Mending Places Page 3

  Her entire day revolved around the boys, and she knew that Keith sometimes thought her completely out of touch with the rest of the world. How had that happened in four short years? How was it that her identity now seemed to be totally wrapped up in her children?

  It seemed Keith had managed to keep his individual self Of course, he had the bank, which consumed more of his time than she liked.

  Their marriage had suffered the most. Somewhere along the way, they had ceased being each other’s partner. Sometimes it seemed as if they were simply two people committed to the raising of their children, as if they were more like roommates than marriage partners.

  Natalie breathed a laugh and shook her head. For heavens sake, what right did she have to complain? So her marriage was lacking in the intimacy department. All relationships went through ups and downs, and this was such a busy time in their lives. It was only natural their relationship would suffer a little. Between Keith’s work schedule, Alex’s swimming classes, and her own involvement in Marriage Enrichment, just getting together was a feat. To say nothing of going out on a date. Who had time to find a responsible sitter?

  She finally reached the bottom of the pile and retrieved hangers for the last two pair of pants. Picking up the khakis she’d bought him for Christmas, she folded the pants at the creases and slung them over the hanger, arranging them just so. As she did, something fell to the ground, plunking softly on the carpet. She held the pants aside and looked down. It only took a moment for her to recognize the small square package between her stockinged feet. Disbelief fanned from her stomach outward to every nerve in her body, and the brand name printed on the white package blurred as every part of her body screamed in denial.

  Micah kicked off his boots, swept back the quilted cover, and fell onto the crisp, white sheets. When his head sank into the pillow, he grabbed the one beside it and stacked. The mattress was soft for a hotel bed, much softer than the one in his cabin had been.

  He allowed himself a moment of self-pity. He’d still be at his cabin if not for Fran. The woman just didn’t know how to take no for an answer. Lord knew, he’d used the word often enough where she was concerned. So much for integrity. It had gotten him nothing but fired. Five long years he’d put in at the Majestic, and what did he have to show for it? Not even a reference.

  He hadn’t planned to stop here after he’d packed up and driven off; he had planned to go into Jackson and buy a newspaper. But something had pulled him here. Do You have some purpose for me here? He paused, staring at the beamed ceiling, waiting for an answer. None came.

  Probably not. He’d seen the skepticism all over the manager’s face. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame her. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her about the situation with his former boss, but if he hadn’t, she would’ve either called Ben or turned him down. The way he saw it, he hadn’t had much choice.

  Oh well it’s in Your hands now, God. If there were some purpose for him here, he’d get the job. If not, he’d drive into Jackson tomorrow and comb the help-wanted ads. He wasn’t too worried. He had money in the bank, enough to last a few months anyway.

  Besides, he wasn’t sure how he felt about working for a woman. An attractive one at that. Several years ago he’d have loved the situation, would’ve taken advantage of it. But he was different now.

  When his stomach rumbled, he realized he’d missed lunch. He sat up and rooted through his duffel bag for the apple he’d stuffed inside. Before he found it, he saw his Recovery Journal and pulled it out for later. His weekly meeting was tomorrow night, and he still hadn’t completed his assignment—had been dreading it all week. He’d come to realize that getting over his past meant reliving things he’d rather forget, digging up the memories piece by piece and dissecting them until they were no longer painful. But it was hard. Agonizing. By now you’d think he’d have worked through it all, but there always seemed to be more sludge beneath the still waters.

  He bit off a chunk of apple and forced himself to think about the weekly topic. His earliest memory. He didn’t need to think long. It had been just after his fifth birthday, at Christmastime.

  He’d ripped a branch from a straggly pine and scurried back to his building, taking the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. The stale odor of cigarettes barely registered in his brain as he passed through the tiny apartment. Once in the kitchen, he clambered onto the counter and rooted through the cabinets for a clean glass. Finding none, he grabbed a plastic cup from the sink, filled it with water, then set the cup on the counter.

