Finally a Family

To her surprise and dismay, tears pricked her eyes. She turned away, pretending to look at another part of the yard while she swiped the tears from her cheek.

“Did Sam have a garden here?” she asked, trying to sound normal and contained.

“Yeah. Behind the house. But the past couple of years, he didn’t do much gardening. Do you want to see it?”

“Look, you have work to do and I’d better get back to town. Thanks for the offer though.” She gave him a quick smile and ducked into the car.

But before she put the car in Reverse, she looked at the house again, trying to imagine Sam sitting on the porch, looking out over the lake.

Well, this was it. Her last look at the place he’d come to. She’d probably never see it again.

Hannah sat bolt upright in the bed, pulling herself out of a busy, fretful dream. She blinked as she looked around, her mind trying to make sense of where she was. The light coming into the room was all wrong.

Cheap prints on the wall, thin curtains at the window.

Hannah rubbed her eyes. The motel in Riverbend.

She glanced the clock radio beside her bed and blinked at the numbers.

Eight forty-five in the morning.

She pulled her hands over her face as sleep still dragged at her mind. She couldn’t believe she had slept that long. Of course in Toronto the screeching of the GO train past her window in the morning got her up well before her alarm clock rang.

The day slowly registered. The day she was supposed to tell Dan Westerveld that she wouldn’t be staying. Yesterday she had done what Lizzie suggested and driven around town. She walked down Main Street, had coffee at the coffee shop, listening to the chitchat of the local people as they wandered in and out. The owner, an attractive woman of indeterminate age, had glanced at her with curiosity from time to time, but had left her alone.

She had driven around some more, but had avoided going down the road with the Farm for Sale sign. A puzzling restlessness had clawed at her, keeping her on the move.

Now it was Sunday morning and this afternoon her plane was leaving. She stretched across the bed, snagged her cell phone off the bed and punched in Lizzie’s number again.

Yawning, she walked to the window of the hotel room and tugged one curtain aside. As with all motels, her window looked out over a parking lot, but beyond that she could see a field and above it all the blue bowl of the sky wisped with clouds.

Another beautiful day in Alberta.

She frowned as the phone kept ringing. Where was Lizzie? She had tried to phone Lizzie a couple of times yesterday, but had been shunted to Lizzie’s answering system each time. Hannah snapped the phone shut, folding her hand around it as she leaned in the window, her eyes following the path of a hawk in the sky above.

The sprightly tune of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” jangled from her fist and she snapped open the phone, glancing at the name.

“Taylor. Hello.”

“Hey, congratulations, beautiful.” Taylor’s fake heartiness annoyed her, as it always did. “I heard you inherited half a farm. Lizzie told me not to call you, but I couldn’t resist. I’m trying to imagine you slopping hogs and feeding chickens.”

His faintly mocking voice irked her, as well. Ever since she had turned Taylor down for a date, he’d treated her with a veiled measure of disdain. Just enough to grate but not enough to call him out on it. “I only get the farm if I stick around for six months, which I’m not.”

“You’re not? Lizzie said you were moving out there.”

Hannah frowned as she tried to make sense of what Taylor was telling her. “Lizzie told you wrong.”

“But…I thought…That’s why I signed the deal with her and Pete.”

“What deal?”

“The salon deal. Lizzie said Pete came in as a partner when she found out you were staying out West. He had a bunch of money he wanted to invest. I signed everything up with her yesterday. She’s the new owner.”

She couldn’t marshal her thoughts as protests, shock, dismay and anger, then fury, fought with each other to be articulated.

“You sold the salon to Lizzie?”

“She and Pete will take possession in a week and move in upstairs. She told me she wanted to tell you herself but I thought I’d call anyway. I was curious about the farming thing. Whatever made you want to stay in redneck land?”

His words simply slipped past her—noises requiring words she couldn’t formulate. Shock still held her in its thrall.

Lizzie had done the deal behind her back? Lizzie and Pete now owned the salon? Lizzie and Pete were going to move into the apartment she had envisioned as her own?

