Mending Places

by Hunter, Denise

  She watched him squirm and felt a prick of guilt. But just as she was about to accept his invitation, his chin jerked upward and hardened, drawing attention to the square planes of his jaw line.

  He dropped the papers on the desktop and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Fine. You want honesty, fine. I’ve had a change of heart. I want to get to know you better. I want to—to date you.”

  Except for the brief hesitation, he sounded adamant and confident. Her heart hammered inside her chest like a bass drum, vibrating through her body with rhythmic booms. She watched his cheeks redden despite his bold declaration. A wave of excitement rushed through her veins. He’d always been abrupt, but she hadn’t expected such a direct statement. Suddenly it was she who was speechless.

  His brow hiked up. “Cat got your tongue?” His voice rumbled through the air, bringing a pleasant sensation to her ears.

  She loved his deep voice. Loved the way his jaw always sported a five o’clock shadow. Loved the way he was looking at her right now. An unbidden smile formed on her face. “I’m just a little surprised by your change of heart.” A lot surprised, she corrected silently.

  He leaned on the counter, placing his forearms against it and clasping his hands. The movement brought him within inches of her.

  Micah allowed his gaze to roam freely over Hanna’s face. Her green eyes had flecks of gold in the center that sparkled when she was happy, such as now. That he’d shocked her with his invitation had been obvious. And he hadn’t missed the fact that she had yet to answer.

  It had taken him all day to get up his nerve. And trying to arrange it so he appeared casual had proven to be almost impossible. He’d asked out more women than he could count, but that had been years ago. And the purpose of his dates then had been altogether different. Maybe that’s why his hands trembled like an old woman’s.

  Hanna wet her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. “Well.” He watched her lips form the words. “I guess it would be silly to turn you down, seeing as how I’ve hunted you like a hound dog for weeks.” Her lips tipped into a smile.

  He met her gaze. “We can do something else if you’d rather.” He felt magnetically drawn to her. His eyes couldn’t seem to look away from hers.

  “I like canoeing. I haven’t gone in years, except for that little trip crossing String Lake.”

  She looked at his lips, and desire singed every nerve in his body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  The phone rang, shattering the moment. Hanna picked up the receiver, her eyes still trained on his. “Higher Grounds, may I help you?” The words, spoken in breathy distraction, brought a smile to his lips.

  From her side of the conversation, it was clearly a prospective guest with lots of questions. He backed away from the counter and lifted a hand in a wave. His last view of her before he left was of her wiggling her fingers and smiling in return.

  Hanna dragged her paddle through the water as the canoe shifted away from the shore. She could hardly believe Thursday was here at last. The past three days had trudged by. Micah had been away on trips most of the time, and she’d looked forward to spending a whole day alone with him. She’d packed a cooler for the occasion, and Mrs. Eddlestein had included a big lunch for them, as well as snacks and soft drinks to last the day.

  After trying on three different outfits and bemoaning her meager selection, she’d decided on a pair of khaki shorts and olive T-shirt over her swimsuit. After grabbing a bite to eat, they’d gone to the rental store, then put in at Pacific Creek Landing.

  Now, as the canoe sluiced through the water of Snake River, she became conscious of the silence that had settled around them. No other boaters were in sight, though they’d likely run into groups along the way.

  “I’m surprised you’re not tired of canoeing,” Hanna said to break the silence.

  “Because I canoe on the Mount Moran trip?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t think it’s something you’d want to do on your day off.”

  “You can’t really compare the Snake River to String Lake.”

  Hanna heard the sarcasm in his voice. “Are you saying String Lake bores you?” she teased.

  “Let’s just say I like the challenge of Snake River.”

  Hanna turned and tossed him a smile. “Well, this is a first for me, so I guess I’m getting initiated.”

  “Yeah, well, just don’t initiate us both with a good dunking.”

  Hanna tipped her chin. “I’m not a novice, you know. I think I can manage to stay dry.” She paused pointedly. “If I have a decent stern pad-dler behind me.”

  Micah let the comment go, and soon they were talking about Hanna and her family. Before she knew it, she’d rattled on for the better part of an hour, pausing only to concentrate when they’d gone through rapids.

  She was curious about his family. What had happened to his mom and dad that he’d ended up in the foster care system? She wanted to know; yet, she didn’t feel they knew each other well enough to ask.

  She’d just finished talking about her sisters when she thought of a neutral question for him. “What about you? Were you born in Jackson?”

  She felt the pause, not only in conversation, but in the steady drifting of the canoe as he pulled his paddle from the water. “No.”

  She took his brevity as a hint that he didn’t want to discuss himself and led the conversation on to where they attended high school. She shared that she’d been involved in student government and volleyball, but he’d said nothing except that he’d attended Kemmerer High School, about an hour south of Jackson.

  “I’ll bet you had a lot of boyfriends in high school,” he said.

  The comment surprised her. Not only because he rarely asked questions, but also because he thought she might have a lot of experience with the opposite sex. “I had a few, but nothing serious.”

  “What about in college?”

  “I dated one guy. We were fairly serious.”

  “What happened?”