  When he inserted the branch, the cup toppled, sloshing water over the counter. Maybe he needed a heavier vase. He rifled through the dirty dishes and, not finding anything, opened the refrigerator door. Kitchen light flooded into the dark compartment, and his eyes spied a brown bottle on the bottom shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he withdrew it and opened it expertly with a bottle opener. Pouring the amber liquid into the sink, he watched in fascination as foam bubbled up around the drain. After filling the bottle with water, he stuffed the pine bough through the narrow neck and smiled in satisfaction when it remained upright.

  He held it aloft. “What do you think, Toby?” His mom got mad when he talked to his friend, but that was only because she couldn’t see him.

  Micah carried his treasure to the floor-model TV and set it carefully on top. Perfect. Now for some decorations. He rummaged through drawers and found thread, scissors, paper, and crayons. “We’ll just make our own things. I’ll use the scissors first, then you can have them.” He pulled out a chair for Toby and sat down beside him.

  A short time later, Micah stood back from the tree admiring his work. “Not bad, huh, Toby?” Crayon-waxed paper stars and candy canes dangled by thread from the branches. His smile widened with approval. He wondered if the baby would be born by Christmas and if it would like looking at his tree.

  He watched TV the remainder of the afternoon, occasionally glancing up to admire his tree. When the news came on, Micah knew it was almost time for his mother to come home. At the first commercial break, he heard the keys twist easily in the lock. Had he forgotten to bolt the door?

  His mother appeared, her brown hair damp and frizzy with rain and her tan coat splotched with wet dots. Her big belly poked out between the buttons. “How many times have I told you not to leave this apartment?”

  “I just went out for a minute. Look what I—”

  “Not now, Micah.”

  She dropped her purse and went straight to the kitchen. He heard the sucking sound of the refrigerator door opening, followed by rattling sounds as she knocked around its contents. Her work shoes tapped across the linoleum. She rounded the corner and glared at him. “Where is it? I know I had another beer in there. What did you do with it?” Her words were laced with frenzy.

  Fear stiffened his spine. He’d heard that tone often enough to know he was in trouble. Why had he forgotten she always wanted a drink after work? Why had he used her last one? Maybe when she saw the tree, she wouldn’t be angry anymore. “Look, Mommy. I made a Christmas tree for the baby.”

  Her wild eyes found his creation. She walked with slow, deliberate steps to the TV and snatched up the bottle, flinging the branch to the floor. The paper ornaments fluttered behind the branch like a kite tail.

  She held the bottle to her nose and inhaled. “What did you do with the beer?”

  “I … I poured it in the sink.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth twisted in that way he hated. “That was my last beer! I don’t get paid ’til Thursday, you know that, and you wasted my last beer.”

  When she turned and strolled to her purse, he held his breath. She thrust her hand inside and withdrew a cigarette. As she lit it, the tip flickered with an angry orange light. His mother smirked, her eyes slicing into him like a cold knife as she puffed a stream of smoke.

  Fear snaked through his body. He stood slowly to his feet. She advanced, mute anger blazing in her eyes. His feet propelled him bac
k ward, until his back connected with the wall. When she inhaled again, his gaze fixed on the flaming eye. As he stared, it blurred into a fiery glow. His breath came in short gasps. Micah squeezed his eyes shut, tried futilely to embed himself into the wall, scarcely felt the warm, wet flow down his legs.

  The rest of the memory had been mercifully blocked from his mind, but his body still carried the scars from that day. He forced himself to grab the pen off the nightstand and relive the memory again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hanna settled into her desk chair and started a to-do list: help with dinner cleanup, get groceries, cancel the help-wanted ad for the trekker.

  Satisfaction flowed through her as she mentally checked off the task of finding a guide. That was one big burden off her mind. And the phone calls she’d made this afternoon totally relieved her of all skepticism about Micah Gallagher. The pastor had great things to say about the man. Words like integrity and hardworking had been used to describe him. And the fact that he attended church every week further convinced her that he wasn’t a thief or mass murderer.

