Hannah's List (11 page)

He hung his head. “I wish it was. Now you know. You saw me as this decent, honorable man and the truth is, it was all an act. You’re better off without me.” He looked at her. “We aren’t good for each other, Leanne.”

She found it difficult to breathe. “I still don’t believe you.” He was sacrificing himself and she wouldn’t allow him to do it.

“Like I said, believe what you want, but know this.” He spoke slowly and distinctly. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you here.” He glanced over his shoulder, the gesture deliberate.

Leanne blanched. He was signaling that there was someone inside the apartment, waiting for him. A woman. She couldn’t hear anyone, but that didn’t prove a thing.

What if this
wasn’t
a lie?

Leanne clasped her hands, because she desperately needed to hold on to something and that something had to be herself. No one else was going to shore her up. She was on her own and had been from the moment Mark was arrested.

“Get on with your life,” he added. “I have.”

Leanne stiffened her spine. “Funny you should say that.”

He locked eyes with her, which he’d avoided doing since he’d opened the door.

“I met someone,” she told him.

“Good.”

“He’s the husband of one of my former patients. She died…I was her nurse.”

He said nothing.

“I ran into Michael at a picnic. I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work. It keeps me occupied.”

He looked down at his scuffed running shoes as though bored.

She ignored his rudeness. “Michael was one of the other volunteers at the event.”

“And this interests me why?”

“We talked.”

“I hope he asked you out.” Again he gave the impression of boredom.

“Is that what you want, Mark?”

He raised his shoulder. “Go out with the man, okay?”

She stared at him. He didn’t mean what he’d said. He
couldn’t.
“You’ve changed,” she whispered, trying to gauge the truth about his feelings. This was what she’d feared—the man she’d fallen in love with ten years earlier no longer existed. The one who stood in front of her was a stranger.

“Trust me, a year in prison will change any man.”

She swallowed hard.

“I don’t want to be cruel,” he went on. “I appreciate that it took a lot of courage for you to come here today, but it’s too late. What we had is over. Just accept that.”

Clenching her fingers so tightly they hurt, she struggled to find the right words, but he spoke first.

“Don’t let yourself get bogged down in useless sentimentality. We aren’t the same people we once were.”

Leanne felt more confused than ever. “What you said earlier isn’t true, is it? You were always faithful.” She
had
to believe that, because the alternative was too devastating to consider.

He didn’t answer.

As she blinked back tears, he stepped inside and quietly closed the door.

Stunned, Leanne stood there, rooted to the spot, while she took in what had just happened. She closed her eyes and felt in the strongest possible way that Mark was on the other side of the door, his heart beating in unison with hers, crying out in pain, the same as hers.

After several minutes, she turned away. She climbed carefully down the stairs and got into her car. She had to make several attempts before her hands stopped trembling enough to insert the key.

She had her answer. The time had come to reconcile herself to the fact that she was divorced.

If and when Michael Everett phoned to ask her out, she’d respond with an unequivocal
yes.

“
D
o anything special this weekend?” Ritchie asked as we left the gym Monday morning.

Once again my brother-in-law seemed to have some kind of intuition about what was happening in my life, almost as if Hannah was whispering in his ear.

“Why do you ask?” I probably sounded more defensive than I meant to because Ritchie turned to look at me, arching his eyebrows as though surprised by my reaction—or overreaction.

“I guess that touched a nerve,” he said with a grin. “So tell me what’s up.”

“I volunteered at the hospital picnic for children with cancer on Saturday.”

“You said you were going to.”

I inhaled and held my breath, then slowly released it. “While I was there, I ran into Leanne Lancaster.”

Ritchie stared blankly at me.

“Leanne is one of the women on Hannah’s list.”

In typical fashion, Ritchie started to laugh. “I can see my sister’s fingerprints all over this.”

The problem was, I could, too. I was convinced that Hannah had been directing my life, as well as Leanne’s. Not that I approved or was even interested in her plan. Or so I immediately told myself.

“Did the two of you talk?” Ritchie asked.

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Leanne. “For a few minutes. She’s divorced.”

Ritchie looked thoughtful. “Hannah must’ve known that if she put her on the list.”

The timing was right. Leanne had said her divorce was final nearly two years ago. That meant Leanne had been dealing with it when Hannah was undergoing chemotherapy.

“What’s she like?” Ritchie asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Physically. Is she blonde, brunette? Tall or medium height?”

“Something like that,” I said, as I reviewed our time together. Brunette, but I saw no reason to tell Ritchie that. Besides, physical appearance wasn’t significant; what was far more important was the emotional connection I felt with her.

