When evening shadows began to fall on the cemetery, Michael walked Claire to her car. He offered to take her out for dinner that night, but she told him honestly that she was exhausted.
“It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in my soup.”
“I’ll be driving back tonight then,” he told her. “You’ll be home tomorrow?”
“I hope so. I have so much to do before I go back to school Wednesday. I still have a few loose ends to tie up here, too.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Thank you for offering, but it’s mostly things I have to do myself. I want to make arrangements to have the date put on Nana’s gravestone. And I still have to sign some papers at the insurance office. . . .” She was thinking out loud. She rubbed her temples wearily and turned to him. “There are so many things to think about. I never realized how complicated it is to die.”
He touched her cheek. “You’d better get back to the hotel and get some sleep. I’ll see you when you get back. You’re sure you’re okay?”
She nodded.
He turned and started back toward his truck but she called out to him.
“Michael.”
He turned around, questioningly.
“I’m so glad you came.”
He smiled and saluted playfully in answer. She watched him walk away until his strong, lean figure disappeared over the crest of a hill.
Chapter 36
On the second day of October, in a drenching rainstorm, Claire loaded her suitcase into her little car and pulled out of the hotel parking lot.
She was still reeling from the loss of her only living family member. She missed her grandmother sorely, feeling the loss as a physical pain in the pit of her stomach.
She truly had no ties to this city of her childhood now. She was returning to Hanover Falls alone, and a feeling of great loneliness washed over her. She wondered if she would ever truly be free of that ache.
She drove on in the downpour, the windshield wipers marking a staid cadence with her mournful thoughts. Yet as the road signs began to measure the distance to a little village called Hanover Falls, Claire couldn’t help but feel the hint of a promise well up in her spirit. Ninety-eight miles to Hanover Falls. Sixty-five miles to Hanover Falls…
She was going home. She was going to Michael. And he loved her. He still loved her. Excitement rose within her with each passing mile. The rain had let up slightly, and all around her the countryside gleamed from the cleansing shower. She drove through one small town and smiled to see five or six young children playing in the shallow pools of water that had collected at the curbs. They splashed and squealed, carefree and full of delight. She caught some of their joy.
Ten miles outside of Hanover Falls the sun broke through the clouds, and Claire began to feel a sense of anticipation she'd experienced only a few times in her short life. How beautiful it was to have hope.
Yes, she'd suffered a grave loss with Nana’s death. But Nana had lived long and enjoyed good health—and a generous measure of happiness and fulfillment. She had been ready to die, and despite the frightening attempt by Cynthia Harper to circumvent the natural course of things, Katherine Anderson had been ushered into heaven at a divinely appointed time. There was peace in that knowledge.
Claire’s mind filled again with dear memories of her grandmother, and she suddenly understood that those precious remembrances were a gift and a legacy.
Her mind turned to the promise the year ahead held for her: the anticipation of the school term now underway and the special children, barely known to her yet, but who would capture her heart as surely as Lucas and Jarrod and Brianne and the others had.
She thought warmly of her friendship with Millie Overman—a friendship she suspected would take on new significance now that Nana was gone.
The Lord had filled her life with special friends. Millie and the others at Riverview. Becky. And yes, there was undeniable excitement in the hope of a renewed friendship with Michael. She sent up a prayer that Michael would be given strength to face the difficult legal proceedings that were sure to be brought against Cynthia Harper. She begged God that He would not allow Michael to come under criticism himself.
The things that had taken place at Riverview still seemed unbelievable. She knew it would cause Michael deep heartache as he sorted out his own feelings of guilt and grief and as he tried to rebuild the community’s trust in Riverview. She prayed that she could be a support and encouragement to him as he dealt with the aftermath of the tragedy.
She wished for just a moment that she could know just how the story would end but wistfully decided that some things were better left unknown and in the hands of God.
Claire passed a highway marker announcing that Hanover Falls was seven miles ahead. It seemed as though she'd been gone for a year, and yet only yesterday she'd made this same trip in reverse. The countryside began to look sweetly familiar. Her car crested a steep hill, and the old water tower in City Park came into view, its huge silver belly emblazoned with faded letters that spelled out the town’s name. Her heart beat faster and she realized with elation that she was nearly home. Home. The word had tripped from the tongue of her mind as though it were true!
She slowed down as she entered the city limits. Though summer seemed reluctant to take its leave, autumn was waiting in the wings, and the air was alive with the spiraling waltz of a million golden leaves.
She turned onto her street and gave a sigh of satisfaction. She was almost there. And tomorrow night she would see him. There was so much to be said, so very much. But those words needed to be spoken face-to-face. She couldn’t wait to be with him again.
Claire smoothed her hair nervously and hurried to answer the doorbell.
“Hi, Michael. Come on in.”
He greeted her with a warm hug. “Welcome home.” He held her away from him and his eyes held hers. “Are you okay, Claire?”