  She had almost decided against calling the foster father, but her inner sense of security demanded she be extradiligent about screening her new climber. The foster father had reiterated everything the pastor had said and had added independent and loyal to the list of adjectives describing him. Micah’s climber friends were both away on trips of their own, but the receptionist confirmed that Micah had been lead trekker for the past few years.

  She would offer Micah the job this afternoon if she saw him again. He obviously needed a place to stay, so she’d just need to subtract the cost of lodging from the figure she’d planned to pay. Having him right on site was a positive, anyway. If guests decided on a spur-of-the-moment trip, he’d be available. He might not even want the job when he heard what she paid. His salary was probably higher at the Majestic than she could afford.

  Part of her almost wished he would turn down the job—the part of her that was drawn to him. It had been a long time since she’d been drawn to any man, and her one and only experience with a relationship made her even more timid about having Micah around all the time. In many ways it had been a typical college romance, but Hanna had only been able to open her heart to a point. Jess had been patient, but even after a years time, she’d not been able to endure his touch. Understandably, Jess grew weary of feeling rejected.

  The relationship likely would have ended on its own, but when Gram needed help with the lodge, she’d taken the opportunity to escape, putting college on hold indefinitely. Jess had seemed almost relieved, but not nearly as relieved as she had been. It had been too soon, she told her self She just needed time.

  Avoiding relationships had been easy these past few years at the lodge. There weren’t many young, single men around, and those who did come stayed briefly. Even her church lacked eligible bachelors and was filled with seniors and middle-aged married couples. No, there hadn’t been much opportunity for dating, and Hanna was glad.

  But now that would change. At least it would if Micah took the job. He’d be living on the grounds, eating meals with them when he wasn’t on a climb. What worried her the most was this attraction she felt.

  She breathed a laugh. She’d just been without a male companion for too long. Maybe she’d forgotten what it was like to be around a man. But she knew it was more than that. Micah had a certain presence. A strength. And that strength drew her and repelled her at the same time.

  You’re thinking too hard, girl. She suddenly remembered her intentions to work on the van and added it to the list. She had to get the thing running before next week when she started shuttling guests to and from the airport. Almost every registrant had requested the service when she offered it. And she’d gotten the used van for a bargain, knowing she could fix the problem.

  After dinner Hanna gathered her tools and went to work.

  Micah slowed to a walk and took his heart rate. He was within his zone. His body had long ago acclimated to the high altitude, and now he could easily run five miles a day. Except for days when he climbed. That was a workout in itself.

  He liked the Higher Grounds property. The still lake and lack of people gave an ambience of solitude and peace. Birch, willow, and oak trees dotted the area, and a fresh cushion of pine needles layered the ground. It was a refreshing change from the bustling Majestic property. He wondered if this would be his last day here or if it would be the first of many. He didn’t like having his future up in the air and was anxious to know what Hanna had decided. He’d checked the office before his run, but she wasn’t there.

  When he came to the drive, he turned and slowed his pace a bit, allowing his heart rate to come down gradually. The gravel crunched under his running shoes, joining the orchestra of warbling bird calls.

  Rounding a bend, he saw a pair of denim-clad legs protruding from beneath a Chevy van. Maybe he would know where Micah could find the manager. “Excuse me.” The body inched from under the vehicle. “Could you tell me where I can find—” The body had a head, and it was a woman’s. Hanna’s. “Oh. It’s you.”

  She smiled, and the streak of grease settled into the crease on one side of her mouth. “Hi.” She sat up, wiped her hands on a rag, and took the hand up he offered. “I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you about the job.”

  Her face was devoid of makeup, a fact he’d missed earlier. But her dark complexion and wide eyes didn’t need it. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “I called your references, and you come highly recommended.”

  She sounded like there was a but coming, so he said nothing as her lashes swept down over golden green eyes.

