Page 7 of Saving Hanna
Chapter Six
HANNA
There was no way that I would get past that big brute of a guy. I needed to figure out another way to the farm. Luckily for me, I remembered the trail that my brother and I used to walk along to get to the house faster when the school bus dropped us off. Heading back to my car, I left the man with his arms crossed on his chest and drove away. When I knew I was safely out of sight, I pulled my car to the side of the road and headed down the hidden trail.
About halfway down the trail, I thought for sure I had been caught. Thankfully, the man on the road was more interested in getting his cigarette lit than the noise I made moving the tree branches out of my way. As I continued walking, I realized I didn’t remember this trail being this long. Maybe it was because I was younger and in better shape then.
Reaching the end of the trail, the house that I used to live in came into view. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it definitely wasn’t the same house I grew up in. The front porch had been completely redone and the old swing that hung on the end was gone. I will never forget the many nights that my dad and I spent on that swing after supper. Of everything, I missed that the most about my dad.
Quickly going to the porch, the closer I got, more changes to the old place became noticeable. No longer was the old screen door hanging on the outside. Instead, it had been replaced with a glass door, and the thick wooden front door had been updated to a fancy etched glass door painted a soft yellow.
Opening the screen door replacement, I turned the knob and was thankful that the door wasn’t locked. As I pushed the door open, I could smell the scent of fresh paint. Whoever bought the place had put a lot of effort in making this place look new. Even though it was beautiful, I was sad to see that all the charm of the house had been removed. Stepping further inside, I looked to the staircase and remembered as though it was yesterday how I straddled the wooden banister and slid down it when my mother called me and my brother for breakfast. There was no sliding down it now since it had been exchanged for a thinner, more modern handrail.
Placing my hand on the polished nickel railing, I ascended the steps slowly, afraid of what I would find once I reached the top. Pushing myself to climb each step, I finally reached the top. The scent of newly painted walls was stronger than when I first walked in. Placing my finger against the wall, a soft shade of gray covered my finger. I took in a deep breath, knowing that if I had arrived earlier, I might have seen who was doing the renovations to my home.
There were three bedrooms and one bathroom on the upper floor. Walking to the end of the hall, I checked out what used to be my mom and dad’s room first. Pushing open the door, it was nothing like I remembered. The large window where their bed was had been replaced with a French door. Curious to see what was on the other side, I hurried to the door to find a rather large deck that spanned the length of the house, with a staircase leading to the ground. It was strange to think how much my dad would have loved this. He always thought it would be romantic to gaze at the stars with Mom in his arms.
As I turned to examine the rest of the room, I noticed that there was another door next to where the closet was. Moving in that direction, I opened the door to be greeted with a bathroom. The counter was gleaming with gray granite and the floor was tiled to match the counter. There was a large glass shower with the same tile. It was beautiful, but not as practical as the bathroom we shared that had a tub and shower all in one.
Heading back to the hall, the door that used to lead to my brother’s room was no longer there. Scratching my head, I walked to the other end of the hall where my room was. It made little sense that the person renovating the house would do away with the main bathroom, at least I thought so until I opened the door to my old room. It was breathtaking and I could feel my eyes water. My once-small room that only had enough room for a twin-sized bed was now large enough for a king-sized bed. I only knew this because a gorgeous four-poster bed covered in an ivory comforter was situated against the wall opposite a glass door identical to the one in my mom and dad’s old room. Rounding the bed, I opened an unfamiliar door. To my surprise, another gorgeous bathroom was on the other side. The only difference was it had a tub, and the countertop was white granite with matching tile instead of gray. Quite feminine, in my opinion.
Having seen enough, I started back toward the stairs when I heard the front door open. My body stiffened. The last thing I wanted was to get caught, or worse, arrested for trespassing. Backing slowly from the steps, I headed back to my parents’ old room hoping that I wouldn’t get caught. If I could just get there, at least I would be able to make my escape through the door leading outside.
A familiar voice sounded behind me. “Hanna, I know you are here. Please don’t make me search for you.”
Aiden was below and I knew I wouldn’t make it out of the house before he came up to find me. Knowing that I had been caught, I turned to face him looking up at me from the main floor. Moving toward the railing, I looked down at him and asked hesitantly, “Are you going to have me arrested for trespassing?”
“Don’t be silly. Come down. We need to talk.” His voice was demanding and I knew he meant business.
I walked down the steps, taking my time, afraid to face what was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. When I got close to the bottom, I was surprised to find that Aiden didn’t seem angry with me. His smile was breathtaking and almost made me miss the bottom step completely since my focus was on him instead of where I was going.
Grabbing the banister, I steadied myself to keep from falling. I didn’t know what it was about Aiden, but every time he was close, I managed to lose my footing. Clearing my voice, I adjusted my dress that had accidentally ridden up my thighs. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tapped my foot against the hardwood floor. Expecting for him to at least say something. I asked in a short demanding voice, “Well?”
His laughter filled the room, which I didn’t find very amusing. I could have slapped him, but instead he answered me. “So now you know. I was hoping to wait until you fulfilled your end of the deal before showing you the makeover.”
“Makeover? Are you kidding me? What you had done to this house is more than a makeover. Everything that I remember about this house is gone,” I spat.
“Not everything,” he remarked as he held out his hand. “Let me show you.”
Hesitant to take his hand, I finally placed mine in his when he gave me a sincere smile. Taking the lead, he moved to the doorway leading to the kitchen just beneath the stairs. It occurred to me that this was a room that I hadn’t seen yet. I wondered how much of it had been changed. Pushing open the swinging door that hadn’t been there before, I couldn’t help but close my eyes, afraid of what would be on the other side.
Just like the rest of the house, it had been redone. The old white appliances were replaced with stainless steel. Even though it was beautiful, it took away from the character of the old house. The counters were no longer the wood ones my father had worked so hard to make. Instead, they were replaced with granite, also gray, but made up of different hues of white, gray, and black. As I looked around the kitchen, I felt like this house no longer belonged here. It no longer had its country appeal like most of the homes in this area.
Pulling my hand from his grasp, I waited until his eyes met mine. “I don’t see anything the same about this house. You’ve changed everything.” I tried hard to keep the tears at bay, but knew if I remained in this house they would be falling.
With my eyes on him, he walked over to the kitchen closet and stood there for a moment before opening the door. When he pulled the door open, the tears that I had been holding back finally fell as I stood saddened by the memories created on the door frame. Every mark on the frame was a reminder of the years that I spent in this house. There were small notes written by my father for every milestone in my life: my first haircut, losing my first tooth. There was even a reference to my first kiss. Of everything that I loved about this house, the timeline of my childhood and the memories it held were the most precious. Even with all the changes made to this sweet old house that I still referred to as home, Aiden managed to preserve what mattered the most
Looking at Aiden, I asked confused, “Why did you save this? It meant nothing to you.”
“Because I knew that it meant something to you,” he confessed.
Cupping his hand against my face, he brushed his thumb along my cheek, taking a stray tear with it. Pressing against his touch, I closed my eyes, feeling only the warmth he sent my way. Before I could open my eyes, his lips were on mine and I could feel my body take him in. As much as my mind wanted to tell me this was wrong, my body didn’t want the moment to end.
When our kiss finally broke, there was an awkward moment where nothing was said between us. His hand was still on my cheek and without thinking, I placed mine over his and moved it away. Stepping past him, I turned my head and said, “I hope you enjoy this home as much as I did.”
