When She Woke. Hillary Jordan

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      Hannah kept her growing aversion to herself, hoping that Becca’s ardor would cool once their father was well again, or failing that, that he would discern Cole’s true character and dissuade her sister from marrying him. In the meantime, Hannah did her best to be cordial to him and was careful not to challenge him openly or express her doubts to Becca. Confrontation was not the way to defeat him; better to bide her time and let him defeat himself.

      But she’d overestimated both her skill as an actress and her forbearance, as she discovered on Becca’s birthday. Their father had been home for two weeks, but he still wasn’t strong, so they kept the party to the immediate family—and Cole, of course. Hannah made Becca a dress out of soft lavender wool, and their parents bought her a small pair of opal earrings to match the cross they’d given her the year before.

      “Oh, how beautiful!” she exclaimed when she opened the velvet box.

      “Let’s see them on you,” their father said.

      Becca froze, and her eyes darted guiltily to Cole.

      “Go on, Becca,” Hannah urged. “Try them on.”

      Looking trapped and miserable, Becca put on the earrings.

      “They look lovely on you,” their mother said.

      “Yes, they do,” Hannah agreed. “Don’t you think so, Cole?”

      He gazed at Becca for long seconds, his expression unreadable. “Personally I don’t think Becca needs any adornment to look pretty,” he said, with a tight smile. “But yeah, they’re very nice.”

      After he left, Hannah cornered her sister in the kitchen. “What was that all about?”

      Becca shrugged uncomfortably. “Cole says the only jewelry a woman should wear besides a cross is a wedding ring.”

      Hannah’s antipathy toward him crystallized in that moment. Even more than his opinions, she disliked their absoluteness and the hypocrisy that underlay them. “But it’s perfectly fine for him to wear all those big shiny belt buckles and turquoise bolo ties.”

      “It’s different for men,” Becca said. “You know that.”

      It was different, and Hannah had been well-schooled in the reasons why. Still, the double standard had always bothered her. And applied to Cole Crenshaw, it was infuriating. “No, I don’t. But I’m sure Cole could give me a nice long lecture on the subject.”

      “I know why you don’t like him,” Becca said, her tone hard-edged. “You’re jealous because I have a man in my life, and you don’t.”

      “Is that what Cole says?”

      Becca crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think he hasn’t noticed your coldness to him all these months. It hurts his feelings, and it hurts mine.”

      “I’m sorry, Becca. I’ve tried to like him, but—”

      “I don’t want to hear it,” Becca said, turning away. “I love him, and I want to spend my life with him. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

      And that was that. Becca wed Cole as soon as their father was well enough to walk her down the aisle. Hannah made her sister’s wedding dress and stood at her side holding a bouquet of calla lilies while she vowed to love, honor and obey Cole Crenshaw for all eternity. Then Becca was gone. She and Cole lived only a few miles away, but they might as well have moved to Maine. Hannah tried to make nice with him now that he was her brother-in-law, but he wasn’t having it; the damage had been done. The sisters saw each other mostly on family occasions, and even then, Cole made sure they had little time alone together. Hannah felt Becca’s absence keenly. As different as they were, they’d always been close. Now, Hannah had no one with whom she could share her inner life.

      Part of it, she wouldn’t have dared share. Though she hadn’t seen Aidan Dale in over two months, he was still an insistent presence in her thoughts. As she sewed pearls onto veils and rosettes onto bodices, she remembered his many kindnesses to her family, the fervency of his prayers for her father, the comforting warmth of his hand on her shoulder. Again and again, she relived the moment when she’d looked into his eyes and seen her own feelings reflected there, or thought she had. Two things kept her from dismissing it as a wishful figment: He hadn’t come back to the hospital after that day. And Alyssa Dale had.

      She’d paid them a visit the very next morning. Hannah and Becca were alone with their father; their mother was home resting. The previous day’s excitement and the long, tense buildup to it had left them all spent. Hannah was catnapping in the chair beside her father’s bed. She was distantly aware of a murmured conversation taking place between Becca and another woman, but that wasn’t what drew her up out of sleep. Rather, it was the prickling sense of being watched. She opened her eyes to find Alyssa Dale standing at the foot of the bed, exactly where Aidan had stood, staring down at her. Disconcerted, Hannah looked around the room, but Becca wasn’t there.

      “Your sister had a call, and she went outside to take it,” Alyssa said softly. “She didn’t want to wake your father.”

      “Oh,” Hannah said. She felt slow and stupid. She knew she ought to get up and greet her visitor, but Alyssa’s frank, assessing gaze seemed to pin her to the chair. In public Alyssa Dale was the quintessential minister’s wife: demure and gracious, pretty without being beautiful enough to cause resentment, dignified without being aloof. Now, for the first time, Hannah perceived the intelligence that inhabited the other woman’s mild hazel eyes. Had she missed it because she hadn’t expected to see it there, or because Alyssa usually kept it hidden?

      “Congratulations on your father’s good news. You must be very relieved.”

      “We are, thank you.” Hannah pushed herself to her feet, stretched out her hand. “I’m Hannah.”

      Alyssa nodded but didn’t extend her own. “Yes, my husband has mentioned you. In his prayers.”

      Hannah let her hand fall to her side. “It’s kind of you to have come.”

      “Aidan told me the Lord worked a miracle yesterday. I wanted to see it for myself.”

      Alyssa’s eyes didn’t leave Hannah’s. The scrutiny made her want to squirm. “Well,” Hannah said, “we’re all incredibly grateful for his concern.”

      “The Lord’s or my husband’s? People do tend to confuse the two.” Alyssa’s tone was gently acerbic. “Of course, that’s only because they haven’t been around him before he’s had his morning coffee.”

      Hannah said nothing, nonplussed by the image that popped into her mind of Aidan in his pajamas, his hair disheveled, his eyes heavy-lidded. Alyssa watched her with a knowing expression that held a hint of warning, and Hannah’s cheeks burned as it occurred to her just how many women must have fancied themselves in love with Aidan Dale over the years. She must be one of dozens, hundreds even, who’d fantasized about him. Wished him unmarried to this astute, composed woman.

      “Hannah,” Becca said in a loud whisper. She stood in the doorway, holding up her port. “Mama wants to talk to you.”

      Hannah suppressed a sigh of relief. “Please excuse me, Mrs. Dale.”

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