by Lyn Cote
Of course, her parents would agree. They would never make a fuss. Or put their needs before the church’s needs. Hannah stared at the road. Another question slipped through her disobedient lips. “Why didn’t you hire more help if you had two jobs to do?”
“Hire someone? I have a few guys that help me out when I need them, but they all have regular day jobs. I don’t build enough to keep anyone else busy. I build houses and raise dairy cattle. So I usually only build one or two homes a year.”
“I see.” The words she’d wanted to say to him earlier came out. “My parents’ contract says this house is to be completed by August thirty-first.” She bit her lower lip.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I just hope I can get the church roof done and your parents’ home framed in before snow flies.”
His calm tone ignited a spark of temper. “Framed in, not even completed before snow flies? Are my parents supposed to stay at Hanson-Fink’s Cozy Motel for four more months? My parents have to be in a house before then!” Shocked at her outbreak, she swallowed. For a moment, she’d forgotten she’d scared this man off a roof.
Evidently, her outburst didn’t faze him. “I know. I’ve told them over and over I’d tear up the contract. They should look into a factory-built home.”
Turning off the highway, Hannah glanced at him with disbelief. His golden hair gleamed in the moonlight. “You offered to tear up their contract?”
“Yes, but they wouldn’t hear of it.”
The next afternoon, Hannah walked out of the hospital beside her parents into afternoon warmth and sunshine. After waiting four hours for one more test to be done, then a doctor to release her father, she felt like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. But a guilty, ineffective cat, she thought as they got into her car.
“I see you bought yourself a new car,” Dad said.
She focused on the surface topic, pushing down the bubbling confusion inside her. “The old VW bought the farm in July. I thought a sport utility vehicle would be good for winter driving.”
“And such a nice bright red,” her mother remarked. “You’ll be visible in any weather. How long are you going to be able to stay, Honey?”
Hannah swallowed. She couldn’t stand to be called that name, not after Edward had used it to belittle her. Honey, you don’t know what you’re talking about. “Mom, Dad, I’d like to ask you a favor. I would really appreciate it if we could do away with Honey.”
There was a pause. Then Dad cleared his throat. “You’ve grown up, been that way a long time. If you want to leave that childhood nickname in the past, no problem. Right, dear?”
“Certainly. I may forget, so please remind me,” Mom agreed.
Hannah felt foolish making a point of this, but she needed to draw a line between the old Honey and the new Hannah. Her parents had noticed the clothes she was wearing, a pair of designer chinos in royal blue and a blue-and-white-striped pima cotton T-shirt. But they were too polite to make a big deal about her change into colorful clothing. She suddenly had the impression that they both thought she was a bomb that might explode if handled roughly. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
“So, Hannah, when do you have to be back in Milwaukee?” her mother asked.
“I don’t have to go back. I sublet my apartment for the rest of the lease.” Her eyes on the road, Hannah sensed her parents’ uneasiness. She knew them so well, she could hear their unspoken questions to each other. Does this have to do with her breakup with Edward? Is she having some kind of crisis? Does she mean to move in with us? What’s going on? How can we help her?
Tears caught in Hannah’s throat. Ever since that dreadful day two months after her breakup with Edward, the day she’d experienced shattering embarrassment, tears came out of nowhere whenever they wanted to. Gripping the steering wheel and refusing to give in, she drove onto the two-lane highway, concentrating on the scenery. But fields of ripe corn and pastures dotted with huge green rolls of drying hay and black-and-white dairy cattle didn’t distract her.
The feeling that the three of them were holding hands, like children playing ring-around-a-rosy while circling an untouchable topic, hit Hannah. But she still couldn’t broach what had happened after she had broken up with Edward. After the endless three-year engagement, just the breakup had been hard enough on her parents. She couldn’t tell them the rest. It would break their hearts.
“Then what are your plans?” Dad asked.
