Hannah's List by Debbie Macomber
“Macy! Stop it!”
“Sorry, it’s just that this means so much to me. Can you come next week? Monday?”
“I’m not sure yet. In any event, all I can do is convince, uh, Harvey to see a physician. I have a friend I’ll recommend.”
“That would be perfect. ” She had a fleeting thought that maybe he could take a look at Snowball, too, but didn’t mention that.
“Are we finished?” he asked.
“For now,” she said. Macy felt wonderful. Everything had fallen into place exactly as it should.
Chapter Nineteen
Leanne Lancaster collected her mail on the way into her apartment. It was all she could afford. Due to the stalled economy, they’d lost money when they sold the house and, because of the renovation loan, hadn’t had much equity, anyway. She’d signed a six-month lease on the apartment and eighteen months later she was still there. Her whole life seemed to be on hold. She wished now that she hadn’t made the effort to see Mark. The trip had only depressed her.
Even his physical appearance had been disheartening. The memory of Mark before prison—neat, well-dressed, confident—was a stark contrast to the man he was now. The shock of it continued to reverberate and left her sick at heart. More for the pretense of companionship than any interest in current affairs, Leanne turned on the nightly news. She watched for five minutes and switched channels. If she was looking for something to raise her spirits, this clearly wasn’t it. Instead, she tuned in to a game show and matched her trivia skills against the three contestants.
She lost. No surprise there.
She hadn’t always been like this. Despite the fact that she worked with cancer patients, or possibly because of it, she used to be positive and optimistic, someone with an irrepressible sense of fun. Her personality had made her ideal for the job; she’d had the ability to help patients endure difficult treatments and, if terminal, to value the last months or weeks of their lives. People who walked through the oncology center’s doors needed the medical staff to greet them with a positive outlook. These days with Leanne, they had to settle for compassion and gentleness. She smiled and said the right things, but her own life was a shambles.
The evening with Michael Everett had been a beacon in a dark, sad month. Her world had spiraled downward after seeing Mark. His rejection hadn’t seemed real until he’d said it to her face. It was as if the last vestige of hope had been stolen from her. After that, any remnant of optimism had vanished. What she didn’t understand was why she continued to care. She needed to wipe the slate clean and start again instead of allowing regret to define her mood. The phone rang; Leanne glanced at the readout and saw that it was Muriel Lancaster, her former mother-in-law.
“Hello?” Leanne answered as if she didn’t know who was on the other line. She tried to sound cheerful. Undefeated.
“Oh, Leanne. I wasn’t sure if you’d be home from work yet.”
“I just walked in the door.” That was a slight exaggeration. She’d been home long enough to know she couldn’t match wits with the Jeopardy! contestants.
“We heard from Mark this week,” Muriel said. “I…
understand you went to see him.”
Leanne swallowed hard. “That was a big mistake. I should’ve called first.… That would’ve been better than showing up unannounced.”
Then she would’ve had some warning and could have made the much more sensible decision not to go.
“It went badly, then?” Muriel asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “I was afraid of that.”
“It was my fault.” Which was true enough, since she shouldn’t have gone in the first place.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Leanne assured her. Smarter and wiser, anyway.
“Brian and I are planning to drive over to Seattle to visit Mark next weekend.”
“But Mark’s in Yakima.”
“No—not anymore. He’s finished his community service there, and he’s back in the Seattle area.”
“Well…it’ll be a lovely drive,” she said, wanting to change the subject. His parents lived east of the mountains in Spokane.
“We hoped… Do you think you’ll be available, too? I can’t recall the last time the two of us had a chance to really talk.”
“Ah…” Leanne wasn’t sure how to respond. She loved Muriel and Brian, Mark’s father, but seeing them would serve no useful purpose.
“I understand if you have other plans. It is rather short notice,” his mother said with some reluctance.
“Yes, sorry. Perhaps another time would be best.”
Leanne felt mildly guilty for putting her off, but also relieved.
The line went silent for a few seconds. “Brian and I decided we should come and see Mark. He seemed so depressed.”
He wasn’t the only one.
“This is very hard on Brian,” Muriel said, lowering her voice. “He has trouble believing this could’ve happened to our family.”
“I have trouble believing it, too,” Leanne murmured.
“I know. I probably shouldn’t have called…. It’s just that I always feel better after we talk. I don’t dare mention to Mark that the two of us still communicate. That would upset him.” She paused. “I can’t stand the fact that our children are having such a hard time. It doesn’t seem fair, but then life isn’t fair, is it?” Her voice cracked and she took in a deep, audible breath.
“I know Mark appreciates your love and support,”
Leanne said.
“Like I said, I always feel better after I talk to you,”
Muriel said.
“I do, too.” Not only did she miss her mother-in-law, but Muriel was the one reliable source of information she had regarding her ex-husband.
“I’ll phone again when we’re back from seeing him, shall I?”
