Nearly

by Deborah Raney

  Claire couldn’t help but laugh. “Becky! He works in a nursing home. His clients are little old ladies!”

  “So maybe it was just a friend,” she retorted. “And even if it was a date, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “Oh, Becky, how can you be such an optimist all the time?”

  “Sorry, sweetie, it’s just the way God made me.”

  “Well, don’t ever change,” Claire said, her heart overflowing with affection for this dear friend. “I feel better already. In spite of how it might seem, I do take everything you say to heart. It’s just. . . it’s all so confusing.”

  “I’ll keep praying for you, Claire.” There was deep sincerity in her statement.

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry if I ruined your afternoon.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?”

  It truly did help to have someone in whom to confide, someone she knew was faithfully and patiently praying for her. Claire’s spirits lifted and she slept that night blanketed in the tentative, familiar peace she’d stopped trying to understand.

  Chapter 22

  The month of May left on warm breezes and the promise of the summer to come. The grass grew lush and green, and flowers began to bloom all over town. But Claire tasted none of the joy she usually felt in the season.

  For her, the last day of school was a bittersweet mixture of sadness and elation. She was astonished that the year had gone by so quickly. It seemed like such a short time ago that she'd stood nervous and inept in front of these children she now knew intimately. They'd come so far together.

  Brianne Sizemore had taken top honors among third-graders in the county spelling bee, and Claire couldn’t help feeling deep pride in the little girl’s accomplishment.

  Jarrod Hamilton and Will Frederick had formed an unlikely and sometimes stormy friendship in the wake of the incident with the smashed thumbnail. She felt partially responsible for that success story as well.

  All of the children had become her own in a sense, and—with a rowdy exception or two—she couldn’t think of them moving on next year to another classroom, another teacher, without tears springing to her eyes. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she would see them in the hallways and on the playground when school started again, but she knew it would never be quite the same. They would grow as close to their fourth grade teacher as they'd been to her, and that was as it should be. Still, it was hard to let them go.

  Underlying her melancholy was the realization that the summer would leave her with hours on end to fill. She had budgeted her money carefully so she wouldn’t need to take a summer job, but now, she wondered if it might be wise to do just that.

  She'd promised her grandmother she would spend two weeks of the summer in Kansas City, and she was looking forward to that. That still left many empty days ahead with too much time to brood.

  Claire got through the last day of school without a tear—at least in front of her students. The halls echoed with a hollow emptiness, as if the corridors themselves somehow knew they would be barren for months to come.

  She dreaded the following week of teachers’ workdays in an empty classroom, but they turned out to be rather enjoyable. She slept late and brought breakfast with her to the school. Jeans and sweatshirts were the accepted apparel, and most days found a lighthearted group of teachers heading out for a late lunch at McDonald’s or some other eating establishment.

  The first Monday morning of her summer vacation Claire rose early. She was determined to have a productive summer. She refused to spend her free time brooding, wishing for things she couldn’t have.

  She cleaned the house from top to bottom, rearranged the furniture, and hung freshly laundered curtains at the front windows. By evening she was exhausted, but after a hot shower, she sat on the sofa admiring her handiwork. Candles flickered on the coffee table, Mozart played softly on the stereo, and Claire reflected on how special this little house was to her. It had truly become home.

  She thought of Millie Overman, who had spent most of her adult life in the embrace of this house. Realizing she had all but ignored the older woman during the busy last weeks of school, Claire was now anxious to see her and to make up for her neglect. She invited her landlady to supper for the following Sunday night.

  They spent an enjoyable evening together, but Millie seemed more feeble than Claire remembered. And though Millie rarely complained, Claire suspected that the occasional grimace which crossed the old woman’s face reflected severe arthritic pain.

  When the evening ended, Claire drove Millie back to her apartment. They ambled slowly up the walk toward the entrance, Millie clinging tightly to Claire’s arm. As they neared the door, it opened, and Michael Meredith walked toward them. Claire’s heart began to pound.

  Appearing distracted and distant, Michael spoke solemnly, avoiding their eyes. “Hello. How are you?” It was a mere formality, not a question genuinely asked.

  Without another word he hurried purposefully past them, seemingly agitated, not even glancing Claire’s way.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Millie wondered.

  Claire felt as though she'd been slapped. His apparent blatant disregard of her hurt deeply. Her face grew warm, and she prayed Millie wouldn’t notice the color that rose to her cheeks.

  She walked Millie safely to the door and quickly made her exit, then drove home with a knot in the pit of her stomach. Though she knew she had no one but herself to blame, it still hurt.

  She lay in bed that night wondering how she could face any more painful encounters with Michael. She knew she'd hurt him by breaking off their romance, but couldn’t he understand her reasons?

  She drifted into a fitful sleep, resolving to leave for Kansas City sooner than she'd planned. And she would stay as long as Nana would have her. Perhaps if she could find a place to stay, she could afford to remain for several weeks.

  Maybe she just needed to get away from Hanover Falls.

  Claire awoke early the following day, her resolve only growing stronger with the morning light. She called Nana as soon as she knew she would be awake and felt satisfaction in her grandmother’s excitement over her plans to extend her visit.

