The Country Guesthouse (Sullivan's Crossing #5)(7)

“I feel awkward taking his house,” she said.

The Realtor laughed. “Oh, Ms. Russell, you’re paying top dollar for that beautiful house. The owner doesn’t mind, but the final decision is yours. I can try to find you an alternate residence. Or I’d be happy to give you a refund.”

She had longed for that space, and now she had Noah and a need to escape to help them heal and bond. “I have a five-year-old son,” Hannah said. It was the first time she had claimed him thusly. “Can you vouch for his character?”

“Absolutely. Owen Abrams is a fine man. He’s well-known around the lake and town. If this worries you, remember you can call my cell day or night, but I don’t think you’ll have a single problem. In fact, if you do have a question or problem, like the Wi-Fi is out or you can’t find the remote for the TV, he’s right on the property. Owen is very hospitable.”

“Owen,” she repeated. Yes, that was the man Helen mentioned. She pictured an older person, maybe around Sully and Helen’s age. Maybe Owen would be grandfatherly toward Noah, which would be so welcome, since he didn’t have any experience with a grandparent. Erin’s mother had never spent any time with Noah; Hannah wasn’t sure if Noah even knew she existed. At the thought of seeing Sully and Helen again, her decision was made.

  “Am I going to school from your house?” Noah asked Hannah.

“Eventually, but we have the whole summer first and we have so many things to see and do.”

“It’s okay if we don’t do anything,” he said.

That’s probably what depression or grief sounds like in a five-year-old, Hannah thought. “We’re going to do all kinds of stuff,” she said. She knew the fresh air and sunshine and lake would be good for both of them. “First, let’s get our clothes packed, and then we can decide what toys and electronics to take. The house has TVs all over the place, but we’re not going to sit in front of the TV. And there’s Wi-Fi but no computer so we’ll take my laptop and tablet. We’re going to want to buy fishing stuff when we get there. We should buy new bathing suits before we go!” She made a face. “I suppose I’m going to have to learn how to put a worm on a hook.” Then she shivered all over, making a terrible face. And Noah laughed.

So there was the lesson. Just look like a ridiculous fool and it would tickle him.

She sighed. It was going to be a very long summer.

They packed everything up and started off in the car. If it were just Hannah or Hannah and a girlfriend, they’d push it, make it in a day and a half or less, but with a five-year-old, there were many stops. If it were just Hannah, the radio would be blasting out the latest tunes, but instead she kept the volume down and played an audiobook or podcast. Noah put on his headphones and watched a movie or two. They ate ice cream in the car.

“My mom never let me eat in the car,” he said.

“We’re on vacay,” she replied with a big smile.

Sharon called during the drive and Hannah answered with, “You’re on speaker.”

“How is the trip going so far? Noah?”

“It’s okay. We eat ice cream in the car.”

“Fabulous! Are you seeing anything interesting?”

“No. It’s only cornfields. Cornfields forever.”

It was toward the end of the first day of driving that Noah said, “Hannah, will you tell me things about my mom?”

“What kinds of things, honey?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “The regular stuff. Just how she was. So I don’t forget the regular stuff. You know?”

She did know. He might not be able to articulate it but he wanted to be reminded of her, the woman who was his mom and her best friend. The ordinary things that made her a whole person.

“Hmm. She always smelled so good—a little like flowers and soap and maybe some lotion. Purple was her favorite color. There was so much purple in your house! She was left-handed. Do you remember that? So sometimes when she was chopping up stuff for dinner she was terrifying—it looked like she was about to cut her fingers off. She ate tomatoes like apples—she’d lick the outside skin, sprinkle a little salt on the wet spot and go after it. Lick, sprinkle, bite. I remember when she decided to knit a sweater,” Hannah said with a laugh. “Oh God, that was hilarious! She had the biggest knotty mess going on there and she was so determined, she actually finished it. One sleeve was three inches longer than the other! Horrible!” Hannah giggled and Noah joined her. “Now that I think of it, she had a number of half-done crafts around the house. She hooked half a rug. She did half a crewel picture, a couple of petit points that would never become throw pillows, and she collected a lot of fabric for a quilt that she just didn’t get around to. She liked to read, talk on the phone, always had her laptop open on the coffee table. She sat on the floor a lot. I hate the floor. I want something soft under me, a nice soft couch. And she was a girlie girl—she liked ruffles and lace and flowers and lipstick. She always got her nails done—fingers and toes...”

“She said people at work noticed her hands because she was at the desk, moving papers around,” he put in.

“That’s right, because she worked in an office, gestured with her hands while she talked...”

“She had a cowlick,” he said. “In front. I have a cowlick in back.” He pointed to his crown.