Hannah's List

Dr. Everett exhaled slowly. "Tell me what's going on with Harvey."



"That's just it," she cried. "I don't know! I think it must be his heart or it could be a recurrence of malaria. He has weak spells and sometimes faints, but he brushes off my concern."



"Describe one of these spells."



"Okay," she murmured. "The other day I found him slouched in his chair without his hat. He always wears his hat because he doesn't tolerate the sun very well. Sammy knew something was wrong, too, because he came to get me."



"The dog?"



"Yes. Harvey was too weak to stand up. He hadn't eaten in a while so I heated up soup and brought that to him, but his weakness was due to more than an empty stomach. There was another time he blamed the fact that he hadn't eaten, but I knew he had. These spells seem to be happening more and more. It's scaring me. Something's wrong, I can feel it."



The doctor didn't say anything for a long moment. "You're probably right that it's his heart."



"Will you please come?"



He met her eyes.



"You don't have to pay me any more for the mural than this--the three-fifty--if you'll agree to come and meet Harvey." She'd offered to do the whole mural for free, and she would if he insisted, but she really could use the money. "All you have to do is meet him. I'd like you to talk to him a bit, though. Maybe you can figure out what's wrong."



"I doubt meeting your friend will do much good, Macy."



"He might listen to you."



"About what?"



"Seeing a doctor. I mean, for a real appointment. A checkup."



"When's the last time he was in to see a doctor?"



Macy smiled. "I asked him that, too, and he said it was when he enlisted in the marines."



He smiled. Dr. Everett actually smiled.



"Wow," she said aloud.



"Wow, what?"



"You're quite good-looking when you smile."



He immediately frowned. "About your friend..."



"You'd be willing to meet Harvey?" she asked, interrupting him for fear he'd be motivated by the insurance company and their small print instead of his own compassion and better judgment.



"Fine. And I'll pay you for the mural at the price we discussed."



"Okay. Thank you," she remembered to add.



His eyes narrowed. "You being agreeable is a new experience."



"It's important to me that you meet Harvey."



"You really do love this old man."



"Yes," she said, nodding vigorously. "He means the world to me. You'll like him, too, only don't be offended if he's a bit brusque or short-tempered. That's just his way. He doesn't mean anything by it." Macy hoped Harvey wouldn't be in one of his moods. He could get downright cantankerous.



"All right, Macy," Dr. Everett said in a resigned voice. "As I told you, I'll meet your friend."



She folded her hands as though in prayer. "Thank you, oh, thank you so much."



"I can't promise I'll be able to diagnose what's wrong with him."



"I know, and I'm not asking you to do anything more than meet him because it could get you into trouble." She rushed around his desk and threw both arms around his neck. She could tell he didn't care for her show of gratitude, but she couldn't resist.



"Macy! Stop it!"



"Sorry, it's just that this means so much to me. Can you come next week? Monday?"



"I'm not sure yet. In any event, all I can do is convince, uh, Harvey to see a physician. I have a friend I'll recommend."



"That would be perfect." She had a fleeting thought that maybe he could take a look at Snowball, too, but didn't mention that.



"Are we finished?" he asked.



"For now," she said. Macy felt wonderful. Everything had fallen into place exactly as it should.



Chapter Nineteen



L eanne Lancaster collected her mail on the way into her apartment. It was all she could afford. Due to the stalled economy, they'd lost money when they sold the house and, because of the renovation loan, hadn't had much equity, anyway. She'd signed a six-month lease on the apartment and eighteen months later she was still there. Her whole life seemed to be on hold.



She wished now that she hadn't made the effort to see Mark. The trip had only depressed her.



Even his physical appearance had been disheartening. The memory of Mark before prison--neat, well-dressed, confident--was a stark contrast to the man he was now. The shock of it continued to reverberate and left her sick at heart.



More for the pretense of companionship than any interest in current affairs, Leanne turned on the nightly news. She watched for five minutes and switched channels. If she was looking for something to raise her spirits, this clearly wasn't it. Instead, she tuned in to a game show and matched her trivia skills against the three contestants.



She lost. No surprise there.



She hadn't always been like this. Despite the fact that she worked with cancer patients, or possibly because of it, she used to be positive and optimistic, someone with an irrepressible sense of fun. Her personality had made her ideal for the job; she'd had the ability to help patients endure difficult treatments and, if terminal, to value the last months or weeks of their lives. People who walked through the oncology center's doors needed the medical staff to greet them with a positive outlook. These days with Leanne, they had to settle for compassion and gentleness. She smiled and said the right things, but her own life was a shambles.