  “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay you what you’re worth.” She met his gaze firmly. “I can offer room and board, of course, but the additional income won’t be what you’re used to.” She quoted a figure, and Micah noted the way she crossed her arms defensively. She was expecting him to turn down her offer or perhaps dicker with her over his salary.

  “Actually, I don’t need much. A roof over my head, food to eat, and very little else. I accept your offer.”

  Surprise was evident in the way her finely arched brows inched upward. “Oh.” Then a grin tugged at her lips. “Well, let’s get you settled then.”

  He followed her to the lodge, his eyes skimming her trim figure from the ponytail to her Levi’s. Long legs for her petite stature.

  He forced himself to look away. At the big oak, at the rustic lodge, at anything but the alluring sight in front of him. Maybe taking this job wasn’t such a good idea. The last thing he wanted was an attachment. When they reached the office, he took a seat across from the desk and watched while she opened her reservations book.

  “Your first trip will be next week. I have a family who wants to hike up Grand Teton.”

  He nodded. He could do that trip blindfolded. “Did you want to have a regular weekly schedule or just go with reservations?”

  She asked how they worked it at the Majestic, and he explained their regular schedules.

  “That sounds fine. Why don’t you work up a tentative schedule with both day trips and overnighters, the most popular treks, and I’ll take a look at it. How did you schedule days off?”

  “I have a standing appointment on Thursday nights, so I always had Thursdays off. Sundays too.”

  “Why don’t you work the schedule around those two days, then, if that’s all right with you.” She handed him employee papers to fill out.

  “Fine.” He began filling out the forms.

  The phone rang, and she grabbed the cordless. “Higher Grounds, may I help you?”

  Micah jotted down his social security number.

  “What’s wrong, Nat?”

  He looked up, and Hanna placed her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “Just leave them on my desk when you’re done.” Then she slipped out the door.

  Hanna entered the empty kitchen, letting the louvered doors swing sh
ut behind her. By the sound of her sister’s voice, she could tell Natalie was fighting tears. Nat had been rambling about tidying up after lunch, but hadn’t yet gotten to the point.

  “And it fell out of his pants, right there on the floor. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it, Hanna. Why would he do it?” She sounded hysterical.

  Hanna’s mind spun as she tried to decipher some kind of meaning from her sister’s meandering words. “Now, wait, Nat. What fell out of his pants? I’m not following.”

  “A condom!” The word brought on a flood of tears and sniffles.

  Hanna paused in the taut silence.

  “I’m on the pill, Hanna!”

  Hanna wilted and squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Nat.”

  “We haven’t been very close lately. He’s been so busy at the bank, and I’ve been busy with the kids and church, but … an affair? How could he?”

  She heard the torment in her sister’s voice, wished she could take it away. What could she say? “Maybe it hasn’t gotten that far yet. The package wasn’t empty, was it?”

  “No.” She sniffled again, and Hanna heard the baby squealing unhappily in the background, then a muffled, “Alex, get off him!”

  Nat just didn’t deserve this. She would never dream of having an affair. Hanna could hardly believe Keith would either.

  “Do you really think he hasn’t done anything yet?” Nat asked. “Who could it be? He’s never home, and I thought he was working. But what if he wasn’t working at all? What if he was spending all that time with her?”

  Hanna smiled stiffly when Mrs. Eddlestein entered the kitchen, then lowered her voice, ensuring that the hard-of-hearing woman wouldn’t hear. “I don’t know, sweetie. Could it be someone at the bank?” Hanna tried to recall if she’d seen anyone at the bank when she’d gone to sign papers. No particular woman stood out in her mind.

  “There are plenty of women there, but most of them are married or overweight. And you know how Keith feels about extra pounds. At least, on me.” She sighed into the phone. “He’s lost weight lately himself, and he’s been wearing cologne every day!” she said, as if she’d just put two and two together. “Why didn’t I see this coming?”