Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(66)

Ritchie scratched his chin. "Leanne?" he repeated. "Not Macy."

"Definitely not Macy." I needed time to clear my head and half hoped she wouldn't be at the office today, either.

Uncharacteristically, Ritchie refrained from launching into another series of questions and comments.

"See you Monday," he said once we were outside. He began walking toward his office.

"Catch up with you then." I took off in the opposite direction.

I hoofed it the few blocks to my office building and glared at Larry the security guard as I went in. I wanted him to know I didn't appreciate the fact that he'd let Macy into the clinic before office hours. With everyone else Larry was inflexible; with Macy he'd been prepared to bend the rules. As far as I was concerned, Macy got her own way far too often. She wouldn't with me again.

Just as I'd feared, she was at the clinic when I got there. She had her earphones plugged in and if she noticed my arrival she gave no indication. That suited me; the less contact I had with her the better.

"What time did Macy deign to show up?" I asked Linda.

"About ten minutes ago. What makes you ask?"

I wasn't accustomed to having Linda question my questions. "Nothing," I murmured and hurried toward my office where I put on my white jacket and slipped the stethoscope around my neck before going to the first exam room.

By noon it was apparent that Macy had made substantial progress on the mural. The sketch was completely finished now and she'd started painting. The colors she'd chosen were bright and bold, acrylics rather than oils. The entire office seemed enthralled with her work, judging by all the chatter about what a wonderful job she was doing.

I should've been pleased but in my present frame of mind, I was only interested in finding fault with her. She was impeding me, not physically, but emotionally. Having her so close made me uncomfortable.

I wanted her out of my proximity and, even more, out of my head. What troubled me most was how much I thought about that kiss and the way it'd made me feel alive again. I couldn't get past the idea that, regardless of what Hannah had said in her letter, I didn't have any right to feel like that. Alive, when Hannah wasn't.

Every time I fantasized about kissing Macy again, I felt as if I was losing control of who I was. I hated that sensation and I wanted to shake it off.

At lunchtime, I left my office door open and reached for the phone. I knew Macy was within earshot because she was sitting with Linda. The other staff members had gathered around her like those jungle creatures she'd painted converging at a water hole. I could hear their banter and high spirits.

I usually close my office door during our lunch break. I value the peace and use that hour to make phone calls, many of which have to be done in private. However, I wanted, needed, Macy to hear me talking to Leanne.

I got hold of Leanne on her cell phone.

"Hello, Michael," she said, and the welcome in her voice felt like a soothing balm.

"How have you been?"

"I'm doing well, and you?"

"I'm fine," I said, wondering how long we'd carry on this mundane conversation.

"I was going to call you," she said. "About the movie. Sorry I haven't gotten around to it. But I do want to go. Would you rather we went on Saturday or Sunday?"

"What about this evening? Are you free?"

"Sure," Leanne said. "Do you still want to see an action film? There's that new Tarantino. I'll cover my eyes during the violent parts."

"Sounds like it's not the kind of movie you're fond of."

She hesitated. "The truth is, I don't think I'd be good company at any movie. I've been depressed for the past couple of days. I told you Mark's in Afghanistan? He just got there. His mother gave me his e-mail address and I wrote to him. He...blocked my name so anything I send him will be automatically returned."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, that's exactly the way I felt."

"Did you find out what he's doing there?"

"He...he's working as a helicopter mechanic for one of the big contractors there. A friend of his got him on."

"A helicopter mechanic?" That seemed odd, since Mark was an accountant.

"He worked on helicopters when he was in the army. Then, later, after he finished his tour of duty, he went into accounting and became a CPA. We met while he was taking classes and got married a year later."

Of course, it made sense that he couldn't continue as a CPA with embezzling charges against him.

"Muriel--that's his mother--said he took the job because it's so lucrative and he'll be able to pay off the hospital and the fine--but this is a war zone. I'm worried about him. Maybe I shouldn't be...but I can't help it."

In similar circumstances, I'd be worried, too. "I'm sorry, Leanne."

"I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Let me take your mind off Mark," I said. "Let's go out for dinner," I suggested. "I owe you a meal."

"Oh, Michael, you don't owe me anything."

"I'd like to take you to dinner," I said. "How about if we meet after work, have dinner and look over the movies? We'll make a decision together."