Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(28)

"Then why hold the picnic this month?" I asked. "We could count on sunshine in late August or early September."

"I looked into that. When the picnic first began, the only time we could book the park was in May."

I nodded; other organizations would have made reservations long before, seeing how popular this park was.

"Then later, when the committee tried to book another month, they ran into all kinds of roadblocks," Leanne explained. "So it was decided to keep the May date and to count our blessings."

That made sense.

An uncomfortable silence followed. I started to speak at the same time as Leanne.

"I--"

"Would you--"

We both stopped and looked at each other. I motioned for her to speak first. She was a bit flushed, as though she found this situation as awkward as I did.

"I was about to say I'm grateful Patrick and Melanie invited me to join them."

"I am, too," I echoed, then realized she might misunderstand my meaning. "I was sitting alone, too."

She glanced down at my wedding band. I'd never removed it. I considered myself married. That was when I noticed the slight indentation on the ring finger of her left hand.

"I still feel...naked without my wedding ring," she whispered as though reading my mind.

"I would, too," I said, as if that was explanation enough. I continued to wear mine because I wouldn't feel like myself without it.

"Sometimes it isn't easy to let go of the past." She didn't meet my eyes.

"It isn't," I agreed.

"I loved my husband. I trusted him," she said, gazing down at the lawn. "I never thought he was capable of doing something so wrong."

"You weren't to blame."

"I know, but I felt responsible."

I didn't remember any of the details, nothing beyond what Patrick had mentioned. The scandal took place soon after Hannah was diagnosed and I had other things on my mind. I did hear about it, but honestly I hadn't made the connection when I heard Leanne's name. She was Hannah's nurse and that was it. Hannah hadn't said anything, either, and surely she knew. It simply wasn't important to her or, for that matter, to me.

"Do you get tired of people telling you to get over it and move on?" Leanne asked.

I snickered because she mirrored my own feelings so precisely. "Do I ever," I mumbled. "I'm sick of hearing it, sick of people telling me I only have a certain number of months and then I'm supposed to be done with grieving." Her eyes met mine, and understanding blossomed between us. "Yeah. And I'm sick of people trying to set me up on dates with their cousin or brother-in-law!"

"It's been so long since I've been on a date that I'd feel like a fish out of water." That wasn't the most original analogy, but it got my point across.

"I know what you mean."

I plunged in, recognizing the irony of what I was about to do. "Do you think it'd be okay if I called you sometime?" I could hardly believe I was asking. And yet it felt...good. I wasn't ready to date and she didn't appear to be, either. Maybe if we met casually a few times it would help both of us ease back into the world of the living.

She looked up at me and grinned. "I think that would be a nice idea."

"I do, too."

Midafternoon I headed home in a better mood than I'd been in a long while. I climbed into my car and rested my hands on the steering wheel.

"I hope you're happy," I said to Hannah. "Next time you want to arrange a meeting with a woman on your list you might be a bit more subtle."

I started the car and I could swear I heard Hannah's laughter over the sound of the engine.

Chapter Eleven

Her brief talk with Michael Everett at the picnic had been a turning point for Leanne. She'd hardly been able to sleep that night as snippets of their conversation played back in her mind. Michael was the first man who seemed to understand, and that was because he, too, was intimately aware of loss.

Oh, the circumstances were drastically different. Mark was very much alive, whereas cancer had taken Hannah's life. But Mark had made it abundantly clear that as far as he was concerned she might as well consider him dead. Only he was alive and Leanne couldn't make herself pretend otherwise.

Her ex-husband had embezzled twenty-five thousand dollars. As a result, Mark had spent a year in prison. Leanne still felt shocked and mortified by what he'd done. When she'd first learned of the discrepancy, the missing funds, she'd refused to believe Mark could be responsible. It made no sense that he, a respected accountant for a long-established Seattle firm, would resort to something like this. Something so underhanded. So wrong.

In the beginning she'd defended him, put her own reputation on the line. Later she'd been humiliated when, without a single word to her, Mark had stepped forward, his attorney by his side, and admitted guilt. Two years later, she still found it difficult to comprehend. Not once had he discussed the situation with her. She hadn't even realized he'd hired an attorney. He wouldn't answer when she'd demanded to know why he'd taken the money. As his wife, his staunchest supporter, she felt she was entitled to more than his tight-lipped refusal to give even the most rudimentary explanation.

If he was going to "borrow" funds, then why, oh, why did he have to take money from a charity event for the hospital where she worked? Where she was left to face everyone once the truth came out? Surely he understood how embarrassing this was for her. All Mark would say, all he'd confess to, was that he'd needed the money and planned to return it. He didn't tell her, his parents or anyone she knew--not even his attorney--why he'd so desperately needed that amount.