Then, as the enormity of what her friend had done finally registered, she realized she didn’t need to talk to Taylor anymore. He had nothing to give her now.

Hannah hesitated in the foyer of the church, her hands clenched at her sides. On the way here, fury at Lizzie’s betrayal had taken over the initial shock, keeping her feet and hands ice-cold.

Each time her mind replayed Taylor’s conversation, her anger smoldered and grew, seeking an outlet. And she had found it as Lizzie’s betrayal resurrected older, deeper betrayals. Alex. Sam.

At least Sam had acknowledged his mistake and had tried to make amends. And as the heat of her anger cooled, it was replaced by a steely determination to take care of herself and not be concerned by what others thought.

Meeting Dan Westerveld at church had not been the plan, but when she had called the Westerveld home and gotten no answer she could only surmise they were here.

But as she entered the foyer, her moment of rebellion lost its punch. What was she doing in a church? She had no right to be here.

Well, she’d just have to go out and wait in the—

“Welcome to our services.”

Hannah bit back a startled scream and spun around to face a very friendly, smiling man.

“If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll find you a place,” he said.

Hannah took a step back, waving her hand over her shoulder as if to indicate that someone was waiting for her. “No. That’s fine.”

“Follow me.” The usher checked back to see if she was coming. What else could she do but follow in the wake of his helpfulness into the sanctuary?

A sense of twisted, divine humor assailed her as the usher finally stopped, indicating an empty spot right beside Ethan Westerveld.

Ethan was talking to a young woman beside him. A different one than the girl she’d seen with him in town. As Hannah plunked down beside him, he turned to look at her, but his welcoming expression froze and turned into a polite nod.

The minister greeted the congregation, urging them to rise and sing.

As the music started up, Hannah looked for the proper book. She felt an elbow nudge her and glanced sidelong to see Ethan holding out a book. “Here.”

Hannah took the book and, as she opened it, the young woman beside Ethan leaned forward, giving Hannah a once-over and a frown.

Okay, so her jeans and suede jacket over a T-shirt wasn’t the best outfit for church, but she hadn’t counted on being in the middle of the action. She wasn’t going to let this woman intimidate her. Hannah gave her a beatific smile then turned back to her songbook.

The woman pulled back and, though Ethan wasn’t looking at her, she caught a flash of a dimple on his cheek. So he thought this was funny?

Maybe another time it might be. But she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself in the community in which she was going to be spending the next six months.

Panic gripped her at the thought. Six months. One hundred and eighty-some days. And what about her apartment? Her stuff? Her clothes?

What if Dan said she had waited too long? Had she lost her chance?

Hannah gripped the book as her eyes scanned the music of the song, trying to focus her scattered thoughts.

“…the ripe fruits in the garden,” Hannah sang, and her mind immediately sprang to Sam and the farm and his garden.

Her garden now.

She repeated the words, cementing them in her mind. She knew she faced the objections of Ethan and the Westerveld family. With a shake of her head she dismissed the thought. Sam had willed her half of the farm. She would stay—had to stay, thanks to her two-faced friend.

“…the Lord God made them all.” She ignored Ethan’s sidelong glance as she finished the song and closed the book with a decisive snap.

The congregation settled back down as the minister began to speak about God and how He revealed Himself in nature.

The comment gave her pause as she thought about the changing seasons. How spring was slowly making itself known. She wondered what the farm would look like in a couple of weeks.

“…but what is most amazing, what truly calls us to stop and think is that the God who created this world and this vast universe in all its intricacies, wants to be in a relationship with us.” The minister’s voice rose, snagging Hannah’s wandering attention. “He wants to be a faithful father to us. To love us. That’s why He gave His only son. As a sacrifice to pay for our sins.”

His words, spoken with such stirring conviction, created a tingle in Hannah’s chest. Sam had once told her the story of how God was also the Jesus that came at Christmas and the shepherd from Psalm 23. This had gotten too confusing for Hannah and then her mother told Sam to stop putting fairy tales in Hannah’s head.

