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.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Mark’s stealing from the hospital was the worst shock of my life,” Leanne said. She’d stopped eating. “I knew something wasn’t right just from the way he behaved after the charity event, but he wouldn’t talk about it. I assumed it had to do with his job, but I wish I’d…asked more questions.”
I understood that better than she realized. “I’m a physician. Although I couldn’t have known Hannah had cancer, I feel I should’ve at least suspected she wasn’t well.”
I saw the sympathy in Leanne’s eyes. “You can’t blame yourself any more than I can take responsibility for what Mark did.”
I knew that; nevertheless I did blame myself. I’d been so wrapped up in my own career, in my own needs and wants, in our shared comforts and routines, it never occurred to me that anything might be wrong with my wife. As a husband and a doctor, I couldn’t help feeling that I’d failed Hannah.
Consequently I’d failed myself, too. I wasn’t sure I could ever get over the guilt of that, irrational though it undoubtedly was. Hannah would be the first to reassure me. Again and again she’d reminded me that ovarian cancer is difficult to detect and there are few, if any, symptoms. There was no reason—no unusual fatigue, no pain or nausea, no family history, nothing—to suggest she might have this disease.
“You must’ve been surprised when Mark was arrested,”
I said, preferring not to discuss Hannah, even though I’d assumed we would.
“I was speechless.” Leanne shook her head. “His parents, too. I think what confused me the most was the fact that Mark’s one of the most honorable people I know. He has…had more integrity than any other man I’d met.”
“You’re still in love with him?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.
Reluctantly, Leanne nodded. “Although I don’t really want to be… As you can imagine, I was outraged and embarrassed. Mark refused to explain himself, so I felt I had no option other than to file for divorce. I…I wish I’d waited—knowing what I do now.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Still, after recent…revelations, perhaps I made the right decision, after all.”
“Was Mark involved with someone else?” It was a painful question and I could see from the way she flinched that I’d touched the emotional equivalent of a bruise.
“I’m positive he wasn’t. Mark might’ve been able to deceive me when it came to embezzlement, but not…our marriage.” She sent me an agonized look.
I leaned over to lightly clasp her hand, releasing it after a few seconds.
“In my heart of hearts I have to believe he was faithful during our marriage…but I don’t know about now. He might be seeing someone else, although I don’t really think so. If he was dating again, I’m sure his mother would’ve told me. We’re still in touch.”
“Did Mark want the divorce?” To me, it didn’t make sense that he’d throw away his marriage, along with his freedom and his career.
“Apparently. He certainly didn’t resist when I told him that was what I wanted. He signed the final papers without a second’s hesitation.”
That must’ve been devastating to Leanne. “He probably didn’t want you involved in his legal troubles,” I offered as a possible explanation.
“Maybe, but how could I not be?” she asked. “He was my husband, so I was already up to my neck in it, and then to have him walk away from our marriage without a backward glance…”
I remembered reading about the case and of course Patrick had mentioned it, but my recollection of the facts was vague. “Was there a trial?”
“No. He accepted a plea bargain.”
She took a deep breath. “Mark served a year in prison and has to make restitution. He also received a substantial fine. His mother told me he owes forty thousand dollars.”
While I didn’t want to dwell on Mark’s legal problems or his financial mess, I had to ask one last question.
“How did this ever happen?” From what Leanne had said, Mark Lancaster was—or had been—a good, honorable man. Why had he become an embezzler? Surely there was some underlying problem—drugs, gambling, who knows what.
“I didn’t find out until much later that he took the money to help his sister. I won’t go into the whole story, but Denise was desperate. She thought she had the money, but it fell through at the last minute.”
“He went through all this for his sister? ” I asked, a bit incredulous. I could only hope Denise appreciated what he’d done, no matter how wrong and misguided it was.
“They’re close.”
“Even now?”
Leanne nodded. “To be fair, Denise—well, she had no idea Mark had, um, borrowed the money. She thought he’d gotten a loan and would simply be covering the interest until she could repay it. She didn’t know what this so-called loan had cost him until it was too late. She did plead for leniency before the judge and is doing what she can to pay back the money.”
I noticed she hadn’t touched her chowder since the first spoonful. I continued eating, but at a slow pace.
“Have you had any contact with him since he got out of prison?” I asked.
