Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) (7 page)

T
HE sun shone, creating a world of almost blinding whiteness everywhere. “Daddy, can I go outside?” Hanna asked as she jumped on his bed in a burst of energy that made Ken smile. “Look, Daddy, my hair is longer now,” Hanna told him with a grin. She had obviously just come from the bathroom to tell him, like she had each morning for the past week. Her light blonde hair was just a fraction of an inch long, but Ken couldn’t help placing his hand on her head to feel the downy hair. It was another sign of Hanna’s recovery and gave hope to both of them.

“But Mr. Patrick is outside,” Hanna told him with sad eyes, and Ken felt the last of his resistance fail him. Hanna loved their silent neighbor, and Ken couldn’t stop himself from parting the curtain on the window near his bed to look out. Patrick was indeed outside, clearing the sidewalks of the slush before it could refreeze. The tall, silent man fascinated him, and Ken had found himself watching him every chance he got.

Patrick was handsome, there was no doubt about that, and something about him drew Ken’s eye no matter what. Even now, watching him as he worked, Ken could see his almost fluid grace as he moved. There hadn’t been many times that Ken had seen his neighbor without his thick coat and all bundled up against the weather, but when he had, he hadn’t easily been able to keep his eyes to himself. Patrick was strong, there was no doubt about that, and as Ken peered out the window, hesaw Patrick bend down to fill his shovel. Ken closed his eyes and swallowed hard as his mind conjured up Patrick’s pants tightening around his butt and thick legs.

“Daddy,” Hanna said with a slight whine that she was probably entitled to after Ken’s mind had wandered off six ways to Sunday.

“Okay. We’ll bundle you up tight and you can spend a little time outside, but you have to take it easy. Remember what the doctor said the last time you saw her,” he warned, and Hanna nodded.

“I know, Daddy,” Hanna agreed, and Ken felt a stab of guilt the way he always did when he tried to stop Hanna from doing things children her age normally did without thought.

“I already did,” she said with a smile and hurried away. Ken pushed back the covers and got out of the bed. After tugging off his pajamas, he pulled on clean underwear and then jeans and a shirt before hurrying to the bathroom. He knew he had about five minutes before Hanna came looking for him again.

Right on time, she banged on the bathroom door as he was brushing his teeth. Ken spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth before opening the door and then lifting Hanna up so she could do the same. “Wash your face and hands, and then you can get dressed and eat.”

“Then you’d better hurry,” he told her, and she washed and dried her hands and face before rushing back to her bedroom. The doctors had all told him he’d know as soon as Hanna was truly feeling better, and that certainly seemed to be the case right now. She had energy that Ken hadn’t seen in a while. By the time he caught up with her, she had already stripped off her nightgown and was pulling on her little underwear.

“Those are backward, honey,” Ken explained, and he helped her get them on before picking up the pants and shirt she’d chosen. He helped without appearing to help too much, and once she had her socks and shoes on, they both went downstairs. Hanna started pulling on her coat and then handed Ken her mittens so he could help her get them on properly.

Once Hanna was bundled up, Ken got his gear on and then opened the front door. They stepped outside, and Ken made sure she got safely down the steps before she took off down the walk toward where Patrick was working. Ken watched as the big man set down his shovel to greet Hanna with a hug. “Morning, Patrick,” Ken said, waiting for Patrick’s smile and a gentle nod. He’d come to learn a lot of things about Patrick, not least of which was the fact that he had what seemed like a million different smiles, and each one said something different. This one said, “I’m happy to see you.” “Hanna saw you from inside and insisted we come out to visit. I hope we aren’t interrupting your work,” Ken said, and Patrick’s expression shifted to one of delight and he rolled his eyes slightly.

“The doctor says I’m doing very well, but I have to take it easy,” Hanna explained with one of her own patented eye rolls that Ken swore she’d picked up from Patrick. Sometimes he thought those two had developed their own language; maybe they had. He knew there were things about Patrick that he picked up that Hanna hadn’t, like the way his eyes shoneor the way Patrick looked away whenever Ken caught him watching. So why wouldn’t Patrick and Hanna have also developed their own signals? Over the past few months, Patrick had developed into one of Hanna’s favorite people, and she always seemed to know where he was and what he was doing. It was sometimes spooky.