  Claire took a mental inventory of the things she would need to bring with her from Hanover Falls. After some searching and a dozen phone calls, she found a small apartment near Elmbrook that the owner agreed to rent by the week. It was a bit discouraging to think that for several weeks she would be gone from the house she'd worked so hard to make hers. Yet she knew for certain she had to get away from this town that was full of memories everywhere she turned.

  The week before she planned to leave, she made hasty arrangements for one teenage neighbor to feed Smokey and another to mow the lawn while she was gone. She was almost afraid to tell Millie she would be leaving Smokey alone for such a long period of time, but since the weather had gotten warm, he'd been spending most of his time outdoors, anyway. Jennifer Baker, the bookish fifteen-year-old across the street, promised she would give the cat plenty of love and attention along with his daily food and water.

  Claire had dreaded the afternoon she planned to inform Millie of her trip, especially in light of Smokey’s “situation,” but the landlady surprised her by agreeing it was probably a good idea for her to get away before the start of a new school year. Claire didn’t tell Millie the full extent of her reasons, but she suspected Millie knew that Michael was a large part of it. Since the encounter with him on the sidewalk that Sunday night, Millie had been strangely silent on the subject of Michael Meredith.

  Claire spent the next days getting the house in order, cleaning out the refrigerator, stocking up on supplies for Smokey, and trying to decide what to bring with her to Kansas City.

  She spent one evening crunching numbers in her bank accounts, trying to decide how she would make ends meet. If she used the full limit of her credit card and drained her savings account, she could probably afford to stay for three or four weeks. And while she didn�
��t relish coming back with a depleted savings and a large debt besides, staying in Hanover Falls all summer simply wasn’t an option for her. Besides, she couldn’t disappoint Nana now.

  When the middle of June rolled around, Claire said her goodbyes, promising to keep in touch with Becky and Millie. She'd gone over every detail a dozen times. Now she was anxious to be gone.

  She pulled out of the driveway and looked back at the reflection in her rearview mirror. There sat her house, so contented-looking on its summer green lawn. She had found refuge here and a place to belong. Hanover Falls had been good to her in many ways. But now this place held too many memories, too many opportunities for chance meetings that would tear at her heart.

  She drove north out of the village and found herself wondering if she would ever come back.

  Chapter 23

  Claire arrived at Elmbrook, Nana’s apartment complex in Kansas City, at three o’clock on a hot afternoon in the middle of June. She spent the first night on the sleeper sofa in Nana’s living area but left early the next morning to move the few belongings she'd brought with her into the apartment she'd arranged to rent during her stay in the city. After the Hanover Falls house, it was difficult to muster much excitement about the tiny rented space in the city suburb. But she knew that, despite Nana’s protest, it wasn’t feasible for her to spend several weeks on the sofa in Nana’s one-room apartment. She unloaded her belongings from the car and stacked the boxes and bags in the small front room. The studio apartment was one large L-shaped room with a kitchenette and bathroom in the short end of the L and a living area with a shabby daybed in the long end. The large window in the living area offered an uninspiring view of a parking lot and the street beyond. Fortunately, the window was covered with thin cream-colored draperies that let in enough light to prevent the room from being dreary. The walls had been freshly painted in the same off-white as the drapes, and brick red countertops in the kitchen provided a splash of color. It was a far cry from her cozy little house, but it was clean and livable. And it was far away from Hanover Falls—and Michael Meredith.

  On Claire’s second Saturday morning in the city, she decided to take her grandmother for a drive, since the weather was glorious and she was already beginning to feel smothered by the city around her.

  Even though Elmbrook was in a relatively uncrowded suburb of Kansas City, it was a far cry from the rural atmosphere of Hanover Falls, where Claire could view acres of plowed fields and forestlike groves of trees just a short walk from her front door.

  Apparently Nana had felt the same sense of confinement. Again and again as they drove along the four-lane highway that led out of town, she exclaimed, “Oh my, but it’s good to get out!”

  Claire deliberately headed north toward Richmond. Within an hour they were driving along a quiet rural highway flanked by ripening fields of wheat and green pastures dotted with cattle. As she drove, Claire commented that the countryside reminded her of home—Hanover Falls.

  Nana turned to Claire. “I must tell you, honey, I was a bit surprised you would leave this wonderful life you keep telling me about. All I ever hear when you phone me is how lovely your little town is, how amusing the cat you’ve adopted, how bright your students are. . .” She paused and gave her granddaughter the searching look Claire had come to love and dread at the same time. “And how charming a certain young man…”

  Claire drove on without acknowledging Nana’s insinuations, grateful that it was necessary to keep her eyes on the road.

  Nana waited for Claire to respond, and when she was met with only silence, she put a frail hand on her granddaughter’s arm. “Has something gone wrong there, my dear?” she asked gently. “I haven’t heard you speak of him since your arrival.”

  “Oh, Nana. I suppose I’m running away from my problems.” Then, afraid her grandmother might misunderstand, she quickly added, “Not that I’m not thrilled to have this time to spend with you. It’s just that. . . Michael and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. I needed to get away.”