And slowly Hannah relegated the stories of Jesus and God to the realm of Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Bambi. Nice stories, but just that. Stories.

And now this man, in all seriousness, talked about this same God, the creator of the world, as if He was a father?

Hannah never knew her biological father. Sam was the only father figure in her life. And he had left.

She tried not to fidget as the service went on and when they finally stood for what looked to be the last song, Hannah started looking around the congregation for Dan. She wanted to get this part of the deal over and done with.

“You looking for someone in particular?” Ethan’s deep voice pulled her attention to him.

She met his eyes and caught it again, the faintest glimmer of interest. And she felt it again. An answering glint of awareness.

Which was not what should be on her mind right now. Being attracted to a man, whom she might be forced to spend six months working with, was not an option.

And then she saw Dan coming down the aisle toward her and she put aside thoughts of Ethan. Hannah waited until Dan came alongside, then screwed up her courage and joined him in the aisle.

“Hannah. Good to see you here.” His enthusiasm made her feel like a fraud.

“I’ve made a decision.”

Dan looked over at his wife, Tilly, who seemed vitally interested in what they were saying. “Do you want to go somewhere private?”

“Not really.” People would find out soon enough what her decision was. She gave him a tight smile, hoping he wouldn’t catch the hint of desperation in her voice. “I’ve decided to stay.”

Chapter Four

“There’s a set of clean sheets in the cupboard. Some towels there, as well. You can put your groceries in the fridge.” Ethan waited as Hannah glanced around the kitchen, two bags of groceries hanging from her hands. He struggled to keep his voice even, his tone neutral.

He was still processing the implications of Sam’s last decision, let alone having this woman staying on the farm. Last night he moved what stuff he could to the holiday trailer his dad kept parked on the yard for storage. He didn’t have much to pack up. As for the condition of the house…

Well, he hadn’t counted on a woman staying here. She would just have to take it as it is, he thought, forcing himself to ignore the stack of dirty dishes in the sink and the crumbs on the counter from his breakfast this morning.

“I feel bad that I’m kicking you out of your house,” Hannah said, setting the bags on the counter. “I can stay in the holiday trailer.”

“This is easier.” Besides, the condition of the trailer was even sketchier. No one had cleaned the trailer since his nieces and nephews stayed in it last summer.

“Okay.” Hannah looked around again. “This is a nice place.”

“It needs some cleaning.” Ethan scratched his head, wishing he could as easily dispel the low-level headache pressing behind his eyes. “So you going to be okay? Got enough food?” he felt compelled to ask. After all, she was a city girl unaccustomed to living in the country.

“I’ve got enough for a couple weeks, I think.” Her tight smile belied her breezy confidence. “Thanks for showing me around.”

“Next time I go to town, I’ll let you know. Now that you don’t have a car.”

He’d had to pick her up from the dealership where she had rented a vehicle. He wondered why she returned it and how she was going to last without a car way out here. “Uncle Dan recommended I give you a small allowance from the farm. Just to keep you in groceries and whatever else you might need. We can settle up for that in…” He let the sentence trail off.

“In six months,” Hannah finished for him.

He wasn’t going to think that far or notice how she looked around the place—as if mentally figuring out what she could get for it.

He couldn’t think about losing this farm. He’d poured too much time and money into it. This farm had been his refuge; his second home as long as he could remember. Though his parents, Morris and Dot, lived and worked in town, Ethan had come to the farm whenever he could. His first vivid memory was of riding with his grandfather on the tractor, pulling the seed drill. First his grandfather and then his uncle had promised him this farm. His father had told him to get something in writing, but he had trusted Uncle Sam.

He should have been more hard-nosed. More businesslike.

Now he was facing the very real prospect of losing half of what he had spent most of his life working toward, and all because he hadn’t treated his own uncle like a business partner.

He put the brakes on his thoughts. She needed to stay there six months. She might not last. Concentrate only on today, he reminded himself. He thought he had learned that lesson by now, but obviously he needed reminding.

