Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(35)

"I didn't find out until much later that he took the money to help his sister. I won't go into the whole story, but Denise was desperate. She thought she had the money, but it fell through at the last minute."

"He went through all this for his sister?" I asked, a bit incredulous. I could only hope Denise appreciated what he'd done, no matter how wrong and misguided it was.

"They're close."

"Even now?"

Leanne nodded. "To be fair, Denise--well, she had no idea Mark had, um, borrowed the money. She thought he'd gotten a loan and would simply be covering the interest until she could repay it. She didn't know what this so-called loan had cost him until it was too late. She did plead for leniency before the judge and is doing what she can to pay back the money."

I noticed she hadn't touched her chowder since the first spoonful. I continued eating, but at a slow pace.

"Have you had any contact with him since he got out of prison?" I asked.

I could see her struggle to hide her feelings. "Not really," she said in a low voice.

I wasn't sure what that meant, but had the distinct impression she didn't want to talk about it. That was fine. I wouldn't press her to tell me anything she found distressing.

"He says he wants nothing more to do with me. According to him, I should get on with my life." She bit her lip. "I saw a counselor for a while. She said essentially the same thing."

"Have you?" I asked. I remembered how Leanne and I had talked about this--the way we disliked that kind of advice; I figured I was the only one who could decide when and how to "move on." And yet...Hannah herself was, in effect, saying it, too.

"I made one other attempt to date. Besides tonight," she clarified.

"How did that go?"

She grinned. "Awful."

"Is tonight starting off any better?"

Again she smiled, and the worry lines between her eyebrows relaxed. "Much better."

That was comforting. I smiled back.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Have you tried to socialize again since you lost Hannah?"

Rather than explain that this was my first date with another woman since my early twenties, I shrugged. "Some." I was counting the coffee with Hannah's cousin as a sort-of date.

"How'd it go for you?"

I thought about my time with Winter. "All right, I guess." "Hannah was an extraordinary woman."

Extraordinary didn't begin to describe my beautiful wife.

"At work I care for people undergoing cancer treatment and they all have different attitudes," Leanne said. "Some are angry, some are defeated or resigned. Hannah was always cheerful and optimistic. She helped others see the positives instead of the negatives." She was silent and thoughtful for a moment. "Even at the end, she found things to be grateful for. When she died, I can't tell you the number of people who told me what an inspiration Hannah was to them."

"She inspired me, too." I was a better man for having spent twelve years as her husband.

"I want you to know how sorry I am that I couldn't attend her funeral."

I shook my head, dismissing Leanne's apology. I hardly remembered who was there and who wasn't. My own grief had been so overwhelming that such details were of little concern. The church was packed and the service was moving--that's about all I took in.

I saw that Leanne was now eating her chowder and I was the one who'd stopped.

"It's been a difficult year for you, hasn't it?" Leanne murmured.

"It's been a year," I said in a weak attempt at a joke.

"Mark and I were divorced two years ago. I assumed everything would get easier."

"It hasn't?" This wasn't a good sign.

"In some ways it has. When I say my name now, people don't automatically ask if I'm any relation to the accountant who stole the hospital's money."

"How do you cope?" I asked, hoping for ideas to lessen the emptiness in my own life. Or if not ideas, at least some reassurance. "Do you miss him any less?"

"No," she said starkly. "I miss him every single day."

Although I would've liked a more encouraging answer, I didn't really expect one. "I miss Hannah the same way."

"A divorce is a loss of another kind," Leanne said, "but it's still a loss."

No argument there.

We finished our meals and I dumped our leftovers in a nearby receptacle. I wanted to suggest we walk for a while, but wasn't sure how Leanne felt about extending our time together.

"It's a lovely evening," she said, gazing out over Puget Sound. The lights on the boats, reflected in the green-blue water, seemed festive to me, even though this was an ordinary weekday evening. Or maybe not so ordinary...

"Would you care to walk along the waterfront?" I asked, thinking she might not object, after all.

"I'd love to."

We strolled down the sidewalk, but neither of us seemed talkative. I pointed out a Starbucks and proposed a cup of coffee to conclude our evening. I hesitated to use the word date. This didn't feel like one.

"I'm comfortable with you," I said after I'd paid for our coffee and we continued down the walkway past the Seattle Aquarium.