Patrick lifted Hanna into his arms, and she giggled and laughed as he held her high so she could look out over everything. After a few moments, he set Hanna down, and Ken watched as Patrick showed her how to make a snowball. He formed the snow in his hands and then lobbed it through the air where it blew apart against the side of a tree. Hanna mimicked his movements and threw the snowball at Ken, who tried to jump out of the way.

“So you want to snowball fight,” Ken said, and Hanna squealed her delight as she scooped up more snow and threw it at Ken. The air soon filled with loose snowballs, bits of snow, and laughter, some of the latter coming from Patrick. Ken felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the rough sound. At first Patrick choked off the sound, but when both Ken and Hanna continued their laughter, Patrick seemed to let go a little, laughing in his own way. Ken caught a bunch of snow in the face when he was paying more attention to Patrick, and the way his face lit up when he smiled, than he was to defending himself against Patrick and Hanna’s combined assault.

Ken grabbed a pile of snow and began flinging it at both of them, most of it raining down in flurries long before it reached its intended target. Ken found himself laughing as he let go of the worry that had plagued him for months. “Take that!” Ken cried and lobbed a loosely packed snowball at Hanna. It hit her foot, and she squealed and laughed as both she and Patrick retaliated in a thick wall of snow that left him covered from head to toe.

Everything stopped when Hanna coughed. Ken had to keep himself from rushing to her. She didn’t do it again, but Ken looked at Patrick, the concern that their fun had momentarily pushed aside rushing back. Hanna continued to play until Patrick touched her shoulder. She looked up at him, and Ken swore they had some sort of meeting of the minds, because Hanna stopped and then coughed again. Ken was ready to take her inside when Hanna removed her elbow from in front of her mouth, the way she’d been taught. “Daddy’s making pancakes.” She looked at Ken with an impish grin. “Right, Daddy?”

“Daddy makes the bestest pancakes there are,” Hanna told Patrick before turning in Ken’s arms. “Can Mr. Patrick have pancakes too?” she asked, and Ken knew exactly what the little scamp was doing. Hanna was only six, but that girl knew how to wrap any man in her life around her little finger, especially when she looked at them with her big blue doe eyes. No one could say no to that face as she peered out from under her pink fuzzy hat.

“Patrick is always welcome to have pancakes,” Ken said. “Please join us.” Patrick motioned up and down the sidewalk, indicating that he had a lot of work to do, and Hanna pouted, as if on cue. Ken could see Patrick’s resolve crumble like a snow fort in July. “I’ll have breakfast ready in about half an hour. Please stop by if you like.” Ken knew it wouldn’t be right to pressure Patrick, so he gave him an out. Hanna waved good-bye, and Ken carried her back toward the house as she coughed again.

Inside, Ken got her coat off and sat her down on the sofa. “You need to take it easy.” Ken turned on the television and let Hanna watch some cartoon that made no sense to him, but Hanna was engrossed and quiet. In the kitchen, he got out the ingredients for pancake batter and began mixing it up. He hoped Patrick would join them, but he wasn’t counting on it. Their silent neighbor always seemed reticent in any social situation, but Ken enjoyed his company. Patrick fascinated him. He wasn’t sure why, and he sometimes wondered if it was the fact that he was silent and distant, sort of unattainable.

Ken listened as he worked, and thankfully he didn’t hear Hanna coughing any longer. He’d finished the batter and was about to begin heating the griddle when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it, Daddy,” Hanna called, and Ken was about to stop her when he heard her pad to the front door. The resounding squeal told Ken it was indeed Patrick, and he came into the kitchen with Hanna in his arms.

“You need to rest—you know that,” Ken told Hanna, and she pouted for a second before turning to Patrick.
“Can I watch a video?” Hanna asked. Ken was about to set down the batter and help her when Patrick motioned that he’d do it, and the two of them left the kitchen. “I want to watch
Barbie Nutcracker
,” Hanna said. Ken heard the television go silent, and a minute later the now familiar music from the start of the video began.

