Hannah And Her Sisters Quotes

If Jesus came back and saw what was being done in his name, he'd never stop throwing up.

The heart is a very, very resilient little muscle. It really is.

You're nothing like your sister," he tells me. "She meant a lot to me, okay? It's true. But the things I like about you have nothing to do with her. You - you are so strong and stubborn it drives me crazy. You're the one going through all this and you still put Laney first every time, instead of throwing yourself the pity party we both know you deserve. You call me out on my shit, and I like that, because sometimes I need someone to call me out on my shit. And you get Johnny Cash, and you take these incredible photos, and everything about you makes me hurt, in a good way, and it blows my mind that someone can be so amazing and not even see it.

What if the worst is true? What if there's no God, and you only go around once, and that's it? Don't you want to be a part of the experience? You know, what the hell? It's not all a drag, and I'm thinking to myself: Geez! I should stop ruining my life searching for answers I'm never gonna get and just enjoy it while it lasts. And, you know, after--who knows? Maybe there is something, nobody really knows. I know that maybe is a very slim reed to hang your whole life on, but that's the best we have.

I don’t know why it’s so easy for me to forget how much I love her. We start fighting, and…” “Sisters.

She whispered in his ear. “Tell my sister I asked about her. We parted badly.” He smiled. “I am constantly arguing with my brother, even in war. In the end, we’re brothers.

She looked at Vianne, and the universe of their friendship was in her eyes - the secrets they'd shared, the promises they'd made and kept, the dreams for their children that bound them as neatly as sisters.

Hannah was the total opposite. When she decided to commit herself to someone or something, she went in one thousand percent. Loyalty to the people she cared about hummed in her blood. Loyalty made her Hannah.

And tomorrow, next month, next year? It will take a long time. Years from now, they will still be arranging the pieces they know, puzzling over her features, redrawing her outlines in their minds. Sure that they've got her right this time, positive in this moment that they understand her completely, at last. They will think of her often: when Marilyn opens the curtains in Lydia's room, opens the closet, and begins to take the clothing from the shelves. When their father, one day, enters a party for the first time does not glance, quickly, at all the blond heads in the room. When Hannah begins to stand a little straighter, when she begins to speak a bit clearer, when one day she flicks her hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture and wonders, for a moment, where she got it. And Nath. When at school people ask if he has siblings: two sisters, but one died; when one day, he looks at the small bump that will always mar the bridge of Jack's nose and wants to trace it, gently, with his finger. When a long, long time later, he stares down at the silent blue marble of the earth and thinks of his sister, as he will at every important moment of his life. He doesn't know this yet, but he senses it deep down in his core. So much will happen, he thinks, that I would want to tell you.

Abbey," Sarah said, "life is to be lived. If you're living, you're going to stumble along the way." "All the time?" Abigail lept to her feet and began to pace. "I have such a bad temper and when I was in my teens, I wasn't above using my gift for revenge. None of you did that." Joley slowly raised her hand, sliding down in the chair as she did so. Hannah followed suit, though she didn't look in the least remorseful. Sarah shrugged her shoulders and raised her hand and glared at Elle, who just grinned sheepishly and put up a couple of fingers. Carol tossed her head and waved her arm with gusto.

Sometimes you can just feel a person's decency in the same way that sometimes you can intuit a lack of it. Phil had the air of a man who is fully attentively engaged Josh Hannah's first fiance had the air of a man trying not to look at his watch. Phil consistently interested himself in the lives of others Josh talked about himself. Phil looked at my sister with tenderness and humor Josh looked at her as if she were an especially persistent gnat.

I love you," he says. She pulls away, and studies him carefully, but the words rise up in her too, undeniable, irrepressible. "I love you." He smiles. "L'amour étend sur moi ses ailes!" "What is that?" "A line from the song your sister was listening to." "What does it mean?" "Love spreads its wings over me.

Why have I never heard anything about all this—and not just from you? Sophie never said a word. Hell, I didn’t even know that people escaped over the mountains or that there was a concentration camp just for women who resisted the Nazis.” “Men tell stories,” I say. It is the truest, simplest answer to his question. “Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over. Your sister was as desperate to forget it as I was. Maybe that was another mistake I made—letting her forget. Maybe we should have talked about it.

The most amazing part of this science-fiction moment was that her mother actually believed what she just said.

Claire knew she loved her daughter too much; it was dangerous to need another human being so desperately, but Claire had never known any other way to love.

Hannah stepped into the house and immediately had to check her urge to find the person in charge of the playlist. If she let herself, she’d sit in the corner all night searching for the perfect next song

Bastian’s carelessness was artificial, a façade built to keep anyone from knowing just how much he cared. She still remembered the lightning-quick way he’d changed that night in the alley, how the lazy air of entitlement had fallen away like a discarded cloak. So many layers, so much crafted, careful nonchalance. Bastian was drowning in it, but he didn’t fool her, though the weak points she’d seen were only hairline cracks in the armor he’d forged over years. It reminded her of herself. How she’d been Night-Sister-Lore, and then poison-runner-Lore and now spy-Lore, each a new persona she’d eased into, a different shell to wear. When she thought about what might be left when all that artifice was stripped away, she came up blank. Like all the things that made her were window dressings on an empty house.

Talking about Meghann’s painful choice and the lonely years that had followed it wouldn’t help. Her past wasn’t a collection of memories to be worked through; it was like an oversize Samsonite with a bum wheel.

He wished to find Sage. He wished to tell her he was sorry. He wished to be better about revealing how he felt, bit by bit. And perhaps, most importantly—he wished to have a godsforsaken tea party with her little sister, Lyssa.

What passion today with Lee. She's a volcano. It was a totally fulfilling experience... Just as I dreamed it would be. (nodding slightly as he takes off his slippers) That's what it was. It was like living out a dream...a great dream.

You see the whole culture (watching television) . . . Nazis, deodorant salesman, wrestlers . . . beauty contests, the talk show . . . Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling? Hmm? But the worst are the fundamentalist preachers . . . third-rate con men, telling the poor suckers that watch them that they speak for Jesus . . . and to please send in money. Money, money, money! If Jesus came back, and saw what’s going on in his name, he’d never stop throwing up.

My brain came alight with tenderness for her. I felt so sorry for everything. I yearned to embrace her, kiss her even, to stay with her, always her, my sister, my friend to the end. It was a story after all, even if a sick one. It was completely ours.

... I somehow got the idea that oak floors were located exclusively in New York City. This came chiefly from watching Woody Allen movies. I wanted to live someplace that looked like Mia Farrow's apartment in 'Hannah and Her Sisters' (little did I know that it was Mia Farrow's apartment). To me, this kind of space did not connote wealth. These were places where paint was peeling and the rugs were frayed, places where smart people sat around drinking gin and tonics, having interesting conversations, and living, according to my logic, in an authentic way.

MICKEY: Aren't you afraid of dying? FATHER: Why should I be afraid? MICKEY: Oh! 'Cause you won't exist! FATHER: So? MICKEY: That thought doesn't terrify you? FATHER: Who thinks about such nonsense? Now I'm alive. When I'm dead, I'll be dead. MICKEY: I don't understand. Aren't you frightened? FATHER: Of what? I'll be unconscious. MICKEY: Yeah, I know. But never to exist again! FATHER: How do you know? MICKEY: Well, it certainly doesn't look promising. FATHER: Who knows what'll be? I'll either be unconscious or I won't. If not, I'll deal with it then. I'm not gonna worry now about what's gonna be when I'm unconscious.

