Hannah's List

by Debbie Macomber

  “Sort of?” I wondered where this answer would lead our conversation. Macy was unlike anyone I’d ever known and she saw the world in what I could only describe as a very individual way. The more I was around her the more I was enthralled. I’d grieved for Hannah so long and so intensely that I’d forgotten how addictive joy could be.

  “Well,” she went on to explain, “the night I found Sammy I’d forgotten about the dog food and fed him the same thing I do the cats. He was too hungry to be choosy, but all along I had that twenty-five-pound bag of kibble on the back porch and I’d completely forgotten about it. I remembered it the next afternoon. He was a happy camper after that.”

  I had to laugh. “That explains it, then.”

  “Will the dress do?” she asked, whirling around one last time to offer me a full view.

  “It’s perfect.” And it was.

  She made an elegant little curtsy in response.

  “Shall I pick you up at five-thirty?” I asked, reaching down to pet Sammy. “The dinner starts at seven, but there’s a social hour first.”

  “Could you come at five forty-five?” she asked. I frowned, suddenly suspicious. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  She avoided eye contact. “The shoot for the TV commercial is tomorrow.”

  I exhaled slowly as understanding dawned. I remembered now. Of course this new job was important to Macy, but tomorrow’s dinner was important to me. Important to both of us, although she didn’t know that yet. “You’re afraid the taping might run late?”

  She nodded. “We’re supposed to be done by five, but there are no guarantees.”

  I mulled it over, then gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll make it work.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll go on to the dinner ahead of you, and you can join me once you’re done, no matter how late it is.” This was a sensible compromise. I’d rather have Macy with me when I arrived, but that couldn’t be helped. And afterward, I’d bring her back to my house—Hannah’s house—for the first time. Because soon, I hoped, it would be Macy’s, too.

  “You don’t mind?” she breathed.

  “It’ll be fine.” Seeing the relief on her face was all the reward I needed. Although I wouldn’t object if she wanted to express her gratitude in other ways…

  As if reading my thoughts, Macy threw her arms around me and brought her mouth to mine. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her repeatedly, unzipping the back of her dress. While my hands explored her slim body, she smiled and spread happy kisses over my face. I could see that my life with Macy was going to be a wild ride—one I was eager to experience.

  Friday night, I arrived at the hotel as scheduled and made excuses for Macy. All during the cocktail hour, I watched and waited expectantly. Obviously, the TV shoot had gone on much longer than planned. I could only imagine how nerve-racking this must be for her. She still hadn’t appeared when the ballroom doors were opened, but I wasn’t too concerned, even though the crowd had begun to file in.

  “You sure she’s coming?” Ritchie muttered, following me into the ballroom. This was a question he’d asked more than once.

  “She’ll be here,” I said confidently as we wove between tables looking for our assigned seating. The room was filling up quickly.

  Because I’d been nominated for this award, my table was close to the front of the massive ballroom. I’d told Macy that the table number was listed on the dinner ticket and hoped she’d notice it.

  “Is she perpetually late?” Ritchie asked as we found our place.

  “She has a part in a commercial,” I said. I’d explained as much several times.

  We sat down with one empty space next to me. The salads were already on the table and the noise of clanking silverware and conversation rose to the vaulted ceiling. I’d selected my seat so I had a view of the door. I wanted to see Macy as soon as she came in.

  The poached salmon with wild rice and asparagus was brought out by an army of servers in white jackets. As they moved smoothly about the ballroom, I became aware of a commotion in the back. The noise level instantly fell as half the room turned to find out what had caused the ruckus. I swallowed tightly, instinctively knowing this involved Macy.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment?” I said to my friends. I set my linen napkin beside my plate and stood. Sure enough, it was Macy. She stood at the entrance to the ballroom, arguing with one of the security guards. I blinked when I saw her. The dress she’d previewed for me the night before was nowhere in sight. Instead, she had on a housedress that resembled something my grandmother might have worn. She clutched a large purse to her chest as though it held every valuable she possessed.

  “Macy,” I said. “Is there a problem?” I directed the question to the guard.

  “Michael! Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Would you kindly inform this…this man,” she said in righteous tones,

  “that I am not a street person trying to crash this dinner and that I’m your invited guest?”

  The man employed by the hotel regarded me skeptically.

  “Is she with you?”

  “She is.” I placed my arm protectively around Macy’s shoulders. “Do you have your dinner ticket?”

  “I…I couldn’t find it.” She draped the oversize purse over her arm and let it dangle.

  “Not to worry,” I said, frowning at the security guard.

  “If need be, I’ll purchase another.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said and walked off. Seeing how upset Macy was and because the two of us had become the focus of attention—I gently eased her into the lobby and away from the ballroom.

  “Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened?” I asked as I hugged her close. She trembled in my arms. “The taping went much later than I expected,” she whispered.

  That much I’d figured out.

  “I guess you didn’t have time to change clothes.” She must’ve been wearing what she’d had on for the commercial shoot. Macy nodded, her face against my shoulder. “I didn’t know I was doing two scenes. The first was the modern-day grocery store and the second was from the 1960s. If I’d gone home and changed, I would’ve missed the dinner entirely.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said, sounding close to tears. “All I’ve done is embarrass you. I can’t stay.”

