Page 42 of The Widower
“Hanna. She asked for you. I told her you didn’t want to be disturbed, but... she really insisted.”
For a few seconds, I replayed what she’d said. Why would Hanna be calling me?
“Where is she?”
“At the park.”
“All right. Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I’m not sure who looked more surprised—me, for actually agreeing to go, or Jeanne, for hearing me sound so decisive.
“Okay,” she said quickly before leaving.
I needed to get out of that room anyway. And honestly, I was curious—why the hell was Hanna calling for me?
Either way, there was only one way to find out.
I didn’t have to look for the little one for long. She was playing by herself at the park, with Jeanne keeping a watchful eye on her.
I was almost certain Isabelle had no idea Hanna had asked for me—and I doubted she’d approve if she did.
I stood there for a few minutes, watching her play. There’s something beautiful about being a child—no problems, no worries, just joy. I never had that kind of freedom growing up, but I did everything I could to make sure Joshua and Maddison did.
“Hi, Uncle Colin.”
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even notice her until she was right beside me, looking up with those big curious eyes. There’s something about her presence that completely disarms me, and I still don’t know why it happens so often. Maybe it’s her innocence, or that effortless honesty in her voice—but I just can’t bring myself to be stern with her.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
“You knew I called you?”
“Yeah. Jeanne told me. What is it you need?”
“Hmm. Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I frowned.“Really?”
What is this little rascal up to now?
“Uh-huh. You were all alone in your room, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t like being alone. It feels bad, doesn’t it?”
How could I tell her I’d gotten used to it? That sometimes I even preferred the quiet ache of solitude that followed me every day?
“Sometimes it does,” I admitted.
“Uh-huh. That’s why I called you—so you wouldn’t be sad like you were yesterday.”
I froze again. This kid was sharper than I’d ever realized. She’d picked up on my mood and connected the dots—I was sure of it.For someone so small, Hanna noticed everything.
“I’m better today,” I said, glancing away. I couldn’t hold her gaze; she was too pure, too untouched by the kind of darkness that lived inside me.
“Do you work?” she asked, drawing my eyes back to her.
“Yes. I’m an architect.”