“Yes, please do.” Mark wouldn’t need to know, and Leanne wasn’t foolish enough to pretend that she didn’t want information.
She kept telling herself she should be over this. Her last visit—that was how she’d think of that confrontation from now on. Her last visit. Her last attempt at any kind of contact. Their relationship, or what little had remained of it, was done.
“Goodbye, Leanne, and thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, although she didn’t know what Muriel had to thank her for.
An hour later, her stomach growled and she decided to make something for dinner. She cooked the same quantities as when she was married and froze the second portion. Cooking for one was ridiculous, hardly worth the bother. Unlike a lot of newly single women—or so she’d heard—she hadn’t stopped with meal preparation. Funny how a little thing like that could help her emotionally, but it had. The routine itself—the shopping and planning, as well as the cooking—gave her home life a sense of order she’d been in danger of losing.
She sat down to a plate of clam spaghetti, which had been one of Mark’s favorites. It was her own recipe, made with olive oil, clam juice, red pepper flakes and plenty of chopped garlic and onion. Spreading out a linen napkin on her lap, she sighed and tried to think of something pleasant.
Her evening with Michael Everett had actually turned out to be much more enjoyable than she’d expected. She’d felt a bond with him; perhaps surprisingly, they had a lot in common. He was a decent man who had yet to chart his way through the land of loss and grief. He’d already traveled some distance, as their evening together attested, but still had miles to go.
She hadn’t heard from him since, and Leanne hadn’t decided how she felt about that. For the first day or two after their date, she’d thought he might call her. He hadn’t. Sprinkling grated Parmesan on her spaghetti, Leanne reached for the stack of mail she’d brought in. The top envelope held a notice informing her that her car insurance premium was due. The next piece of mail was another bill, this time for her VISA card, and the last was a business-size envelope with a script that was achingly familiar.
Leann
For the first time since their divorce had been finalized, Mark had contacted her.
She tore open the envelope.
June 7
Leanne,
He didn’t say Dear Leanne. Just her name, plain and simple. Drawing in her breath, she continued reading.
I’ve done a lot of thinking since your visit. I want to apologize for the way I behaved. It was a shock to see you. I wasn’t prepared, emotionally or mentally. She hadn’t been prepared, either.
I believe I’ve figured out why you came here. You were looking to me for reassurance about this new relationship of yours. Leanne, it’s what I’ve wanted for you all along. You deserve happiness, and I hope that’s what he brings you. I’m the one responsible for the mess I’m in, not you. I’m deeply in debt and will pay for this error in judgment for the rest of my life. I’m the one who broke the law and was sentenced for my crimes. You did nothing wrong, so you shouldn’t have to suffer.
It didn’t matter that she was innocent. She was involved whether she wanted to be or not. She was suffering. Yes, Mark had stolen the funds, but she’d been affected by his actions. She wasn’t behind bars and yet she felt like a prisoner all the same.
Get on with your life. What we once had was special, but it’s over and there’s no going back for either of us. Finda man, maybe this doctor, who’ll love you and marry you and give you a family.
Leanne swallowed her tears. She wanted children. The oncology center was beside the fertility clinic and every day Leanne saw couples desperate for a child, willing to do anything in order to conceive. If that meant drugs, shots, tests, embarrassment, they’d submit themselves to it. Here she was, craving a child, and her husband—the man she’d always hoped would be the father of her children—was out of her life.
Before I close, I need to clear up one thing. I need to apologize. I led you to believe there’d been other women during our marriage. That was a lie. I was trying to convince you to hate me. Instead, all I did was cause you more pain. While I might have failed in many respects and sunk to levels I never knew I was capable of reaching, not once did I look at another woman. I wasn’t even tempted. You were always my one and only, my wife. Leanne smiled. She knew it; deep down she’d known he was lying. Even more than that, Mark hadn’t been able to live with himself for having misled her. A great weight lifted from her heart.
That said, I hope and trust you’ll be able to get past our divorce and begin a new life.
Leanne closed her eyes. She didn’t know if she could do that, loving Mark the way she did.
This will be the last letter you receive from me. The last communication I will ever send you. Mark
He hadn’t ended with an endearment, either. Still, every word of his letter throbbed with love. He hadn’t said he loved her, but he’d shown her.
This was all the proof she needed. Mark hadn’t signed those divorce papers because he no longer loved her. He’d done it to protect her. He’d sacrificed his future for her. He’d guessed correctly. She’d come to him looking for approval, for some indication from him that she was doing the right thing in accepting a date with Michael Everett. She’d gotten that approval now, in the form of a letter.
While she still had the courage, Leanne picked up the phone. She had Michael’s cell phone number and she punched it out, held the receiver to her ear and waited.
“Hello.” He sounded tentative.
“It’s Leanne Lancaster,” she said brightly. “I wanted to thank you for dinner the other night.”
“I had a good time,” he said.
“I did, too. Do you like crispy baked pork chops?” she asked. “Or we can have Italian food if you prefer.”