Ken poured the first pancakes on the griddle as Patrick came back into the room. “She loves that,” Ken told Patrick as he worked. “A few weeks ago, I got up to get the paper and a box of children’s videos was sitting on our front porch.” Ken set the batter aside and watched the pancakes cook. It was either that or stare into Patrick’s eyes, wondering at the pain behind them, or at his lips and wonder just what they would taste like. “I don’t know who’s doing it, but I suspect it’s my ex-boyfriend, Mark. He’s called every now and then, and it’s always after something has been left for Hanna.” Ken made sure the pancakes weren’t sticking as he watched Patrick. He’d also thought Patrick might have left the box, but there was no reaction whatsoever. “She loves the Barbie
Nutcracker
video. Hanna’s watched it almost daily.” The familiar music continued playing in the other room, and Ken turned the pancakes. Then he reached up into the cupboard and pulled down a plate that he set into the oven before turning it on warm.

Once the pancakes were done, Ken placed them on the plate and returned them to the warm oven before putting a new batch on the griddle. Ken motioned Patrick to one of the stools before getting out orange juice and milk from the refrigerator and then setting them on the table. “Hanna loves my pancakes,” Ken explained. “And I think it’s because they’re about the only thing I can cook that doesn’t end up burned or raw.” Patrick smiled, and Ken got out flatware and set the table before turning the pancakes. “Hanna, come in to the table,” Ken called, and he heard the video pause; then Hanna walked in and took her place at the table, motioning for Patrick to sit beside her. Ken got the pancakes out of the warm oven and set the plate on a cloth on the table.

“ Please help yourself,” Ken told Patrick as he poured juice and milk. Patrick helped Hanna with her pancake before taking a few for himself. Once Ken had everything set, he filled his plate. Before he could eat, Ken made sure Hanna had butter and just the right amount of syrup on her breakfast before fixing his own. Ken watched as Hanna began eating. She always ate slowly, and Ken had developed the habit of watching how much she ate. When she’d been so sick, she’d eaten very little, and it was good to see her actually eating the way a normal child would. He also saw Patrick practically wolf down his pancakes. Either the man was hungry or the breakfast was actually pretty good. Ken began to eat as well, and he realized a few things: the pancakes really were just average, and the smile that seemed to brighten Patrick’s face just might be for him.

“Daddy, can I have more juice?” Hanna asked, and Ken poured her another small glass before feeling her forehead. He seemed to do that all the time, though Hanna felt cool and normal.

Patrick reached for another helping of pancakes. “You really don’t have to eat them to be nice,” Ken told Patrick, and he shook his head, giving Ken another of those eye rolls before eating once again. There were so many things he wanted to ask Patrick. The man was gorgeous and intelligent as hell, but so closed off. “Did you ever look into one of those computers that helps you talk? Like Steven Hawking has?” Patrick set his fork on the plate with a rattle, and Ken wondered if he’d done something wrong, but Patrick didn’t seem angry as much as sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….”

Patrick shook his head and touched Ken’s hand. Without thinking, Ken turned his hand over and felt Patrick’s fingers lightly scrape over his. Ken couldn’t take his eyes off where Patrick was touching him. His rough skin moved slowly over Ken’s. Finally lifting his gaze, Ken caught Patrick’s, and they stared at each other until Hanna began to laugh.

“Daddy and Patrick, sitting in a tree….” Hanna sang in her clear little girl voice. Ken smiled and glanced at her, but when he looked back at Patrick, the sadness was back, and much deeper this time. Hanna continued to sing, and Patrick gently pulled his hand away.

“Shhh, honey,” Ken whispered, and Hanna stopped singing and looked alternately at Patrick and then Ken, clearly as confused by Patrick’s reaction as he was. Hanna’s lower lip began to quiver, and Ken placed his hand on her shoulder, quelling the anger that threatened to bloom inside him. “It’s okay,” he said softlyto Hanna, and she sniffled. Patrick stood up quickly, his chair nearly overturning as he stepped back from the table.

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” Hanna said as she looked up at the stricken expression on Patrick’s face. He stood without moving for a few seconds and then seemed to realize all of a sudden how he’d acted. “I was just playing,” Hanna said, and Patrick’s expression softened. The knot that had formed in Ken’s stomach unwound just a little. He had no idea what had caused Patrick’s distress, and he hoped it wasn’t what he’d asked him, but it seemed to be dissipating, and some of the stress and tension flowed away. Ken motioned toward the chair, and Patrick slowly sat down once again and took Hanna’s hand in his, an apology written in Patrick’s expressive eyes.