Her Dream Come True. Donna Clayton

from the counter and looked down at the snowy-white fillets. Working in the hospital fifty to sixty hours a week didn’t leave much time for cooking, but how hard could it be to—

      “I like baked beans with my fried trout,” Tammy said from her seat at the table.

      “You mean like pork and beans? From a can?”

      Tammy nodded, pointing to the cabinet next to the stove. Hannah pulled the door open, and sure enough, she found rows of canned vegetables. She extracted one can of beans.

      “And you like your fish fried?”

      “Yes,” she said. Then she wistfully added, “Trout is my one weakness.”

      Hannah couldn’t stop the smile that stole across her lips. “I know,” she said softly. “You told me.”

      After she found flour and salt and pepper for the fish, and a can opener for the beans, Hannah set to work. She wondered how she could explain to Tammy who she was and why she’d come. Easing into the issue seemed like the best solution.

      “You know, Tammy,” she began, “I’ve come from New York City to see you.”

      “I’ve never been to New York City before. Where is that, anyway? Is it far from here?”

      “Oh, it’s pretty far,” she said. “It’s a few hours’ drive from here.”

      “Oh.”

      While the iron skillet heated up, she dusted the trout with flour and seasoned it with salt and pepper. Once the butter began to sizzle, Hannah placed the fish in the pan.

      “I’m Hannah,” she finally disclosed. “Your big sister. Did you know you have a sister?”

      Holding her flour-coated fingers well away from her dress, she looked at Tammy to see the young woman’s reaction to the news. However, it was like her sister hadn’t even heard a word she’d said. She was too focused on the food Hannah was preparing.

      “Are you gonna doctor up the beans?” Tammy shyly asked.

      Hannah watched as a worried frown planted itself in her sister’s brow.

      “Doctor them up?” Hannah didn’t quite understand.

      “With some brown sugar and a tiny dollop of yellow mustard,” Tammy suggested. “And a little molasses wouldn’t hurt.”

      “I can do that,” Hannah said, wiping her fingers on a tea towel. She opened cabinet doors, searching for ingredients.

      Apparently Tammy felt a little more relaxed about the food preparation, because she boldly commented, “You can’t be Hannah. My sister’s just a little girl. She’s six.”

      “Well...” Hannah grew silent, paused for a second. “I’m an adult now. I’m thirty years old.”

      Tammy’s expression clearly conveyed that she thought that piece of information was proof to back up her own argument, not Hannah’s.

      “I have Hannah. I can show you.”

      “What do you mean you have Han—”

      Before she was able to complete her question, Tammy had raced off into the living room and her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

      How was she going to explain? Hannah wondered. How do you illustrate the concept of growing up to someone who had the mentality of a young child?

      Going to the refrigerator, Hannah bent over and perused the contents, looking for a jar of mustard.

      “Oh, oh, oh.”

      The panic in Tammy’s voice as she rushed back into the kitchen had Hannah twisting around from the refrigerator. The thick black smoke billowing from the skillet on the burner made her eyes widen in alarm.

      “Oh, my!” Hannah snatched up a pot holder that was hanging on a hook near the stove, grabbed the searing-hot pan and dropped it into the sink. She turned on the faucet Water hissed and bubbled loudly when it hit the hot metal, and a surge of sooty steam only added more haze to the air. The smell of burned fish made Hannah raise her hand to cover her nose, and the acrid smoke made her eyes water.

      “Well, somebody has certainly ruined dinner.”

      Hannah looked through the smoke to see that the irritating Adam Roth had returned.

      Chapter Three

      “Hi, Adam!” Tammy greeted him. Clutching her hands at waist level, she blurted, “Hannah burned the fish.”

      The tragic tone of her sister’s voice made Hannah flush with guilt and embarrassment.

      “I could tell from the smell.” Adam’s expression said he shared in Tammy’s sorrow. Then he tossed Hannah a tiny wicked grin. “And the smoke. Not much of a cook, are you?”

      Hannah just glowered at him, bristling in silence.

      Although most of the kitchen windows were open to the summer air, Adam went from one to the other, pushing the sashes up as far as they would go.

      “Help me, Tammy,” he said. “We need to prop open the front and back doors, too, so this smoke will clear out of the house.”

      Tammy laughed, eager to help, as she raced to the living room windows at the front of the house, her grief over the burned fish momentarily forgotten.

      Feeling bad that she hadn’t paid the frying pan more attention, Hannah heaved a heavy sigh and ended up inhaling enough smoke to make her bend over with a coughing fit.

      “Come on,” Adam said, taking her by the arm. “Let’s step out onto the porch.”

      Once outside, Hannah grumbled, “I only burned two of the fillets. There’s plenty of fish left. It’s not like we’re going to go hungry.”

      “Well, it wouldn’t matter how much you’ve got,” he commented. “If they’re not fit to eat once they’re cooked, you just might go hungry.”

      She didn’t want to find the teasing glint in his gray-blue eyes sexy, but she did, as well as the appealing chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest. Her heart raced; her palms grew clammy. What was the matter with her?

      Narrowing her gaze, Hannah put up the best angry front she could. Darn him! Never in a million years would she let this irritating man know she found herself reacting to him, that she found him the least bit attractive. Lord, what was it about this man that made her body react so?

      “Why didn’t Tammy fry up the fish she caught?” His tone was tinged with accusation.