Chapter 44
Hannah opened the bureau drawer where she had put all of her pajama sets and regarded them, the colors muted by the darkness of the room, the sole source of light a hurricane gas lamp she’d brought up to the bedroom with her which brightened the bedside area but left the rest of the room in shadows that flickered and shook.
What did you wear to bed with your ex-fiance, one you wanted back but who had apparently fallen out of love with you? One who had just told you that the only reason he was staying overnight was because he didn’t want to upset your mother and her friends by leaving too soon? One who wouldn’t listen, interrupted you every time you tried to explain?
She felt a sob welling in her throat and choked it down. No, no more crying. It wouldn’t fix anything. It would probably just make him even more annoyed with her. No, she was going to be strong now, have some dignity in all of this. If he didn’t love her anymore, then she was just going to have to accept that. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop loving him, though. He was in her heart and there he would remain no matter what happened in the outside world. Would she ever love another man? She couldn’t imagine it.
The door to the bedroom swung open and Daniel stepped into the room holding the same small overnight bag he’d brought for that first aborted visit.
She turned to face him, closing the drawer. “Hi,” she said softly.
“Hey. This is weird. But,” he said, dropping the bag unceremoniously on the floor, where it made a loud thud. “It is what it is. I’m going in the morning, though.”
“I know, you told me.”
“Just want to be clear. Damn, my head hurts. Those Mean Greens really are mean. Have you got any Advil?” He sat heavily on the side of the bed she usually slept on, and put one hand to his head. “This is two nights in a row of tequila.”
She looked at him rubbing his hand on his head. She wanted to sit down next to him, rub his neck, touch him, but she didn’t dare. What did he just say? “Two nights? You were out last night?”
He didn’t look at her, just nodded slowly, staring into space. “Yeah. Went out with Brian.”
She hated that he wouldn’t look at her. Hated this emptiness between them. And the mention of Brian, the Lothario of Lotharios, made her feel even worse. So they’d been out on the town last night, drinking and trolling the clubs, probably in the company of beautiful women. “Uh huh…”
“I’m going to ignore that. I don’t think I have to make excuses,” he said, glancing at her sharply. “Do have any Advil? Tylenol? I can go check downstairs-“
“Yeah, sure, there’s some around here somewhere,” she said miserably, pushing away from the bureau to walk over to her suitcase that lay in the corner. She crouched down and started feeling around in the outside zippered compartments. She heard the scrape of the bedside table’s drawer being opened, Daniel searching, too. Then there was a particular silence, a breathlessness in that part of the room that made her turn to look.
Daniel sat on the bed, holding something between his thumb and index finger. Her engagement ring.
She gasped, and then the words rushed out before she thought about what they revealed. “Where was that?
He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean, where was it?”
The drawer of the small table was still hanging open. That was where she had put it. Not in her suitcase, or her purse. It all came rushing back to her. That first night, how tired she’d been. She had been putting the ring on and taking it off all day, trying to fight the anxiety she felt when she saw it on her hand. As she lay in bed that night, her eyes heavy with sleep, she’d taken it off again and put it in the drawer next to her, blew out the candle in its pretty Delft candleholder that sat beside the bed, and her mind had rushed away into a deep dream-filled sleep.
She stood up and reaching involuntarily toward him, the ring, before dropping her hands to her sides. “I-I couldn’t find it.” There, the truth was out – the awful fact that, on top of taking it off, she had lost it.
He looked at her, and then back at the ring. “You lost it,” he said in a wondering voice.
She had to make him understand. “I was just taking it off for a little while, while I was getting my head on straight. I thought I put it in my suitcase, in the zippered pocket where it would be safe. I still wanted to marry you. I want to marry you now. I love you. I know you don’t love me anymore. You don’t want me, but-“
“No. You’re wrong,” he said, shaking his head and looking at the ring.
“Yes, I do. Stop telling me how I feel. Stop shutting me out!”
He looked up at her, his eyes bright and wet in the lamplight. “No, I’m not talking about you. You’re wrong about me. I never stopped loving you.”
“What?” Her breath caught and she stared at him, at the open and yearning way he was looking at her, had been looking at her all day, but she couldn’t see until now. How had she been blind to it? She had assumed his anger was a lack of love.
“Come here.”
She went to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him, her eyes fastened on his.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
She lifted up her left hand and he took it between his, still holding the ring between two fingers.
“Hannah O’Brien, will you be my wife?”
“Yes, yes, please. Oh, please,” she answered, sobbing and then laughing a little.
“If I put this ring on your finger, will you wear it for the rest of your life?”
“I’ll never take it off again, I’d rather die.”
He laughed at her earnest expression. “I don’t think it will come to that. I just want to know that you’re really mine, that you want to be mine. Because I want to be yours, Hannah. I don’t want anyone else. Only you.”
“You’re all I want.”
He put the ring on her finger, sliding it into place. Hannah looked at it, beautiful and glittering brilliantly, shooting sparks of color everywhere. She waited for the flutters of panic, but they were silent. Instead, there was a spreading warmth within her, unfolding. She looked up into his eyes, and watched them grow closer as he kneeled down beside her and drew her into his arms.