Ritchie shook his head, his expression amused. “Are you going to call her?”

Actually, I hadn’t decided. “We talked about it, Leanne and I. She isn’t over the divorce yet and you, better than anyone, know how raw I still feel.”

“Ask her out,” Ritchie urged. “What can it hurt?”

“We’re two wounded people.”

“See?” he joked. “You already have something in common.”

I had to admit Ritchie had a point. I grinned. “Maybe I will.” We reached the street, ready to part company.

“You have plans for next weekend?” my brother-in-law asked.

I mentally scanned my social calendar, which took all of two seconds. “Not that I can remember. Why?”

“It’s Max’s birthday. Steph’s throwing him a party. I thought you could keep me company.”

“Count me in.” I appreciated the way Ritchie and Steph included me as both family and friend.

“Great. I’ll give you the details about Saturday when I have them. See you Wednesday morning.”

“Wednesday,” I repeated and headed for the office.

The morning was fairly typical of any Monday in a pediatrician’s clinic. The phone rang constantly and I had appointments scheduled practically on top of one another. A new influenza was going around; I saw three cases first thing. The big danger when children have the flu is dehydration, and I sent one four-year-old to the hospital.

I stepped into my office at lunchtime and shut the door. I’d ordered a Greek salad from the deli across the street and it sat on my desk. I pried open the lid and pierced some
lettuce with my plastic fork. As I took my first bite, Leanne came to mind. I couldn’t help wondering if she’d thought about me on Sunday. She’d occupied
my
thoughts, and I wasn’t happy about it, either.

I leaned back in my chair as I contemplated my course of action. Although I’d mentioned getting in touch, I hadn’t jotted down her phone number. As I’d pointed out to Leanne, I was rusty when it came to this dating business, but I didn’t realize how much until that moment.

I checked the online telephone directory and found nothing listed for Leanne Lancaster or L. Lancaster. I doubted she’d still have a phone listing under her husband, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. Only I couldn’t think of his name. Mack? Matt? It definitely began with an
M
—didn’t it?

I tilted back my head and closed my eyes in an effort to remember. Then it came to me. Mark. His name was Mark Lancaster.

I set my salad aside, scooping up a kalamata olive and popping it in my mouth. The online telephone listing held dozens of Lancasters, but not a single one with the first name Mark.

I had no way of getting in touch with Leanne, unless I contacted the oncology center at the hospital. That, however, I was reluctant to do, perhaps because of all the memories associated with calling that number. Then again, I didn’t have any other option.

I decided to make the call before I lost my nerve.

The receptionist answered in a cool professional
sounding voice that I didn’t recognize. I asked to speak to Leanne, giving my name only as Michael, hoping that would alert Leanne to the fact that I’d followed through on our discussion.

I didn’t have to wait long. “This is Leanne,” she said after picking up.

While I’d made a point of placing the call quickly, I’d neglected to consider what I wanted to say.

“I…didn’t get your phone number,” I blurted out. “Your home number,” I added.

“Is this Michael Everett?”

“Yes. If there’s a restriction on personal calls, I apologize.”

“No…no, it’s fine. I’m taking a late lunch.”

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was past one. I had patients waiting. Any moment now, Linda would be knocking on the door to remind me.

“I thought Saturday went well,” I said.

“Thanks, but I had lots of help.”

Leanne assumed I was referring to the picnic when I was actually talking about our conversation. I can be oblivious, as Hannah frequently—and often laughingly—used to point out. Leanne had done an impressive job of organizing the volunteers and deserved the credit. I’d completely forgotten.

“We discussed getting together,” I said.

“Yes…” She sounded almost as hesitant as I did.

“Do you have any particular time in mind?” I realized as soon as I’d asked what a ridiculous question that was. “I mean, is one day better than another for you?”

“Not really. What about you?”

“Ah…anytime, really. Well, other than work hours, of course.”

“Me, too.”

Linda knocked at the closed office door. “I need to go.” I got to my feet.

“I should, too.”

“Tonight?” I said. “I could do dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“So we can talk?” Feeling like a bumbling fool, I pressed my hand to the top of my head. I wasn’t sure why, other than to keep my head from exploding before I embarrassed myself further.

“I could meet you after work,” she said.

“Sure. Thanks, Leanne.” I was about to hang up when she stopped me.

“What time?”

“Oh, yes. Is seven too late for you?”

“No, seven’s good. I suppose we should choose a restaurant while we’re at it.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“No, do you?”

