Chapter 6: Hannah
I strode through the front doors of the soup kitchen, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was it—my first real foray into volunteer work, a chance to prove I was more than just a pretty face trailing after my husband. I was determined to make a good impression.
A kind-faced older woman with graying hair, pulled back in a messy bun, immediately approached me. Her eyes widened slightly as she took me in. “Oh! Luna Hannah, it’s an honor to have you here,” she said, bowing politely.
I offered a warm smile, extending my hand. “Please, just call me Hannah. It’s wonderful to be here.”
She grasped my hand firmly, giving it a gentle shake as she returned my smile. “Of course, of course. I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised to see you volunteering here.” A faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry. That was rude of me, Hannah.”
Laughing lightly, I waved off her concern. “Not at all. You’re absolutely right; I haven’t really made much of an effort to get involved with the community before now.”
As I spoke, I felt several curious stares prickling at my neck and noticed a couple of phones discreetly angled in my direction, undoubtedly snapping pictures or videos. Now’s the time to shine, I thought. I couldn’t mess up in front of the cameras. Not when I had an opportunity to direct the narrative.
Squaring my shoulders, I met the woman’s gaze. “But that’s something I intend to change. This community has been my home for years, and it’s long past time I started giving back.”
A hushed murmur of approval rippled through the small crowd, and the woman’s expression softened into genuine warmth. “Well, we’re thrilled to have you here, Hannah. Why don’t you come along, and I’ll get you set up?”
I followed her further into the kitchen, where Viona, Amber, and Emma were already bustling around, assembling trays of food. Viona shot me a sidelong glance, her eyes momentarily darting to Emma, as if to say, I’ve got my eye on your new “friend.”
I rolled my eyes surreptitiously. Leave it to Viona to be concerned about that.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. I fell into an easy rhythm with my friends, passing out bowls of stew, fresh-baked bread, and water to the people in line.
“Thank you, Luna Hannah,” one older man said as I handed him his tray, his weathered eyes crinkling at the corners. “Really, thank you.”
“No, thank you,” I replied with a practiced smile. “Thank you for staying strong.”
He smiled and shuffled on. My smile faded, however, as I saw who stood next: a young woman, possibly younger than me, and a little girl, barely four or five.
The little girl gasped. “Luna Hannah!”
“Hello,” I said, crouching in front of her. “What’s your name?”
The little girl looked expectantly at her mother, who nodded. “Patti,” she whispered.
Reaching out, I took her tiny hands. “Hello, Patti. That’s a pretty name.” I paused, worrying my lip. “Are you here for some soup with your mommy?”
The little girl nodded solemnly, her expression brightening as I hugged her briefly. When I straightened and met her mother’s wide-eyed gaze, I felt a strange protectiveness, not only for the little girl but also for the mother, who couldn’t have been older than eighteen.