  “Of course you can. I want you to meet my friends. I’m not embarrassed—I’m proud of you.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t…I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything.”

  Clasping her shoulders, I held her back from me and looked down into her face. “Don’t be silly,” I said, reaching for her hands. “Come inside with me and have some dinner. You’ll feel better once you do.”

  “I can’t…. I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t let you down…I just couldn’t.” She buried her face in her hands, and, seeing how distraught she was, I realized it would be even more upsetting for her to walk through the ballroom in full view of everyone.

  “Do you want to go home?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said in a high-pitched squeak.

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I put my arms around her again, hoping to comfort and reassure her.

  We stood entwined that way for perhaps a minute— until we were interrupted by Ritchie, rushing out of the ballroom. “Michael! They’re getting ready to announce the awards.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  Macy broke the embrace and smiled up at me. “I’m fine. Go back inside.”

  Ritchie looked at Macy and then at me, then back at Macy. He pulled me aside. “This is Macy?” he asked as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “She came directly from the commercial shoot,” I told him.

  “Oh.” He regarded me thoughtfully. Then in a lower voice, he asked, “Hannah’s Macy?”

  “No,” I said, “my Macy.”

  “Oh.”

  I’d rarely seen my brother-in-law at a l
oss for words, but Ritchie clearly wasn’t sure what to say. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then turned away, disappearing inside the ballroom.

  “That was my brother-in-law,” I said. “I didn’t think you wanted me to introduce you just yet.”

  She nodded mutely.

  “I’ll stop by the house when I’m finished here,” I promised her. My proposal could wait for another time. Macy stared up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears, then flung her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. The tears were flowing in earnest when she released me. Before I could say anything she fled down the hallway. Her tears, and the desperate way she’d kissed me, alerted me to the fact that something was wrong. I would have followed her if I hadn’t heard my name over the speakers. When I stepped back into the ballroom, I saw people glancing in my direction and discovered I’d won the award. The rest of the evening was like a bad dream. I kept looking for an excuse to leave, but I was thwarted at every turn. Because I was the winner, I had to remain after the banquet for a short interview with the Seattle Times. Then the photographer showed up. When I left the hotel, it was almost eleven.

  But I didn’t care how late it was. I was going to Macy’s house.

  Despite the positive events of the evening, I had an anxious feeling about Macy. As soon as I pulled up in front of her fairy-tale house, I noticed that all the lights were off. Only the porch was illuminated.

  Undaunted, I climbed out of the car and hurried up the sidewalk. As I neared the front door, I saw an envelope taped to the screen door, addressed to me.

  I couldn’t forget that my relationship with Macy had begun with another letter. The one from Hannah.

  Standing directly under the porch light, I ripped open the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of paper.

  July 2

  Michael,

  I can’t do it. I’m so sorry.

  Can’t do what? I wondered.

  Hannah made a mistake. I’m not the right kind of woman for you. I’ll embarrass and humiliate you the way I did tonight.

  She hadn’t embarrassed me. When I discovered I’d fallen in love with Macy, I’d accepted that she was herself, her quirky, madcap, independent self. Those were the very qualities I now found so attractive, so appealing. So different from me. I don’t want to see you again. I know you probably think I’m being emotional and that this is an impulsive decision on my part. It isn’t. I’m taking the cats and leaving for a while. This is for the best.

  Best for whom? Not me. My initial reaction was to argue, except that I didn’t have anyone to argue with.

  I don’t know when I’ll be back but I can assure you it won’t be soon. Put me out of your mind and look for a woman more suited to your world. And thank you, oh, thank you for loving me. I just wish I could be different. Macy

  P.S. Sammy’s with Harvey. I hope you’ll keep an eye on them both.

  I read the letter a second time, crumpled it and dropped it on the porch before I turned and walked away. Macy wanted to get out of my life. It was what I suspected she’d do after disappearing from my office that day—was it only two weeks ago? This was a pattern of hers. Uncompleted paintings and unfinished relationships. Hannah had gotten it all wrong.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mark’s sister sat across from Leanne in the Lancasters’ kitchen. It was after midnight and, while his parents had gone to their bedroom, Leanne doubted that either of them slept.

  Mark had been missing in Afghanistan for a week—the longest week of Leanne’s life. A day earlier, the country had celebrated the Fourth of July and the fireworks display had lit up the evening sky. The Lancaster family felt they had little to celebrate, and yet they’d stood with Denise’s daughters and made a small display of patriotism for the sake of the children, who didn’t fully understand what had taken place. So far, the disappearance of two Americans in Afghanistan had been kept out of the news. For that Leanne was grateful, although she wasn’t sure whether McPherson would be able to keep the incident under wraps much longer. She feared that in short order the information would be uncovered by the press. Then any privacy would be destroyed and the men’s safety might well be compromised. In contrast to last evening’s loud fireworks, now there was only silence in the darkness of the summer night. The kitchen seemed to vibrate with stress as the two women sat there. Denise had come to Spokane the Friday before the holiday. She and her daughters slept in the spare bedroom. Until they’d arrived, Leanne had slept there, but she’d given it up for her sister-in-law and nieces. For the past three nights she’d bunked down on the living room sofa. She needed to go back to Seattle. She couldn’t continue putting her life on hold. Although the company had been good about updating the family, there was no real news. Her sense of hope escalated with each phone call and then plummeted just as quickly. No one slept for more than a few hours at a time. The only positive note was that while they were together, they could buoy one another’s spirits.