“Ah…I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted pork chops served that way,” he said and seemed to find the question amusing. “I love Italian food, so either is fine by me.”
“We’ll probably have Italian then.”
“Are you cooking?”
“I am. How about Sunday night, the twelfth, around six?”
“Works for me.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
“Sunday,” he repeated.
“Oh,” Leanne said suddenly. If Muriel phoned—or impulsively dropped in, which she’d done once or twice—
while Michael was visiting, it could be awkward. “Perhaps Monday would be better. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Monday it is.”
Leanne appreciated how accommodating he was. She hung up and resisted the urge to write Mark and let him know she’d followed his advice.
Chapter Twenty
“I might bring someone home with me tonight,”
Macy told Harvey Monday morning. She stood
on the other side of the white picket fence that separated their yards. Typical of her neighbor, he ignored her and continued watering the vegetable seedlings coming up in neat rows.
Macy was determined not to move until he responded. Two or three minutes later she was rewarded for her patience when he deigned to acknowledge her comment.
“Male or female?” Harvey asked without looking in her direction. He kept his back to her.
“Male.”
That got Harvey’s attention. He turned to face her, the hose, still spurting water, in his hand. “When did you meet him?”
“A while back,” she said, not elaborating. “I want you to meet him, too.”
“Why? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Then why are you bringing him to meet me?”
“He’s a…sort of friend, nothing more. The thing is, I’m not even sure I like him.”
Harvey made a scoffing sound and returned to his watering.
“I’m painting a mural in his office.”
“Is he that persnickety doctor you talked about?”
“Yup.” She grinned. “Persnickety. I love it. Not a word I’ve actually heard anyone say before.”
“Then perhaps you should expand your vocabulary.”
“Okay. Yes, he’s that punctilious doctor I mentioned.”
“The one who annoyed you.”
That was putting it mildly. “He’s the one.”
Harvey snorted, but it could have been a laugh. Sometimes it was difficult to tell. “I’d be interested in meeting that young man.”
Macy didn’t question his sudden sociability. “You will tonight.” This was working out beautifully. Macy would bring Michael by and introduce him to Harvey, and the two men would chat. Michael would ask a few subtle questions and learn what he needed to know so he could order the proper tests. Her next challenge would be to get Harvey to take those tests, but she’d deal with that when she got to it. “See you later,” she said, waving goodbye. Harvey grumbled something unintelligible.
Macy made sure Sammy and her three cats were fed, then took the bus to Michael’s office, her supplies in a large canvas pouch.
When she arrived, Linda Barclay, Dr. Everett’s nurse, let her in and accompanied her to the hallway. Macy removed the amended drawing from her bag, followed by paints, brushes, her purse, her lunch.
She was eager to begin the mural. She’d worked on the sketch over the weekend, adding several flourishes she thought Michael would like. Well, she hoped he would. Since their conversation on Thursday, she’d begun to think of him by his first name. And since she was passing him off as her “sort of friend” to Harvey, calling him Dr. Everett would be much too formal.
“The doctor isn’t in yet,” Linda told her as Macy unrolled the drawing.
“I can get started, though, can’t I?”
The older woman shrugged. “I suppose that would be all right.”
Macy still hadn’t made up her mind about Michael’s nurse. The woman stood guard over him as if he were royalty in need of protection. And yet, at times, Macy had the distinct impression that Linda, obviously no fool, might have taken a liking to her.
“I?
The first order of business was to sketch in the background and the various animals. Since the wall had been freshly painted, or so she’d learned from Linda, Macy didn’t have to prepare it and set about drawing with a thick lead pencil. She did everything freehand.
She’d just started when Michael showed up. He paused when he saw her.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully without interrupting her work.
“Morning.”
He watched for a few minutes, although Macy didn’t know what was so fascinating about a few lines. She was still sketching in the trees.
“Do you always hum while you draw?”
“Oh, do I?” Macy frowned. “No one’s ever mentioned that before.”
“You hum.”
She turned and smiled warmly. “You’ll notice I got here before you did this morning.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and Macy could see that getting him to relax would be a real test of her ability. She wasn’t sure why she found it so important. She guessed it had to do with Hannah. If she’d loved Michael, and clearly she had, there must be more to him than he’d revealed so far.
“I’d like to get this done as quickly as possible,” she told him. Of course, being paid when she was finished was a great incentive.
“Good idea.”
“I added a few things to the scene if you want to check it out,” she said and pointed to the sketch, which she’d rolled out on the floor. “See the baby giraffe? And the parrots?”
He stared down at it, then nodded. “I like it.”
“I was hoping you would.” She wiped her forearm across her brow. Her hair was tied back with a red Western-style bandanna. An apron covered her denim skirt and Mariners T-shirt, both faded from multiple washings. She didn’t care if she got paint on them, but she liked the way the skirt allowed her freedom of movement.