  She shuddered when she thought of the times he’d tried to touch her. She thought of all the times she’d tried to endure it for Jess’s sake, so he wouldn’t feel rejected. But she didn’t want to tell Micah about that.

  “When Grandpop died, Gram needed help so … I dropped out of college and came here. I was majoring in business anyway, so it was right up my alley. Besides, I’d always loved the lodge. I spent a lot of time there as a kid.”

  The sun was high in the sky when they found a good spot to eat, and they paddled the canoe to shore. She wanted to ask him about relationships he’d had, but his comments from the previous week kept her quiet. He’d made it sound like he’d been physically involved with many women, and she didn’t even want to think about that. From what she understood, he hadn’t been a Christian then.

  That brought up another question, and once they’d settled on the blanket with their food and said grace, she voiced it. “Tell me how you became a Christian.”

  She was startled when Micah choked on the bite of sandwich. He took a drink from his Mountain Dew, hacking a few more times before managing to swallow his food and gain his composure.

  “Was it something I said?” she teased.

  He looked at her, then away, and Hanna wondered if she hadn’t stumbled upon something. What if he wasn’t a Christian at all? Her heart tripped at the thought. True, he prayed and read the Bible, but what if he didn’t have a real relationship with God?

  “What?” she forced herself to ask. She had to know, and the sooner the better, if he wasn’t a Christian at all.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He picked at a potato chip, then tossed it back on his plate. “I guess I should just get this out of the way.”

  Her mind raced with one ridiculous thought after another as she watched him intently.

  “I became a Christian while I was in jail.”

  Jail? She worked to keep her expression neutral. Her thoughts spun.

  He continued. “I was a pretty ro
ugh kid. Had a few scrapes with the law.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how Jim and Jan put up with me. Anyway, when I turned eighteen, I took off. Thought I was better off on my own, making my own decisions.”

  Hanna wondered again why he’d been placed in a foster home and what effect that situation had on his troubled youth.

  “I got a job at a gas station and did all right. But before long I got caught swiping some motorcycle parts from a repair shop. I was convicted of petty theft, but the judge was easy on me and I just got probation.”

  He looked away from her frequently as he spoke but always came back to study her intently, as if trying to read her. She wondered what he saw. Surprise maybe, but she hoped he saw the caring and empathy that filled her heart.

  “I knew I’d gotten off easily and thought I was hot stuff. I made some friends—if you could call them that—at the gas station I worked at. We did some stupid stuff, but we didn’t get caught.”

  Hanna saw the regret in his eyes and wanted to tell him it was okay, that God had forgiven him, and she did, too, but he seemed determined to finish.

  “One night we decided to hold up a gas station. We were cocky, figured we’d never get caught, but someone had gotten the license of the car, and they tracked us. I got sentenced to eighteen months in jail.”

  When Micah looked at her, she allowed a smile of empathy to form on her lips.

  “I was pretty rotten. Looking back now, I can see all the hatred I had in me, but at the time it just seemed like everyone was out to get me. No one knew I was in jail. I had no family to tell, and my friends were in jail too. I hated it. I despised being cooped up. I wound up in lots of fights.”

  Hanna thought of all the times she’d seen him jogging and knew he must’ve felt claustrophobic in jail. “I guess you didn’t get paroled.”

  He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You could say that.” He took a long sip of his pop. “But after I’d been in jail awhile, a prison-ministry team came to visit the inmates.” He smiled. “Imagine my surprise when Jim came to see me as part of the team.”

  “Your foster father?”

  He nodded. “And if you think I was shocked, you should’ve seen his face. I’ll never forget the disappointment in his eyes when he saw me there. He looked so old.” Micah looked at Hanna, and she saw the weariness in his eyes. “It was the first time I really believed he cared. During the years I’d lived there, I thought he was just trying to control me. I thought he and Jan were like all the other foster parents I had, that they just wanted the government money.”

  Sympathy surged through Hanna’s heart. How blessed she’d been to have godly parents when he didn’t even have a taste of love until he was a young man. Her soul longed to touch his, to heal him. But then, God had already done that.

  He drew a deep breath and grinned sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to go on for so long, but anyway, that’s how I became a Christian. Jim led me to the Lord.”

  Hanna reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for telling me.”

  Micah shifted and gathered his trash. The quiet moment teemed with awkwardness, and Hanna gathered up her things too. She realized Micah must be feeling vulnerable, having spilled the details of his past. Embarrassed about the things he’d done, about the man he’d been. But as far as she was concerned, all that was in the past. She could easily fill the silence with reassurances but decided to let her actions speak for her. He would come to see that she respected him for the man he was today.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Micah stuffed their trash in the cooler and lugged it through the underbrush to the canoe. His nerves were worn from the confessions he’d just made, but judging by Hanna’s reaction, he’d done the right thing in coming clean. She seemed to accept him as he was. And that was comforting, knowing that he’d told her every shameful thing about his past.

  Not everything.

  She didn’t have to know about that. He wasn’t over it himself. How could he bare that raw issue?

  Tell her.

  He shoved the thought to the back of his mind. There would be time to tell her later. When he’d come to terms with it himself. When he felt some twinge of forgiveness. He’d been relieved when he’d told Pastor Witte on Sunday that he couldn’t serve as a deacon. Micah hadn’t given a reason, and Pastor Witte hadn’t asked.

