fire truck or policeman that can offer assistance. Timothy doesn’t know how he is going to get Iris to the hospital, only that he owes it to her to try.
She falls in step beside him and after only a moment she begins to hum. “What are you doing?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry. Am I disturbing you?”
“I wasn’t referring to your humming. What are you doing here…with me?”
“You needed my help.”
“And I’m very grateful, but you can’t seriously plan to walk with me the entire way.”
The girl wipes her forehead and her shoulders rise and fall with an indifferent shrug. “Seems to me like you could use some company on the walk. Besides, I need to check on my aunt. She’ll be beside herself with worry by now.”
His mouth falls open. He starts to speak, although what it is that he wants to say seems to escape him. Instead he clams up and walks, focusing on keeping his footing sound as they cross another block off their end goal.
“It’s beautiful, you know?” Timothy turns, confused. The girl looks up from wisely paying attention to the debris in the road before them and smiles. “Her name, Iris, like the flower. It’s one of my favorites.”
“You never have told me yours, you know?” He grunts and shifts Iris in his arms. Although she can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, the ache in his arms begins before he reaches the end of his street.
“Oh!” When she laughs, Timothy is surprised to find it appealing. Most girls he knows tend to over-exaggerate their laughs. The girl walking beside him seems down to earth, genuine. “How silly of me! My name is Hannah. Hannah Green.” Timothy stops walking to readjust Iris again and Hannah follows suit. “And does the hero have a name?”
He fights to ignore the trembling that has begun to rise in his arms. He has worked far too many strenuous hours this past week to be able to tackle a feat like this. “I’m Timothy Lewis, though you might have a few people around here call me Tim or Timmy boy.”
Hannah grins. “I think Timothy is a lovely name. It’s one of my favorites, too.”
He casts a glance over at her to see if she is being coy and is surprised to see that she’s not looking at him and batting her lashes like some of the other girls in town have taken to doing over the past few months. Although he has never been considered the sexiest man in Rodanthe, he does have a good, honest business, a home, and an empty side of the bed that apparently people feel needs to be filled. Instead of ogling him, Hannah stares at the homes around him.
“You seem to have a lot of favorites,” he muses. Sweat drips into the back of his collar, winding its way down his spine and into the waistband of his pants. A cloud crosses over the sun, casting them in shadow. Timothy glances up and frowns. The wall of clouds seems to be on the move again, and they look none too friendly.
“Sure,” she shrugs. “Isn’t it better to appreciate the small things in life rather than mope about things that can’t be changed?”
Timothy purses his lips. She looks over at him and then quickly lowers her gaze. “Sorry. I tend to run my mouth when I’m upset. It’s a family trait. One that I’ve been diligently attempting to squash out, but as you can see, it’s still a vice.”
She does talk a lot, but Timothy would hardly consider that a bad thing. At least so far. He’s only spent a few minutes with her after all. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No real reason. It’s just unusual to meet people who speak so politely. I can’t possibly be more than a couple years older than you, and you speak to me like I’m my dad.”
“I was taught to respect my elders…no matter how much older they are.” Hannah laughs and Timothy finds her smile to be infectious. Her hair shifts in vibrant waves over her
She falls in step beside him and after only a moment she begins to hum. “What are you doing?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry. Am I disturbing you?”
“I wasn’t referring to your humming. What are you doing here…with me?”
“You needed my help.”
“And I’m very grateful, but you can’t seriously plan to walk with me the entire way.”
The girl wipes her forehead and her shoulders rise and fall with an indifferent shrug. “Seems to me like you could use some company on the walk. Besides, I need to check on my aunt. She’ll be beside herself with worry by now.”
His mouth falls open. He starts to speak, although what it is that he wants to say seems to escape him. Instead he clams up and walks, focusing on keeping his footing sound as they cross another block off their end goal.
“It’s beautiful, you know?” Timothy turns, confused. The girl looks up from wisely paying attention to the debris in the road before them and smiles. “Her name, Iris, like the flower. It’s one of my favorites.”
“You never have told me yours, you know?” He grunts and shifts Iris in his arms. Although she can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, the ache in his arms begins before he reaches the end of his street.
“Oh!” When she laughs, Timothy is surprised to find it appealing. Most girls he knows tend to over-exaggerate their laughs. The girl walking beside him seems down to earth, genuine. “How silly of me! My name is Hannah. Hannah Green.” Timothy stops walking to readjust Iris again and Hannah follows suit. “And does the hero have a name?”
He fights to ignore the trembling that has begun to rise in his arms. He has worked far too many strenuous hours this past week to be able to tackle a feat like this. “I’m Timothy Lewis, though you might have a few people around here call me Tim or Timmy boy.”
Hannah grins. “I think Timothy is a lovely name. It’s one of my favorites, too.”
He casts a glance over at her to see if she is being coy and is surprised to see that she’s not looking at him and batting her lashes like some of the other girls in town have taken to doing over the past few months. Although he has never been considered the sexiest man in Rodanthe, he does have a good, honest business, a home, and an empty side of the bed that apparently people feel needs to be filled. Instead of ogling him, Hannah stares at the homes around him.
“You seem to have a lot of favorites,” he muses. Sweat drips into the back of his collar, winding its way down his spine and into the waistband of his pants. A cloud crosses over the sun, casting them in shadow. Timothy glances up and frowns. The wall of clouds seems to be on the move again, and they look none too friendly.
“Sure,” she shrugs. “Isn’t it better to appreciate the small things in life rather than mope about things that can’t be changed?”
Timothy purses his lips. She looks over at him and then quickly lowers her gaze. “Sorry. I tend to run my mouth when I’m upset. It’s a family trait. One that I’ve been diligently attempting to squash out, but as you can see, it’s still a vice.”
She does talk a lot, but Timothy would hardly consider that a bad thing. At least so far. He’s only spent a few minutes with her after all. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No real reason. It’s just unusual to meet people who speak so politely. I can’t possibly be more than a couple years older than you, and you speak to me like I’m my dad.”
“I was taught to respect my elders…no matter how much older they are.” Hannah laughs and Timothy finds her smile to be infectious. Her hair shifts in vibrant waves over her
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