Lincoln, I meant what I said yesterday.” It wouldn’t be fair to let him have any illusions about today. “I know you did.” He turned and flashed her a dangerously handsome smile. “But your sisters and I want to celebrate your first day. Don’t spoil this for them, Hannah. And can there be any harm in a little picnic?

After that, they got hot dogs at a frankfurter stand and walked down the wharf. At Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe they saw shrunken heads and Egyptian mummies and cheap souvenirs. (Meg didn’t point out the eight-foot-long petrified whale penis that hung suspended from the ceiling; she could just imagine what Ali would tell her friends.)

You mean his kisses." Hannah corrected her. Jonas narrowed his gaze. "You seem obsessed with his kisses, Hannah." She shrugged. "It's been a while. I'm looking for a little action." His eyebrow shot up. "Oh, really?" Jonas leaned down, his hand twisting in her hair, holding her head perfectly still as his mouth took possession of hers. Libby gasped in shock. The kiss seemed to go on and on forever. And there was definitely tongue. Hannah not only wasn't struggling, she seemed to be kissing him back. Jonas pulled away just as abruptly, shoving his hat on his head and turning toward the living room. "That should hold you for a while. Next time you're feeling a little hard up, give me a call." He strode out of the room.

Although she’d been young—only four—Isabelle thought she’d learned what alone meant, but she’d been wrong. In the three years she’d lived at Le Jardin, she’d at least had a sister, even if Vianne was never around. Isabelle remembered peering down from the upstairs window, watching Vianne and her friends from a distance, praying to be remembered, to be invited, and then when

It is as heroic as he makes it sound. “Why have I never heard anything about all this—and not just from you? Sophie never said a word. Hell, I didn’t even know that people escaped over the mountains or that there was a concentration camp just for women who resisted the Nazis.” “Men tell stories,” I say. It is the truest, simplest answer to his question. “Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over. Your sister was as desperate to forget it as I was. Maybe that was another mistake I made—letting her forget. Maybe we should have talked about it.

Men tell stories,” I say. It is the truest, simplest answer to his question. “Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over. Your sister was as desperate to forget it as I was. Maybe that was another mistake I made—letting her forget. Maybe we should have talked about it.

Millions of books written on every conceivable subject by all these great minds, and, and in the end, none of 'em knows anything more about the big questions of life than I do. Ss--I read Socrates. You know, n-nn--, this guy used to kn-knock off little Greek boys. What the hell's he got to teach me? And, and Nietzsche with his, with his Theory of Eternal Recurrence. He said that the life we live, we're gonna live over and over again the exact same way for eternity. Great. (MORE) MICKEY (V.O.) (CONT'D) That means I, uh, I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again. Tch. It's not worth it. The movie next cuts to a sunny day in Central Park. A male jogger, seen through some tree branches, runs by. The camera moves past him, revealing a pondering Mickey walking by the reservoir. He continues to talk over the screen. MICKEY (V.O.) And, and Freud, another great pessimist. Jeez, I was in analysis for years. Nothing happened. My poor analyst got so frustrated. The guy finally put in a salad bar.

Noah turned to face his younger sister, arching one brow to a fairly smug height. Lenga lifted a brow back at him, giving him a delicate smattering of applause. “And I was afraid you would never learn the art of diplomacy,” she remarked, her lips twitching with her humor. “It merely took you the entire two and a half centuries of my life. Longer, actually. You had a few centuries’ head start.” “Funny how you seem to recall the fact that I am far older than you only when it suits your arguments, my sister,” he taunted her, reaching to tug on her hair as he had been doing since her childhood. “Well, I can say with all honesty that this is the first time I have ever seen you forgo a good argument with Hannah, opting for peace instead. I was beginning to wonder if you were my brother at all. Perhaps some imposter . . .” “Legna, be careful. You are speaking words of treason,” he teased her, tugging her hair once more, making her turn around to swat at his hand. “I don’t know how you convinced the entire Council that you were mature enough to be King, Noah! You are such a child!” She twisted her body so he couldn’t grab at her hair again. “And I swear, if you pull my hair once more like some sort of schoolyard bully, I am going to put you to sleep and shave you bald!” Noah immediately raised his hands in acquiescence, laughing as Legna flushed in exasperation. For all her grace and ladylike ways, Noah’s little sister was quite capable of making good on any threat she made. “I mean really, Noah. You are just about seven hundred years old. One would think you could at least act like it.

My fingers clutch the wooden edges of the podium. “My sister, Isabelle, was a woman of great passions,” I say quietly at first. “Everything she did, she did full speed ahead, no brakes. When she was little, we worried about her constantly. She was always running away from boarding schools and convents and finishing school, sneaking out of windows and onto trains. I thought she was reckless and irresponsible and almost too beautiful to look at. And during the war, she used that against me. She told me that she was running off to Paris to have an affair, and I believed her.

Tessa whooped and Charlotte squealed as the swing spun faster. The centrifugal force weakened Hannah’s tenuous hold. Her fingers slipped, and she slid across the seat—and into Lincoln’s open arms. Immediately, he pulled her tight against him as if he’d been waiting for the moment. That figured. She felt the hardness of his chest against her back and started to pull away. His hand came to rest protectively over her midsection, searing her flesh through her shirtwaist. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Can’t let you go flying off like some Tympanuchus cupido.” She swallowed hard as her heart drummed against her rib cage. Could he feel the pounding beneath his large hand?

You’ll never be the heavyweight champion of the world,” he said, “but you should be able to duck anything Edward throws at you.” Theo wanted his turn, but John said it was too hot for more lessons. He looked up into the tree where Hannah sat swinging her feet, and smiled. “Maybe your sister will come down from her perch and offer us a nice cold glass of lemonade.” Hannah gave her hand to John and allowed him to help her. “Not that I need your assistance,” she said. “I’m merely practicing my manners.” We watched John and Hannah walk away, still holding hands. “He’s as bad as diphtheria,” Theo muttered. “What do you mean?” “Diphtheria made you into a perfect gentleman,” Theo said, “and John makes Hannah into a perfect lady. I’m sure I don’t know which is worse--being sick or falling in love.

One night last year when my father and I were eating supper at 6.17 p.m., I said to him, "Did you have a favourite?" "A favourite what?" asked my father. "A favourite foster mother." "Yes, I did," said my father. "Her name was Hannah Pederson." "That is very interesting," I told him, recalling Mrs Leibler's conversational tips, "because 'Hannah' is a kind of word called a palindrome. That means you can spell it the same way whether you start at the beginning or the end. My name is not a palindrome because if you spell it backwards it's E-S-O-R. But it does have a homonym." My father said, "Don't get started on homonyms, Rose." So I said, "Did you have any favourite foster brothers or sisters?" "Yes," said my father after a moment. "How interesting," I replied. "Did any of their names have homonyms?

When people first started realizing that Zo and I were dating, Hollywood Hannah referred to me as “the biggest Kardashian.” I thought that was so cruel. Not only to me but to Khloe. I understood the reference. Khloe has worked hard to have a strong, healthy body, but when you see her standing beside her sisters, she is and will probably always be the biggest Kardashian. Like me, she’ll never be tiny. My relationship with food is more complicated than any relationship I’ve had with a man. My feelings drive me into binges or starvation. In counseling, I sorted out what food should be to me. It’s for nutrition. Not to make me feel better. It’s not comfort. It’s not a companion to make me feel less lonely. It is not a friend I celebrate special occasions with. It is fuel. It oils my engine so I can live my best life. So I can pursue my dreams. So I can make this world a better place.

