Finally Home

by Lyn Cote

  Edith stopped, shaking her forefinger at them. “This is your final candy, Guthrie. Look at each other’s faces so you can communicate with your eyes and head. You’ve got to try harder or you’ll never win!”

  Hannah took the advice and focused on Guthrie’s face. She nodded downward, motioning him to kneel. With his straw pointed toward the ceiling to keep from losing their final candy, he slipped slowly to his knees. She followed suit, then bent her head low. He leaned forward. The straw wavered in front of her eyes, then she glanced to his face. She nearly laughed out loud. His concentration was so intense! She stifled her amusement and held very still.

  Their final candy inched its way down Guthrie’s straw. Hannah, touching her straw to his, held her breath. The candy slowly, tremulously moved from his straw to hers. It slid down and bumped her lips.

  “Guthrie and Hannah win!” Edith and Ida crowed. The sisters presented them each with a super-size candy bar. “Now for the spoon-link race!”

  This game involved a race between the two lines. Each line was given a spoon tied to a long string. “Now,” Ida instructed, “each of you must drop the spoon down your neckline and shake it out the bottom of your pant leg. No hands allowed!”

  Edith shook her head and frowned. “I must say, if you ladies had worn dresses, you would have found this much easier. And it’s good none of you wore those tight blue jeans! But as it is, everyone, please take off any belts, and you may unbutton your waist buttons. Now the team that connects every member in the line with their string first will win!” She handed one spoon to Hannah and one to Guthrie.

  Momentarily, they stared at each other, then Hannah dropped the spoon into her kelly-green T-shirt. The cold metal made her shiver and of course the spoon immediately caught in her décolleté. She jumped up and down to dislodge it. The women of her team shouted encouragement. She glanced at Guthrie and saw he was jumping up and down also, trying to get the spoon to slide past his waistband into his cutoffs. She started giggling and couldn’t stop. Finally, after she imitated a woman with ants crawling up her leg, the spoon clattered to the floor below her right shorts leg.

  Becky snatched it up and dropped it down her neckline. Hannah shouted encouragement and instructions to her. Becky wiggled, jiggled, twisted and shimmied. Finally, it slid to the floor. Lynda grabbed it and shoved it down her neckline. Watching Lynda’s gyrations, Hannah screamed with laughter. Everyone in both lines was laughing.

  Hannah gasped for breath, then began cheering as her team won. “Yeah! Yeah!”

  Looking forlorn, Ted had the spoon dangling from his shirttail. “Not fair! Not fair!” the guys complained.

  Ida and Edith shook their heads at the male team but beamed at the ladies. “Well done! Now for our final game—musical chairs!” The twin aunts bullied the guys into setting up a double row of back-to-back chairs with one less chair than was needed. Then they made Lynda show them how to work the CD player.

  So to the sound of lively rock and roll, the singles all trooped around the back-to-back line of chairs, anticipating the inevitable stopping of the music. During the fourth round, Hannah landed on Guthrie’s lap instead of the chair. For only a second, she processed the shock of feeling Guthrie’s hard thighs beneath her. Blushing, she popped up and complained, “He stole my chair!”

  Ida and Edith waved her away from the line of chairs. “No sore losers, Hannah!”

  After Hannah’s elimination, the competition became cutthroat. Several more competitors landed in laps instead of chairs, and teasing accusations of cheating echoed off the church basement walls.

  Finally, it was down to Lynda, Billy and Guthrie. To a rocking golden oldie, the trio stalked around in a circle, their fingers never leaving the backs of the two remaining straight chairs, their gazes never leaving the faces of their competitors.

  The music stopped.

  Guthrie thumped down onto a chair, but Lynda docked on Billy’s lap. Guthrie jumped up, fire in his eyes.

  “Wonderful!” a voice called.

  Hannah turned to see her father and mother enter.

  “Wonderful!” her father repeated. “Everyone looks like they’re having a great time!”