“Nothing drastic.” That’s already happened to me. “I plan to help you two move into your new home. I’d like to get acquainted with your new church. Then I might go back to Milwaukee or see if I like the Madison area instead.”
Dad cleared his throat. “There’s something that we need to tell you, Hannah.” He paused. “Our new home isn’t going to be ready on time.”
Hannah let out a deep sigh. “I know. I drove by your…foundation yesterday before I came to the church.”
Dad breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. “The wet weather all summer and spring has held Guthrie up.”
“Guthrie explained that to me last night when I drove him home.” She recalled the pleasant sensation of having Guthrie with her in this car. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. A dreamy feeling affected her as she recalled Guthrie sitting beside her. Obviously being on the rebound made her more susceptible than usual to a handsome man. That could only mean danger to her already mangled heart and pride!
Mom spoke from the back seat. “We think a lot of Guthrie.”
Hannah replied in an even tone. “He seems like a nice guy. I mean he doesn’t plan on suing me for causing him to fall off the roof yesterday. He didn’t really even seem angry with me.” He’d been sweet through it all. Some woman had raised one fine son.
“Guthrie Thomas is a special young man,” Dad agreed.
Hannah heard the unspoken words. Not like Edward who never appreciated you.
“Guthrie mentioned that he was working on the church roof, too,” Hannah said. Her parents were right. Guthrie and Edward had nothing in common except making Hannah wait!
Dad finished with, “Yes, the church has sustained water damage. It’s really quite serious. Things had been neglected too long. The work couldn’t be put off any longer.”
Hannah added, “Guthrie told me that he didn’t mind if you broke the contract with him.”
“Yes, that was very thoughtful,” Mom said soothingly.
“He mentioned he thought you should go with the company that makes factory-built homes,” Hannah added without much conviction.
“Yes, he told us all about them.” Beside her, Dad gazed out the window, looking unperturbed.
Hannah said brightly, but without hope, “So? Which company are you going to go with?”
“Why, none, Hannah. We’ll just wait for Guthrie.” Mom’s placid voice floated forward.
Hannah made one last attempt. “Mom, he really sounded like he wouldn’t be upset if you changed your minds.”
“But we haven’t changed our minds,” Dad said as expected.
I don’t believe this; then again, I knew just how this would go. “But your house might not be done for months. You don’t want to stay at Fink’s, I mean Hanson’s Cozy Motel through the winter, do you?”
“Why not?” Mom asked, sounding tickled by some unspoken joke.
“Your mother is enjoying a welcome break from entertaining and housekeeping.” Dad glanced over his shoulder with a smile in his eyes.
“Yes,” Mom agreed, “it’s a dream come true. No cleaning. Just making a snack at lunchtime. We even have dish-network TV,” her mother added.
“But aren’t you feeling crowded in just one room?” Hannah already felt cramped.
But her parents both chuckled.
“It reminds us of our first efficiency apartment where we lived while your father attended the seminary.” Then her mother frowned.
Just the word seminary had brought the specter of Edward into the car. Edward had refused to juggle wor
king and studying at the seminary with marriage. So stupid little Honey had pushed ahead the wedding date and waited.
“Only this bathroom is larger,” Dad said.
Hannah felt the sensation of trying to cross a bog. Every time she tried to move forward, sticky, unstable mud sucked her backward. “I give up. What’s so special about waiting for a house Guthrie Thomas builds?”
“When we were deciding whether or not to take this pastorate, we took a long time to think it over,” Dad said.
“We wanted this to be where we semiretired, so we had to make the right decision,” Mom added.
“I can understand that, but—” Hannah tried once more, against all odds.
“Hon—Hannah,” Dad interrupted, “your mother has never complained about the little efficiency apartment we started out in or the old drafty-barn parsonages that we lived in when you children were being born—”
“Garner, I never minded—”
“Ethel, I think our daughter needs to hear this. When a man marries a woman, he longs with all his heart to provide a castle worthy of her. In thirty-five years of marriage, I’ve never been able to do that.” He cleared his throat. “Starting early this year, we spent several months deciding whether or not to take this pastorate. Then we spent a month looking for just the right lot. After that, we looked over hundreds of floor plans until we decided on the one that had everything we wanted. Finally we toured model homes of every kind in the area.”