I could see her struggle to hide her feelings. “Not really,” she said in a low voice.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but had the distinct impression she didn’t want to talk about it. That was fine. I wouldn’t press her to tell me anything she found distressing.
“He says he wants nothing more to do with me. According to him, I should get on with my life.” She bit her lip.
“I saw a counselor for a while. She said essentially the same thing.”
“Have you?” I asked. I remembered how Leanne and I had talked about this—the way we disliked that kind of advice; I figured I was the only one
who could decide when and how to “move on.” And yet…Hannah herself was, in effect, saying it, too.
“I made one other attempt to date. Besides tonight,”
she clarified.
“How did that go?”
She grinned. “Awful.”
“Is tonight starting off any better?”
Again she smiled, and the worry lines between her eyebrows relaxed. “Much better.”
That was comforting. I smiled back.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Have you tried to socialize again since you lost Hannah?”
Rather than explain that this was my first date with another woman since my early twenties, I shrugged.
“Some.” I was counting the coffee with Hannah’s cousin as a sort-of date.
“How’d it go for you?”
I thought about my time with Winter. “All right, I guess.”
“Hannah was an extraordinary woman.”
Extraordinary didn’t begin to describe my beautiful wife.
“At work I care for people undergoing cancer treatment and they all have different attitudes,” Leanne said. “Some are angry, some are defeated or resigned. Hannah was always cheerful and optimistic. She helped others see the positives instead of the negatives.” She was silent and thoughtful for a moment. “Even at the end, she found things to be grateful for. When she died, I can’t tell you the number of people who told me what an inspiration Hannah was to them.”
“She inspired me, too.” I was a better man for having spent twelve years as her husband.
“I want you to know how sorry I am that I couldn’t attend her funeral.”
I shook my head, dismissing Leanne’s apology. I hardly remembered who was there and who wasn’t. My own grief had been so overwhelming that such details were of little concern. The church was packed and the service was moving—that’s about all I took in.
I saw that Leanne was now eating her chowder and I was the one who’d stopped.
“It’s been a difficult year for you, hasn’t it?” Leanne murmured.
“It’s been a year,” I said in a weak attempt at a joke.
“Mark and I were divorced two years ago. I assumed everything would get easier.”
“It hasn’t?” This wasn’t a good sign.
“In some ways it has. When I say my name now, people don’t automatically ask if I’m any relation to the accountant who stole the hospital’s money.”
“How do you cope?” I asked, hoping for ideas to lessen the emptiness in my own life. Or if not ideas, at least some reassurance. “Do you miss him any less?”
“No,” she said starkly. “I miss him every single day.”
Although I would’ve liked a more encouraging answer, I didn’t really expect one. “I miss Hannah the same way.”
“A divorce is a loss of another kind,” Leanne said, “but it’s still a loss.”
No argument there.
We finished our meals and I dumped our leftovers in a nearby receptacle. I wanted to suggest we walk for a while, but wasn’t sure how Leanne felt about extending our time together.
“It’s a lovely evening,” she said, gazing out over Puget Sound. The lights on the boats, reflected in the green-blue water, seemed festive to me, even though this was an ordinary weekday evening. Or maybe not so ordinary…
“Would you care to walk along the waterfront?” I asked, thinking she might not object, after all.
“I’d love to.”
We strolled down the sidewalk, but neither of us seemed talkative. I pointed out a Starbucks and proposed a cup of coffee to conclude our evening. I hesitated to use the word date. This didn’t feel like one.
“I’m comfortable with you,” I said after I’d paid for our coffee and we continued down the walkway past the Seattle Aquarium.
“Thank you. I’m comfortable with you, too.” She looked over at me and smiled. It was a pleasant smile and I caught myself staring at her and wondering what it would be like to kiss her. I wasn’t going to do it; neither of us was ready for anything physical. Still, the thought had entered my mind and I didn’t feel instantly guilty. That was progress. When we’d drunk our coffee, I escorted Leanne to the parking garage where she’d left her car, despite her protests. I couldn’t in all conscience let her walk into a practically deserted garage alone.
“Can I drive you to your car?” she asked when we got there.
“No, thanks. The exercise will do me good.”
I took the stairs out of the garage and emerged onto the sidewalk. Since my car was ten blocks away, I started the strenuous climb up the Seattle hills.
“Well, what did you think?” I asked Hannah, burying my hands in my pockets. Glancing toward the sky, I resumed my ongoing conversation with her. “I think it went well, don’t you?”
