Hannah's List (24 page)

A
lthough I had difficulty admitting it, I was looking forward to seeing Macy in the morning. Still high from the poker game with my friends, I walked into the office with a bounce to my step. Linda immediately noticed my good mood. She raised her head and stared at me.

“Is Macy here yet?” I asked.

“She’s coming in today?”

“That’s what she said,” I told her.

“Well, she hasn’t shown up yet.”

I nodded and continued down the hallway, pausing long enough to take a fresh look at the half-finished mural. I appreciated Macy’s talent anew, and wondered why I’d ever thought she was merely an adequate artist. As my staff kept marveling, she’d done a splendid job. I’d seen how well children and adults alike responded to the painting.
I’d watched the kids glow with delight and point to various animals among the vibrant jungle foliage.

The painting had a curious effect on everyone, from my staff whose mood had brightened perceptibly to my patients who seemed livelier, less apprehensive. Or maybe the change had been in me.

I
was
different, I realized. And it was because of Macy. That made me question whether I was falling in love with her, as her neighbor claimed. A protest reverberated instantly in my head.

A relationship with Macy would never work. By her own admission, she wasn’t good at relationships. Besides, Macy and I were worlds apart in every possible way. I liked things orderly while she seemed to thrive on chaos. I was probably ten years older than she was. I tended to be self-contained and she…well, Macy shared everything. No, I couldn’t ever see this working, regardless of Hannah’s opinion.

Okay, okay, I was willing to admit the attraction was there; neither of us could deny it. We’d kissed once and I’d felt that kiss in every cell of my being.

I moved on to my office; Linda came over to hand me Cody Goetz’s file. The boy needed a health form filled in for an overnight summer camp he’d be attending. Linda didn’t say anything but scrutinized me so intently, I grew uncomfortable.

I reached briskly for my stethoscope and jacket and headed toward the exam room where Cody, my first patient of the day, was waiting.

By ten o’clock, when Macy still hadn’t appeared, I was beginning to feel concerned.

Despite knowing how unsuited we were, I wanted to see her. I even wanted to hear her infernal humming. I just wanted her with me, close to me. Because she made me feel
alive
. It wasn’t simply about attraction in a sexual sense; it was bigger than that—the attraction of one life to another.

Hannah had been so right. In her letter she’d said that her life had ended, but that mine would go on. In the fourteen months since I’d laid her to rest, I’d lived in a state of limbo, shuffling from one day to the next, doing my utmost to hang on to the past, clinging to memories, to Hannah.

How well she knew me, how well she’d known how I’d react once she left this world. But for the first time since I’d lost her, I felt not only alive, but—to my complete surprise—happy. I saw now that her letter had freed me; it’d given me permission to live. The letter, with her list, was a testament of her love. I would always cherish the years I had with Hannah. But now I could find love again, find happiness, experience everything life had to offer. Without guilt and without regrets.

At eleven I took a short break between patients and phoned Macy’s house. No one answered, which most likely meant she was on her way. Joyful expectation spread through me. I knew my staff would welcome her back with enthusiasm—and chocolate. I’d seen her name on a box of Mount Rainier mint truffles.

By lunchtime my patience had worn thin. Where
was
Macy? I’d assumed she’d meant to start work in the morning. Had I misunderstood her? No, I clearly recalled her telling me she’d show up first thing. I also remembered my excitement at the prospect of seeing her so soon.

As it turned out Macy didn’t arrive until almost two. She burst into the office, wearing a rainbow of colors. Linda and the others gathered around her, acting as if she’d been away for months instead of days, bombarding her with questions. She was like sunshine exploding across a dark horizon, flooding the earth with light and life and laughter.

While she answered their questions and hugged each person, I noticed that her gaze sought me out. Her eyes were warm and full of unspoken affection.

The best I could offer her was a faint grin. After a respectable length of time, the staff drifted back to their jobs, and I finally approached her. “I thought you said you’d be here this morning,” I said. I immediately felt that remark had been too miserly, but she didn’t react.

“Oh, Michael,” she said, still smiling. “I had the most fabulous morning. I can’t wait to tell you about it.”

