxious to get into my own clothes.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced beyond her. “Where’s JJ?”

“He’s in the backyard, playing. He misses his friends already.”

“I bet.”

Hannah shifted feet, feeling awkward and not sure what was protocol at Loving Arms. He remained standing, and so did she. Hoping to catch Annie’s eye, Hannah glanced toward the office, but she wasn’t there.

“Would you like to sit?” she asked, wanting to dispel the tense feeling she had.

Andrew gazed at the chairs and sofa without answering. Finally he shifted to the nearest chair and sat. “I hope I brought everything you need.”

Hannah followed his action and sank onto the sofa. “I’m sure Carla found all the things I mentioned.” The conversation continued to seem strained and unreal.

“Speaking of Carla…” He looked uneasy as he glanced toward the boxes. “…she found a note in the apartment.”

“A note?” Hannah’s pulse quickened again.

“It’s in the top carton.” He swung his arm toward the box.

Hannah rose, strode to the box and unfolded the lid. On the top, she saw Jack’s scribble, and she eyed his message. The words stabbed at her, leaving her with a dire hopeless feeling.

She turned to Andrew. “Did you read it?”

“No, but Carla gave me the gist.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, Hannah. You shouldn’t have to go through this. No one should.”

His sincerity washed over her. What could she say? She folded the note into a little square, wanting to flush it down the toilet. “I can’t let him get away with this.”

“Call the police. That’s your only option.”

Her only option.
Her mind swirled with frustration, knowing Andrew had stated the truth.

Andrew stood outside Philip and Jemma’s door and rang the bell. Hannah had permeated his thoughts all afternoon. He’d enjoyed visiting with her earlier in the day. She’d been uneasy at first, but then he had, too.

Hannah seemed a devoted mother—gentle and loving—and despite the bruises and bloodied lip, she was very pretty. She didn’t deserve to spend her life running from problems. Problems. His past had been filled with them. Was that why Hannah had lingered in his thoughts?

A sound from inside caught Andrew’s attention, and when Philip opened the door, an appetizing aroma drifted out to meet him. “Something smells good,” he said, stepping over the threshold.

“Let me take your jacket,” Philip said.

Andrew slipped it off, and as soon as his foot hit the carpet, Ellie’s voice pierced the air. “Unkie And’woo.”

Andrew grinned at her garbled greeting. She opened her arms wide, and he handed Philip his offering of a bouquet of fresh flowers. “Hi, sugar cakes,” he said scooping her into the air as she giggled and kicked her feet.

“Hi, Andrew,” Jemma said, coming through the doorway.

Andrew set Ellie back on the carpet and retrieved the flowers from Philip. “A thank-you for the meal. It smells delicious.”

“It’s the best I could do. Getting close to the oven is dangerous.” She patted her rounded belly and sent him a smile. “It won’t be long now.”

“I’m sure you’re both excited.” He glanced at Philip and witnessed the purest love on his brother’s face. “Did you give in and find out yet? Boy or girl?”

Jemma shrugged. “No, we are still doing it the old fashioned way.” She took a few steps forward and curled her arm around Philip’s waist. “We’re letting the Lord surprise us.”

As she held the bouquet of flowers and stood beside Philip, Andrew imagined her as a bride. His stomach tightened, knowing that he’d missed their wedding.

Philip gave her a quick kiss, and she grinned, lifting the flowers into the air as a salute. “These are beautiful but they need water, and the two of you need dinner.”

Seeing their happiness drove Andrew’s sorrow home even deeper, and he didn’t want to face his feelings. A widower, Philip had been childless until he married Jemma. Andrew knew his brother well enough to know his workaholic schedule in the past hadn’t afforded him time to plan a family or even want one. But now, getting to know Jemma and seeing her warm smile and youthful vigor, Andrew could understand how she had broken through Philip’s barricade. He’d finally become a father at fifty-one.

Ellie tugged at Andrew’s pantleg, and he crouched to give her the attention she wanted. She was a miniature of Jemma, blond with delicate features, but her coaxing blue eyes were like Philip’s.

Andrew played with Ellie until Jemma called them to dinner. He enjoyed the meal of Swiss steak, and while she put Ellie to bed, he and Philip returned to the living room.

