Page 31 of The Pink House

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Charlie’s brows slammed together like two storm clouds ready to rumble. “What kind of sick joke is she playing?”

Without any thought, Hannah stepped aside.

As if taking the action as an invitation for him to enter, Charlie brushed past her, flicking the light switch on as he passed. The glow from the lamps chased away lingering shadows, but the chill inside her remained.

Hannah shivered. Despite the words of love she’d read, the sorrow, that deep, dark wave that had once threatened to pull her under, tugged at her now. With her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she felt like she was losing the battle.

“Hannah.”

She looked up and stared into warm brown eyes.

The look in those eyes was as steady as the hand he rested on her shoulder. “What can I do?”

“Can you hold me? For just a minute?”

Without a word, his arms encircled her, and she tilted her head against his broad chest. She stayed that way for several heartbeats, absorbing his strength and letting the warmth of his body drive away the chill.

Once she steadied, Hannah stepped back.

Even as his arms fell to his sides, his gaze never left her face. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee? A shot of whiskey?”

She had to chuckle.

At the sound, the concern in his eyes lessened.

“I’m not much of a drinker, but I sure could use a shot of Jack right about now.”

“I’ve got a bottle at my house,” Charlie assured her. “It will just take a second for me to—”

Hannah wasn’t sure what got into her. She grasped his hand as one might a lifeline. “Don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere.” He’d kept his tone light, but worry returned to his brown eyes. "May I see the letter?”

Swallowing hard, she gestured with one hand to the coffee table.

He placed a hand on her arm, the touch as gentle as his voice. “Let’s give it a look.”

When she sat on the sofa, Charlie dropped down beside her. Picking up the letter, she handed it to him.

“Seeing Brian’s handwriting, reading his words…” Hannah blinked rapidly. “I thought I’d grieved enough for one lifetime. But then I get hit with something like this, and the pain rushes back. You probably don’t understand…”

“I never lost a spouse, but my grandpa, my mom’s dad, he and I were close.” Charlie’s eyes turned dark with memories. “Even now, twenty years later, I’ll be working on something and swear I feel Pops looking over my shoulder, ready to offer a suggestion.” Charlie’s smile held both sadness and love. “Though not as strong as when he first passed, that’s when the grief will hit me.”

“He sounds like a wonderful man.”

“He was. My mom told me once that grief is the price of love.”

Hannah nodded. She took in a breath and let it out slowly. “Maisie was kind to me.”

“You said the two of you had a conversation on the porch. Then what? She pulls out this letter?”

Charlie held the sheet of paper loosely between his fingers, but made no move to read it. It was as if he realized she needed more time to settle.

Hannah scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to clear her brain of the muddle. “We actually talked for quite a while, mostly about the changes in my life—Brian’s illness and death, losing my job and moving.”

“Then she comes up with this letter and says it’s from your husband?”

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