“You’ll have to tell him later,” Linda said, placing her hands on my shoulders and steering me away. “Right now, Dr. Everett has to get back to his patients.”

“Okay, okay.” I glanced over my shoulder and nearly drowned in Macy’s smile. It was all I could do to focus on my work.

Our eyes stayed connected for a moment and then she picked up her paintbrush and I went into the exam room to check on Ted Malcom, a five-year-old who’d broken his
right leg falling off a swing set. He’d destroyed three casts in less than a month, which was something of a feat. The poor kid wanted to play with his friends, run and swim in the summer sunshine. He tried to do all those things despite the cast, which was repeatedly ruined by water and rough treatment.

His mother was frustrated with her son and worried about his recovery.

“Hi, Lucy,” I said as I knelt down in front of the boy. His mom smiled tightly.

“Ted,” I began.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“I think I see the problem here.”

Ted looked at the floor. “I don’t want to wear a cast.”

“I wouldn’t, either. You can have a lot more fun without a cast weighing down your leg, can’t you?”

With his head so low his chin was practically on his chest, Ted asked, “Are you mad at me? My mom is.” He squinted up at her through his lashes.

“I’m not mad,” I told him, “because as I said, I think I understand the problem. This cast is boring. You need it decorated.”

“Decorated?”

I got up and opened the door. “Macy, could you step in here for a moment?”

She looked confused, but did as I asked. I explained the situation to her and, as I spoke, I saw her eyes light up. “I have just the solution,” she declared.

“You do?” Ted asked.

“Let me get my supplies.”

I left the three of them and went into the adjoining exam room. I saw three patients, one after another, and when I returned to the first room, Macy was nearly finished. She’d painted dinosaurs of different kinds all around the cast, cleverly positioning them.

“Do you like it?” I asked Ted.

He grinned from ear to ear. “It’s way cool.”

“Cool enough for your friends to admire?”

He nodded eagerly.

“That’s what I thought, too. Do you want to keep this one?”

Again he nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll see you back here when it’s ready to come off.”

He grinned again and we bumped fists and added a high five.

Ted’s mother grasped my arm. “Thank you for coming up with this. And, Macy, thank
you
. It’s a work of art. Would you sign it, please?”

Macy shrugged off the praise, but used my pen to write her signature on the cast. She collected her paints and returned to the hallway. I was feeling good about my solution for Ted and wanted to thank Macy myself. But when I went in search of her, I discovered she’d gone for the day.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I asked Linda in bewilderment. “Did she have another appointment?”

“Not that she said.” Linda appeared as baffled as I was. “I have a feeling Macy does that fairly often.”

“Leaves for no reason? Why?” I didn’t understand it, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Macy had warned me, after all, that she frequently lost interest in projects halfway through.

“I don’t think she knows. But then again…maybe she does.”

Linda liked to speak in cryptic sentences. “What does that mean?” I asked bluntly.

“She likes you.”

“So she avoids me?” Which, of course, was the same thing I’d done after her accident.

“Maybe you should just ask Macy,” Linda advised.

“Ask her what?” I said. “Ask her about being here one minute and gone the next?” I despaired of ever understanding Macy. Give me a cranky four-year-old any day.

Linda patted my arm sympathetically, then clapped a file in my outstretched hands. “Talk to her and you’ll both feel better.”

An hour later, I tried Macy’s home phone. She didn’t answer. Nor did she pick up thirty minutes after that. When I was done for the day, I decided to stop by her house and find out what was going on. I hoped Linda’s advice worked. Maybe I’d invite Macy to dinner…

By the time I parked in front of her house, I was happily anticipating an evening in her company. As Hannah had promised, when Macy wasn’t frustrating me, she did make me smile.

I let myself through her gate and walked up the sidewalk to her front door. I rang the bell and waited. A cat, Peace,
I believe, leaped onto the living room windowsill. Peering into the house, I saw the other two cats asleep on the sofa. Macy was nowhere in sight.

“You looking for Macy?” Harvey called from his porch. Sammy stood at his side, tail wagging furiously. “In case you’re too dumb to figure it out, she isn’t home.”