“Is something bothering you?” Philip asked. “You seem tense. I noticed when we talked a couple days ago at the resort.”

Philip’s question struck Andrew between the eyes.
He’d tried to cover his preoccupation, but he guessed he hadn’t done a very good job. “It’s just life. Nothing you can do anything about.”

“I’m your brother, Andrew. If you’re having a problem, then I’d like to help.”

“Some problems are internal. No help available.”

Philip shook his head. “You’re a Christian, brother. We both know that God can lift us from our troubles. He is our help and shield. We just have to call on Him.”

“I’ve called on Him enough.” Andrew squirmed, knowing that Philip wouldn’t stop unless Jemma came into the room. “It’s me. Really. I’ve messed up my life. You know that. I’m nine years younger than you with a life ahead of me, yet I see it passing me by.”

Philip frowned. “Why? You can have what you want if you put your mind to it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. I don’t believe I can. I’ve limited my ability to earn a solid income.” Andrew lifted his hand to stop Philip from responding. “I know you gave me a job when I got back home, and I appreciate it, but I wasted my inheritance. All of this would have been half mine if I’d had the common sense to follow in your path—the path Dad laid out for us. Instead I was resentful. I could never compete with your ability, and I probably feel the same today.”

“I’m retired. No competition anymore, and I’m sorry you feel that way. I shared Dad’s vision. I can’t deny that, and he knew what he was doing.”

“He did, and I don’t resent that at all.”

“But that doesn’t limit your ability.”

“Philip, I look at you with a wife like Jemma, a sweet little daughter like Ellie and a new baby on the way, and then I look at me. What do I have? Worldly experi
ences, nothing I can brag about and nothing that I even want to remember.”

“You’re still young, Andrew. You can have a wife and children.”

“But I don’t have the financial security. I have nothing to offer a family.”

“That’s not all a family needs. You have the capacity for loving and protecting. You’re great with kids. Look at you with Ellie. You’ve come home, giving of yourself. You’re capable and intelligent.”

The vision of JJ in his sodden pajamas flashed through Andrew’s mind, and he released a ragged sigh. “Intelligent? I’m not so sure about that.” Philip had been correct about his ability to love and protect. He did feel those emotions for Ellie and, to his surprise, Hannah and JJ. Even though he barely knew them, the two of them had rattled his senses. They were feelings that confused him.

“You were young when you left. You weren’t looking at life with wisdom but with the spirit of adventure. Who’s to say that you couldn’t succeed now? And don’t forget you have the trust fund.”

Irritation bristled through Andrew. “I can’t take that money. I told you before.”

“It’s yours. Dad left it for you.”

But why? Andrew knew he had neither earned it, nor deserved it. “The money is yours, Philip.”

Philip shook his head but didn’t say any more.

Before the conversation went further, Jemma reappeared in the doorway. “I’m making some fresh coffee.” Her face looked flushed.

“You’re tired,” Andrew said.

“No, I love having you here. I’m just weary from lug
ging around this extra weight.” She grinned as she lowered herself into a chair, and Andrew smiled back.

Seeing the three of them—Philip, Jemma and Ellie—triggered Andrew’s thoughts. Family was so important and so powerful, but what about people like Hannah? She had struggled so much; she seemed to be a good person. Carla’s comments about Hannah echoed in his mind.

“You’re quiet,” Jemma said.

Andrew jerked his head upward, realizing he’d drifted off in thought. “I had a strange experience earlier this week and then today. I can’t seem to get it off my mind.”

“Strange?” Philip asked, curiosity and concern written on his face.

“On Wednesday I was coming back from Grand Rapids about midnight, and I saw someone walking along the road.” He told them about the incident while Philip and Jemma both nodded, their gazes intent.

“Oh my,” Jemma said, compassion filling her face. “The poor family. I just can’t imagine.”

“We take things for granted,” Philip said.

Andrew knew that’s where they differed. He didn’t take things for granted any longer. He regretted what he’d done and hoped God had forgiven him. But Andrew hadn’t been as forgiving of himself as the Lord. He’d been trying to repent for his waste and the neglect of his family. Yet how could he?

“We’ll keep them in our prayers,” Jemma said.