Why should I help you? Can’t you get Hannah to like you on your own?” His brilliant idea of making an alliance with the sisters was beginning to tarnish, and Tessa didn’t appear to want to make this easy. Did obstinacy run in the Gregory family? Negotiating with a roomful of lawyers was easier than this. “I simply thought we could all help each other.” He flicked a bud casing from the automobile’s windshield. “Hannah doesn’t seem to like leaving you and your sister home alone, and I’d like to spend some time with her, so going on a picnic together works for all of us.” Tessa caressed the steering wheel. “Except for Hannah if she doesn’t want to be around you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Did she say that?” “Naw, she’s almost as moony-eyed about you as Charlotte is about George—but she’d skin me alive if she knew I told you that.” Tessa pretended to make a turn. “But something must be wrong, or you wouldn’t be here trying to get Charlotte and me on your side.” “I think you’re too smart for your own good.

And I wanted to be different, so I asked for harmonica lessons.” She tilted her head back, found his eyes in the dark. “Word to the wise, don’t ever learn the harmonica while you have braces.” “Hannah. Oh God. No.” His head fell back briefly, a laugh puffing out of him. “What happened?” “Our parents were in the Mediterranean, so we walked to our neighbor’s house and they were in France—” “Ah, yes. Typical neighborhood problems.” She snorted. “So their landscaper offered to drive me and Piper—who had actually peed her pants laughing—in the back of his truck.” She could barely keep her voice even, the need to giggle was so great. “We were driven to the closest hospital in the back of a pickup truck while the harmonica was stuck to my face. Every time I exhaled, the harmonica would play a few notes. People were honking . . .” His whole body was shaking with laughter, and Hannah could tell he’d finally, fully relaxed. The sexual tension didn’t leave completely, but he’d shelved it for now. “What did they say at the hospital?” “They asked if I was taking requests.

Next week is Beltane,” she reminded him. “Do you suppose we will make it through the wedding this time?” “Not if Gideon says you cannot get out of this bed,” he countered sternly. “Absolutely not!” she burst out, making him wince and cover the ear she’d been too close to. She immediately regretted her thoughtlessness, making a sad sound before reaching to kiss the ear she had offended with quiet gentleness. Jacob extricated himself from her hold enough to allow himself to turn and face her. “Okay, explain what you meant,” he said gently. “I refuse to wait another six months. We are getting married on Beltane, come hell or . . . necromancers . . . or . . . the creature from the Black Lagoon. There is no way Corrine is going to be allowed to get married without me getting married, too. I refuse to listen to her calling me the family hussy for the rest of the year.” “What does it matter what she says?” Jacob sighed as he reached to touch the soft contours of her face. “You and I are bonded in a way that transcends marriage already. Is that not what is important?” “No. What’s important is the fact that I am going to murder the sister I love if she doesn’t quit. And she will not quit until I shut her up either with a marriage or a murder weapon. Understand?” Clearly, by his expression, Jacob did not understand. “Thank Destiny all I have is a brother,” he said dryly. “I have been inundated with people tied into knots over one sister or another for the past weeks.” “You mean Legna. Listen, it’s not her fault if everyone has their shorts in a twist because of who her Imprinted mate is! Frankly, I think she and Gideon make a fabulous couple. Granted, a little too gorgeously ‘King and Queen of the Prom’ perfect for human eyes to bear looking at for long, but fabulous just the same.” Jacob blinked in confusion as he tried to decipher his fiancée’s statement. Even after all these months, she still came out with unique phraseologies that totally escaped his more classic comprehension of the English language. But he had gotten used to just shrugging his confusion off, blaming it on the fact that English wasn’t his first, second, or third language, so it was to be expected. “Anyway,” she went on, “Noah and Hannah need to chill. You saw Legna when she came to visit yesterday. If a woman could glow, she was as good as radioactive.” She smiled sweetly at him. “That means,” she explained, “that she looks as brilliantly happy as you make me feel.” “I see,” he chuckled. “Thank you for the translation.” He reached his arms around her, drawing her body up to his as close as he could considering the small matter of a fetal obstacle. He kissed her inviting mouth until she was breathless and glowing herself. “I thought I would be kind to you,” she explained with a laugh against his mouth. “You, my love, are all heart.” “And you are all pervert. Jacob!” She laughed as she swatted one of his hands away from intimate places, only to be shanghaied by another. “What would Gideon say?” “He better not say anything, because if he did that would mean he was in here while you are naked. And that, little flower, would probably cost him his vocal chords in any event.” “Oh. Well . . . when you put it that way . . .

Hannah tells me you’re an archeologist,” she said. “Drew’s father has followed in your footsteps. He spent the whole summer in France, excavating a Roman ruin.” A spark of mischief flared in Andrew’s eyes. “Why, it could be the other way around,” he said. “Perhaps I got the idea from him.” Hannah gave Andrew a sharp poke with her cane. Luckily, Aunt Blythe didn’t notice that either. “You have the oddest sense of humor,” she said to Andrew. “It’s a pity you spent most of your life overseas. I’m sure I would have enjoyed knowing you.” To escape his sister’s reach, Andrew shifted his position. “It’s strange,” he said to my aunt, “but I feel like I do know you.” “Isn’t that funny?” Aunt Blythe stared at him. “Even though I’ve never set eyes on you before, I feel the same way.” With a little guidance from Hannah, the conversation changed to Andrew’s years in South America. For at least an hour he entertained us with his adventures, which Hannah claimed were highly exaggerated. “He never tells a story the same way twice,” she told me. “You wouldn’t believe how much more exciting they’ve gotten since the first time I heard them.

shoving a clump of weeds off her face, she clambered to her feet. When she looked at the bank, there stood Lincoln, now in shirtsleeves and barefoot. He stretched out his hand toward her. She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I know you could get out all on your own.” His voice was tender, and the mirth was gone from his face. “But you don’t have to.” Her anger blew away like the down of a dandelion, and her insides swirled. He was making a point, and he was offering her much more than assistance in getting out of this lake. But did he realize what he was asking her to do? She was the oldest sister. She took responsibility. She handled everything life threw at her, and she didn’t count on anyone’s help. Not even the Lord’s, a small voice whispered inside her. Rubbing her chilled arms, she took one step closer and stopped. “Hannah, I’m giving you the freedom to choose.” His dove-blue eyes were filled with hope. “I won’t push you, but I thought you liked taking risks.” “I do.” “Then take a risk on me.” Hannah stared at Lincoln’s outstretched hand and smiled. She’d take a risk, all right. As soon as his hand clasped around her own, she yanked him with all her might toward the water.

Alf caught the child and gave him to Father. She was gripping Coral, thrusting her out. Willing, anxious hands were holding a blanket. She was trying to make the boy Walter jump too. But the children were terrified, and dazed by the smoke. They would not jump. They would not obey. Hannah lifted them, then dropped them on to the blanket. ‘Hannah, come down. Jump yerself. Quick! Quick!’ Alf was struggling to fight his way in through the flames but was beaten back —the place was a furnace. He tried yet again and was beaten back. ‘Us Bullens sticks together!’ he was shouting. ‘That’s me sister, that’s Hannah Bullen in there. I’m goin’ to get ‘er. Us Bullens sticks together!’ Then all in a moment he reeled and fell, and they saw that his face and chest were blackened. ‘Hannah! Hannah!’ ‘My Gawd, she don’t ‘ear us...’ ‘The room’s roarin’!’ ‘Someone go and get ‘old of the captain. Captain, for Gawd’s sake come on down ‘ere!’ ‘Fetch a ladder, we might get ‘er out through the winder.’ ‘Hannah! Hannah Bullen!’ ‘Oh, Christ, the roof...’ With a sudden sharp crash the roof fell in and the cottage blazed up magnificently, like a beacon set on the crest of the hill. It was New Year’s Day. It was Hannah’s birthday.

