Mending Places

by Hunter, Denise

  How was he or she getting in? Had someone made a copy of one of the keys? Was this person picking the lock? Whoever it was could be making copies of their customer files and sending them to someone via the Internet.

  Bingo. She double-clicked the Internet icon and waited to get online. If they were e-mailing the information, a record of the post would be in her “sent” file. Could it be as simple as that?

  The home page appeared, and she clicked on “read,” then “sent.” The list of sent mail appeared, and she scanned the column looking for an unfamiliar recipient over the last week.

  Nothing. She searched the list again and sighed when she didn’t find anything she hadn’t sent herself. Her program only saved mail for one week, and besides, the interloper could have erased the transaction all together. If he was even using this method to transfer customer files. Who was doing this?

  A list, that’s what she needed. A list of everyone who had access to the office. She jotted down names. Me, Gram, Devon, Micah, even Mrs. Eddlestein could have gotten hold of a key.

  Next she crossed her own name off the list. Her pencil began a line through Gram, then stopped. Was it possible Gram was doing something, then forgetting? Maybe it wasn’t Alzheimer’s she had, but some sort of mental illness. They would find out soon. She looked at the clock. In just a couple hours, in fact, when they were scheduled to meet with the neurologist who had performed the testing.

  Back to the list. She made a question mark by Gram’s name. Not likely, but with Gram’s state of mind, she couldn’t rule her out with absolute certainty.

  Devon. She had caught him in the office once. She put a question mark by his name.

  Micah. She hesitated. She wanted very much to draw a line through his name. They’d spent a lot of time together the past two weeks, and she felt she knew him well. She was definitely falling for him and hated to even consider that he’d be doing anything harmful to the business, but she forced herself to be completely objective. And it was technically possible that he’d been put up to ruining their business. That thought brought a host of questions about the validity of their relationship. She didn’t even want to think about that. Reluctantly, she drew a question mark beside his name.

  Mrs. Eddlestein. She’d had access to the key if she’d wanted it, could’ve somehow gotten it from Gram and used it while they were at church. But she had no motive, and she was perfectly sane. Hanna drew a line through her name.

  Three possible suspects. Could a guest have made a copy of the front-door key? Not likely, since guests would also have to get a copy of the office key too.

  She searched for any other ideas, any other people who might have a motive or access to her keys. No one came to mind. It had to be someone on the list, didn’t it? Devon would be going back to school at the end of August. Just three weeks away. But next month they’d be in the red for sure, even if the cancellations stopped. And with the slow months of September and October coming, they would miss three months of payments. Enough to lose the lodge.

  Hanna rubbed her temples. Between Natalie and Keith’s divorce proceedings and Gram’s health problems, she had enough to worry about without the financial problems and espionage. All right, God, I’m fresh out of ideas. You’re going to have to bail us out here.

  Two hours later she sat sandwiched between Gram and her dad in the neurologist’s waiting room. When the office called yesterday, they’d set up the appointment to come in and discuss the results of the tests. Gram had taken the call and passed on the news to Hanna. Her first thought was that if the news was good, the nurse would’ve told her on the phone. Surely Gram had the same thought, but neither of them had voiced it.

  Hanna thumbed a copy of Ladies Home Journal while Gram cross-stitched with seemingly steady hands. In the car on the way over, Gram had patted her knee and winked as if she hadn’t a worry in the world. Was she confident in a good test result, hiding her anxiety, or simply resting in the fact that God would take care of her regardless? It was hard to say, and Gram wasn’t telling.

  Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. Hanna looked around the waiting room and noted there was only one other woman who’d been here when they’d arrived. She flipped to a cover article on handling stress but gave up two paragraphs into the column.

  Her dad walked to the receptionist desk and inquired how long it would be, then returned with news that it was almost their turn.

  Gram tilted her head comfortably and resumed cross-stitching.

  “How can you be so calm?” Hanna asked.