Andrew told them about retrieving Hannah’s belongings earlier that day, but he didn’t mention the excitement he’d felt talking with Hannah—a feeling he didn’t yet understand.

“Speaking of Loving Arms,” Philip said. “Bill from the volunteer committee told me Annie DeWitt phoned about a maintenance problem they’re having. I’m guessing it’s ants. She spotted sawdust on the porch floor. We need to get someone over there to check it out. Bill’s been tied up with some family issues, and—”

“I’ll talk with him on Sunday and take care of it.” Andrew knew he had an ulterior motive for going to the shelter. His interest extended beyond the bounds of charity, yet the more he thought about it, the more excitement and dread he felt. Would his involvement only lead to trouble?

H
annah tried to relax as she stood outside Loving Hair Salon the next day. She wondered how much she should tell her co-workers. Yet Hannah realized she had to be honest. A counselor she’d spoken to had stressed the necessity of a safe work environment. Annie had even arranged a ride to and from work for her as a safety precaution.

When she stepped inside, Macy looked up and gave her a wave. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” she said, hoping her makeup covered the bruise. She slipped off her coat and hurried past the beautician toward the storage room where she placed her belongings, then gathered a stack of towels and capes to stock the front.

Her nerves jangled. If even one customer noticed her face, she’d be the new topic of conversation for the day. Sometimes they forgot that beneath the drone of the hair dryers their gossip could be heard by everyone.

Hannah went about stocking the work stations, keeping the right side of her face away from Macy until she
found the courage to talk with her. Her thoughts drifted to Andrew’s visit the day before. He confused her with his kindness.

Before she could finish, the bell on the door gave a ding, and their first customer arrived. Saturday meant a busy day, and between the phone calls and new customers, Hannah was surprised that two hours had gone by when she looked up to see Andrew coming through the entrance.

As she towel-dried a woman’s hair, he watched her from a chair in the waiting area. She tilted her head in a subtle hello, then sent the customer to her stylist and turned to wipe her hands. When she swung around, Andrew stood beside her. Hannah glanced at Macy and noticed the questioning look on her face.

“Did you want your hair washed?” Macy asked, as if wondering why he’d walked into the work area.

He halted and did a double take. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Macy said before refocusing on her client.

Hannah held her breath, wondering what Andrew wanted.

“I remembered you said you worked here,” Andrew said, talking in a near whisper as she steered him toward the sink.

Hannah eyed him, not knowing what to say. She motioned for him to be seated, then wrapped a towel around his neck and draped a plastic cape around him. She eased the chair back, and he reclined against the basin. “You didn’t really want a shampoo, did you?” She heard his nervous chuckle.

“Not really, but I do need a haircut.” He stopped and arched his head upward, looking toward Macy. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble by walking back here. I just
wondered how you’re doing.” His eyes shifted to her cheek, then her lip. “The bruise already looks better.”

Unbidden, her hand lifted and touched her swollen cheek. “I covered it with makeup. Thanks.” She checked the water temperature, wet his hair, then pumped the shampoo bottle and filled her palm.

“How’s JJ? Is he missing home?”

“He’s adjusting. It’s as good as can be expected.” Hannah lathered his head, running her fingers through his short thick hair. For the first time, her attention drew to the silver patches streaking his dark hair. His youthful face belied the gray. She plied her fingertips into his scalp, finding the closeness distracting while trying to control the question that kept nagging at her. Lifting her sudsy hands, she paused. “I don’t really understand why you’re so concerned about us.”

Andrew’s eyes flew open as if startled by her query. He appeared to gain composure, and deep dimples flickered at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve asked myself the same question.”

The look on his face made Hannah grin back, yet she was still uncertain about his motivation. His spicy scent mingled with the fragrance of the shampoo.

After a lengthy silence, Andrew turned his head toward her, and his expression changed as if something pressed on his mind, but he remained quiet. She rinsed, then shampooed again, then added conditioner with the final rinse before having him sit up.

Once he’d straightened, he looked her in the eyes. “What about the note? Did you call the police?”

His question startled her. “Yes.”

“Has your husband written you notes like this before?”