So tell me about those courtship displays.” Did he honestly expect her to share that? With his hands splayed across her waist, sending a current through her entire body? He helped her down, stepped away, and motioned with his hand for her to continue. “Go on. I’m listening.” Could he see the flush of her cheeks? Her discomfort at the subject? He cocked an eyebrow at her, making it clear he didn’t plan to let this go and that he enjoyed making her squirm. She could do this. It was factual information. She cleared her throat and met his eye. “The birds show off at dawn and dusk. The males display their plumage and call out to the females. They may drum their wings or rattle their tails, and occasionally they may fight with other males.” Lincoln held her gaze. “If he’s willing to fight for her, then the female he’s interested in must really be a prize.” Hannah’s heart fluttered like the wings of a bird. She looked away. She had to find something to distract him from this present course of discussion. “Hey, look, that’s a prairie chicken.” “I suppose you even know its Latin name.” “Tympanuchus cupido.” “Did you say something about Cupid?” Her mouth opened, but no words formed. Good grief. This was going from bad to worse.

Arms flailing, Lincoln fought his rapid descent. Mud gave way beneath his feet, and he landed with a splash in Union Park’s lake. Shocked to his core, he looked up into Hannah’s laughing face. “W-why did you do that?” “I decided to take a risk.” She giggled, backing away, almost daring him to retaliate. “And if you’re going to spend time with me, you might as well learn there are going to be some surprises.” “Is that so?” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his chest warmed. So, she was accepting his offer. “Well, Miss Gregory, you’d better expect some surprises as well.” He rushed toward her, creating a spray in his wake. She squealed and dove out of his reach. He caught her waist and pulled the laughing woman into his arms. With her hair hanging in damp rivulets around her face and her eyes alight with anticipation, she took his breath away. She shivered against his chest. “Lincoln Cole, if you douse me again—” She squirmed in his arms, then looked into his eyes and stilled. She licked her lips. “What are you doing?” He raised his hand, removed soggy weed from her hair, and cupped her cheek. “Giving you the surprise you deserve.” She shivered again, and he noticed a bluish tinge to her lips. Good grief. She was freezing, and even if he wanted to warm her up as only he could, standing in a lake was hardly the place for a first kiss. Before desire won over practicality, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder. “Put me down!” She squirmed and pounded on his back with her fists. “It would serve you right if I did toss you back in.

Andrew, what are you doing out of bed? You’re ill, you need to rest.” I crouched beside the ring, speechless with surprise, but Andrew jumped to his feet. “Hannah,” he cried, “Hannah.” Although he was right in front of her, Hannah didn’t see her brother. She walked through him as if he didn’t even exist. “I’ve been lying awake worrying about you,” she said to me. “When I heard noises, I thought you and Theo were up here. But you’re all alone.” Andrew clung to his sister. “He’s not alone, I’m with him. Look at me, Hannah, please look at me.” Unaware of anything but the cold, Hannah shivered. “Lord,” she whispered, “I’m freezing. You’ll catch your death in this draft, Andrew.” When I neither spoke nor moved, Hannah dropped to her knees and gazed into my eyes. “You’re in a trance,” she whispered. “For heaven’s sake, wake up.” Finding my voice at last, I said, “Can’t you see him?” “See who?” Pale with fright, Hannah stared at me. I pointed at Andrew. “He’s standing right in front of you!” “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Hannah grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “There’s no one in this attic but you and me.” Andrew was crying now, hanging on to his sister, begging her to see him. But Hannah was too scared by my behavior to see or hear anything but me. Deaf to Andrew’s sobs, she pulled me to my feet. “You must go back to bed.” “No,” I shouted. “Not yet! I have to finish this game.” I couldn’t leave Andrew, not now, not when I was finally winning. Hannah released me so suddenly I staggered backward. “I’ll fetch Papa!” she cried. Andrew threw himself at her. “Hannah, stop, you’re ruining everything!” I grabbed his arm. “Let her go. We don’t have much time!

What’s the meaning of this?” Papa strode toward us. “You’ve disturbed the entire household, Andrew.” Mama gripped his arm. “For goodness sake, Henry, don’t frighten the child. Haven’t you done enough damage? I told you not to whip him!” Papa made an effort to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he squatted in front of me. “What’s troubling you, son?” he asked. “Surely a spanking didn’t cause this.” Aching with sadness, I put my arms around his neck. I’d won, I’d finally beaten Andrew. I’d thought I’d be happy, but I wasn’t. “I don’t want to leave you and Mama,” I sobbed. Papa held me tight. “Now, now,” he said. “Where did you get such a silly notion? You aren’t going anywhere.” While Papa comforted me, Andrew climbed onto his father’s shoulders, piggyback style. No one saw him but me. No one heard him say, “Hush Drew, you’re shaming me in front of everyone.” Ignorant of Andrew’s presence, Papa shivered. “Fall’s coming. Feel the nip in the air?” Hannah and Theo were waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. “Mama,” Theo whispered, “is Andrew sick again?” Mama shook her head, but Theo looked unconvinced. Slipping his hand in Hannah’s, he watched Papa lay me on my bed. On the other side of the room, Andrew took a seat in the rocking chair. It was obvious he didn’t enjoy being invisible. Staring at Hannah and Theo, he rocked the chair vigorously. When that didn’t get their attention, he sang “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” at the top of his lungs. But no matter what he said or did, he couldn’t make his sister or his brother see or hear him. I knew Andrew was sad, but I was even sadder. When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered. Mama drew back. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.” She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.” Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.” “I hope so,” Andrew said.

When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. “I’ll never forget you,” I whispered. Mama drew back. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I love you, Mama.” She smiled. “Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too.” Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. “What Andrew needs is a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’ll be himself again, just wait and see.” “I hope so,” Andrew said. Papa frowned. “No one will get any sleep, good or bad, with Buster making such a racket. I don’t know what ails that animal.” While we’d been talking, Andrew had gone to the window and whistled for the dog. Though the Tylers hadn’t heard the loud two-fingered blast, Buster definitely had. His howls made the hair on my neck prickle. Even Andrew looked frightened. He backed away from the window and sat quietly in the rocker. “Edward told me a dog howls when somebody in the family is about to die,” Theo said uneasily. Papa shook his head. “That’s superstitious nonsense, Theodore. Surely you know better than to believe someone as well known for mendacity as your cousin.” Muttering to himself, Papa left the room. Taking Theo with her, Mama followed, but Hannah lingered by the bed. I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave yet,” I begged. “Stay a while.” Hannah hesitated for a moment, her face solemn, her eyes worried. “Mama’s right, Andrew,” she said softly. “You need to rest, you’ve overexcited yourself again. We’ve got all day tomorrow to sit in the tree and talk.” When Hannah reached up to turn off the gas jet, I glanced at Andrew. He was watching his sister from the rocker, his eyes fixed longingly on her face. A little wave of jealousy swept over me. He’d get to be with her for years, but all I had were a few more minutes. In the darkness, Hannah smiled down at me. “Close your eyes,” she said. “Go to sleep.” “But I’ll never see you again.” Hannah’s smile vanished. “Don’t talk nonsense,” she whispered. “You’ll see me tomorrow and every day after that.” In the corner, Andrew stared at his sister and rocked the chair harder. In the silent room I heard it creak, saw it move back and forth. Startled by the sound, Hannah glanced at the rocker and drew in her breath. Turning to me, she said, “Lord, the moon’s making me as fanciful as you. I thought I saw--” She shook her head. “I must need a good night’s sleep myself.” Kissing me lightly on the nose, Hannah left the room without looking at the rocking chair again.

