Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(27)

"I hate to see her eating alone," Melanie said. She turned to me, then started to get up. "I'll go over and sit with her."

"Why don't you invite her to join us?" Patrick suggested. "Do you mind, Michael?"

"Patrick," Melanie warned in a low voice.

"What?"

"I don't want Michael to think we're matching him up."

"It's fine," I said, interrupting. Little did they know Hannah had already done that. "Invite her if you'd like." I hadn't seen Leanne in a year. That we should come across each other now felt like more than coincidence. I couldn't shrug off the feeling that Hannah had somehow arranged this.

As Melanie walked over to chat with Leanne, Patrick said, "So, how well do you know Leanne?"

"Just professionally." I was cutting off any matchmaking effort before it could get started.

"She's had a hard time."

"Oh?" I wasn't sure what he meant. "How so?"

"Her divorce." As he said that, I recalled the comment in Hannah's letter.

"Her husband was Mark Lancaster," Patrick went on to explain.

The name caught my attention. "What about him?" I asked. "Who is he?" Hannah hadn't given me any details about the divorce.

"He's the guy who embezzled money from that charity benefit the hospital had a couple of years back. He's an accountant and volunteered to collect the funds. An audit a month later showed a discrepancy of twenty-five thousand dollars. As it turned out, Mark supposedly 'borrowed' the money."

I nodded. The scandal had shocked the hospital community, but for me, of course, it had been eclipsed by our personal tragedy.

"I don't remember the outcome," Patrick was saying, "other than the embarrassment Leanne went through and the divorce."

My guess was that Hannah knew all about Leanne's troubles; she was the kind of person others confided in.

My thoughts were interrupted when Melanie returned with Leanne. I stood as the two women approached.

"You remember Michael Everett, don't you?" Melanie asked Leanne.

"Oh, yes. Hello again."

She had a nice smile, I noticed. I also realized how much she'd changed. Leanne wore her dark brown hair shorter than she had a couple of years ago and she seemed...deflated somehow. Her style was very different from Hannah's--"careless casual," I'd call it--and she was taller by several inches.

My perusal came to an abrupt halt. I was doing the very thing I'd sworn not to, and that was comparing her to Hannah, at least in appearance.

"Do you still work at the oncology center?" I asked, making conversation while I considered the last time I'd seen her. It would've been two weeks before Hannah's death. Since almost everyone, Hannah included, knew there was no hope, other medical professionals had started to withdraw. This emotional detachment is a protective device common in my field. Leanne had been the exception. She had remained Hannah's friend to the very end, chatting with her, bringing her small gifts. Flowers, a magazine, some chocolate now and then. I'd been so consumed by my own efforts to deal with the fact that I was losing her, I hadn't paid much attention at the time. I remembered it now and was grateful.

"I'm still at the hospital," she confirmed.

"Leanne organized the volunteers this year," Patrick said. "You and I both know what a big job that is."

Patrick and I had done it several years ago, and it'd been a huge task. Thankfully, Hannah and Melanie had willingly lent a hand and made dozens of phone calls on our behalf. "I had a lot of help," she said, dismissing his praise.

"Patrick's the one who coerced me into volunteering," I told her.

"Me, too." Leanne grinned and I had to admit she was lovely. She smiled less often than she should, I felt. I sensed a sadness about her and wondered if it had to do with her divorce. After close to two years, shouldn't she be over that by now? It occurred to me with a sudden shock that I was thinking about her the same way others had about me. That my allotment of grief had come to its end.

The four of us sat and talked for a while. Not once did Leanne bring up Hannah's name, which I appreciated. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk about her; Hannah was always on my mind and in my heart. But I preferred to reminisce about her life rather than her death. In not bringing up the subject, Leanne revealed a sensitivity I found rare among my friends. Most people seemed to feel obliged to tell me how sorry they were, especially if I hadn't seen them since the funeral. I particularly hated being told that they understood how I felt. They didn't; they couldn't. I was thankful we didn't need to travel down that troubled path. Perhaps Leanne avoided mentioning Hannah's death because she didn't want to discuss her own divorce. Either way, I was content to chat about the picnic, the children or just about anything else.

When we'd finished our meals, Patrick and Melanie drifted away and I was sitting alone with Leanne. I felt a moment of panic, not knowing what we had to say to each other without the buffer of my friends.

"This turned out to be a beautiful day," I said and wanted to jerk back the inane words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Apparently, the weather was the most stimulating topic I could come up with.

"I'm glad. It's always a risk when you plan a picnic in May."