The evening with Michael Everett had been a beacon in a dark, sad month. Her world had spiraled downward after seeing Mark. His rejection hadn't seemed real until he'd said it to her face. It was as if the last vestige of hope had been stolen from her. After that, any remnant of optimism had vanished. What she didn't understand was why she continued to care. She needed to wipe the slate clean and start again instead of allowing regret to define her mood.



The phone rang; Leanne glanced at the readout and saw that it was Muriel Lancaster, her former mother-in-law. "Hello?" Leanne answered as if she didn't know who was on the other line. She tried to sound cheerful. Undefeated.



"Oh, Leanne. I wasn't sure if you'd be home from work yet."



"I just walked in the door." That was a slight exaggeration. She'd been home long enough to know she couldn't match wits with the Jeopardy! contestants.



"We heard from Mark this week," Muriel said. "I... understand you went to see him."



Leanne swallowed hard. "That was a big mistake. I should've called first.... That would've been better than showing up unannounced."



Then she would've had some warning and could have made the much more sensible decision not to go.



"It went badly, then?" Muriel asked, but didn't wait for a response. "I was afraid of that."



"It was my fault." Which was true enough, since she shouldn't have gone in the first place.



"How are you holding up?"



"I'm fine," Leanne assured her. Smarter and wiser, anyway.



"Brian and I are planning to drive over to Seattle to visit Mark next weekend."



"But Mark's in Yakima."



"No--not anymore. He's finished his community service there, and he's back in the Seattle area."



"Well...it'll be a lovely drive," she said, wanting to change the subject. His parents lived east of the mountains in Spokane.



"We hoped... Do you think you'll be available, too? I can't recall the last time the two of us had a chance to really talk."



"Ah..." Leanne wasn't sure how to respond. She loved Muriel and Brian, Mark's father, but seeing them would serve no useful purpose.



"I understand if you have other plans. It is rather short notice," his mother said with some reluctance.



"Yes, sorry. Perhaps another time would be best." Leanne felt mildly guilty for putting her off, but also relieved.



The line went silent for a few seconds. "Brian and I decided we should come and see Mark. He seemed so depressed."



He wasn't the only one.



"This is very hard on Brian," Muriel said, lowering her voice. "He has trouble believing this could've happened to our family."



"I have trouble believing it, too," Leanne murmured.



"I know. I probably shouldn't have called.... It's just that I always feel better after we talk. I don't dare mention to Mark that the two of us still communicate. That would upset him." She paused. "I can't stand the fact that our children are having such a hard time. It doesn't seem fair, but then life isn't fair, is it?" Her voice cracked and she took in a deep, audible breath.



"I know Mark appreciates your love and support," Leanne said.



"Like I said, I always feel better after I talk to you," Muriel said.



"I do, too." Not only did she miss her mother-in-law, but Muriel was the one reliable source of information she had regarding her ex-husband.



"I'll phone again when we're back from seeing him, shall I?"



"Yes, please do." Mark wouldn't need to know, and Leanne wasn't foolish enough to pretend that she didn't want information.



She kept telling herself she should be over this. Her last visit--that was how she'd think of that confrontation from now on. Her last visit. Her last attempt at any kind of contact. Their relationship, or what little had remained of it, was done.



"Goodbye, Leanne, and thank you."



"You're welcome," she said, although she didn't know what Muriel had to thank her for.



An hour later, her stomach growled and she decided to make something for dinner. She cooked the same quantities as when she was married and froze the second portion. Cooking for one was ridiculous, hardly worth the bother. Unlike a lot of newly single women--or so she'd heard--she hadn't stopped with meal preparation. Funny how a little thing like that could help her emotionally, but it had. The routine itself--the shopping and planning, as well as the cooking--gave her home life a sense of order she'd been in danger of losing.



She sat down to a plate of clam spaghetti, which had been one of Mark's favorites. It was her own recipe, made with olive oil, clam juice, red pepper flakes and plenty of chopped garlic and onion. Spreading out a linen napkin on her lap, she sighed and tried to think of something pleasant.



Her evening with Michael Everett had actually turned out to be much more enjoyable than she'd expected. She'd felt a bond with him; perhaps surprisingly, they had a lot in common. He was a decent man who had yet to chart his way through the land of loss and grief. He'd already traveled some distance, as their evening together attested, but still had miles to go.



She hadn't heard from him since, and Leanne hadn't decided how she felt about that. For the first day or two after their date, she'd thought he might call her. He hadn't.



Sprinkling grated Parmesan on her spaghetti, Leanne reached for the stack of mail she'd brought in. The top envelope held a notice informing her that her car insurance premium was due. The next piece of mail was another bill, this time for her VISA card, and the last was a business-size envelope with a script that was achingly familiar.



Leanne's fork fell from her hand and tumbled onto the table.



For the first time since their divorce had been finalized, Mark had contacted her.