I told you before--you mustn’t let Edward scare you. He’s a bully and a coward. What would Frank Merriwell do if he were you?” Frank Merriwell--I was thoroughly sick of hearing that name. “I don’t care what some dumb guy in a story would do. I’m not going to fight Edward.” “Fight me then.” Hannah raised her fists and danced around on her bare feet, bouncing, ducking, and swinging at the air around my head. “Pretend I’m Edward!” I ducked a punch, and she swung again. “Put up your dukes,” she ordered, “defend yourself, sir.” This time Hannah clipped my chin hard enough to knock me down. Her shirtwaist was completely untucked, her face was smudged, her hair was tumbling down her back and hanging in her eyes. “On your feet, sir,” she shouted. “Let’s see your fighting spirit!” Hannah was making so much noise she didn’t hear John Larkin push aside the branches and enter the grove. When he saw her take another swing at me, he started laughing. Hannah whirled around, her face scarlet, and stared at John. “What do you mean by sneaking up on us like a common Peeping Tom?” “With the noise you’ve been making, you wouldn’t have noticed a herd of rampaging elephants.” John was still laughing, but Hannah was furious. Putting her fists on her hips, she scowled at him. “Well, now you know the truth about me. I’m no lady and I never claimed to be one. I suppose you’ll start taking Amelia Carter for rides in your precious tin lizzie and treating her to sodas at your father’s drugstore. I’m sure she’d never brawl with her brothers.” Theo and I looked at each other. We were both hoping Hannah would make John leave. Before he came along and ruined everything, we’d been having fun. To my disappointment, John didn’t seem to realize he was unwanted. Leaning against a tree, he watched Hannah run her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what you’re so fired up about,” he said. “Why should I want to take Amelia anywhere? I’ve never met a more boring girl. As for her brothers--a little brawling wouldn’t hurt them. Or Amelia either.” Hannah turned away, her face flushed, and John winked at me. “Your sister’s first rate,” he said, “but I wager I know a sight more about boxing than she does. Why not let me show you a thing or two?” Happy again, Hannah smiled at John. “What a grand idea! But go slow, Andrew’s still weak.” When John took off his jacket, I edged closer to Hannah. “I like your lessons,” I said to her, scowling at John. He was rolling up his sleeves, probably to show off his muscles. Next to him, I was nothing but a skinny little baby. He’d knock me flat and everyone would laugh at me.

Whoowee, Miss Dandridge, you sound like a regular Sunday preacher. But I didn’t ask you out here to talk about God.” “And so what did you wish to discuss, Lieutenant?” “You. I figure you’re about the prettiest gal in all of Texas. Do you have a beau?” Hannah hadn’t realized this was the direction Lieutenant Atherton had figured to take. “My father’s partner has proposed marriage,” she replied. “However, with my father missing, I cannot even begin to think of courtship or proposals.” “Your father’s partner is Mr. Lockhart, is he not?” “That’s right. Do you know him?” “Enough to know he’s not a good choice for you. He’s old enough to be your pa. Most likely he just wants what he can get from you—money and property and such. He’s that kind of a man.” Hannah bristled. “I see.” “Well, I didn’t mean it to sound like you weren’t prize enough. It’s just that someone like Lockhart is always thinking of his own needs, and if your pa is . . . well . . . if he’s not coming back, then Lockhart probably figures to get this ranch for himself.” “Well, thank you, Lieutenant Atherton, for sharing your opinion with me.” “On the other hand, Miss Dandridge, I admire you for yourself. I think you’re a fine woman.” Hannah shook her head. “You are kind to say so, Lieutenant. However, if you would excuse me, I promised my brother and sister I would read to them.” He reached out to take hold of her arm. “I’m sorry if my boldness offended you. It’s just that I don’t have much time, and I thought I should make my interest known. Will said you weren’t anything to him . . . I mean . . . Well now, that sounded bad. He just told me that you two weren’t a couple or . . .

Sweet as, eh.” “Do you mean where you wrap your wrists?” Hannah wondered. “Do you write things on there, then?” “Most of the boys do. Especially the ones with families,” Hemi explained. “Got the names of their partners, their kids on there. Reminds them who they’re playing for.” “You play for your kids and your wife?” Hannah asked. “What does that mean, exactly?” “Hannah’s dad died when she was young,” Drew told Hemi. “These sorts of things are a bit of a mystery to her.” “My wife and my kids give me the incentive to go out and play well. They’re my inspiration,” Hemi said, taking Reka’s hand. “Not sure it works that way with women.” “I’ve been working for a long time,” Hannah mused. “But even though I had some responsibility for my brother and sister,” she said, ignoring Drew’s snort at her description, “I never thought of myself as working for them. It was separate. If anything, I have to admit, it felt more like a conflict. Almost a burden, trying to think about them and also about everything else I had to do. Trying to juggle everything. It doesn’t feel that way for you? Like a...an extra weight? The responsibility?” Hemi shook his head firmly. “Maybe men need something beyond themselves to remind us that it’s not all about us. Reckon we’re more selfish. We need somebody to work for. In my case, somebody to play for. When we’re busting a gut, trying to grind out a win, and I’m feeling ready to chuck it in, I look down at my kids’ names, at Reka’s name. And it reminds me, this is why I’m doing this. Gives me strength.” “Wow,” Hannah said quietly. “I never knew that.

You’re nothing like your sister,” he tells me. “She meant a lot to me, okay? It’s true. But the things I like about you have nothing to do with her. You—you are so strong and stubborn it drives me crazy. You’re the one going through all this and you still put Laney first every time, instead of throwing yourself the pity party we both know you deserve. You call me out on my shit, and I like that, because sometimes I need someone to call me out on my shit. And you get Johnny Cash, and you take these incredible photos, and everything about you makes me hurt, in a good way, and it blows my mind that someone can be so amazing and not even see it.

Hello, Courthouse Main. Number, please.” “The only number I want is yours, Miss Gregory.” “Lincoln,” she whispered, “you aren’t supposed to call me here.” Jo cast her a sidelong glance and mouthed it was fine. “Hey, when love calls, you have to answer.” He was quiet for a second. “I hate to admit this, but I’m a little jealous of my aunt. You’ve spent so much time with her, we’ve barely had a moment together.” “We’ve been together.” “Not alone.” How true that was. She’d wanted to tell him about the call she’d overheard, but there’d not been a good time to do so. She missed him, but Aunt Sam would leave soon, and then they’d have all the time in the world. She tried to make her voice sound light. “I miss you too.” “Then how about I pick you up after work.” “I’m going cycling with your aunt. She has a call she wants to make too.” “Hannah . . .” he moaned. “You’ll live.” She leaned close to her mouthpiece. “And I’ll see you in my dreams.” “If you think that silky voice of yours is helping, you are so wrong. If you’re not careful, I may have to kidnap you.” “You’ll have to find me first.” She laughed.

I’ll go pick up your sisters while you’re out riding.” He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her ear. “And you and I will sneak away for some quality time tonight.” Even in the breeze, her cheeks flamed. “Is he whining again?” Aunt Sam cast her a knowing glance. “What are we going to do with him? You’ll have her all to yourself tomorrow.” She waved her fingers at Lincoln and started down the path. “Time to fly, Hannah.