Ethel took over. “We decided on Guthrie Thomas, right in Petite. He does the most beautiful workmanship. Little touches like arched doorways and built-in cabinets, carved moldings. His houses are perfection!”
Garner nodded. “This is probably the last house we will live in before we begin downsizing, when we get too old to keep up a full-size house and yard. That’s why I insist that your mother get the house she wants. She’s waited long enough. God has promised us a mansion in heaven, and I don’t doubt it will be magnificent. But this is my last chance to give your mother the house I’ve always wanted for her, the one she’s always deserved. And I won’t be denied!”
Hannah loved every single word her father said, but she sighed anyway. It was a beautiful sentiment, but she had to think of something she could do to move matters along. Perfection could take a long time!
Chapter Three
Feeling like a lump of dough with sadly inactive yeast, Hannah lay on her double bed in her harvest gold and avocado green “box” at Fink-Hanson’s Cozy Motel. After bringing her parents home, she’d tried to write her column, but had ended up, stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She’d come to Petite with a simple task, simply to help her parents move into their new home, maybe to hurry the local builder along with the finishing touches.
“Finishing touches,” she moaned to the ceiling. At the back of her mind, her conscience reminded her she had to fax her column in before tomorrow. Column? She hadn’t even written a word yet, hadn’t even thought of a topic! She had never been late for a deadline in her life. Even this didn’t stir her to action.
The bedside phone rang. Four rings jingled before Hannah had the energy to pick it up. “Hi.”
“Hannah? Is that you?”
“Spring?” Hannah’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Oh, Spring, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Hannah said.
“What’s the matter?”
Images from yesterday flashed through Hannah’s mind, Lila Fink, Captain Peach-fuzz, Guthrie Thomas sliding down the roof. “Oh,” Hannah wailed, “I’ve entered the twilight zone!”
“What?”
Hannah sat up. “Yesterday was a once-in-a-lifetime nightmare! Nothing has gone like I planned!”
Spring had the nerve to chuckle! “Hannah, the busy planner.”
“Don’t make fun of me!”
“Life isn’t a recipe you plan, measure out, then cook. It’s time you realized that.”
Hannah ran her fingers through her mussed hair. “Don’t lecture me either. You’re not here on the front line.”
“What’s the matter? Is the builder a hard nut to crack?”
Hannah pictured again Guthrie wiping grass clippings off his face. Later on the ride home, his grin had made her anger with him melt away. Now she didn’t know if she felt like laughing or crying. “The house is just a foundation.”
“What!”
“You heard me,” Hannah grumbled.
“Why?”
Hannah explained the facts of the situation, then finished, “But the kicker is the builder has told them he would let them out of the contract whenever they want.”
“He what? Is he for real?”
“Yes, he meant it.” Hannah stood up and walked to the window. The Front Street business district stretched before her, Carlson’s Auto Repair, the Kwikee Gas station-convenience store and the Bizzy Bee Beauty Shop.
“Then…what’s the problem?”
“Mom and Dad insist they want him to do it anyway!” Hannah had lost all her starch. She slumped into the straight chair at the small desk.
“What are you going to do then?”
Hannah sighed. “I wish I knew.” Glancing at the clothes hanging against the wall, she shook her head. She’d brought a designer wardrobe for Petite. Now her new fashionable clothes mocked her.
Spring went on, “Well, if Mother and Father are convinced that this is what they want, there doesn’t seem much you can do. Maybe you should just leave. You can always come back and stay with me if you need a place for a few weeks.”
“I’m not ready to give up yet, but…”
“Have you done any more thinking about what we talked over at lunch?” Spring’s voice became uncertain.
