Logan walked straight ahead and into the kitchen and Hana heard him begin a discussion with someone inside. She delayed, hearing a female voice and feeling awkward. Looking around for somewhere to hang her wet jacket, she settled on the banister rail. It brought back memories of her childhood and her family hanging their coats on the banister in England. Hana remembered bringing the whole collection down on her head and having to hang each one up again. Sometimes her brother would loosen them on purpose to get her into trouble. Her mother hated the practice. Despite her inability to hear or speak with any clarity, Judith McIntyre would sign with frantic fingers that it made their modest Lincolnshire vicarage look untidy.
“Hey, come through.” Logan returned for her and took her right hand,