  But what Guthrie whispered in an undertone to Billy caught Hannah’s ear and stabbed her heart. “You can make up to my sister all you want, but don’t think I’ll ever forget what you did to my father.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The last ones left in the church, Hannah and Guthrie were standing side by side in the church kitchen. The lemon scent of dish detergent floated above the sink. Hannah had planned it that way, though she’d practically had to tie him to her leg to keep him from following Billy and Lynda out the door. She couldn’t put off talking to Guthrie about the changes she’d seen in him since Billy’s return. Hannah handed Guthrie the final dish to dry and stared at him.

  The words he’d whispered to Billy still burned in her ears. Whatever Billy had done to Lynda and Guthrie’s father in the past was nothing to what it was doing to Guthrie right now. She didn’t know if she was the best person to speak, but she couldn’t call herself Guthrie’s friend and let this go on. She pulled out the drain stopper and watched as the last of the suds was sucked down the drain.

  She turned, took the dried dish from Guthrie’s hand and gently pushed him to sit at the small built-in table in the nook of the kitchen. She switched the large overhead light off and sat across from him, only the low light from the nearby stove’s range hood illuminating the room. “Guthrie, this has gone on long enough. It’s time for you to get rid of the anger and leftover pain that Billy’s responsible for. That’s the easiest way I can say it. Please tell me everything that happened so you can put it behind you and start being Guthrie again.”

  He looked stunned, then recovered enough to frown. “I’m still Guthrie,” he said in a prickly tone.

  “No, you’re not. You haven’t been the same man since Billy came back to town.”

  Folding his large hands on the pine table, Guthrie wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Just tell me. I’m your friend. We’ll pray about it. Please give it up. Let God start healing your damaged heart.” She reached over and slipped her hand between both of his. His rough hands reminded her of what a hardworking, faithful man he was. In the short time she’d known him he had won her respect and liking. “Only God has that healing power. He wants the best for you.” Guthrie, don’t fight it anymore.

  He pushed back on his seat and stretched his legs out on each side of hers. He drew in air, then let it out slowly. “You should know the whole story. So you’ll understand why he can’t be trusted.” He made eye contact with her, but only for an instant. “I told you about how Billy stole Lynda’s car and the money she’d saved?”

  She squeezed his warm hand and nodded.

  “My father had cancer…he was dying of it.”

  Oh, no. What a dreadful combination. “I didn’t know that. I just knew that you’d lost him earlier than you had expected.” She lay her other hand over his.

  Guthrie stared at the wall above her head. “Billy wrecked the car he stole. He was out near our farmhouse. Dad was there with Aunt Ida and Aunt Edith. He’d been too sick to go to the hospital to be with Lynda when she was having Hunter. Billy walked to our farmhouse and hot-wired our old truck.”

  Hannah closed her eyes and bent her head, the burden of callous sin, not even her own, weighing her down. How could you, Billy? How could you pile betrayal on top of betrayal?

  “My dad heard the noise and managed to get outside. Aunt Ida said Billy nearly ran my dad down when he tried to stop Billy.” Guthrie drew in breath. “I know Dad was already failing, dying, but his last few weeks were made hellish by worry over Lynda…disappointment over how Billy had treated her and the children.”

  “It multiplied your grief.” Hannah tightened her grip on his strong hands.

  “It was…awful.”

  Hannah didn’t speak. She waited, giving both of them time to recover from
the ordeal of putting Billy’s sins into words. She longed to draw Guthrie’s hand to her cheek so she could cradle it there, a sign of comfort, sharing.

  Finally, she murmured, “But all that is in the past. Your being angry isn’t going to spare your father any pain. He’s with God, beyond pain. All the tears have been wiped from his eyes. Don’t you think he wants you to be happy? And Lynda and the children?”

  “Of course, but I just don’t trust Billy.”

  “You have to have faith. Faith is things hoped for. Right now, Guthrie, you’ve become the problem.”

  “Me?” He looked aghast, disgruntled.

  She nodded. “You’re upsetting your whole family. I told you before—you can’t control anyone’s feelings but your own. You can’t stop Lynda from wanting to trust her ex-husband again or Billy from hurting his family again if he decides to go back to his old ways.