Do you have any idea how lovely you are tonight? I think every man here has his eye on you.” Lincoln spun her in a circle. “I hope you’ll squeeze in a few more dances with me.” Her skirt swished against her legs. “If it was up to me, you could have them all.” “I wish I could. But even with her modern ways, I’m afraid my aunt would point out that faux pas.” He drew her closer. “Just remember who you belong to.” Belong to? Normally such a phrase would raise Hannah’s hackles, but she found it stirred something entirely new inside her. She risked a quick glance upward, her heart hammering in her throat when she caught a glimpse of the heat in his eyes.

One can of stewed tomatoes, and her meager grocery shopping list would be complete. From its position on the upper shelf beyond her reach, the can taunted her with its flashy red label and bright green letters. It practically goaded her to come and get it. Her gaze darted to the plaque hung from a nail on the center shelf: “Please Let Us Assist You.” She’d be happy to if Mr. Reilly noticed anyone in the store besides the customers with money. As it was, she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands. Hannah glanced from the sign to the stout, long-nosed grocer. Behind the counter, he continued his chatty dialogue with the banker’s wife, turning a blind eye as her five-year-old son skipped around the mercantile like a child at the fair. Easing the wheeled ladder back and forth a few inches on its rail, Hannah watched to see if Mr. Reilly noticed. When he didn’t turn her direction, she hiked up her skirt. With one foot firmly planted on the ladder’s first step, Hannah rolled the ladder a yard to the right. After stopping beneath the elusive tomatoes, she scurried up the three flat rungs and clasped the can in her hand before hoisting it aloft like a trophy.

You didn’t think I could figure something out so the woman I care about doesn’t have to walk home in the dark, running from wild dogs? You didn’t think I could manage to arrange that and still maintain your honor?” He smelled like Diamond C soap and something woodsy, and his nearness was intoxicating. She splayed her hands on his chest and could feel it heave beneath her palms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” “Hannah, I’m not offended.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “You scared me senseless.” “I scared you?” “Yes, and I’d tell you never to do it again, but I think that would be a wasted effort.” He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. “And right now, I have something else I’d much rather put my effort into.” His hand slipped around the back of her neck, sending shivers coursing through her. She held her breath as he lowered his head until his lips touched hers in the sweetest of kisses.

You know what? I’ve never kissed anyone on top of the world.” “I’m sure there are rules against that kind of thing up here.” “You’re going to start following the rules now?” “I’m trying to be a proper lady.” She licked her lips. “But alas, I fear I’m hopeless.” Needing no further invitation, he dipped his head and kissed her thoroughly. Every sense came alive, and he pulled her closer, tangling his hand in her silky tresses. If anyone was hopeless, it was him. Hopelessly in love with Hannah Gregory and on top of the world.

Hannah, what’s wrong?” “Charlotte is near tears.” Repositioning himself, Lincoln studied the other couple. “How can you tell?” “We’re sisters. I can tell.” He probably wouldn’t understand, but it was the truth. “I can’t believe he upset her. I should march over there and—” “And what?” Lincoln took her hand in his, caressing it with the pad of his thumb. “Are you comforting me or holding me back?” He grinned. “A little of both.

The elevator jolted and came to a halt. Caught off balance, Hannah stumbled into him. Lincoln caught her, and her cheeks filled with color. “Hmm.” Mr. Welch rubbed his beard. “Looks like she’s warming up to you already, Mr. Cole.

You sure you’re not hurt? I tackled you pretty hard.” Lincoln touched her arm. “I’m fine.” But she’d be sore tomorrow. “I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude.” “You make it sound so painful.” His blue eyes teased her. “Every time I’m sure I want nothing to do with you, you do something nice and almost convince me otherwise.” “Almost?” She didn’t answer. Kindness oozed from Lincoln, but he had taken their farm. Did he expect her to forget that? “Can you ask the cab to stop here?” “But we’re nearly three blocks away.” “Getting out now is for the best. I can’t risk being seen with you escorting me home.” He informed the driver, and she adjusted her hat. “Any more glass shards?” Gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head to one side and then the other. “You look perfect.” He brushed over the scratch with the pad of his thumb. “Except for this.” The cab stopped, and Lincoln helped her out. “I’d feel better walking you all the way home.” She held up her hand. “Thank you for the offer, but you can’t.” She dipped her head in a brief nod and began to walk away. “Hannah,” Lincoln called, “if you need anything, anything at all—” “Thanks, but I won’t.” She flipped up her hand without turning around. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

What did Mr. Cole do after you screamed?” Charlotte watched Hannah’s cheeks grow rosy in the mirror’s reflection. Using tweezers, she removed another chunk of glass from Hannah’s hair and dropped it into the china saucer on the dressing table. Oh! The truth dawned on Charlotte, and her cheeks spread wide in a grin. It wasn’t the window breaking agitating Hannah. It was Lincoln’s reaction to it—or perhaps it was Hannah’s reaction to Lincoln. Tessa sat up on the edge of the bed. “Did he dive under the table like a coward?” “No!” Hmm. She’d certainly come to his defense. “Well?” Tessa motioned with her hand for Hannah to continue. “He pulled me to the floor.” “And?” Charlotte couldn’t resist a little prodding of her own. There were things a sister deserved to know. “And he shielded my body with his own.” “How romantic!” Tessa feigned a swoon and fell back on the coverlet. Hannah looked up at Charlotte’s reflection in the mirror. “Why are you smiling? It was an instinctive act.” She forced her lips into a straight line. “Whatever you say, Hannah.

So what’s your version? Did she put you in your place, or vice versa?” “I plead the fifth.” With a grin, Lincoln turned to the caddie and exchanged his iron for a putter. “Well, well, well. I guess you don’t need to say anything. That smile on your face is as self-incriminating as it can get. Do we need to have you and Miss Gregory over for dinner one evening?” “No.” Lincoln shook his head and practiced a couple of putting shots. “Hannah Gregory might be a fascinating young woman, but she isn’t interested in the man who took her home.

He turned and met her gaze, a smirk on his face. “I’d say you’re in a pickle, Hannah.” She shot to her feet and marched to the door. She did not have to take this kind of humiliation. There had to be another way. Lincoln barred the door with his arm. “Ask me.” “Ask you what?” She took a step back. “Do you want me to get on my knees to ask the great young lawyer to represent my poor, unfortunate friend?” “Not exactly.” He quirked an eyebrow. “If I remember right, you said you wouldn’t ask me for help if I was the last man on earth.” “So?” His eyes lit with mischief. “I want to hear you say, ‘Lincoln, will you help me, please?’” “Mr. Cole.” Even she could hear the anger seething through her words. She refused to say his Christian name. This was a business deal. Nothing more. Everything in her wanted to announce she’d take care of Walt’s defense on her own, but she didn’t know enough to gamble with Walt’s future. Lincoln Cole was Walt’s best chance. And her own. She strangled the chain of her chatelaine purse and ground out the words. “Will you help me, please?” A slow grin spread across his face. “I’d be happy to.

If Hannah will just—” Lincoln stood up. “No. I won’t let her do that.” “I doubt you can stop her, and I think I know her a little better than you.” “You’ve known her longer, but that doesn’t guarantee you know her better.” Anger flickered in Walt’s eyes. “When this is over . . .” Lincoln glared at the man. Friends, my eye! Friends didn’t react so possessively. Did Hannah really have no idea how Walt felt? Despite her claims to the contrary, did she harbor feelings for Walt as well? She’d certainly gone to great lengths to get her “friend” legal assistance. Maybe she simply hadn’t come to realize her own feelings ran so deep for Walt. The thought felt like a burr under his skin. He didn’t trust Walt, but if he were truthful, it was more than that. He had feelings for Hannah. Lincoln shook his head. Right now, he needed to focus on Walt as his client, not as his competition for Hannah’s affection.

