Finally Home

by Lyn Cote

  “Don’t disturb your aunts. Come to the front door with me.” The side entrance had been sandbagged shut, along with the whole foundation of the church, to keep water out. This precaution had been taken even though the church sat on a rise above most of Petite.

  Upstairs, Hannah opened the double church doors. A gray dawn met her gaze. The chill rain poured down like a constant running faucet. The sound irritated her. Why couldn’t it just stop?

  “We’ll come out with you,” Jenna offered.

  “No! Don’t you dare step a foot outside. If you do, I’ll come right back in.” Hannah fastened her slicker and pulled a small flashlight from her pocket. “Now go sit by a window and watch me.”

  The little girls turned away, and Hannah closed the door firmly behind her. She walked down the rain-slick steps. Rain splashed into her face. Wind whistled through the leaves above, giving the wind a voice. Shouting echoed in the distance, farther up the shoreline. The crew had made progress building the barrier against the rising water. The flood crest should come in a few hours. Either the sandbags would hold the water at bay, or they wouldn’t.

  Hannah knew she’d have to return to the sandbagging after breakfast. The all-night crew would be ready to be replaced. Doree was out there in the shadowy predawn. Mom and Dad had probably gone to Guthrie’s for a few hours of sleep. Her little kitty, Sunny, probably slept at the end of their bed.

  “Misty. Misty,” she called in a high, sweet cat-calling tone. “Here kitty, kitty.” She stumbled through the muddy parking lot, filled with familiar and unfamiliar vehicles. She bent over, looking underneath them, thinking the cat might be hiding under one.

  She dragged herself down one aisle of mud-splashed vehicles, then another until she came to the north edge of the lot. “Misty, here kitty.”

  “Me…eee…uuuu,” a little feline voice pleaded. “Me…eee…uuuu.”

  Hannah looked up to see the drenched kitten halfway up an old oak tree at the edge of the church cemetery just beyond the parking lot. Some noise, some stray dog must have frightened the kitten into scampering high. Well, the kitten hadn’t gotten very far up, and the tree wasn’t too high or hard to climb. She could rescue Misty. She waved at the church windows and pointed toward the cat. She wanted the girls to know she’d found their kitten.

  She took hold of the lowest branch and tried to walk her feet up the gnarled trunk. Her feet slid down. She dropped her hold and shook off her boots and tried again in her socks. She needed to grip the tree with her feet. This time she made it and swung herself up and around to sit on the branch, which swayed with her weight. “Come on,” she murmured to the tree, “I’m not that heavy.”

  Reaching up, she grasped the next branch and stood, then hoisted herself onto the branch where Misty crouched.

  “Hold on, Misty.” Hannah sat on the branch. “I’ll get you.” She continued to talk to the kitten to keep the little creature from being frightened into climbing higher. “Come here, Misty. Here, kitty, kitty.”

  Soaked to her skin and trembling with the cold, Misty mewled more plaintively than ever. The frightened kitten didn’t budge.

  “Oh, dear.” Hannah sighed. She inched out on the branch slowly, slowly, then caught the kitten with the tips of her fingers and dragged it to her. The limb beneath them swayed. Cradling the kitten close to her, she made comforting sounds to Misty.

  Ever so carefully, Hannah shoved herself in reverse until her back touched the trunk of the tree. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her weariness had sapped her reserve energy. She leaned against the trunk and hoped for a spurt of energy. And how could she get down one-handed?

  “Hannah.” Guthrie’s unexpected voice came from below her. “Can you get down?”

  “No, I don’t think I can. I just have no energy, and the branches are so slippery. I’m afraid I’ll drop the kitten.” Her words tumbled out one on top of the other.

  “Wait there. I’ll get my truck.”

  Hannah couldn’t figure out what the truck could do for a cat in a tree, but her mind was too fuzzy to think. Within minutes, she heard the truck park underneath her.

  “Okay, Hannah, look at me.”

  She glanced down at Guthrie, who was standing in his truck bed right beneath her.

  “Now lean forward, wrap one arm around the branch in front of you and hand Misty down to me.”

  Hannah obeyed. Her fingertips held the kitten about two feet above Guthrie’s hands.

  “Just drop her. I’ll catch her.”

  She let go of the kitten and Guthrie caught it.

  “Now wrap both arms around the branch and let your feet down. Then I’ll be able to get hold of you.”

  Again she followed directions. Just as her hold on the limb slipped way, she found herself sliding into Guthrie’s brawny arms. She tucked her chin against his neck and rested on his strength. Safe.

  “Oh, Hannah,” Guthrie murmured. “Only you would climb a tree in the middle of a deluge to rescue a kitten, even if you are exhausted and even if you didn’t know how you could get down. You wonderful, crazy, hardheaded woman!” He hugged her.