“Where is she?” I asked, choosing to overlook the insult.

He didn’t answer. “I wondered if you’d come by,” he said in the gruff tone I’d come to expect from him. “If I was twenty years younger I’d punch your lights out.”

I bounded down Macy’s steps and hurried around to his porch.

“Okay, forty years younger,” he amended. “What did you say to Macy, anyway? I’ve never seen her this upset, outside of losing her grandmother, that is.”

I wasn’t spilling my guts to this old coot. “I didn’t say anything.”

“In case you don’t know it, young man, Macy is mighty special. I can’t understand why she cares about you, but then I don’t know why she pesters me with all this attention, either.”

“Did she say when she’d be back?” I asked, more eager to learn what she was upset about than to discuss his theories about her emotional attachments.

He shook his head. “You want to come inside for a beer?” he asked abruptly.

“Okay. As a matter of fact, I’d love one.” I had nothing more pressing to do and Macy would return eventually; I might as well stay here.

“Good.” When he held open the screen door, Sammy and I trotted into the house. Lowering himself onto his recliner, Harvey told me to retrieve the beers. When I joined him, he turned off the evening news. I sat down across from him on the couch, while Sammy lay on the rug, next to Harvey’s chair.

“You had dinner?” I asked.

“Don’t have much of an appetite these days.”

“How about a pizza?”

He considered the suggestion, then shrugged. “Sounds as good as anything else.”

I took out my cell. After more than a year of fending for myself, I had my favorite pizza delivery service on speed dial. I ordered the usual, then sat back and relaxed, gulping down a refreshing mouthful of beer.

“She has a private place she’ll go for a few hours when she’s upset,” Harvey said. “Don’t know where it is. She’s never told me, but my guess is she likes to walk along the Hood Canal. I’m sure she’ll be back soon—those cats want feeding.”

I put down my beer. “You love her, don’t you?” Most of the time, the old man pretended otherwise.

He snorted and looked me in the eye. “So do you.”

I began to argue and realized I was no different than Harvey. I hid my feelings, too, dodged emotions and their uncertainty, their messiness. Hannah had been the keeper of our emotional life. Now I was finding my way through this strange new existence.

Harvey’s eyes pierced straight through me. “Admit it. You love her.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I said reluctantly.

The old man shook his head. “Damn shame,” he muttered.

“What is?”

“She loves you, too. I’d always sort of hoped she’d marry me,” he said. His serious expression shocked me until I realized he was joking. Harvey joking? That was a switch.

He grinned and it seemed as though his facial muscles were stiff, unaccustomed to smiling. What I’d done to deserve his smile I couldn’t begin to guess.

I sat on the couch with my beer as we waited for our promised thirty-minutes-or-it’s-free pizza delivery. “Before she died, my wife wrote me a letter,” I said, unsure what had prompted this sudden confidence.

Then, before I could decide whether I should, I told Harvey everything. After having read Hannah’s letter countless times, I repeated it to him almost verbatim.

Harvey listened, not interrupting even once to ask questions.

“It took me a long time to understand why Hannah included Macy,” I finished.

He arched his brows as if to say that was the stupidest remark he’d ever heard. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. You’re still young. In another thirty years, you might wise up.”

I laughed. He meant it as an insult, but I didn’t take offense.

“You married a wise woman,” he said next.

“I did.” When people mentioned Hannah, I used to feel overwhelmed by grief and sadness. All I could think about was what I’d lost. Now I was starting to understand what
I’d been given in the years we’d had. That time together had been a priceless gift.

Another thought struck me and it was like being prodded out of sleep into wakefulness. A moment later I was on my feet.

“You going somewhere?” Harvey asked.

“No…I was thinking.” My mind was still spinning.
I’d been given another chance
. Macy was that chance. Through Hannah’s wisdom and the grace of God, I’d found Macy.

A car door closing caught my attention and I reached for my wallet to pay for the pizza.

“It’s Macy,” Harvey announced, looking out the window.

I didn’t need him to say another word. Opening the door, I ran down the steps.