  “Oh?” Nana arched an inquisitive eyebrow, waiting for Claire to explain herself.

  “It’s a long story, Nana.”

  Katherine Anderson chuckled her deep, rich laugh. “Well, dearie, I’ve got all the time in the world, so you just start talking.” She looked to Claire expectantly.

  But Claire could not bring herself to open the old wounds again—for her own sake and for her grandmother’s. Instead, she made feeble excuses and forced herself to laugh away Nana’s questions, pretending that her rift with Michael didn’t bother her at all.

  They stopped for lunch in a small town and then, because Claire could see that Nana was tiring, she headed back toward the city.

  By the time they got back to Elmbrook it was nearly three o’clock. Nana retreated to her room, complaining of a headache.

  “Do you want me to get you an aspirin?” Claire asked.

  “Oh no. I just need to take a rest. It’ll be gone when I wake up.”

  She reclined in her chair and fell asleep almost immediately. Claire skimmed the day’s newspapers and dozed on the sofa for a few minutes herself. Nana was still sleeping when Claire woke, so she left a brief note on the end table for her grandmother and went out to the courtyard for some fresh air.

  The courtyard was crowded with elderly residents and their visitors. Claire didn’t feel like conversation, so she decided to take a short walk, despite the sweltering summer heat. She followed the meandering sidewalk to a gracious old neighborhood in the Kansas City suburb. The tree-lined streets offered respite from the blazing sun and Claire walked on, enjoying the manicured lawns and flowers and the architecture represented in the huge old Victorian houses.

  Triggered by her conversation with Nana, thoughts of Michael Meredith crowded her mind as she walked. It seemed ironic that she'd come to Kansas City to forget the man. Yet even here, the very sidewalks reminded her of the pleasant strolls she and Michael had taken together. Reluctantly, she gave rein to the thoughts.

  She could no longer deny that she felt for Michael an emotion she could only identify as love. And upon frank examination, she found her love for Michael to be pure and selfless—truly wanting only what was best for him and what was right in God’s eyes. But she knew, too, that love didn’t always justify a relationship. Weren’t many illicit affairs rationalized by lover? Even true love? No, love alone was not reason enough for a relationship to exist.

  With Michael, there had been larger issues to explore: the disturbing fact that he'd once been her brother; her fear that he would subconsciously associate her with the deepest hurt of his life; the knowledge that she hadn’t yet fully forgiven her parents—or herself—for the ways they had hurt Michael. No, she decided, she'd made the right decision concerning Michael. Now she would learn to live with that resolve.

  Claire looked up, realizing she'd walked farther than she intended. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see how late it was. Nana would surely be awake by now and wondering what had happened to her. She hurried back to Elmbrook and entered through the front doors, her mind still foggy with thoughts of Michael. Distractedly, she turned toward the east wing where Nana’s room was.

  She rounded the corner and was jolted out of her reverie by a commotion in the hallway. All along the east corridor, doors were open and elderly residents peeked curiously into the hallway. Several nurse aides stood in a doorway at the far end of the hall, and a woman Claire recognized as the head nurse issued orders in a sharp, clipped staccato. Claire’s heart leapt in her chest as she started running toward the knot of nurses even before she was fully aware that Nana’s room was the focus of all the turmoil.

  Speechless and out of breath, she neared the doorway still running. Two of the aides closed the space between Claire and the doorway with long strides. Gently they took her by the arms and steered her to one side of the hallway.

  “Miss Anderson, you had best wait out here for a while.”

  Trembling, Claire manage
d to squeak out a question. “What happened?”

  “We’re not certain, but Mrs. Dixon thinks your grandmother suffered a stroke.”

  “No, no!” Claire put her face in her hands and slumped against the wall. The two older women tightened their grip on her, letting her lean against their strong bodies.

  “Is… is she going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know, Claire.” The honest reply came from Deanne Waverly, an aide who often worked the east wing and had become Nana’s friend, and thus Claire’s. “She’s unconscious now but breathing on her own. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “What happened?” Claire asked again, her voice rising to a high pitch. “She was fine when I left her. She was fine.”

  Guilt flooded her. This day had just been too much of an exertion for Nana. She should have known that when her grandmother complained of being tired, of having a headache, she shouldn’t have left her side. Surely there had been a sign, some indication that this stroke was imminent. But she'd been too preoccupied with her own selfish thoughts to notice.

  Mrs. Dixon, the head nurse, was directing traffic with authority, clearing the hall for the ambulance attendants who hurried down the hallway from the main entrance.

  When the EMTs had carried their equipment into the room, Claire stepped cautiously into the doorway, still supported by the aides. She watched through a haze of emotion as her grandmother was deftly transferred from her bed to the hospital stretcher.

  The old woman’s skin was ashen and Claire heard her shallow, labored breaths even above the commotion. She backed away to clear a path and looked on in shock as the metal cart carrying the only family she had left in the world was maneuvered out the doorway and wheeled down the hall and out to the waiting ambulance.

  Chapter 24