Finally Home

by Lyn Cote

  Guthrie kicked the roof below his right foot. “Now he’s back, maybe he’s figured how to get money out of Lynda, probably by holding the kids over her. And I won’t let that druggy deadbeat around Lynda’s children.”

  Feeling dragged down by his story of pain, Hannah couldn’t argue with the cause of his distrust of Billy, but that didn’t matter now. That was then, this was now. But she sensed he was holding something back. Right now their plate was full. “You don’t want Billy around his children, but you don’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, I do!” He glared at her.

  She gripped his shoulder. Through the cotton of his blue T-shirt she felt his strength, his resistance. “Amber wants to know her father. No matter what he’s done, a child wants to know, and if possible, to be loved by her father.”

  “He’s just come back to do it to us all over again! He hasn’t changed! He’s got some scam up his sleeve.”

  “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t change what I’ve just said. Amber knows. Do you hear me?” She moved her face within inches of his. His warm, sweet breath wafted over her face. She remembered the kisses they’d shared that morning. Hard to believe so much could happen in one day. Guthrie drew her, an honest man who was easy to like.

  The temptation to touch his cheek, to soothe his pain rocked her. She tried to ignore it. They were still nearly strangers. “If Amber has found out about her father, you know she’s told Jenna and Hunter. They’ll want to see their father. It’s only natural.”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what Amber said to Billy? She said, ‘We want a daddy.’” She stopped to let this sink in, then she said more kindly, “You’ve got to talk to Lynda before she gets home tonight, so she will be prepared. How she handles this with the children is crucial. If you’re right, Lynda needs to be the rock her children cling to. She has to show them they can count on her. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “What exactly did he say to Amber?” Guthrie asked in a gruff voice.

  Hannah rejoiced at this. He’d finally begun to listen to her and face the immediate problem. “He said that since he was the one who left, Lynda would have to decide when he could see the children.”

  “I hate this!” Guthrie spat out the words. “Why did God let him come back here?”

  Hannah shook her head. Do I know the mind of God? “You can hate Billy’s return, but you have to take action or things could get worse, much worse for the children.”

  He stared at her, looking drained of his usual energy.

  “The children and their feelings are what are important today. Billy hurt all of you deeply over three years ago. But your pain isn’t the focus now. Amber, Jenna and Hunter have already had to deal with being deserted by their father. They shouldn’t have to witness their mother fall apart in front of their eyes when their father returns.”

  Glancing away, he wiped his forehead with a pocket bandanna.

  “On Sunday, Billy said he was the prodigal son. Remember in that parable, the older brother wasn’t happy to see his baby brother back, either. But the father said, ‘Your brother who was dead is now alive. I must rejoice.’ If Billy has truly changed—”

  “He hasn’t.”

  Impatient, Hannah ordered, “Go.”

  “What?”

  She didn’t waste any words. “Go to the parking lot at Lynda’s job and wait for her to come out. You have to talk to her, tell her what’s happened.”

  “What will I say?”

  His plea touched her. “Just tell her everything. If she still can’t deal with seeing Billy with the children, bring her back here. My dad and mom will do everything they can to help her.” She shoved his shoulder, urging him up the roof. “Go. I’ll keep at this. Go.”

  Guthrie grimaced, but pulled himself up to the peak and disappeared into the steeple. Within minutes, she heard his blue truck screech out of the church parking lot.

  She reached for another shingle. It was good to have something to do. Hammering nails let her release the anger she felt at this wicked world where innocent children suffered for the sins of their parents. “God go with you, Guthrie,” she murmured.

  Hannah had just started the final row of dark green shingles when she glimpsed Guthrie’s truck pull into the parking lot. Lynda’s modest beige sedan trailed right behind. Hannah kept working on the roof, but prayed with each stroke of her hammer that God ould begin healing this broken family.

  Soon, Guthrie ducked out of the steeple, hooked his harness on and let himself down right beside her. “You’ve got a lot done.”