She sighed. “I’m okay. I’m glad to be home.”
He smiled and took her hand. “It’s so good to have you back—in Hanover Falls, I mean. Did everything go okay at school today?”
“I’m still learning names, but yes, I feel like I’m getting back in the routine.” They both seemed to be trying desperately to recapture the light, carefree way they’d known with each other, but their conversation was stilted and awkward. She loosed her hand from his, then sat down on the couch.
“Is something wrong?”
“I . . . I’m just not sure how to be with you now, Michael.”
“It’s kind of awkward, isn’t it?” he acknowledged, sitting beside her.
She nodded.
“Claire, I’ve been thinking that it wasn’t fair of me to tell you all the things I did knowing you were still trying to deal with your grandmother’s death. Not because I didn’t mean them,” he added quickly. “It’s just that I realize now that it wasn’t the best time for you. I know you must still be sorting out your feelings about so many things. Your grandmother, and the whole thing at Riverview . . . not to mention everything that happened between us before. I hope it didn’t seem like I was pressuring you, Claire. I guess I got overly anxious.”
“Michael, it didn’t take much sorting out to know that I love you with everything that is in me. It’s just that I want to be sure. I want to know for certain that we’re not acting only on our feelings.”
“There’s a lot to talk about, isn’t there?” He smiled.
“So much I don’t know where to begin.” A familiar anxiety rose within her.
“We have a whole lifetime, Claire. Let’s not hurry it one bit.” He reached for her hand again and rubbed his thumbs across her fingers, as if to knead the tension out of them. “I won’t rush you, Claire. I promise you I’ll give you all the time you need.”
The tender honesty of his words began to take their effect on Claire. She willed herself to relax and to embrace the gift of being here beside him, of being loved by a man like Michael. She leane
d her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. He left her to the silence, stroking her hand, waiting on her.
Then the words emerged. Slowly at first, then a trickle, then a torrent. And as Michael filled her in on the happenings in his life while they had been apart, and as she told him of her feelings and doubts and of all that happened in her life since they'd parted—even of her friendship with Rob—little by little they began to find an easiness with each other again.
“So just how serious was it with you and this Rob fellow?” he wanted to know.
She tried to keep her answer light, yet truthful. “Rob is a wonderful guy, Michael. We became very close friends. We both had kind of a tough summer, and we helped each other through.”
“Did . . . did you love him?”
“Not the way you mean. For a time I thought I might, but it was always you, Michael. It was always you.” She shook her head slowly and smiled up at him.
He smiled back, seemingly satisfied. “Okay . . . just wondering.”
Sheepishly she ventured, “All right, while we’re on the subject, just how serious was it with you and that blonde?”
“What blonde?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she teased. “I saw you driving around with some gorgeous blonde.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and shook his head. “You must have me confused with somebody else.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously, Claire.” His defensiveness seemed genuine. “Believe me, I would have remembered driving around with a gorgeous—o-o-oh,” he said, a light obviously dawning. He began to laugh. “That gorgeous blonde. Claire, I have to confess. I was driving around with a gorgeous blonde and I… I have loved her since I was ten years old.” He strung out his words, obviously relishing her open curiosity.
She shot him a questioning look, not sure she liked the direction this conversation was taking.
He burst out laughing. “That was my sister, you nut! You know, Sarah—Eli’s mom.”
She punched him in the arm and laughed at her own suspicions, trying not to analyze the deep relief she felt at his answer.
Slowly, as they shared their hearts, the deep emotion she'd always felt in his presence welled up within her, and she experienced anew the happiness she'd known with him before.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered, her head cradled on his shoulder, the pain of a lifetime of hurts draining from her. “How could we be so blessed? To have another chance like this. . .” She couldn’t go on. Her heart was too full. “I love you,” she said finally.
His kiss echoed the simple, joyful words back to her.
They sat together on the sofa, not noticing when October’s light faded, casting the living room walls in shadow, then darkness. It didn’t matter that they each had to work the following day, that the harsh realities of all that had happened would accost them just beyond these walls. For now they were together. For now, the love they shared was enough. And tomorrow, with God’s help, they would face the future together.
Over the next weeks, Michael poured out his heart to Claire, and they both experienced many conflicting emotions with all they'd gone through.
Claire’s own emotions had run the gamut from elation to anguish. Her heart ached at the loss of her grandmother, and she found herself in tears at the slightest provocation. To have no one who shared her family history, no one to whom she was connected by the ties of blood, felt desolate.
Yet from the depths of that desolation, she'd climbed to the heights of joy at her unexpected reunion with Michael. It still seemed too wonderful to be true—that he loved her, that she could finally love him in return.
As for Michael, the tragedy at Riverview had shaken him deeply, and Claire sensed he was feeling a terrible guilt for what had happened.
