Page 102 of That Reunited Feeling

I reach for the pack of ground coffee in one of the upper cupboards and pause, holding it in midair, as a loud exclamation emanates from the bedroom and ricochets up the hallway toward me.

It sounded like “Fuck. Holy fucking hell.”

The tone of Hannah’s voice makes my stomach flip—it was filled with deadly serious panic.

I trot back to the bedroom to find her sitting up in bed, staring at her phone. “What’s up?”

“Dylan’s set the school on fire.”

“What?”

“Well, a classroom. Well, half a classroom. Well, kind of a corner where some books and a chair were.”

Her mind is obviously racing and overreacting. Her eyes flash from the phone to me. Then she flings back the covers and scrabbles for her clothes.

“I have to go.”

“Go? Now?” How does she think she’s going to get herself back to Blythewell in a flash?

“Yes, Tom. I have to go. My kid’s burned down the fucking school. Because I wasn’t there. I have to go.”

I’m filled with the need to not only calm her panic but also relieve her stress, make her see we can handle this together. Get this defiantly proud woman to let me help her.

“Hey, look. He’s accidentally set fire to one corner of one room. And you being there couldn’t have stopped it. Let’s just take a second here and call Maggie to find out what’s going on.”

“We can’t call Maggie. It’s four in the morning there. She texted late last night, but I missed it because I was so caught up in…” She gestures from me to the bed. “And she must have spent most of yesterday dealing with this already. I’m not going to wake her up at four in the fucking morning.” She slams her feet into her jeans. “And you don’t know it was an accident.”

“You think he might have done it on purpose?” It’s hard to see smart, funny Dylan as an arsonist. “He’s a good kid, Hannah. He wouldn’t do?—”

“You don’t know what he’d do. I told you he’s been in trouble a few times since we left Nicholas. And I guess it’s escalated.” She rams last night’s top over her head. “I need to go.”

“Okay. Look.” I hold out my hands in what I hope is a calming, but not patronizing, fashion and try to get her to slow the hell down. “Let’s just take a breath here.”

She completely ignores me and searches the room, lifting up clothes, then the duvet.

“What are you looking for?”

“My purse. A credit card, so I can call and change my flight to today.”

I walk toward her with long, slow steps, hoping my body language might help bring down the pace of things. “Just onesecond.” I take her hands. “Please look at me for just one second.”

She does, but her mind is racing behind her eyes. Her body might have slowed, but her frantic panic hasn’t.

“If you can even get on a flight today, you’ll only end up getting back about twelve hours earlier than if we go tomorrow morning as planned.”

She snatches her hands away and resumes searching, opening drawers and cabinets where her bag has never been. “Twelve hours might not mean anything to you, but when it comes to my son, it means everything to me.”

My heart goes out to her. All these years she’s raised Dylan alone, struggling and doing the best she can with no one to help. ButI’mhere this time, and I can help.

If her one desire in the world is to get back to him right now, then that’s something I can definitely make happen. “Stop looking for your purse.”

“Maybe it’s in the living room.”

As she pushes by me, I catch her around the waist. “You don’t need to look for it.”

She tries to wriggle free. “I do. I have to go, Tom. Have I not been clear?”

I hold on tight. “Very. That’s why you don’t need your card. I’ll sort it out.”

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