  “I pray good with a hammer in my hand.” She gave him a tiny smile, just a quirking up of the corners of her mouth. “Or I hammer good while I pray.”

  “Lynda’s talking to your dad now.” He sounded detached.

  Though longing to hold this tenderhearted man close and comfort him, Hannah merely nodded. “I’m glad you went and spoke to her.”

  He picked up a shingle and positioned it. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Hannah recalled the kisses they’d shared, the sensation of his lips on hers. Pushing these dangerous thoughts out of her mind, she concentrated on the work at hand.

  They didn’t talk any further, but finished the final row together, then hoisted themselves up and into the church. Hannah ran her fingers through her moist hair.

  “I wish I could enjoy this moment more. I thought I’d never get this roof done,” Guthrie said. He touched her shoulder. “Thanks, you really helped. But you can retire now. The church is done.”

  She gave him what she hoped was one of those enigmatic smiles she’d read about. “We’ll see. My parents haven’t agreed to the factory-built shell. You may not know it, but you need me, Guthrie Thomas.”

  A voice came from below. “Hannah! Hannah!”

  Hannah stepped to the top of the stairs. “Mother?”

  “Come down! There’s a phone call for you! Your father and I are going to take Lynda home now to talk to the children.”

  “Okay, Mom!” Hannah turned to Guthrie. “That’s peculiar. Who would be calling me here?” She undid her tool belt and draped it on the sawhorse. “I’ll be back to help you pack up stuff.”

  “That’s all right. I’m exhausted, but I don’t know why. You finished the job. I’ll just close up the steeple. I’ll start tomorrow shutting down this job.”

  Nodding, Hannah skipped down the steps. At her mother’s desk, she picked up the phone and leaned against the desk. “Hello, this is Hannah Kirkland speaking.”

  Guthrie trailed after Hannah. The day had sapped his strength, his joy of accomplishment. He would have done anything to spare Lynda this grief. Wrecking things seemed to be Billy’s specialty. Lynda was finally on her feet, and the pain from the past had faded. So, of course, Billy came to stir everything up again.

  At Hunter’s birth, Billy had carved a deep wound into all their hearts. His coming back to town had ripped the scab off. Guthrie wanted to kick him into next week. He struggled with the anger that spurted inside him every time he pictured Billy’s face. What had little Amber thought of her father today? How would this affect the children? They deserved better than Billy.

  “Oh? Really?” Hannah’s voice sounded loud in the quiet office. The kittens in their basket were mewing for her attention and trying to climb out to reach her.

  Guthrie glanced at Hannah, then did a double-take. She had the strangest expression on her face. Who was she talking to on the phone?

  “I see. That’s very interesting,” Hannah commented in an odd tone.

  Guthrie bent and picked up both kittens from the white terry-cloth towel in the basket. He cradled them on one arm, stroking their tiny heads and listening to their little engines purring.

  “I think that will work. You’ll let me know the details of the agreement? Very well. Thank you for calling. This is good news. Goodbye.” Hannah hung up the phone.

  Guthrie waited for her to explain who she’d been talking to. Finally, he pro
mpted, “Well?”

  Hannah stared at him. She looked like she’d swallowed something too big for her.

  “Did something bad happen?”

  “No, I just…this is so funny…you’ll never believe it.” Hannah stood up and paced in front of the neat reception desk.

  “It would help if you just told me.” The gray striped kitten pounced on his thumb, nipping at it and pummeling it with his tiny rear paws.

  “It was my agent.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The local Madison TV station wants me to do one cooking demo each week for the next three months. A local dairy company called and wanted to be my sponsor. It won’t be much as far as money, but I’ll get free advertising for my cookbooks and my syndicated articles. They said they thought the Madison paper and several more in central Wisconsin would pick it up after my spots start airing.” She sounded like she didn’t believe the words she was saying.

  “The station told my agent that they had received more mail, more calls and more e-mail over my cooking spot than anything in the last two years.” Hannah faced him.