For now his focus was putting the crop in and getting the cows calved out. When that was done, he could move on to the next thing that needed his attention.

“So, I’m going to be heading out. I’ve got a few chores to do.”

“What kind of chores?”

“You wouldn’t be interested.” None of the girls he brought to the farm were; why should a city girl be?

She nodded, her expression growing hard. “You’re probably right.”

He left, carefully closing the door behind him. The sun was sinking below the horizon and he shivered a moment in the chill evening air.

Scout, his faithful dog, jumped up from his usual place by the back door and fell into step beside him, his tail wagging with the eternal optimism of dogs the world over.

“Hey, there,” he said, ruffling his dark fur. “Things are going to be different now. We’ve got someone else on the yard.” Ethan glanced back at the house.

Hannah stood in front of one of the windows. He couldn’t see her face, only her silhouette as she looked out.

“She’s probably wondering what she got herself into,” he murmured to his dog. “City girl, out in the middle of nowhere.”

The thought gave him some small measure of comfort. She wouldn’t last the six months.

He needed to call his lawyer first thing in the morning and get things going. He had no idea where he stood from a legal viewpoint, but he wasn’t going to simply roll over and watch years of hard work get siphoned off by Marla Kristoferson’s daughter.

Hannah lay in the bed, her hands folded on her stomach, her eyes focused on the ceiling, her thoughts spinning in her head.

What had she done? Was she crazy? What had made her think she could move from the middle of a city of millions out to the country with no one except one resentful man staying in a trailer nearby?

She angled her head to the side, trying to catch some noise, the tiniest note of familiarity.

But nothing. No cars. No trains. No music from rowdy neighbors. No voices outside the building.

A lot of heavy, quiet nothing in a lot of heavy, quiet darkness.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic, she reminded herself, rolling over onto her side. How could there not be any extra bit of light?

What if she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Surely she would bump into something, fall and break her neck on her way to turn on the light, and who would be here to hear her? Who would even notice her? She’d be lying on the floor for weeks before anyone discovered her.

Hannah flopped onto her back again, pushing the fear to the side. She was crazy. Certifiable. She knew Ethan was hoping she wouldn’t last the full six months. And maybe he was right. Maybe she was too much of a city girl. Maybe she was overestimating her ability to last. She didn’t have to do this, did she?

But she did. She had no choice. The thought slithered like a snake in her belly. After moving out of her mother’s apartment, she had made a vow that she was going to be in charge of her own life, that she wasn’t going to have circumstances dictate her choices.

And here she was, pushed into a corner like some reluctant rabbit by a friend who wasn’t a friend at all. Snake was a better word.

She sighed and punched the pillow, taking out her anger at Lizzie on the pillow. Louse. Rotter. Betrayer. Her anger with Lizzie combined with her latent anger with Alex. Whatever happened to faithfulness? To working on relationships?

A high-pitched howl pierced the night and Hannah shot up, looking fearfully around as another howl joined the first. The second one was much closer. Then a third chimed in, their eerie notes slithering down the scale.

From another part of the yard the dog started barking. Ethan’s dog, she assumed. Did it know something she didn’t know? Was something crouching in the darkness, waiting, watching, its dark red eyes glowing with anticipation?

Suddenly she wished for the quiet.

She lay back on the bed, counting backward from one hundred, like Sam had taught her to do when she was little and afraid of the dark. And as she counted, lying in the house that Sam had lived in up until just a few short weeks ago, it was as if she could hear him talking to her. Telling her it would be okay.

The memory comforted her. She kept counting, out loud, her monotone voice filling the sudden silence.

Which was broken by the creaking sound of a door opening downstairs.

Her heart pitched into her throat. That something she had thought was waiting, was now trying to get into the house.

But she had locked the door.

What was she supposed to do? Call the police?

Right. And how far away were they? By the time they got here she could be buried in the back forty, the murderer laughing all the way to the border.