“I keep thinking back to the time when Vera and I first started feeling that something wasn’t quite right,” he told her one chilly night as they walked near the park together. “There was honestly never anything concrete we could point to, yet we both had this nagging feeling. I have to wonder now if it was God’s prompting, and I was just too involved in my own little world to listen.” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t want to make that mistake again, Claire. The stakes are too high.”
She didn’t understand everything that had happened, but she told him, “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Michael. The newspapers quoted several of Cynthia Harper’s coworkers and neighbors as saying they would never have guessed her to do something like this in a million years. If even the people who knew her well would say that, how could you have possibly known? And besides, some of the stories said the former administrator was being questioned. At least two of the people died while he was at Riverview.”
“Yes. That’s true.” He frowned. “I have a feeling some very unpleasant things are going to come out when they talk to Gerald Stoddard. It appears that the board pushed him to hire Cynthia Harper over Vera’s objection, and when that comes out, I’m afraid it’s going to get ugly.”
Claire shook her head, still unable to believe the tragedy that had happened in their quiet little town. Silently, she worried that Michael would still be implicated somehow. She knew he was innocent, but she also knew that someone would shoulder the blame for all that had happened. She kept her fears to herself though.
“I know one thing,” Michael told her now, “there has to be a better way to help those patients who are in pain and dying. Cynthia was right about one thing. No one should have to die alone and in pain. There just has to be an alternative to this. . . this so-called mercy killing. I’m frightened by the articles that newspapers and industry journals are running. It seems impossible this could happen in America, but unbelievably, the tide seems to be turning slowly in favor of legalized euthanasia.”
“I don’t understand how people could fall for that rationale—” Claire stopped short, remembering guiltily how she would have done almost anything to spare her grandmother the pain she'd seemed to suffer. She told Michael of the thoughts that had gone through her mind then, and they agreed that without belief in an omnipotent God, without believing that there was something—Someone—bigger than man, euthanasia did seem a compassionate act.
“What sets us apart is our personal relationship with the living God and our faith in the fact that only He should decide when our time on earth will end. Until people understand that, it won’t make sense to them.”
Suddenly he turned to her, his voice impassioned. “I want my experience to make a difference, Claire. To really count for good. I don’t think I could carry on if those people died in vain.”
“I know you will make it count for good, Michael. I know you will.” She had every confidence in this man she loved.
As winter settled on Hanover Falls, the scandal of the tragedy that had drawn unwelcome attention to the quiet midwestern community diminished in the minds of the people.
Cynthia Harper’s first court date had been set, and there were lawsuits pending against Gerald Stoddard and two members of the current board of directors for their roles in hiring the nurse. Claire knew that Michael would be required to testify at each of the hearings.
Though it was too early to be certain, it appeared that none of the families of the deceased patients were intent on filing charges against Riverview. Out-of-court settlements were being negotiated, and for all intents and purposes, it looked as though Michael would not be implicated in any of the lawsuits. The board had asked him to stay on, and thus he faced the daunting task of rebuilding the reputation of Riverview.
One night Michael and Claire walked together near the park, as had become their habit, and he told her that, much to his dismay, Vera Johanssen had turned in her resignation that morning. Vera had assured him that the scandal had not soured her, merely prompted her to do what she should have done long ago. “It’s time, Michael,” she'd told him. “Be happy for me.”
Oliver Moon was back at work, taking his duties more seriously th
an ever. Geneva Grayson reported that she hadn’t once had to reprimand him for sneaking cookies onto the nursing wings. Claire had been touched to learn that Michael had bought the childlike man a dozen large laminated storage cartons for the safekeeping of his precious collections. Michael had delivered the boxes to Ollie’s house soon after the man’s release from the county jail, and Ollie had proudly traded him a small collection of paper cups for the shiny new boxes.
Best of all, Claire was getting to know Ollie during her volunteer time at Riverview. She still had trouble making out his jumbled words, but she was learning to interpret his own special dialect of sign language, and his nearly toothless grin was a ready reward for her efforts.
Michael’s testimony in the first court date went well. He told Claire that it helped him to see the crimes of the people involved recognized as such. She knew that he still felt a twinge of guilt for the small part his naivety and inaction had played in the tragedy, but he was spending his energy developing a support group for terminally ill patients and their family members. He confided that he eventually hoped to have a full-blown hospice program operating under the auspices of Riverview Manor.
Claire had her hands full with an unusually bright but undisciplined group of third-grade students.
In particular, she was struggling to know how to handle one student who had established himself as chief troublemaker in the classroom. Storm Waymire seemed determined to live up to his unique name, and nothing Claire tried seemed to have any effect on him.
She shared these thoughts with Michael one night as they drove to the apartments to pick up Millie. They had invited their mutual friend for an early Christmas dinner at a new restaurant in nearby Boyd City.
“I could just kick myself sometimes for being so impatient with him,” she told Michael, bemoaning her most recent episode with the mischief-maker.
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