  “I’ve been an idiot getting mad and not paying you the attention I should. You’re right—whatever happened to Bill and Lynda, what does that mean to us? So Deirdre didn’t love me or my brother. What does this have to do with us? Have I ruined everything we could have between us, getting stuck in the past, holding onto the pain? I love you, Hannah. I see that now, and nothing will ever change it. You sweet, loving woman.” He kissed her. Again. Again. “Hannah, my sweet Hannah.”

  Clinging to his shoulders, Hannah gave herself up to the bountiful sensations and deep emotions stirred by kissing Guthrie. This man is the one, Lord! I see it, feel it so clearly now! She couldn’t stop kissing him. “I love you, too, you stubborn, irritating, wonderful man.”

  Rain flowed over their heads like a shower of blessing, a baptism of love. Hannah clung to Guthrie. His warmth joined with hers overcame the nip of the dawn. Holding him and being held by him struck Hannah as the most wonderful gift she’d ever received.

  “Guthrie! Guthrie!” Aunt Ida scolded from the church doorway. “Bring Hannah and Misty in right now. You can finish kissing Hannah and proposing to her inside the church.”

  “Yes, you don’t want your bride to catch her death of cold!” Edith admonished.

  Guthrie looked at Hannah with a grin. “Will you?”

  She gazed into his blue, blue eyes, knowing that this was his proposal, honest and direct, just like the man. “I will, with all my heart.” On the outside, she was rain-soaked and bone tired. Inside, her heart glowed with her love for Guthrie and the knowledge that he loved her, too, with a down-to-earth, till-death-do-us-part love. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

  Hannah and Guthrie stopped to smile at each other. They’d finished painting the last wall of her parents’ new home. Outside the bay window, the first lazy snowflakes of winter floated down.

  Guthrie reached over and dabbed his paintbrush, wet with light blue paint, on her nose.

  “Don’t start,” Hannah warned him, waving her brush provocatively.

  His brush held high, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  Hannah savored the spiral of warmth that curled through her. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

  “I love you, too, blue nose.” He tightened his embrace. “Are you sure we have to wait till May to get married?”

  “Hey, watch that stuff!” Lynda called as she walked inside. “It’s addictive!”

  “Too late! We’re already hooked.” Hannah smiled, but didn’t leave Guthrie’s luxurious embrace. With her free hand, she laid her brush across the paint can, and so did Guthrie.

  “Just came to say goodbye,” Bill said, entering after his wife. “I’m off to basic training.”

  Reluctantly abandoning her fiancé’s arms, Hannah went over and hugged Bill. “We’ll miss you.”

  “But you’re doing the right thing.” Smiling, Guthri
e shook Bill’s hand.

  Hannah rejoiced at the sight.

  Bill’s court date, which had taken him away during the flooding, had ended in a dismissal of all charges. With his slate clean, Bill had enlisted in the army, and his future with Lynda and the children was plotted out.

  After basic training, his family would accompany him for four years of military duty, after which Bill intended to enroll in college full-time for a career in counseling. Hannah always felt a little teary when she thought of Bill and Lynda’s reunion. And the mountain of sandbags they’d put up had protected Petite. The future looked bright for the small town. Praise God, everything had turned out well.

  “This house is going to be just lovely.” Lynda looked around with admiration.

  Guthrie nodded. “Just needs the carpet to be laid, then we put up the last trim.”

  “And my parents will be in before Christmas.” Hannah returned to Guthrie’s side. When they were in a room together, she couldn’t bear to be away from him. She was beginning to plumb the meaning of “the two shall become one.” To her, holding Guthrie’s hand had become essential, akin to breathing.

  “This is going to be the best holiday season for the Thomas family in years.” Lynda beamed. “Bill and I are back together even if we’ll be apart for Christmas Day itself. Getting back together was something I never even thought I’d want to be possible.”

  “But I feel bad for Brandon. Deirdre is going on with the divorce,” Bill said somberly.

  “But he’s regained his family,” Hannah said with a bright smile. Before Brandon had flown back to San Francisco, he and Guthrie had reconciled. Brandon had decided to make a completely fresh start and relocate from San Francisco to Chicago. Guthrie was going down to Chicago to meet Brandon and help him get settled. “He’ll be moved to Illinois by December, and we’ll be home in Petite for Christmas.”

  “Mom’s thrilled.” Lynda’s smile brought a glow to her expression.

  “My sisters will both be here, too.” Hannah beamed with happiness.

  His arm around Hannah’s shoulders, Guthrie leaned his cheek against her hair, breathing in her sweet spicy fragrance. Warm joy flowed through him. Thank you, God. He gazed at Hannah, then Lynda and Bill. “We’ve been blessed.”

  Epilogue

  Her bedside clock told Hannah it was after midnight. The house had been quiet for over an hour. Feeling like a criminal, Hannah crept out of her room and down the hall to her father’s office. Her parents and she had moved into their new house the second week of December, three days ago. Spring and Doree were due to spend the Christmas holiday in Petite. Hannah wanted to get the search for the birth certificate over before the hectic days of the holiday began.