There were certain times I felt her presence and this was one of them.
“I hope you’re pleased,” I said. “I’ve gotten together with two of the three women on your list.”
I couldn’t immediately remember the name of the third woman, whom I’d never met. Her cousin I knew fairly well, although we hadn’t been in contact since Hannah’s death. Until last week. Leanne Lancaster I’d known on a casual basis, and Macy…yes, Macy Roth, that was her name. I knew absolutely nothing about her.
“Why Macy?” I asked.
Silence greeted my question.
“Okay, you’re right, I haven’t met her yet. I will.”
Although I hadn’t come up with a way to do it…
“You have any bright ideas?” I asked Hannah. “You want me to meet Ms. Roth, so it would help if you had a suggestion or two on how to go about it.”
Still no answer. “I am not making a cold call, so you can forget that,” I told Hannah. I definitely wasn’t phoning this woman out of the blue!
“If you want me to meet Macy, you’ll need to show me how.” I nodded my head decisively so Hannah would know I was serious.
I reached the parking garage. The night-shift attendant knew me. Paul had been at the garage from the day I joined the practice. It’d been a while since I’d chatted with the older black man.
“Evening, Dr. Everett.”
“Hello, Paul.”
“Staying extra late tonight?”
“A bit,” I agreed. “Good night now.” I started to walk away.
“Dr. Everett,” Paul said as I turned.
“Yes?”
He smiled and there was a note of approval in his voice.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you seem better.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re healing,” Paul said. “When you first lost the missus, I was real worried about you. But I can see that you’re looking more alive. Your step’s a bit lighter.”
I thanked him with a smile.
“It really does get easier with time.”
“Does it?” I asked, not really believing that was possible.
“It did with me. I lost my Lucille three years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Paul, I didn’t know.”
“No reason you should. I didn’t let on, figured professional men and women like yourself don’t want to hear about my troubles.”
I felt bad that he’d borne this alone.
“Have you…remarried?” I asked.
“No, but I got myself a girlfriend. We play bingo at the VFW on Saturday nights and she talked me into taking dance lessons.” He chuckled and shook his head with its patch of unruly white hair. “If only Lucille could see me now. She’d get such a kick out of me on that dance floor.”
“You ready for Dancing with the Stars? ” I joked. He laughed outright. “I don’t think any TV producer’s going to be interested in me.”
I raised my hand in farewell.
“Nice talking to you, Dr. Everett.”
“You, too, Paul,” I said and headed in the direction of my car. I noticed I was smiling when I happened to catch my reflecti
on in the car window.
I glanced upward, imagining Hannah with a satisfied little smirk on her face. “I suppose you’re responsible for that conversation, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ever since my dinner date with Leanne Lancaster, I hadn’t been able to get Hannah’s list out of my mind. I’d entered into this scheme of hers kicking and screaming and now… Well, now I was still fighting it, but my objections weren’t as loud.
I’d connected with Leanne. I wasn’t romantically interested in her, but I felt that at some point I could be. I believed the same was true of her. We’d put no pressure on each other. We’d both suffered great loss and while that might be a fragile bond, it gave us each a reprieve from loneliness. Simply put, I enjoyed the evening with her. The hardest part about being alone is…being alone. Tuesday morning when I got to the office I still felt good, which I attributed to my dinner with Leanne. What had helped, too, was my chat with Paul, the parking garage attendant. That brief conversation had filled me with hope. Like me, he’d lost his wife, but had been able to move forward in life. Granted, with him it’d taken three years but at least he’d shown me that this grief, this all consuming pain, would abate. Leanne had reminded me that others suffered, too, that I was not unique in my pain, regardless of how it felt. Paul had assured me that, with enough time, suffering became bearable. At noon I found a message from my brother-in-law and returned Ritchie’s call while I ate lunch.
“It’s me,” I said when he answered the phone. “You called?”
“Yeah, I wanted to give you the details for Max’s party.”
“Go ahead.” I reached for a pen and a pad.
“Saturday at eleven. Steph’s taking Max and five of his friends to the arcade and out for pizza afterward.”
“Are we expected to tag along?” I asked, grinning, knowing Ritchie was a kid at heart.
“You mean you don’t want to accompany me and six highly active screaming boys to the arcade, where they’ll go through quarters faster than a slot machine?”
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