  The older woman raised her head, a soft smile forming on her lips. “I’m concerned, child, believe me. But the way I figure, God already knows what’s going on in this old body. He’s known all along, and it will be no surprise to Him whatever the doctor says.”

  “Mrs. Landin.” A nurse held open the door leading to the hallway of offices and examination rooms.

  The trio rose as Gram stuffed her handwork into a satchel, and they followed the nurse to the end of the hallway. A baby shrieked from behind one of the closed doors.

  The nurse showed them into a cozy office. “Dr. Matthews will be right with you.” She shut the door leaving the three of them in silence.

  Hanna studied the collage of certificates hanging behind his desk chair.

  “Mercy, he sure has enough education.” Gram gestured to the degrees.

  “Let’s just hope he learned a thing or two along the way,” Hannas dad said.

  Hanna looked at him, not for the first time today, wondering how he was going to handle it if Gram had Alzheimer’s. She noticed a heavy spattering of gray in his beard and hair that she hadn’t noticed before. He slid his bifocals on his nose and read the brochure on neurological diseases.

  The mahogany desk appeared cluttered at first glance but was actually arranged in neat piles. Family photos lined the desk, and a misshapen, clay paperweight hinted at a creation in an elementary art class.

  The door clicked open, and Dr. Matthews entered with a manila file. “Hi, Mrs. Landin.” He shook Gram’s hand, then greeted Hanna and her dad before taking a seat behind the desk in a big leather chair.

  “As my nurse undoubtedly told you on the phone, we’ve finished your clinical assessment. I explained before that there is no way of diagnosing Alzheimer’s with 100 percent accuracy, short of examining brain tissue after someone has died.” He folded his hands on top of the folder. “We can, however, diagnose the disease with 90 percent accuracy, and I’m very sorry to say, Mrs. Landin, that the test results do point to Alzheimer’s disease.”

  Hanna’s breath caught. She tore her eyes from the doctor’s face and looked at Gram, who lowered her gaze.

  “What do we do now?” her son asked.

  “Well, the good news is that it was caught early. Most people exhibit signs for two years before they’re diagnosed. You’re in the mild stage of Alzheimer’s, Mrs. Landin. A lot of research has been done in the last ten years or so. There are medications available that allow patients to hold on to cognitive skills longer and retain the ability to do basic activities.”

  “What about vitamin E?” Gram asked.

  “In high doses it’s been shown to prevent declines in functioning for about seven months, so yes, I would encourage you to begin taking it.”

  He wrote a scrip for a medication called Reminyl and gave Gram some pamphlets on the disease. Questions formed in her mind, and Hanna voiced them one after the other until she was satisfied she knew what to expect over the coming months and what the course of treatment would be. She would make sure they were doing everything possible to slow the disease’s progress.

  Looking up at the grand mountains rising up around her like a royal crown, Hanna didn’t see her red-and-white bobber slip under the glassy surface of the water.

  “You’ve got a bite,” Micah said.

  She turned in time to see the bobber surface, echoes of ripples ringing outward. She waited for it to go under again. And waited.

  A magp
ie chirped somewhere behind her, and another answered its call. Her hair ruffled as a breeze blew across the lake, cooling her hot skin.

  “I think he took my worm.” Hanna reeled in her line to find an empty hook. She pulled a fat worm from the container and threaded it on the hook.

  She’d started taking Thursdays as her day off, and they’d spent every one of them together. They’d gone hiking, had picnics, and spent hours talking in the lodge in front of the stone fireplace. He’d become an indispensable sounding board for her. Someone with whom she could talk about her fear of losing Gram to Alzheimer’s. Someone with whom she could vent her anger about Keith without fear of upsetting anyone.

  And today she’d finally told him about the lodge’s financial trouble and her suspicion someone was sabotaging them. The genuine concern and confusion in his eyes erased all doubt of his loyalty from her heart.

