WindSwept Narrows: #8 Hannah Taylor

Hannah Taylor ran after the three year old, laughing and tossing little snow balls in the side yard of the inn where they were staying. She didn’t notice the man watching them until he wandered a little unevenly to the snow covered bench and plopped down. Pale hair blown by the winter winds and his glasses fogged.

He stood up, brushed the heavy snow to the ground with leather covered palms and sank back onto the thick wooden bench. Matching redheads, he thought in the middle of a very hazy gaze. The little one stretched out on the smooth snow and flapping her arms next to her mother.

Tall, willowy and wispy. Those were the words his mind had assigned to her when he first saw her striding around the resort, looking very professional. Her hair was worn in a thick, feathery cap that barely touched her shoulders and curled lightly around her face.

“Hannah Taylor…you are the most beautiful snow angel in the world,” he announced loudly, frowning at the sound of his own voice. Those were supposed to be private thoughts.

Hannah lifted the ends of her scarf from the ground, wrapping the deep green wool around her head and checking Liliana’s to make sure her cap was still in place. He was twenty feet away and just staring. She leaned a little, eyes narrowed. He didn’t look well. Not sick, but…something wasn’t right, she thought, walking through the thick snow.

“How do you know who I am?” She asked, watching the three year old make little mounds of snow balls and stack them.

“Noah Madison, Miss Taylor,” he tried to stand up, wobbled and fell to sit back on the bench, frowning. “Hmmm…”

“You’re drunk,” she announced as if it were something he wasn’t aware of, pale lashes blinking and watching him. She had to smile. He was cute…hadn’t shaved in a day or two, with pale hair that kept falling onto his glasses. His eyes were a pretty shade of amber, the sun sparkling off the snow and making him squint a little.

“And in honor of my friend, I intend to stay that way for three solid days,” he declared triumphantly, no humor in his eyes.

She caught sight of a small card that had fallen to the ground. She pulled one glove free and picked it carefully from the snow. A memorial card. She read through it quickly and slid it into the top pocket of his heavy overcoat.

“I’m sorry. You were in the military together,” she stated with a certainty that had him blinking. “Was he ill?”

“Depressed…” His hand went up in a shaky form of a gun to his temple. “I…if he had just talked…how do you help if you don’t know…”

“People keep it to themselves,” she said softly, brushing the snow off the end of the bench and sitting down, making little snow balls and tossing them toward Liliana. “It’s hard to understand someone wanting to die. Not impossible…just hard, I think. We think of the pain we’re in, but not the pain that made them want to leave so badly.”

“Have I mentioned that I find you immensely beautiful?” He asked with only the smallest of slurs to his words, his elbows on his knees and hands hanging between his knees.

“How do you know me, Mr. Madison?”

“We work for the same place, Miss Taylor,” he returned with a slightly slurred but polite nod. “You’re far from home.”

“Oh…we came over to play in the snow,” she said with a smile at the little girl.

“Where’s her father?” He asked with a momentary burst of lucidity.

“He died when I was three months pregnant,” she answered honestly. “He never knew.”

“I’m sorry…so you came to play in the snow…”

“It’s a nice way to spend a day off,” she watched him push against the bench and stand up shakily. “Are you staying at this inn? I can help you…” Hannah stood up and moved quickly to stand in front of him, her hands up and on his chest. “Whoa…you didn’t drive here…I hope…”