  She eased open the office door and silently closed it without latching it, afraid the click would sound like a gunshot in the silent house. She hadn’t wanted to go against her mother’s wishes or invade her parent’s privacy, but she’d agreed because, with her mother’s diagnosis, it was a good idea to discover her mother’s natural parents. She couldn’t chicken out now.

  She went directly to the tall gray filing cabinet, which she knew held the family records. She slid the top drawer open, then switched on the desk lamp. Fingering through the drawer, she located a file headed Birth Certificates, Passports and Social Security Cards.

  She paged through it, glancing at her birth certificate and her sisters’, her father’s, then her mother’s. She gazed at the document in disbelief.

  The door to the office opened behind her. “Hannah? Is there anything wrong?”

  Her father’s voice made her gasp. She stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “I heard you get up and come into my office. What’s the matter?”

  Caught in the act. Hannah’s guilt made her face flushed and hot. “Hi.”

  “Why are you looking through the family files?”

  Her pulse racing, she couldn’t lie to her father. “I needed to see Mother’s birth certificate.”

  “Why?”

  Had she blown it completely? “Is Mother awake, too?”

  “No, she’s still asleep. Why did you need her birth certificate?”

  Hannah cleared her throat and straightened. “Spring, Doree and I, decided we needed to find Mother’s natural family.”

  Her father studied her for a few long breathless moments. “Does this have something to do with your mother’s leukemia?”

  “Yes.” Hannah heaved a sigh of relief. “We want to find her family in case we need to contact them for a bone marrow transplant in the future.”

  “Your mother told you girls she didn’t want to do that.”

  Hannah nodded, wishing her two sisters were there to take some of the heat. She needed Spring’s quiet eloquence and Doree’s brash confidence. “We want to do this for our own peace of mind. If Mother’s leukemia comes back, we want to have the information ready if she should change her mind. We wouldn’t say anything unless she decided she wanted to know. We just want to be prepared.”

  Again, her father stared at her, searching her face for answers. “I can understand that, but you won’t find any information on her birth certificate.”

  Praying he would know the reason, Hannah handed him the document. “I see that. It doesn’t say anything about Mom being adopted! Why doesn’t it?”

  He took the paper. “Adoption was much different in the 1940s. When an adoption took place, a new birth certificate was issued with the adoptive parents listed, not the birth parents.”

  Hannah’s hope fizzled and died. “Then how do we find out who the birth parents were?”

  Dad pursed his lips in the way that told Hannah he was holding something back.

  His expression gave her hope. “Do you know something about Mom’s birth?”

  He frowned.

  “Dad, please tell me.” She stepped closer and touched his arm. “We just want to help.”

  “I’m certain your motives are pure, but I don’t like to go against your mother’s wishes. She has always maintained that she didn’t want or need to know about her natural parents.”

  He put a comforting arm around Hannah. “You don’t understand, but it used to be a disgrace to have a child out of wedlock. Your mother doesn’t want to bring back painful memories to her parents. And there’s a good chance they might not even still be alive, you know.”

  “If you know something, Dad, please tell me.” She leaned her head against his chin.

  “I do have some information.” He paused. “Your grandmother gave it to me on her deathbed. I’ve never even told Ethel about it. Her adoptive mother told me not to mention it unless Ethel wanted to know about her birth.”

  Please tell me, Daddy. Mom needs to have the information. “Dad, we’re doing this for Mom.”

  “I know, dear, but I can’t just give the information to you because you want it, not when it violates your mother’s wishes. That’s not how your mother and I run our marriage. To go against her, I need to pray for guidance in this. I’ll have to take some time before I can give you an answer.”

  Hannah knew better than to argue. If her father said he was going to pray about something, he prayed. She and her sisters would just have to wait and pray that her father would be moved to give them the information they needed to be prepared to help their mother. At least, he hadn’t given her a flat no. Oh, Lord, is what we want to do right? Are we on the right track? If we are, please let our father give us the information we need.

  Dear Reader,

  I don’t need to tell you how important family is. I hope you were touched by Guthrie, a man who loved and supported his abandoned sister and her fatherless children. To forgive people who’ve hurt us is hard enough, but to forgive those who’ve wounded those we love sometimes feels impossible.

  God sent Hannah to help Guthrie forgive his prodigal brother-in-law and then his own brother. Only after Guthrie had shed the painful past through forgiveness was he free to gain Hannah’s love.

  This novel
was the story of Hannah’s love. The next story is about her older sister, Spring, and an exciting man from her past. Over both stories, though, hangs the question of their mother’s past. Will the sisters find the grandparents they seek?

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-2238-0

  FINALLY HOME

  Copyright © 2001 by Lyn Cote

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

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