  She recast, rinsed her hands in the water, and continued their conversation where it’d left off moments ago. “So, when I sit down to do next month’s bills, I don’t see how we’ll have enough to cover everything. One thing is certain: We can’t miss three mortgage payments, or the bank’ll foreclose on us. Keith’ll have no choice.”

  “Your brother-in-law?”

  “He refinanced the lodge when no other bank would. But there are other people at the bank he’s accountable to. If we miss those payments, he’ll have to foreclose.”

  Micah swatted away a fly. “You know, I’ve got a little money set back; it’s not much, but—”

  “No, Micah.” His generosity softened her voice. “That’s really sweet, but I don’t want to do that. We’ve already drained my account and Gram’s. I don’t want to do that to you too.”

  “I thought you said a couple of months ago that business had picked up.”

  “It had, but then all the cancellations started coming in, and they’ve continued even though I’ve put a lock on the office door. I don’t know what’s happening.”

  His eyes jerked to hers. “Hanna, we have to find out who’s doing this.”

  “I’ve been trying. But it’s not so easy.”

  His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. “We should go to the police.”

  “There’s nothing they can do.”

  “But someone’s been prowling around your office.”

  She shrugged. “I have no proof of that.”

  “So we’re just supposed to wait until someone puts us out of business?”

  Her heart warmed at the way he’d said “us,” including himself as part of their family. “We’re just going to have to figure out who it is or catch them in the act. I’ve taken precautions with the lock. But even if we keep all the reservations we’ve got, we’re still in trouble.” She told him about the lack of reservations for the coming months. “I don’t get it. The magazine ads really started paying off right away, but now nobody’s calling.”

  “Maybe you should cancel them.”

  “I think I will at the end of the month if we’re still not getting any business from them.” Hanna reeled in her line and set the pole aside. She hadn’t been paying any attention to it anyway.

  “I’ll have to think about this. Maybe we can figure it out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anything to make you happy.” His wink sent warm tingles up her spine. He laid his pole aside and scooted over next to her on the grass. “Anything else I can do to make you happy?”

  The soft rumble of his bass voice stirred delicious flutters in her stomach. Her skin heated in anticipation. She studied his face, inches from her own, drew in the musky scent she’d come to recognize as his alone. His gray eyes twinkled playfully; his crooked smile offered an irresistible invitation.

  She leaned forward and nuzzled his nose with her own. The closeness brought a dizzying sensation to her head. His eyes grew serious, and she felt the warmth of his hand as he cupped her jaw ever so gently. He tilted her face to his and brushed his lips across hers.

  How had she ever lived without him? Without the sweet sensation of his touch. Thank You, God. Micah’s lips claimed hers again. Heat kindled inside her belly and spread outward toward her limbs. His gentleness endeared him to her. She felt his restraint, sensed him holding back, being careful of the lure of desire.

  When he drew back slightly, her trembling hand found his jaw. He turned his face into her hand and placed a kiss there. Their shaky breaths mingled, and Hanna knew in that instant she had fallen in love with this man. Fallen in love with his integrity, with his vulnerability, with his sense of honor.

  A rebellious strand of hair had tumbled onto his forehead, and she brushed it back, loving the feel of his silky hair on her skin. A smile formed unconsciously on her lips.

  “What?” he asked.

  And his voice. She loved his voice too. But she didn’t want to confess her feelings just yet. She wanted to savor them awhile longer. She ran a finger along his lips, and when he kissed it, her breath caught. “You’re going to lose your bait,” she whispered.

  He tenderly captured her hand, his lips twitching. “That’s not all I’m going to lose if you don’t cut it out.”

  She blinked innocently while her hand slipped into his jersey pocket and closed around his keys. “What are you going to lose?” She held up his keys well out of his reach. “Your keys?” She raised her brows, trying to provoke him.

  “Hey, now, those are the keys to my wheels.” He swatted out to snatch them, but she scooted back in the grass, pulling her hand behind her back.

