Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(76)

My eyes flew open. "I didn't mean that," I said, fearing I'd spoken out loud.

"Mean what? That you smoked the cigar?"

"Not that...something else."

She giggled as though she found my chatter amusing. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough," I said. "Go back to bed, Macy, and forget I called."

"Are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

"Very sure."

"In a minute," she insisted. "In the morning, I want you to remember that you called me tonight."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm happy, too."

My smile disappeared. I was in trouble here and sinking fast.

"I'll be in tomorrow to work on the mural."

"There's no need to rush--especially if you're still feeling sore."

"I was feeling terrible earlier this evening," Macy said, "but I'm not anymore. I'm so glad you phoned, Michael. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A lthough I had difficulty admitting it, I was looking forward to seeing Macy in the morning. Still high from the poker game with my friends, I walked into the office with a bounce to my step. Linda immediately noticed my good mood. She raised her head and stared at me.

"Is Macy here yet?" I asked.

"She's coming in today?"

"That's what she said," I told her.

"Well, she hasn't shown up yet."

I nodded and continued down the hallway, pausinglong enough to take a fresh look at the half-finished mural. I appreciated Macy's talent anew, and wondered why I'd ever thought she was merely an adequate artist. As my staff kept marveling, she'd done a splendid job. I'd seen how well children and adults alike responded to the painting. I'd watched the kids glow with delight and point to various animals among the vibrant jungle foliage.

The painting had a curious effect on everyone, from my staff whose mood had brightened perceptibly to my patients who seemed livelier, less apprehensive. Or maybe the change had been in me.

I

was different, I realized. And it was because of Macy. That made me question whether I was falling in love with her, as her neighbor claimed. A protest reverberated instantly in my head. A relationship with Macy would never work. By her own admission, she wasn't good at relationships. Besides, Macy and I were worlds apart in every possible way. I liked things orderly while she seemed to thrive on chaos. I was probably ten years older than she was. I tended to be self-contained and she...well, Macy shared everything. No, I couldn't ever see this working, regardless of Hannah's opinion.

Okay, okay, I was willing to admit the attraction was there; neither of us could deny it. We'd kissed once and I'd felt that kiss in every cell of my being.

I moved on to my office; Linda came over to hand me Cody Goetz's file. The boy needed a health form filled in for an overnight summer camp he'd be attending. Linda didn't say anything but scrutinized me so intently, I grew uncomfortable.

I reached briskly for my stethoscope and jacket and headed toward the exam room where Cody, my first patient of the day, was waiting.

By ten o'clock, when Macy still hadn't appeared, I was beginning to feel concerned.

Despite knowing how unsuited we were, I wanted to see her. I even wanted to hear her infernal humming. I just wanted her with me, close to me. Because she made me feel alive. It wasn't simply about attraction in a sexual sense; it was bigger than that--the attraction of one life to another.

Hannah had been so right. In her letter she'd said that her life had ended, but that mine would go on. In the fourteen months since I'd laid her to rest, I'd lived in a state of limbo, shuffling from one day to the next, doing my utmost to hang on to the past, clinging to memories, to Hannah.

How well she knew me, how well she'd known how I'd react once she left this world. But for the first time since I'd lost her, I felt not only alive, but--to my complete surprise--happy. I saw now that her letter had freed me; it'd given me permission to live. The letter, with her list, was a testament of her love. I would always cherish the years I had with Hannah. But now I could find love again, find happiness, experience everything life had to offer. Without guilt and without regrets.

At eleven I took a short break between patients and phoned Macy's house. No one answered, which most likely meant she was on her way. Joyful expectation spread through me. I knew my staff would welcome her back with enthusiasm-- and chocolate. I'd seen her name on a box of Mount Rainier mint truffles.

By lunchtime my patience had worn thin. Where was Macy? I'd assumed she'd meant to start work in the morning. Had I misunderstood her? No, I clearly recalled her telling me she'd show up first thing. I also remembered my excitement at the prospect of seeing her so soon.

As it turned out Macy didn't arrive until almost two. She burst into the office, wearing a rainbow of colors. Linda and the others gathered around her, acting as if she'd been away for months instead of days, bombarding her with questions. She was like sunshine exploding across a dark horizon, flooding the earth with light and life and laughter.

While she answered their questions and hugged each person, I noticed that her gaze sought me out. Her eyes were warm and full of unspoken affection.

The best I could offer her was a faint grin. After a respectable length of time, the staff drifted back to their jobs, and I finally approached her. "I thought you said you'd be here this morning," I said. I immediately felt that remark had been too miserly, but she didn't react.