“Not really.” My mind whirled with possible suggestions.

“We could always meet at Ivar’s on the waterfront.”

“Fine. See you there.” My office and the hospital were both in downtown Seattle, so we could walk to the waterfront without the bother of moving our cars. The fish-and-chip place was a well-known northwest institution and served great food. Dining was casual. We could order at the
counter and then sit at one of the picnic-style tables that lined the pier. We wouldn’t have a waiter fussing over us and could come and go as we pleased.

Linda knocked a second time, reminding me once again that I had patients waiting. “I’ll see you at seven,” I said. I started to hang up when I heard Leanne call my name.

“Yes?” I said, eager now to get off the line.

“I just wanted to thank you for taking the initiative and contacting me. I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you and…I guess I wanted you to know I’m happy you called.”

“Oh…Me, too,” I mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flash. I refused to let myself dwell on the awkward conversation with Leanne. We’d make quite the couple, both of us out of practice when it came to establishing a relationship. But friendship would be enough, I told myself. Friendship was all I really wanted for now.

My staff had left the office by five-thirty. Since I generally stayed later to finish up paperwork and read over lab results, I sat in my office and made a genuine attempt to concentrate. Yet all I could think about was my dinner date with Leanne.

I’d made a mistake earlier when I’d called and hadn’t figured out what to say. This time I was determined that wouldn’t happen. Retrieving a pad from my desk drawer, I planned to write out a list of topics we might discuss. I thought of this as a cheat sheet—and frankly I needed one.

Naturally, we’d talk about Hannah. Well, I’d want to talk
about her at any rate and I’d be a willing listener if Leanne chose to enlighten me about her divorce. There’d be any number of medical professionals we both knew, including Patrick, and I wrote down several colleagues’ names.

So far, my list contained three items. It was a start; I hoped Leanne wouldn’t rely on me to carry the conversation. I wasn’t good at that. Winter, Hannah’s cousin, had made our brief meeting relatively painless. I hoped that would be the case with this evening, too.

I gave myself fifteen minutes to make the short trek down the hill from Fifth to the waterfront. Summer was fast approaching, and in a few weeks the Seattle waterfront would be crowded with tourists, many of whom come here a day or two in advance of boarding cruise ships that would sail up the Inside Passage to Alaska.

Hannah and I had always dreamed of taking that cruise. Medical-school bills and the cost of joining an established practice had prohibited such luxuries. After that, our schedules interfered and then Hannah’s illness…

I approached the ferry terminal and had to wait while a line of cars disembarked. Ivar’s was just down the street and I saw that Leanne had arrived before me. She noticed me at the same time and waved.

I waved back and my stomach tightened. A surge of panic went through me until I felt the wadded-up list in my pocket.

Once the sidewalk was clear, I walked over. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” I said. Smiling at her, I suddenly realized what an attractive woman she was.

“Thank you for asking me,” she said.

I’d already lost my train of thought. We stood, uncomfortably silent, until Leanne said, “Should we order?”

I wished now that I’d suggested a restaurant with a bar. A glass of wine would’ve helped us both relax.

“Okay.” This wasn’t a hopeful beginning. We lined up and I studied the menu, listed on a board above the counter. “What would you like?” Thankfully I had the presence of mind to ask.

“I love Ivar’s clam chowder,” she said.

“That’s all you want?”

“I’ll have it in a bread bowl.”

That sounded good to me, too. The thick chowder was ladled into large sourdough buns, which then served as part of the meal. I doubted I’d eat much, considering how unsettled I was. I felt the same way I had the first time I’d asked a girl out on a date. I’d been fifteen.

I paid for our order, then carried the tray to the adjacent area where picnic tables were set up. We sat for a moment and neither of us seemed inclined to eat or speak. We did a fairly good job of not looking at each other.

Leanne reached for her spoon and I reached for mine. She took her first bite and I did, too. Then she set the plastic spoon down on her paper napkin.

She finally looked at me. “I suppose you want to know about Mark.”

I met her gaze head-on, unsure why she’d introduced the subject of her husband so soon. At some point in the evening I’d expected her to mention him, but leading off with Mark as the main topic was disconcerting.

“Everyone wants to know,” she elaborated. “It’s probably best to get it out of the way.”

“Okay,” I said and gestured toward her. “If that’s what you want.”

“It isn’t, but it’s only fair to tell you that he’s done his time in prison and…and moved on with his life.”

I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Leanne lowered her eyes. “As I said, he’s gotten on with his life. I…I guess I should, too.”