  “All right, you’re gonna get it now.” He crawled toward her.

  “Losing your patience?” She backed away, crab-style, his keys clutched in her hand.

  His eyes lit mischievously as he advanced, despite the menacing growl that snarled from his mouth.

  She giggled, “Losing your temper?”

  “Losing my mind is more like it.” He shot forward, catching her ankle.

  She shrieked and flailed, but he held tight, crawling beside her and tickling her ribs. Their laughter floated on the wind, vibrating the air with joy, piercing the tranquillity around them with sounds of giddy pleasure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Hi, come on in, Hanna.” Natalie shut the door behind her sister, then gave her a quick hug. So much had happened in the last few weeks, and she was glad to see her only confidante. “Shh. I just put Taylor down.”

  “Where’s Alex?”

  “At a friend’s house. That’s why I asked you to come over after one, so we could talk in peace.” They headed into the kitchen, where Natalie had brewed a pot of French vanilla coffee. “How’s Gram doing?”

  “Pretty good, really. You know Gram; she’s using her sense of humor to help deal with it.”

  Natalie grunted. Her own sense of humor seemed to have disappeared lately. There was something about affairs, attorneys, and divorce papers that wasn’t conducive to a sense of humor.

  “Are you ready for the court date?”

  “As ready as I can be.” She set mugs down on the bar. “Even Carol, my lawyer, has been surprised at how fast we worked out the details. He’s getting the bank; I’m getting the house. He’s getting the other woman; I’m getting the boys.” Ugly bitterness seeped into her tone. She couldn’t seem to help it anymore.

  Silence, normally welcomed this time of day, blossomed into awkwardness. So she was angry. It was easier than being hurt, and she wasn’t going to apologize for her feelings. Not even to Hanna.

  “I’m glad he’s not vying for custody of the kids. And you said he’s paying the bills, right?”

  “How big of him.”

  “Are you still seeing Micah’s dad?”

  “And how would I pay for it? Right now, I’m living off a man who has deserted me. I can’t exactly tell him he needs to pay for therapy, can I? On the other hand, he did cause this whole mess, why shouldn’t he pay for it?”

  Hanna ran a finger around the rim of her mug. “I can understand your anger, Nat. Anyone would be
angry at what he’s done and the way he’s handled the whole thing.”

  “But?” She heard it coming, and irritation boiled up within her.

  “It’s just that, at some point, you’re going to have get rid of all that. I know it must be hard, but you’re going to have to forgive him, for your sake as well as the kids’.”

  “Forgive him? He left me for another woman, Hanna.”

  “I know, and I understand—”

  “You can’t possibly understand. You’re not even married. What’s ever happened to you that was so awful?” Nat’s breath caught as she remembered, and she wished she’d left the last sentence unspoken.

  “How can you say that? You watched me go through it.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean—”

  “You’re not the only one who’s suffered, Nat.”

  “I know; it’s just … that was a long time ago. You’re talking about forgiveness, but you’ve had, what? Six or seven years to get over it? I’ve had a matter of weeks. And your situation was different. It was a stranger who hurt you. My husband betrayed me, the one who was supposed to love me and care for me ‘till death do us part.’”

  “What he did is awful; I’m not saying it’s not. But don’t brush over what I went through. I was raped. It changed my life. I still sleep with the light on, for heaven’s sake, and until Micah, I couldn’t bear the touch of a man, so I’d hardly consider that ‘over it.’”

  Nat closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Hanna. I didn’t mean to make light of what you went through, what you’re going through.” She offered her sister a wan smile. “Truth is, I’m angry and bitter and testy, and you happen to be here.”

  Hanna offered a reluctant smile.

  “For the first time in my life, I feel like I have more pain than I can deal with. It’s there all the time, and I wish it’d go away, for just a few minutes at least. I keep praying for God to take it away, but I can’t even feel Him anymore. Where is He, Hanna?”