Matthew: The Circle Eight by Emma Lang

a bit of speed in his step. Everything appeared to be normal as he walked into the house. Then he heard the laughter.
    Hannah.
    He’d heard her laugh once before, but nothing like this. The sound was full of joy that echoed around him and through him. Damned if it didn’t make him smile. Whatever had happened while he’d been off on his own must have been better than he’d expected.
    He took off his boots and hung up his hat, then headed into the kitchen. Not knowing what to expect, he tread lightly, peering around the corner so they wouldn’t know he was there. Eva and Hannah stood beside each other at the counter. One tall and curvy, the other short and round. One dark, one light. They were a study in opposites, but they appeared to be in harmony.
    The kitchen had an air of happiness he hadn’t experienced in months. He wondered if it was Hannah’s presence that had lifted the cloud of doom that had hung over the ranch for so long. When he’d met her in the store one week ago, Matt had had no idea how entwined their lives would become.
    Perhaps he was foolish to stay away from her, to be afraid of being married. If Eva liked her, then he knew he’d made a good choice. He trusted the housekeeper implicitly—she’d been a second mother to him for the last fifteen years.
    Maybe later he’d get some time with her. No doubt he’d have to endure a dressing down, but he’d also have a chance to talk to her about Hannah. That’s what he should have done when he’d arrived instead of running away. He’d probably feel the repercussions of his behavior for a while.
    Mrs. Dolan sat at the table with a cup. She was the first to spot him. “And the prodigal son returns. You’d best get on in here and get it over with. I’m thinking you have some groveling to do.” Hannah’s grandmother was definitely not one to keep a thought to herself.
    Hannah and Eva turned to look at him as he walked into the kitchen. One woman was wary, the other most assuredly annoyed. They both had flour all over the aprons they wore and their hands.
    “Eva is teaching me how to make tortillas,” Hannah blurted before she turned back to the counter.
    Eva shook her head at him, and he felt the force of that stare all the way to his toes. She could embarrass him further by scolding him right then and there. He sure as hell hoped she wouldn’t.
    “She is a fast learner.” When Eva finally let her gaze move away from his, Matt took a deep breath. “Go ring the bell and wash up. Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Matt bolted out of the kitchen to ring the dinner bell. No need to tempt fate by giving Eva another opportunity to yell at him. He owed Hannah an apology but he couldn’t seem to form the words. Maybe later when they went to bed, he’d feel more relaxed and be able to speak to her without tripping over his tongue.
     
    Hannah hardly saw the tortilla in her hand for the pounding in her head and her heart. Matt had spent hours away from the house, and he didn’t even say a word to her. She managed to swallow the lump of hurt in her throat, but just barely. Eva must have sensed Hannah’s discomfort because she took her hand.
    “ No te preocupes, hija. He does not know yet who he is.”
    Hannah didn’t understand the Spanish but she recognized the message just the same. She nodded and managed to make some semblance of a tortilla.
    “Why don’t you stir the beans and then set the table. I will finish.” Eva gently turned Hannah toward the stove.
    After wiping her hands on a towel, she found the act of making dinner gave her back some normalcy on the strangest day of her life. She set the table for the twelve of them. Mr. Graham obviously knew what he’d been doing when he built a table with benches on either side. The two chairs had been for the parents and Hannah wondered who would sit there during this meal.
    Within ten minutes, the Grahams started filing in and sat on the bench, including Matt.