Hannah grabbed her housecoat and pulled it on over her pajamas, determined that she was not going to be murdered in her bed. Then she saw a broom leaning against the door.

Pretty flimsy protection, but it was better than going down empty-handed.

And where was that dog? Shouldn’t he have been barking up a storm? Or maybe the dog was already dead. Maybe the murderer had gotten to Ethan and the dog first.

Too many horror movies, Hannah reminded herself, trying to corral her runaway thoughts. There’s a reasonable explanation for everything. It could be Ethan. Whom she would cheerfully hit with the broom. Had to be Ethan. But why would he be sneaking around?

Then she heard another creak downstairs and all coherent thought fled. Someone was in the house she had locked up securely and double-checked. And she was all alone.

She eased open the door, wincing as it creaked into the silence. She stopped, waited.

But as she listened, her ears hyperaware, she heard the sound of the floor creaking under cautious footsteps.

She might have a chance of getting out of the house. And then what? Run mindlessly through the yard as the intruder ran after her brandishing a knife?

Should she be praying right now?

If You help me through this, Lord, I’ll go to church, she promised, drawing in a long slow breath for courage. I can’t promise much more than that.

She paused, wondering if she would hear an answer. Then, realizing she couldn’t leave everything up to God, she slowly worked her way down the stairs, her hands clutching the broom in a death grip. She kept her back to the wall, her eyes darting around the gloom. The only things she could make out were the hulking forms of the couch and chair in the living room.

Oh Lord, I just want to get out of here alive. That’s all. Her prayer was instinctive but, at the moment, heartfelt.

The sudden flash of light blinded her. She held up her broom, took a panicked step toward the door and tripped over the hem of her housecoat.

This is it, she thought as she fell, a dark figure hovering over her. This is how it ends. In an isolated country house, in the middle of nowhere.

Hands caught her, hauled her up.

She made an ineffectual jab with her broom at the dark figure holding on to her.

“Hey, easy with that,” the intruder said, blocking her jab with one arm. “Someone could get hurt.”

Hannah blinked at the sound of the voice.

Ethan.

Chapter Five

“What are you doing?” he asked, still holding on to her.

She pushed at his hands, stumbled again as he let go of her. But as she regained her balance, fear gave way to anger.

“No. You don’t get to ask questions. I get to ask questions.” She blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly to the beam of light shining down on the entranceway. She dropped the broom and yanked on the ties of her housecoat. “And my question is, what are you doing here?”

“I forgot my coat.”

“But I locked the house.”

He held up a key chain. “Sorry. I have my own keys.”

Hannah’s overworked heart still hammered in her chest. “You shouldn’t do that. I thought—”

“You thought you were going to beat me to death with that broom.”

“That thought did cross my mind,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” Ethan’s smile faded away and Hannah felt a moment’s regret. She hadn’t seen him smile since the first time they had met on the street corner. “Did you really think I was burglar?”

He had adopted a more neutral expression, but she knew he was still laughing at her.

“What else was I supposed to think? Usually when a person locks their door, it stays locked.”

“And here I was worried about waking you.”

Hannah swallowed, her heart finally returning to a more normal rhythm. “Well, I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Coyotes keep you awake?”

“Was that what that howling was?”

“Yeah. They were actually pretty quiet tonight. Usually they’re singing all around the yard.”

Was she imagining it or did his voice hold an extra note of glee?

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” She didn’t have a choice now, did she? “So what did you want?”

“My coat.” Ethan slipped it over his shirt and shoved his hands in the pockets. “Sorry I disturbed you. I won’t do it again.”

His casual dismissal, on top of the roller coaster of emotions she had just endured, kindled her anger.

“Maybe you should give me the keys and then it won’t happen again,” she said.

Ethan stopped, slowly pivoted back to face her, his expression grim. “What did you just ask me?”

“I’m sure you heard me. You’re only a couple of feet away.”

Ethan closed the small distance and came to stand directly in front of her. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was almost succeeding. Almost.