“You mean about finding Mother’s adoption papers?” Hannah felt a twinge of fear. Mother, what should I do? Obey you or do what’s best for you?
“Yes.”
“I’m still trying to decide, but what I think right now isn’t very important. All Mom and Dad’s stuff is in storage. And until they can get into their new home—”
“That’s where it will stay.” Spring paused. “If you need backup, just call me. I can get away from the Gardens with a day’s notice.”
“Thanks. But I don’t see anything you could do here.” Hannah paused, then perked up. “Oh! A thought just occurred to me.”
“What?” Spring sounded excited.
“I’ll tell you if it works.”
“All right. Keep in touch. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
At five that evening, Hannah walked between her parents down the crumbling sidewalk of Front Street, then turned up Church Street. They’d been invited to eat supper with Guthrie’s family. Hannah hoped meeting Guthrie with his family wouldn’t be awkward. She still felt embarrassed about the roof incident. What must they think of her?
“You’ll love Martha, dear,” Mom said. “She is so warmhearted.”
“A good cook, too.” Dad grinned. “Not quite up to your mother’s standards, but good.”
Hannah listened as her parents teased each other. The thought that had come to her as she’d talked with Spring that afternoon had rolled around in her mind ever since. She didn’t think this would work, but she had to try it. She’d talk to Guthrie. He might agree. He might.
“Martha Thomas’s daughter’s name is Lynda Garrett.”
“Yes.” Hannah was used to her mother priming her with social details.
“Lynda’s children are Amber, Jenna and Hunter. They are six, five and four.”
“She’s got her hands full! What’s her husband’s name?”
Dad spoke. “That’s the unfortunate part. Lynda’s husband deserted them just after Hunter was born.”
“How awful!” At least, Edward had figured out he didn’t want her before they were married.
“Yes. After that, Martha moved into town to live with her daughter and help out. But Lynda is wonderful. She’s earned an associate deg
ree at the community college and has just gotten a job as an executive assistant.”
“I’m glad.” Hannah concentrated on recalling all the names she’d just heard—Martha, the mom, Lynda, the daughter, Amber, Jenna, and Hunter, the kids. Would she have a chance to talk to Guthrie alone?
They arrived at the Thomas home, a small yellow house, and walked to the front door. A little blond girl in braids and red shorts waited at the door to the large screened-in porch. She squealed, “Grandma, they’re here!” She swung the door wide open and launched herself into Garner’s waiting arms.
He caught her. “Hi, pumpkin, what’s for supper?” He planted a noisy smooch on the little girl’s cheek.
Nostalgic longing swirled through Hannah. She remembered when Dad had called her pumpkin and given her noisy kisses. In those days, he had always been able to solve every problem, soothe every fear. Hannah brought herself back to the present. Her parents needed her help now, and she wouldn’t fail them.
“Jenna, this is our middle daughter, Hannah.” Dad nodded.
“Hi.” Two huge brown eyes stared at her.
“Hi.” Hannah grinned.
Mom held the door open, and Hannah stepped inside, followed by her parents. A rush of greetings and introductions took place, and soon they all sat on the porch with glasses of iced tea in hand. A second little girl with short, dark hair, Amber, sat in her grandmother’s lap while blond Hunter played with a large plastic toy truck on the floor.
Martha, sitting across from Hannah, didn’t look anything like Hannah had expected. A slender woman, Martha wore stylish navy slacks and a plaid oxford short-sleeve shirt and pretty leather sandals. Her golden hair, threaded with silver, had been cut in an easy care but attractive style.
“Mrs. Thomas.” Hannah took a deep breath. “I want to apologize for yesterday—”
“Call me Martha and don’t give that another thought. Guthrie needs a good shaking up from time to time. You’ll meet my daughter soon. Lynda will be here in a few minutes. She called just before she left the office.” Martha stroked Amber’s back.
“Do you have any other children?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, my oldest, Brandon, is a lawyer in San Francisco.”