  “All you can do is get out of the way, not create problems for Lynda and her family. Don’t you think Lynda’s children will begin to pick up on your animosity toward their father? How will that affect them? Don’t you see that?”

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back, stretching his neck until the top of his head touched the wall behind him. He finally nodded.

  A relieved sigh flowed through Hannah. Dear God, please let this family, this kind man, have a happy ending.

  Then, when she least expected it, Guthrie increased his pressure on her hands and drew them up to his lips.

  Her breath caught in her throat as his lips grazed her knuckles. How could such a powerful man be so tender, so gentle? He stood, pulling her to her feet. Her gaze never left his face as he drew her closer, closer…and bent his head.

  She lifted her face to him.

  From outside came the scream of a fire engine. The moment was shattered. She and Guthrie froze in place.

  “That sounds awfully close.” She thought of her parents, Guthrie’s nieces and nephews asleep in this village.

  “Let’s go!” Guthrie, still holding her hand, hurried through the darkened basement, then outside. In the cooler night air, he didn’t break stride. Hannah sprinted to keep up with him. Her concentration was directed to the horizon. It flickered with an unnatural light.

  Dear God, it’s right on Church or Front Street. Please don’t let anyone be injured. Protect the men who are fighting the fire. Her litany of prayers for safety kept pace with her legs. Her heart pounded with fear.

  Others from the small town joined the race with them. Ahead, the red lights of one, no, two fire engines turned, splashing their alien glare onto the pavement and the deserted houses. At the corner of Front and Church streets, Guthrie stopped.

  Hannah bumped against him. She gasped. “It’s the café!”

  Hanson’s Cozy Café disgorged tongues of flame and billows of coal-black smoke. The mounting smoke obscured the motel. “My parents!” She lurched forward.

  Guthrie caught her by both arms. “There! There they are!”

  She swung around and followed Guthrie’s nod. Her parents stood well away from the fire with Lila by their side. “Mom! Dad! The kittens!” Guthrie released her. She hurried to them and threw her arms around them both.

  “Oh, Hannah!” her mother wailed. “We were only able to get the kittens and your laptop out! The smoke, the water will damage everything the fire doesn’t destroy! All your beautiful new clothes!”

  Not able to speak, Hannah squeezed, her arms stretched around both her parents at once. Safe! They’re all safe, even the kittens! Thank you, God!

  Nearby, her eyes awash with tears, Lila kept moaning, “How could this happen? How?”

  Firemen shouted to each other. The engines churned, powering the pumps and lighting the scene. Windows in the motel exploded from the heat. Water hissed as it quenched flame.

  Finally, the fire surrendered, drenched into extinction. The café had been demolished by water and flame. The motel stood blackened and empty. The odor of burned wood and melted plastic fouled the air.

  Hannah shivered in the dark chill of midnight and folded her arms around herself. Though she’d only brought her writing and clothes with her to Petite, she was experiencing a keen sense of loss, disorientation. I have no place to go.

  In twos and threes, those who’d come to watch began drifting to their homes. Everyone stopped to say a word to Lila or to hug her. Ida and Edith insisted that Lila come home with them for the night.

  Lila tried to refuse.

  But Ida insisted. “No, no, Lila, you shouldn’t be alone after something like this. We’ll make you a cup of hot chamomile tea, then you can sleep in our guest bedroom upstairs.”

  “Absolutely. You mustn’t be alone,” Edith agreed. “We are happy to be able to do something for our neighbor.”

  Hannah watched the two old ladies lead the disheveled and silent Lila away.

  Hannah’s father spoke. “Well, it’s good we left our car parked at the church. I guess we’d better drive to Portage and see about a hotel room.”

  “No.” Guthrie appeared beside her and her parents. “I’ve got a whole farmhouse to myself.”

  Hannah stared at him, his words taking her by surprise.

  “Oh, no, we couldn’t impose,” her mother said.

  Guthrie shook his head with no-nonsense determination. “I’m not letting you three go to another motel. Now come on. Hannah’s SUV and my truck are still parked at the church.” He turned to her. “Are you in shape to drive?”