  They silently stowed their belongings in the canoe and put on their life vests. As the boat began moving once again, so did conversation, and Micah was relieved that Hanna was easy to talk to. They worked as a team, growing quiet when they reached rapids. They maneuvered through them with ease, with Hanna paddling on the appropriate side while he used his oar as a rudder.

  As they exited this last set of rapids, the most turbulent so far, Hanna tossed him a smile. “That was fun.”

  The canoe glided slowly into the still center of the river, and they rested, their oars lying across their laps as they caught their breath. The hottest part of the afternoon had descended upon them, and Micah wished he could take off his shirt.

  Memories surfaced of the one time a woman had seen his scarred back. He’d picked her up in a bar, an exquisitely beautiful Asian woman, who’d known what he was after from the first. Even the haze of alcohol had never kept him from remembering to dim the lights when he was with a woman, but this one had surprised him. As they’d left the bed, she’d flipped on the overhead light. He hadn’t turned soon enough to prevent her from seeing his scarred back. The revulsion on her face was a bitter reminder of the grotesque deformity of his skin.

  The memory brought a shadow of anxiety, sucking the moisture from his mouth.

  “Want a soda?” Hanna asked.

  “You read my mind.”

  She turned in her seat and attempted to unzip the nylon cooler. The awkwardness of her position forced her to stand and turn.

  “Here I’ll get it,” Micah said.

  “I’ve got it.” She stepped over her seat but lost her balance when her foot slipped against the wet, rounded side of the canoe. Her hand found the only hold, the side of the boat. The motion dipped the canoe precariously to the side.

  Micah reached out to help steady her, but it was too late. The canoe flipped, and they plunged into the water.

  Water rushed over his head, but the life vest carried him to the surface. He wiped the water from his eyes and looked for Hanna. Beyond the floating cooler, she bobbed, a dazed expression coating her features, but obviously unhurt.

  He couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. “Do you know how many times I’ve gone down this river without tipping?”

  He watched her collect herself. Finally, she blinked innocently. “Two or three?”

  “Ha! Try dozens. Dozens.” He glanced at the canoe floating topsyturvy beside them. “And I have never tipped.”

  She tilted her chin and lowered her lashes in a way that made him want to grab her and kiss her. “It’s your fault,” she said.

  Kiss? He meant throttle. “My fault?”

  “If you hadn’t wanted a soda …”

  He lunged through the water at her, hearing a squeal just before the water surged over his head. A game of chase ensued. Hanna turned and caught him with a wave of water to the face. He growled menacingly and pursued her again.

  They splashed and chased in the refreshingly cool water, dunking one another when the moment provided itself—no easy feat in the buoyant orange vests. Hanna’s laughter floated across the surface of the water as she caught him from behind.

  He let her dunk him, then twisted under the water and came up facing her. He blinked the water away from his eyes and reveled in the impish expression on her face. Her wet hair was slicked back exposing the natural beauty of her face. Water-spiked lashes framed her sparkling eyes.

  He watched a rivulet of water run down her sun-kissed cheek and past the corner of her lips. His gaze caught there, watching the smile fall from her mouth.

  Far beneath the surface of the water, her feet found his and ming
led with his calves. He read the desire in her eyes. Lord help him, but he’d never wanted a woman so badly. Not just physically. He wanted all of her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted their lives to mingle the way their feet did now.

  Micah tugged her as close as their vests would allow. Water lapped gently against them as her hands found the front of his vest and clutched there. He lowered his mouth to hers, wanting her, needing her.

  Catcalls echoed across the water surface. Micah looked up to see two teenager-guided canoes shooting out of the rapids. As he and Hanna parted, regret simmered within him like the glowing ashes of a campfire. They made small talk with the boys as they glided past, and one of them fished their errant oars from the water and tossed them back.

  By the time the boys were gone, the intimate moment had been shattered. Hanna pushed the cooler to shore while he pushed the canoe and oars. They emerged from the water sopping wet.

  Hanna removed her T-shirt, exposing a modest black tank suit, and wrung the water from it. She met his gaze and shook her head in good humor. “You may as well take off your shirt. We can lay them out to dry in the boat.”

  Muscles clenched in his abdomen, and his mind fought for an excuse. Instead, he began wringing the hem of his shirt. “Nah, it’s fine. Feels cooler this way.”

  Soon they were gliding downriver again, but this time Micah had the tantalizing view of Hanna’s square, tanned shoulders tapering down to a tiny waist.

  They sailed through the remaining rapids, stopping two more times to rest and enjoy the scenery. By the time they reached the end, their clothes were barely damp, but their energy was depleted. After returning the canoe, they agreed to stop and eat on the way back to the lodge. Doing so guaranteed Micah missing his support-group meeting, but watching Hanna return his smile, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  After dinner at the Shady Nook Café, they stopped at a quiet spot along the shores of Flat Creek. Micah didn’t want the day to end and, apparently, neither did Hanna because she seemed content to sit at the water’s edge and talk until dusk settled around them like a down quilt.