  “Wow. That’s good, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, then she giggled and giggled some more. She plumped down into her mother’s office chair and roared.

  “What?” Guthrie felt his spirits lighten a tiny bit in the face of her laughter. Hannah laughing struck him as irresistible. He felt himself grinning. “What?”

  “It’s your aunts!” She shook with mirth.

  “My aunts?”

  Hannah nodded, trying to muffle her laughter. “Everyone loves your aunts!”

  Guthrie had a hard time matching up the woman who’d just finished shingling a church roof with the successful cook and writer. Before Hannah had come to Petite, one of the church ladies had mentioned the fact that the pastor’s daughter probably wouldn’t stay long in their little town, implying that she’d be too good for Petite. The woman had been wrong. Hannah Kirkland could have been stuck on herself, but she wasn’t. She was easy to know, good-hearted. He eyed her. And she was pretty—even after a day spent shingling on a roof. Why wasn’t she married by now? Were the men in Milwaukee blind, deaf and dumb?

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting at the small desk in her harvest-gold room at the Cozy Motel, Hannah shut down her laptop computer and rubbed her tired eyes. Late afternoon sunshine glowed through the window curtains. The phone rang. She picked it up.

  “Hannah?” Spring asked.

  “Yes, I’m here. I got your e-mail and I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  “Okay. I’ve got Doree on the other line already. Let me access her for you, too.”

  A click. “Hi, the best Midwest cook.” Doree’s voice sparkled over the phone line.

  “Hi.” Hannah’s fatigue didn’t match her younger sister’s high spirits.

  “Good.” Spring took charge. “Tell us what’s going on with our parents.”

  “Well, the house is still at a stand—”

  “No! No!” Doree interrupted.

  “But,” Hannah talked over Doree’s words, “I think that may change in the near future. Guthrie’s suggested that they agree to a factory-made shell.”

  “Wonderful,” Spring said.

  “What’s a shell?” Doree asked.

  Hannah ignored Doree. It would be good for Doree, teach her not to be such a pest. “Yes, it could be up in twelve hours, then Guthrie and I will finish the inside.”

  “You and Guthrie? What does that mean?” Doree squealed.

  “Hannah,” Spring spoke tentatively, “have you decided yet?”

  “Will you look into the family records?” Doree urged.

  “Hush, Doree. This is Hannah’s decision.”

  Hannah pondered the question one more time. If her mother had a relapse, but still persisted in refusing to pursue her natural relatives, at least, Hannah’s conscience would be clear. The fact of Mom’s illness settled like a rock over Hannah’s lungs. It made her voice come out rough. “We shouldn’t leave anything to chance. I’ll look for the adoption papers.”

  “I’m glad that’s finally decided,” Spring said quietly.

  “Great!” Doree exclaimed.

  “Thank you, Hannah,” Spring said. “How are Mother and Father?”

  “They went to Portage for Mom’s routine blood check.”

  “You’ll call us if there is any change?”

  “You know I would.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s just so hard to be far away.”

  When the three said their goodbyes, Hannah sat with the receiver in her hand till the beeping startled her back to reality. The decision had been made. She’d take the first step in finding her mother’s natural parents. Lord, bless this search or end it. I can’t see all the way to the end. You must choose.

  After a long afternoon at the computer making some progress on her writing commitments, Hannah faced the fact that she needed to discuss the cooking show with Ida and Edith Thomas. Her agent had the deal signed, sealed and delivered.

  She stood and slipped on her sandals. Each day brought the first taping session nearer. Hannah had specified no more live demos to the TV station and had asked Guthrie not to mention the demos to his aunts. She wanted to tell them in her own way, and she couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d waited long enough for inspiration on how to approach the eccentric duo. Time to act.

  The ladies’ humor lay in their spontaneous helpfulness. If Hannah said the wrong thing, she could spoil their natural charm. In effect, she could knock Humpty-Dumpty off the wall and never be able to put the pieces back together again for another amusing cooking demo.