  She nodded, too tired, too shocked at this turn of events to object.

  “Then you can drive your parents and follow me out to the farm.”

  Hannah felt unable to form an opposing opinion. Too much had transpired in too short a time. Mom had made the right choice in the thing she’d salvaged. The laptop with all her writing on it was the one thing Hannah couldn’t do without. But what a feeling! She didn’t even have a toothbrush to take to Guthrie’s! And did she want to stay in Guthrie’s house? At the moment, she didn’t have the luxury of choice.

  A lowing of cattle woke Hannah. For a few seconds, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then scenes from the night before, the Twenty-One Plus Night at church and the fire, cascaded through her mind. She closed her eyes, then with a sigh opened them again.

  In the dark early morning hours, Guthrie had led her parents and her up to rooms on the second floor. Her parents had taken the room across the hall from her. After they’d gone into their room, Guthrie had murmured that this room had been his sister’s, then left her with a pair of his folded cotton pajamas in her hand. She pictured it like a scene in an old black-and-white movie. The two of them, standing close in the dark hallway, the funny feeling of wanting to move into his arms, but knowing she couldn’t.

  Hannah got out of bed. Holding up the too-long pajama legs like folds of a long skirt, she walked to the old-fashioned double-hung window. Guthrie’s dairy feeder cattle wandered, grazing, spread out over the muted green and golden pastures. The faded pink curtain beside her was soft under her fingertips. She bent her head against the wooden window frame.

  How would she and her parents adjust to being, in effect, homeless? It was a peculiar feeling. Lila’s Cozy Motel hadn’t been a five-star hotel, but it had begun to feel like home. What now? Should she go back to Milwaukee and move in with Spring or to Madison and bunk with Doree? Neither appealed at all. Her parents needed her, and the idea of leaving Guthrie behind left her feeling empty.

  Guthrie almost kissed you last night, her conscience whispered. You shouldn’t lead him on when you don’t intend to fall in love with him.

  “Too late,” she murmured with dawning dismay. How could I help falling in love with Guthrie?

  You just ended a three-year engagement— Her conscience broke off at a tap on her door.

  “Hannah, the coffee’s ready down in the kitchen.”

  Guthrie’s voice made her spine tingle.

  “All right,” she called in a voice that didn’t sound quite like her own
.

  She listened to his footsteps shuffle quickly down the wooden steps. Not having any choice, she shrugged out of the oversize pj’s and into her fire-scented shorts outfit from last night and quickly made her bed. She knocked at her parents’ door, but found the room empty. Were they downstairs or was she all alone in the farmhouse with Guthrie? Phantom butterflies fluttered their gossamer wings in her stomach.

  In the kitchen, Guthrie lounged at the table sipping coffee, alone.

  “Where are my mom and dad?” she asked, pausing in the doorway.

  He motioned her to help herself to the pot of coffee still warming on the old white porcelain stove. A mug decorated with yellow daisies and a spoon had been set out for her on the nicked Formica counter.

  Feeling as self-conscious as a new child in a strange school, she made a wide circuit around him.

  “They went to Portage hospital to visit one of the volunteer firemen who was burned last night.”

  His words startled her. She halted her first sip of the hot coffee. “Was he seriously hurt?”

  “No, just some second-degree burns on his face and hands. But he’s on oxygen until his lungs clear a bit more. He should be home by tomorrow. Your mom said she’d stop and pick up some clothing and toiletries for you. She said she knew you wanted to write today.”

  Write today? It was the farthest thing from her mind. Hannah sat across from Guthrie and tried not to stare at him. She’d been alone with this man many times over the past weeks, but had never experienced quite the same sensation. She couldn’t take her gaze from him. The gold of his corn silk hair, the way it curled around his ears, the squareness of his determined jaw…

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I’ve just ended an engagement. I’m vulnerable. Rebound bait, Doree had called her in a recent phone call. And I’ve spent a lot of time with this man. These are just feelings, and they will vanish all by themselves if I ignore them. I’ll pack up my stuff from the motel and move into one closer to Portage. That will take care of these…longings.

  She opened her eyes.