When he hadn't come home several hours later, Hannah became concerned. She'd unpacked and systematically arranged the kitchen to her liking. That took what remained of the morning. Once she was finished, she made herself lunch, then wandered into the living room, holding the sandwich in her hand. Pausing at the window, she looked out, hoping, praying she'd find some sign of Riley. Her pulse accelerated when she noted his car was parked at the curb, but then she remembered he'd returned the truck to the rental agency and was apparently with one of his friends.
Discouraged, she went back to the kitchen and finished her glass of milk. The sandwich had lost its appeal, and she dumped it in the garbage. Looking around her, she went into the bedrooms, making up the beds.
It was well past dark when Hannah finished straightening up their little house. She surveyed her efforts, standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips. The transformation was a little short of amazing. What had seemed like a barren shell of walls and empty space now resembled a home.
Her brother's photograph rested on the fireplace mantel along with one she found of Riley. She guessed that it had been taken several years earlier, soon after he'd enlisted in the Navy. She'd stumbled upon it while unpacking a box of books and spent several moments studying the intense young face staring back at her. She hoped to gain an insight into her husband, but she'd found the photograph as difficult to read as the man.
It had taken a good deal of effort to arrange the furniture the way she wanted, and she was likely to incur her husband's displeasure for having worked so hard, but that wasn't anything new. What did he expect her to do while he was away hours on end? Twiddle her thumbs?
After stacking the empty boxes in the patio off the kitchen, Hannah fixed herself a bowl of clam chowder for dinner. She soaked in a hot bath once she finished the dishes.