  “I suppose we should talk about…you know,” Denise said reluctantly, cradling her coffee mug with both hands.

  “I suppose,” Leanne said, although she’d rather not. Still, everything that had happened was directly connected to Denise. The two women had never discussed it, and Leanne didn’t see how talking about it now would serve any useful purpose, but she couldn’t refuse. Denise squirmed in her chair, not meeting Leanne’s eyes. After several uncomfortable seconds, she blurted out,

  “I didn’t know what Mark had done!”

  “I realize that,” Leanne assured her calmly. “I knew if I didn’t get away, Darrin would do something terrible, that he’d hurt us. He…he had before. No one knew besides Mark. I couldn’t tell Mom and Dad, couldn’t ask them for help. I had nowhere else to turn. My parents had pleaded with me not to marry Darrin and they were right.”

  Leanne saw that Denise’s hands were clenched and her knuckles had gone white. “I’ve wanted to kick myself a thousand times for my rebellious attitude. I thought they were just being overprotective. Daddy disliked Darrin the moment they met.”

  So had Leanne. The man was manipulative, self-absorbed, domineering and irrational. She’d only met Denise’s husband once, and she’d immediately assessed his personality. Mark’s sister had been blinded by infatuation—or, as she’d hinted, by immaturity. Mark hadn’t liked Darrin any more than Leanne had, but in his unswerving loyalty to Denise he’d defended her choice.

  “At the time,” Denise was saying, “I figured no man would ever be good enough for daddy’s little girl, so I ignored his advice.” She hung her head, and her long, straight, brown hair fell forward. “I’ve paid dearly for that.”

  Mark had, too, but Leanne prevented herself from saying so. The one concrete thing Denise had done to help her brother had been to plead for a lesser sentence. Because of that, Mark had gotten a year in prison instead of five. Still, the price had been far too high and, even now, Mark continued to pay.

  “You have every right to be angry with me,” Denise said.

  “I am,” Leanne told her frankly, “but I’m trying to forgive you.” It wasn’t easy, though, and Denise obviously understood that.

  “I haven’t forgiven myself. Trust me, if there was a way to relive the past I’d do it.” She shook her head. “If Mark’s—”

  “Don’t say it,” Leanne insisted.

  “Okay,” Denise said. “But I believe he’s alive. I can feel it—can’t you?”

  Unfortunately, Leanne couldn’t. All she felt was terror and fear, pressing on her chest like bricks. Denise darted her a look. “I’m not sure if anyone told you, but Darrin’s in prison now for assaulting a woman he dated after our divorce.”

  Leanne glanced up. “I didn’t know.” That didn’t change the past, but it did reveal the desperate situation Denise had faced when she left her husband.

  “I couldn’t have escaped him without Mark.” She sobbed and Leanne realized how much Denise, too, was suffering. It wasn’t fair that she and Mark had paid for his sister�
��s bad decisions, but there was no going back. Denise reached across the table as if to take Leanne’s hand, but then drew back. “I’ll pay back every penny, I swear I will. I’ll do anything I can to make this right.”

  Money alone wasn’t going to repay this debt. Denise knew that. But there was no point in mentioning it.

  “I will,” Denise repeated.

  “I know,” Leanne whispered, because that seemed important to Denise.

  “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Denise said, sobbing freely now, her thin shoulders heaving. “Please, please, say you can forgive me.”

  Leanne stretched one hand across the table and grabbed Denise’s arm. “I forgive you….”

  Denise looked up then, her face streaked with tears. “It just never seems to end. Mark took that assignment in Afghanistan because of me…and now…now—” She couldn’t finish.

  Getting up from her chair, Leanne walked around the table and slid her arm around Denise’s shoulders. She made comforting sounds, gently rocking the young woman as Denise wept bitter tears.

  It took a long time for Denise to stop crying. Leanne’s heart went out to everyone in Mark’s family for the pain Denise’s marriage had brought upon them all. The one piece of good news was the fact that Darrin was in prison.

  “If we lost Mark…”

  “Stop it!” Leanne cried. She couldn’t lose Mark. He had to be alive. She had to believe that somehow he’d make it through this ordeal. The company and the military were doing everything possible to rescue him.

  “We have to believe Mark will survive this,” she said. Trusting, hoping, praying—for now, that was all they could do.

  “I know…I know.” Denise seemed to find a tiny bit of courage deep inside herself. She wiped the tears from her face and straightened. “You’re right. If for no other reason than to keep up Mom and Dad’s spirits, we have to believe. But I do think he’s alive, I really do.”

  They hugged each other and, soon after that, Leanne retired to her sofa bed, sleeping fitfully. The next morning, she made the decision to return to Seattle and her job. The farewells were hard, and they clung to one another for long minutes.