Walt placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hannah, I need to tell you something.” She turned, and the look in his eyes made her nerves tingle. “What is it?” “I had a lot of time to think in jail, and I hope you know I have your best interests at heart.” Hannah stiffened. Nothing good came from a sentence prefaced by that. He took her hand. “I think you’re making a mistake with Lincoln Cole.” “That’s none of your business.” She yanked her hand away and marched down the sidewalk. He fell in step beside her. “I know what you need better than anyone.” “No, I know what I need more than you do.” She stopped at the corner where the streetcar would pick him up. “And for your information, he loves me and I love him.” “Then I’d say you have some deciding to do.” The streetcar approached, bell clanging. She held her basket in front of her like a barrier. “And why is that?” “Because I love you too.

Please, don’t do anything you might get in trouble for, or anything dangerous.” “Me?” He gave her an impish grin. “You should know better than anyone I’m good at not getting caught.” He tapped her nose. “Should I sneak out the back door now?” She giggled. “How about I dress you up like Charlotte and you can come and go as you please?” “Don’t tempt me, Hannah. We’re not in grade school anymore.” “What do you mean by that?” He didn’t answer, but the look he gave her was far from brotherly.

Tears glistened in her eyes. “Up till this moment, I never thought you’d be capable of hurting anyone.” “I wouldn’t, Hannah.” He stood and tried to take her in his arms. She jerked away. “You have to believe me. I got carried away—wrapped up in wanting to get those men their jobs back. Please tell me you believe me.

She moved to the side of the walk and crushed a lilac bloom to her nose. “What do we need to do to get him out?” Lincoln snapped a small branch off and passed her the blossom. “You know another way to tell if someone is lying?” She shook her head, staring down at the grouping of tiny purple flowers. “They change the subject.” He tipped her chin up with his knuckle, his lips flattening. “Hannah Gregory, I can’t help your beau if you won’t tell me the truth.” She sputtered, “My—my—my what?

There’s never a dull moment here, is there? I wish I had two sisters.” “Well.” Hannah linked her arm with Rosie’s when they stepped onto the porch. She raised her voice. “I may have a deal for you. Two sisters for sale. Very cheap.” “I heard that!” Tessa called back.

Wait a minute. Will this get you in trouble with the operators’ school? To be seen with me?” She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk. “Not anymore.” His excitement crumbled. “No, it can’t be. Hannah, what happened?” She tried to maintain her somber expression, but a smile exploded on her face. “I graduated today. The first one in my class to be promoted to the real switchboard.” Lincoln grabbed her waist and hoisted her in the air. She squealed, and he lowered her back to the ground. One woman glared her disapproval, but an older couple approaching them chuckled. Hannah’s cheeks flamed, both from the public spectacle and from the electricity that surged through her at Lincoln’s touch. He, however, didn’t seem to notice her reaction or that of any onlookers. “We need to celebrate!” He slipped his fingers under her elbow and led her toward the car. “After we see the fire marshal, we’re going for ice cream, and I won’t take no for an answer this time.

It was only my desire to bear this burden with you. As I stated, I have come to care quite deeply for you and your family. Your father was . . . well . . . a brother to me in many ways.” “Then as our . . . uncle,” Hannah replied, “you will understand that we are now in a time of mourning. You will have to excuse me.” She got to her feet. She could see the frustration, perhaps even anger, in Lockhart’s expression as he stepped forward. “I cannot allow you to risk your life or the lives of your brother and sister. I owe it to your father. You are not thinking clearly, therefore I will make the decision for you.” That was the wrong thing to say to Hannah. She felt defiance rear up in her. “I will not be dictated to by you or any other man, Mr. Lockhart. I will seek counsel and learn if you truly do possess this ranch or if it will in fact be returned to Mr. Barnett. Either way, I do not plan to marry you, and I find it cruel that you would even consider such a thing necessary at a time like this.

I know we thought to keep this to ourselves, but I feel the children should know my intentions. I want to marry your sister. I want for us to be a family.” “You’re too old,” Andy blurted out. “Besides, I want her to marry William. He knows how to take care of the ranch and break horses, and he’s not old.” “Or fat,” Marty declared. Lockhart turned beet red, while Hannah coughed nervously into her napkin. She had no idea why Andy would suggest marriage to William Barnett, but it had definitely irritated Mr. Lockhart. She wanted to say something, but Andy piped up again quickly. “Hannah needs to marry somebody like William who can work hard.” Her brother turned to look at her. “She works too hard and so she needs a man who can help her with the work.” “And who isn’t fat,” Marty added in a most solemn manner. “Martha Dandridge, mind your manners,” Hannah managed before turning to her brother. “And you . . . finish your dessert so that we might retire to our room.” Lockhart, however, was not to be put aside. “Miss Dandridge, am I to understand that Mr. Barnett has become a rival in winning your affections?” Hannah shook her head. “There is no rivalry, Mr. Lockhart.” He smiled rather smugly and leaned back to tuck his thumbs in his vest pockets. “I could not imagine that there would be.” She didn’t wait to continue. “There is no rivalry, because I have no affections for you.” His expression fell. “Furthermore, I am not of a mind to consider matrimony at this time.” Marty leaned closer to her sister. “He’s losin’ all his hair, Hannah. You can’t marry a man who doesn’t have any hair.” Her sister’s serious consideration of a beau very nearly sent Hannah into peals of laughter, but she held herself in check. “Marty, it doesn’t matter as much what a fella looks like, but rather what’s in their heart—if they love Jesus and if they are trustworthy.

I don’t reckon you should kiss until you get married.” Marty nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of better that way.” Hannah looked at her sister and shook her head. “Why in the world would you say that, Martha Dandridge?” She answered nonchalantly, “’Cause if he doesn’t like kissin’ you, then you’ll already be married and he won’t be able to leave.” William roared with laughter. “She makes a very good point. I believe I’ll wait until after we’re married.

The positive side was the sisterly bonding, at least on my part. Hannah Rosie Decker was my only blood sibling, and they didn’t come any cuter or better than she. I adored her. Matter

disparity between Louie and Woody is most pronounced. In Woody Allen comedies, the Woody protagonist or surrogate takes it upon himself to tutor the young women in his wayward orbit and furnish their cultural education, telling them which books to read (in Annie Hall’s bookstore scene, Allen’s Alvy wants Annie to occupy her mind with Death and Western Thought and The Denial of Death—“You know, instead of that cat book”), which classic films to imbibe at the revival houses back when Manhattan still had a rich cluster of them. In Crimes and Misdemeanors, it’s a 14-year-old female niece who dresses like a junior-miss version of Annie Hall whom Woody’s Clifford squires to afternoon showings at the finer flea pits, advising her to play deaf for the remaining years of her formal schooling. “Don’t listen to what your teachers tell ya, you know. Don’t pay attention. Just, just see what they look like, and that’s how you’ll know what life is really gonna be like.” A more dubious nugget of avuncular wisdom would be hard to imagine, and it isn’t just the Woody stand-in who does the uncle-daddy-mentor-knows-best bit for the benefit of receptive minds in ripe containers. In Hannah and Her Sisters, Max von Sydow’s dour painter-philosophe Frederick is the Old World “mansplainer” of all time, holding court in a SoHo loft which he shares with his lover, Lee, played by Barbara Hershey, whose sweaters abound with abundance. When Lee groans with enough-already exasperation when Frederick begins droning on about an Auschwitz documentary—“You missed a very dull TV show on Auschwitz.