Hannah’s back stiffened. “He’s my
ex
-husband. I
told you.” She grabbed a towel and dropped it over his hair. “And that question is rather personal.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand how any man can treat a woman so—”

Hannah tousled his hair with the towel to dry it with more vengeance than she meant, then pulled the towel from his head. “The shelter’s helping me handle things. I’m grateful for all you’ve done, and I appreciate your concern, but—” She tilted her head toward Macy and a customer. “I haven’t spoken to my boss yet.”

“I understand.” He rose from the chair and slipped a tip into her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Hannah struggled with the uncomfortable situation. Macy called him to her station, giving Hannah a reprieve. She watched him be seated, then went back to her work.

Andrew cringed as he settled into the chair. Why had he been so blatant? He could have said hello and let it go at that. Anything but what he’d done. He couldn’t blame her for her irritation. She didn’t know him or his intentions any better than she knew the TV anchorman delivering the news or the mailman bringing the mail. For that matter, he didn’t know his intentions, either.

Andrew answered the stylist’s question about the type of cut he wanted and tried to avoid staring at Hannah. Since Carla had mentioned drugs, he’d been more than on edge. People hooked on drugs changed, and another thing Carla had told him lingered in his mind. She’d said Hannah had left the apartment after Jack had fallen asleep. He’d tried to make sense out of the statement, but he’d left it alone. Maybe he didn’t want to know the answer. He figured a woman should feel safe in her home, but Hannah couldn’t with a man like Jack.

Home.
The word unsettled him at times. In Detroit, he’d met many young women who’d gotten involved with shady men who’d used them for their own purpose—from drugs to prostitution. They’d been young and innocent, leaving home to make their way in the world as he had done, but they didn’t have the financial backing he’d had, and they had been too proud to return to their families. He could relate to that in a heartbeat.

He’d never had to cheat or use people, but Andrew had found himself eating one meal a day and trying to shine his worn shoes while he hoped to make at least one business deal that would succeed. Why hadn’t he realized he was intelligent but just didn’t have the same vision for creating a business that Philip and his father had?

Sitting in front of the salon mirror, Andrew sidled a look at Hannah shampooing a customer’s hair. His mind flooded with the feeling of her fingers against his scalp, the scent of shampoo and the earlier sweet fragrance when he’d walked over to her.

The stylist snipped his hair, buzzed the trimmer along his neckline, then brushed away the cuttings. When she finished, he rose, forcing himself not to look Hannah’s way. After Andrew left a tip, Macy called another customer as he headed for the reception desk. To his surprise, Hannah stepped behind the register. She rang up the fee for a wash and haircut, and, at a loss for words, he dug into his wallet and handed her the bills.

When she gave him the change, Hannah sent him an apologetic smile. The look released the pressure in his chest, and he smiled back.

Instead of saying goodbye, Hannah followed him to the doorway. “I’m sorry I was so touchy today,” she said. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Andrew said. “Asking personal questions wasn’t proper. I’m sorry.”

She looked as if she had something to say, but she didn’t.

“You and your son have been on my mind, because I—” Andrew stopped himself. Apparently Hannah didn’t know his pitiful story. Right now, he wanted to leave it that way.

She appeared to wait for him to finish his sentence.

“Take care, and don’t rush back to your apartment. I’m sure you’re safer where you are.”

“Thanks, but I can’t stay there forever.”

“You need to change your apartment locks.”

She nodded. “I have lots to do before I go home.”

“Take care,” he said again, pulling open the door. The words had slipped from his mouth without a thought.
Take care.
The words meant nothing to a woman fearing for her life.

He saw Hannah’s wave through the glass and suddenly felt like a kid who’d won the brass ring on the carousel.

Once in his car, Andrew checked his watch. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled away, once again feeling empty and unsettled. When he’d left home years ago, he’d wanted success, money and power. What Hannah wanted was security and independence.

Andrew thought back to his affluent home with stable parents and a Christian upbringing. He’d been given many luxuries as a child. Not until he’d left to make his fortune did he realize how hard his father had worked and how intelligent he’d been. Today, Andrew’s deepest regret was not returning home for his father’s funeral. Being down and out, he couldn’t face the town nor his brother. Admitting the truth had been too hard then.

He thought about how Hannah had struggled to acknowledge her failed marriage. Violence destroyed families. It destroyed lives. He’d seen it in Detroit when he’d ventured there, and in Chicago where he’d tried his hand at another failed business. He’d never been a violent man, but he’d seen it. It killed the spirit and left families fearful and hopeless.