  Sighing, she walked into the warm Saturday afternoon and across Front Street to Church. Though the calendar read September, she wore a peach-colored tank top and shorts and enjoyed the heat of the sun on her bare arms and legs. Two little boys pedaled by on bikes. She waved, and they giggled in return. She knocked at the door of the twin sisters’ modest white bungalow, but no one was at home.

  After only a month in Petite, Hannah didn’t need anyone to tell her where they probably had gone. She walked down the quiet block to the little yellow house, which always vibrated with children’s voices.

  Maybe she’d fare better asking the two ladies in the midst of their family. It would put less pressure on them if it came up in conversation. Following the well-worn path through the overgrown green grass, she heard the sound of children squealing and shouting in the backyard.

  She went around the corner of the house and found Lynda, Martha and the aunts sitting on old metal lawn chairs painted a glossy white in the shade of the tall green maples. They were watching the children splash in a blue plastic wading pool.

  “Hannah!” Martha waved to her.

  “I was in the neighborhood—”

  “Hello, dear,” Ida greeted her.

  “Yes, hello,” Edith echoed. “You’re always welcome here.”

  Hannah chuckled as she sat down in the lawn chair where Martha had motioned her. Ida and Edith definitely must have been their mother and father’s pets. Wherever the two went, they always felt they were in control.

  “Boy, that looks like fun!” Hannah pointed to the children in colorful swimsuits chasing each other, sliding their feet on the bottom and making the water slosh over the side. Over a week had passed since the day Amber and Hannah had visited the vet and Hannah had received the call from the TV station in Madison. Though her father didn’t break the confidentiality of his recent sessions with Billy and Lynda, he let Hannah know that both parties were working toward Billy meeting his children again after his three-year absence.

  Martha sighed. “The days of summer will soon be over. Amber’s in kindergarten already, and Jenna just began Head Start in Portage three mornings a week.”

  Ida clucked her tongue. “They grow up so fast.”

  Edith added, “It was the same with Guthrie’s father, then your children, Martha. These precious years go so fast.”

&nbs
p; Hannah’s heart warmed at the love and affection in the faces of the two great-aunts. So how do I ask them to appear with me in the cooking show? Would they comprehend what I’m telling them? Would they try to take center stage as the “cooks” when their strength lay in the humor they brought to the cooking demo? Hannah tried to think of a way to bring up the TV station’s proposal. “Ida, Edith, there’s a question I need to ask you—”

  “Hey!” Amber stepped out of the pool and waved to a woman standing hesitantly at the corner of the house. “Hey! You’ve got my daddy’s dog!”

  Hannah swiveled and glimpsed a woman dressed like a country and western singer in spangled denim and with a great deal of large blonde hair. The blonde held the Chihuahua Hannah had seen at the vet’s office.

  Martha stood. “Terri Sue, oh, Terri Sue!” She hurried over to the woman. The little dog yipped.

  Hannah recognized the woman’s name. This must be Billy’s mother. But she seemed too young to be a grandmother. Hannah studied the woman who had been too ashamed to visit her son’s wife and children. Hannah’s heart rejoiced.

  Amber ran after Martha. “Hey! How come you have my daddy’s dog?”

  Tears in her eyes, Martha turned to Amber. “Dear, this is your daddy’s mother.”

  Wide-eyed and openmouthed, the little girl halted and stared at the woman.

  Martha continued, “Amber, this is your grandmother, Terri Sue.”

  “Hello, Amber.” Terri Sue’s voice, low and melodic, sounded fearful, yet awed.

  Amber leaped into the air. “A new grandma!” The little girl raced to the pool, shouting at the top of her lungs, “We got a new grandma! We got a daddy! Now we got a new grandma! Come on! Come on!”

  Hannah felt like clapping.

  Jenna and Hunter tumbled out of the pool and nearly collided with Terri Sue as Martha led her toward the lawn chairs. Rising, Lynda hurried to Terri Sue and hugged her.