Livia’s song flows from my lips easily. I have known her since she was a baby. I held her, cuddled her, loved her. I sing of her strength. I sing of the sweetness and humor that I know still live within her, despite the horrors she has endured. I feel her body strengthening, her blood regenerating. But as I knit her back together, something is not right. I move down from her heart to her belly. My consciousness flinches back. The baby. He—and my sister is right, it is a he—sleeps now. But there is something wrong with him. His heartbeat, which instinct tells me should sound like the gentle, swift thud of a bird’s wings, is too slow. His still-developing mind too sluggish. He slips away from us. Skies, what is the child’s song? I do not know him. I know nothing about him except that he is part Marcus and part Livia and that he is our only chance for a unified Empire. “What do you want him to be?” the Nightbringer asks. At his voice, I jump, so deep in healing that I forgot he was here. “A warrior? A leader? A diplomat? His ruh, his spirit, is within, but it is not yet formed. If you wish him to live, then you must shape him from what is there—his blood, his family. But know that in doing so, you will be bound to him and his purpose forever. You will never be able to extricate yourself.” “He is family,” I whisper. “My nephew. I wouldn’t want to extricate myself from him.” I hum, searching for his song. Do I want him to be like me? Like Elias? Certainly not like Marcus. I want him to be an Aquilla. And I want him to be a Martial. So I sing my sister Livia into him—her kindness and laughter. I sing him my father’s conviction and prudence. My mother’s thoughtfulness and intelligence. I sing him Hannah’s fire. Of his father, I sing only one thing: his strength and skill in battle—one quick word, sharp and strong and clear—Marcus if the world had not ruined him. If he had not allowed himself to be ruined. But there is something missing. I feel it. This child will one day be Emperor. He needs something deeply rooted, something that will sustain him when nothing else will: a love of his people. The thought appears in my head as if it’s been planted there. So I sing him my own love, the love I learned in the streets of Navium, in fighting for my people, in them fighting for me. The love I learned in the infirmary, healing children and telling them not to fear. His heart begins to beat in time again; his body strengthens. I feel him give my sister an almighty kick, and, relieved, I withdraw.

Jonas…” She inserted both hands between her and his chest, trying to get a little space. “You know this can’t work.” Just the thought of losing him made her cold inside, but even Jonas needed protection. He didn’t think so, but she’d seen him vulnerable and in pain. Better he be angry with her and know the complete truth, than later despise her. Swift impatience crossed his face. “Don’t even start, Hannah. You’ve pissed me off enough for one day.

Don’t touch that. Is your throat hurting?” Her voice was even more of a whisper of sound. “Inside. It feels torn and bruised.” “Then don’t argue with me. I’m right anyway and you know it. You should have listened to me.” Jonas pressed feather-light kisses along her throat, and up the curve of her chin. “Say it, Hannah. Say you should have listened to me.

Did anyone bother to cook dinner? I’m starving.” There was another burst of laughter. He scowled at them. “What?” “You always ask that, every single time,” Hannah explained. “You’re always hungry, Jonas.” He bent down and skimmed a kiss down Hannah’s cheek, right over the fading wounds as if they weren’t there. His kiss ended at the corner of her mouth. “They’re being mean to me, baby. Can’t you turn them all into toads or something?

Prettiness. Elsa knew that was the crux of it. she was not an attractive woman. On her best day, in her best dress, a stranger might say she was handsome, but never more. She was "too" everything-too tall, too thin, too pale, too unsure of herself. Elsa had attended both of her sisters' weddings. Neither had asked her to stand with them at the alter, and Elsa understood. At nearly six feet, she was taller than the grooms; she would ruin the photographs, and image was everything to the Wolcotts. Her parents prized it above all else.

Underage,” he said, earning Hannah a dose of her sister’s mockery. Nick may have heard the word ephebophilia.

Sister’s old bag’s not nowhere’ and Cook said, ‘That be’n’t our business. Us hasn’t got t’ old bag. Likely it fell in mill-race or maybe they’ve got it. But it be’n’t our business.’ And I said, ‘that’s right, that be. If I say Sister’s old bag be’n’t here, sergeant will say, “ ’Tis that old fool Hannah stole he’.” Him went all around, opening everything with Sister’s keys, counting this, counting that, spying and staring and jumping out on we with questions till us was fair dazed like.” Some part of Macdonald’s mind was almost fascinated by the sing-song drone of Hannah’s voice: there was a peculiar primitive rhythm to her sentences, and this, together with the liquid Devonshire vowels, gave the effect of some ancient ballad, akin to song rather than speech.

Oh dear,” she says, lowering her drink to the table. “I think a little Omega 101 is in order here.” She eyes us with suspicion. “Can anyone name me some of the things omegas like?” “Cock!” Hardy snaps and Angel kicks him under the table. My sister doesn’t even flinch. She has two older brothers after all. “Anything else? Anything at all?

It has everything to do with me. I cannot believe this is true. I cannot believe you have fallen out of love with me. Please, Theseus.” “Your begging is repugnant to me. For someone who once used to be a warrior, I am surprised you are not disgusted at yourself.” Those were the words that she needed to hear, for he was right. She was disgusted at herself. She was disgusted that she had believed his lies and trickery and honeyed words of love. She was disgusted by this snivelling woman she had become. She was disgusted by this slothful life she had been so content to lead, away from her women and her sisters and the steppes. As she rose to her feet Theseus stepped away, sensing the shift.

Jana needed this in her life. To move on. To have someone value her for who she was. To love and appreciate her, make her the center of his world in the way she was never able to be as the oldest of five sisters. She really hoped that BenAli turned out to be that man, for her sister’s sake. But Elizza wasn’t sure where that would leave her. She longed, too. Longed for someone to truly see her—not her beauty or education or outspokenness or anything else, but to see her. She would do what Allah (SWT) commanded, be her best Muslim self, but she silently prayed for a partner to help her along the journey. Maybe she needed to do something tangible to get there? She woke up to pray tahajjud.

Had she really told her sister - her sister - to go away and not come back? How often had Isabelle heard that in her life, and from her own family, from people who were supposed to love her?

You're so damn beautiful, Hannah." Her amusement died down. "Happiness does that to a person.

The bedrock lesson of her life was that love didn’t last. It was better to be lonely and strong than heartbroken and weak.

sour memories were there, waiting to crowd to the front of her mind. She shrugged,

She lives her life in Hannah's shadow and even in her fall, she is still nothing but a shadow of what Hannah is.

What a conniving pain in the ass he is. Did you hear he and Gramps messed with Hannah’s car on a day when all of us were going to be out of town? She had no choice but to call Nolan.” Their sister was now engaged to the mechanic who’d come to her rescue.

If Jesus came back and saw what was going on in his name, he’d never stop throwing up.

Her silence was his undoing.

It had sneaked up on her. She’d opened a door called anonymous sex and found herself standing in a room filled with unexpected possibilities.

What he grieved for was the idea of her. For those few moments—unexpected and sweet—he’d dared to step onto old roads. He’d let

I wish I had a sister so I could make her marry Henry because he makes my heart burst.

She’d lost her Piper sparkle. It was girl language, and yet, he so thoroughly understood what Hannah meant,

she believed in a free France the way her sister believed in God.

No,” Ethel said, and gave her a tired smile. “Go, Frank. Be his sister, his wife, his mother.” “But—” “Just hold his hand. Sometimes that’s all we can do. And then … come back here.