He wanted to know more about domestic violence. What could Hannah do to improve her son’s life and her own? He felt driven to find the answer, and he turned the steering wheel and nosed his sedan into the Loving Public Library parking lot.

He climbed the few steps into the building and observed the long racks of books. Ian Barry’s wife, Esther, smiled at him from the front desk, and Andrew headed her way.

“Hi,” she said, “what brings you here?” She chuckled at her question. “Books, I suppose.”

“Research. I want to read up on domestic violence.”

She didn’t ask but led him into the Dewey Decimal 300s. “Here they are. 362.829. Family and domestic violence.” She pointed to numerous books on the subject. “You’ll find a lot of helpful information on the Internet or our database, too.”

“Thanks, Esther,” he said, already eyeing the books that looked most promising. Andrew slipped a couple from the shelves, wandered to a nearby table and sat.

He opened a cover and flipped to the introduction. Facts immediately jumped out at him, facts he wanted to brush away and eliminate. Nearly one-third of American women were abused by husbands or live-in partners. Violence by an intimate partner accounted for over one-fifth of all violent crimes against women.

Andrew’s stomach churned as he read from an FBI crime report. Among all female murder victims in the U.S., one-third were slain by husbands or boyfriends. He fell back against the chair.
Murder?
Could this happen to Hannah? And JJ? Had her neighbor been correct? Andrew’s gaze slipped to a magazine statistic. Child abuse occurred in thirty to sixty percent of family abuse cases.

The facts and statistics pressed on his heart, but he felt God’s hand leading him along this path. He’d learned much from his life choices, yet what could he do for this woman and child? Nothing really. Hannah was in control of her own life. He could do nothing but pray.

Amazed at his urgent compulsion to help, Andrew rose and checked out the books. Outside he took a deep breath of fresh air and tucked the volumes under his arm. He wanted to clear the dark feelings from his mind. He longed to figure out what God wanted him to do.

A week later, Hannah sat on the back porch of Loving Arms. Though a chilly Monday morning, the sun felt good, and she was tired of feeling trapped indoors. She’d called the apartment manager to request her locks be changed, and when that was completed, she longed to go home.

Annie had encouraged her to give Jack’s note to the police the week before, and Hannah had been granted a protection order. She hoped that Jack would get a lengthy jail sentence for his threats and give her time to move or make changes in her life. But would it be enough, and would it stop Jack from another attack after he was released? Her questions were endless.

She loved having the day off. She’d worked long hours Saturday and Sunday so today felt like a gift. Her
gaze shifted to the backyard where JJ played on a rusty set of swings. If she had the money, Hannah thought, she’d buy a new set of playground equipment for the shelter.

In the week and a half she’d been there, a few women had arrived, but most spent a day or two and then left to stay with family. Hannah rarely missed her family—her family had created their own realm of problems—but at times like this, having someone to turn to would have made life easier.

Instead she felt grateful that Loving Arms had given them a home for the time being. So far, Jack hadn’t bothered her here, and she was grateful for that. Soon she would start a new job at a chocolate shop, and she’d feel safer, but going back home still concerned her.

Conversation from inside interrupted Hannah’s thoughts, and she glanced over her shoulder to hear who’d arrived. She could make out Annie’s voice, then a man’s deep chuckle, followed by Annie’s laugh.

When the screen door squeaked, Hannah pivoted her head to see who Annie was bringing outside. When she saw Andrew’s face, her pulse skipped.

“How are you doing?” he asked, seeming pleased to see her.

Hannah nodded.

“I’m fine, thanks, and you?” The polite conversation seemed silly, and she recognized the same realization in his eyes.

“What brings you here?” Hannah asked, giving in to her curiosity.

“Andrew’s part of a volunteer group from United Christian Church. They do repairs and maintenance on
the building,” Annie said, answering for him. “We’re so grateful for their help.”

“I’m happy to help.” Andrew shifted his gaze to the porch ceiling. “So this is where you spotted the sawdust?”

Annie led him to the edge of the porch. “Right here.” She pointed down, then up to the ceiling. “I think it came from up there.”