"We probably should talk about me staying at the house," Hannah said, staring down at the ground as if reluctant to address the subject. Peggy guessed she'd needed several days to work up her courage to discuss the matter of her staying.
"Let's do that later," Peggy suggested. "I was thinking we might go out to lunch when we're finished here." She found the best "girl talks" with Hollie always took place over lunch.
Hannah smiled. "That would be nice."
Hannah had been with them for more than a week. She'd planned to leave once, about three days after her arrival, but Peggy had asked her to stay. As she'd expected, Hannah had accepted the invitation without further argument.
An hour later, they sat on the patio at The Lighthouse eating Caesar salad with grilled shrimp and sipping iced tea.
"You and Bob have been so kind to me," Hannah said.
She still seemed frail, Peggy noted, physically as well as emotionally. "We like having you around."
Hannah looked grateful. "I don't think anyone's ever been so good to me." She reached for her iced tea and took a quick sip. "I should never have stayed this long. Originally I only intended to visit Cedar Cove for one night. But you were so welcoming, and now it's been over a week. I can't continue to take advantage of your friendship like this." She met Peggy's eyes and said earnestly, "I do think of you as my friends, you know."
"We feel the same way," Peggy murmured.
Hannah was nibbling her lower lip again. Peggy considered it a personal challenge to improve not only this girl's health but her emotional outlook. She didn't seem to have much self-esteem. Generally, Peggy thought parents worried excessively about self-esteem these days. Spend enough time with your kids, give them lots of love and reasonable amounts of responsibility, and self-esteem would naturally follow—that was Peggy's theory of child-raising. But in Hannah Russell's case... She was far too thin—to the point of being anorexic. Her clothes hung on her. Peggy had taken a lot of pleasure in tempting Hannah with her prize recipes. Ever since Troy Davis's last visit, she'd been cooking many of her old favorites. She found comfort in that and in providing Hannah with some old-fashioned mothering. Hannah seemed to blossom under Peggy's encouragement and affection.
"Bob and I want you to stay," Peggy said, wondering how many times she'd have to make this point. "We love having you."
Hannah shook her head reluctantly. "I can't do that. I'm not even sure why I came to Cedar Cove. In the beginning I told myself it was because I wanted to learn what I could about how—and why—my father died. I don't like to think about him suffering." There was a stricken look in her eyes. "You don't think he suffered much, do you?"
Peggy didn't know, but she felt a need to reassure Hannah, even if it wasn't the truth. "No, I don't think so. When Bob and I broke into the room, there wasn't any evidence of restlessness." It was as if Maxwell Russell had laid his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and never stirred again. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to exit this life.
Hannah picked at her salad. "I thought I had some questions, but I don't. I probably should. I know that Mr. McAfee seemed to have a lot—but I don't. I'm not sure I even want to know what happened. All I really want is for this nightmare to go away."
Peggy wasn't surprised by her feelings. Sometimes, for some people, uncertainty was easier to live with than a difficult truth. Hannah was obviously one of those people, preferring to simply avoid reality. Peggy had felt that temptation herself, but knew she was strong enough to cope with the truth, whatever it might be.
"I felt drawn to Cedar Cove," Hannah went on. "I was driving and driving, looking for a fresh start, and all I could think about was my first visit here."
"That's understandable."
"Why?" Hannah sounded genuinely curious.
"Well, for one thing, your father died in Cedar Cove. It's here that the mystery will be solved and although you may not want to know what happened or why, you need to know. That's what your mind is telling you."
"Do you really think so?" Hannah asked.
Peggy nodded.
"I...think I was drawn back here because of you and Bob." She smiled fleetingly. "When Sheriff Davis brought me to your house, you were so helpful and so nice to me. I felt...oh, I don't know, that you were just the kind of family I wish I'd had."
The young woman's words gladdened Peggy's heart, and saddened her at the same time. Obviously Hannah's childhood had been lacking in some crucial ways. Peggy felt a stab of longing for her own children. She saw her daughter so rarely that Hannah's warmth and gratitude made up for some of what she was missing with Hollie.
"I'll stay," Hannah said decisively, "but only on one condition."
"You're welcome without any conditions," Peggy assured her.
"I want to pay you rent, just as if I was any other guest. I'll need to find a job first, of course, but that shouldn't be too hard. I have lots of experience."
Peggy thought it was important for Hannah to pay rent; it would allow her to feel a sense of pride and self-sufficiency. "I understand Grace is planning to hire someone at the library for the summer," she said. "Why not apply there?"
Hannah considered that for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm not much of a reader, unfortunately. I don't know how good I'd be at helping people find books, you know?"
Peggy wasn't easily discouraged. "What jobs have you held in the past?"
"I worked all through high school at a fast-food place. I didn't really like it, but it gave me a little bit of money. My dad..." She paused and let whatever she'd started to say fade.
"What about working in a day care center? Little Lambs recently advertised for help."
Again Hannah shook her head. "I don't have a lot of patience around little kids. I worked at a Laundromat once, too, but only briefly. I think I'd be good as a store clerk, though."
"I think you would, too," Peggy agreed and Hannah brightened immediately.
"I'll check the Help Wanted listings as soon as we get back to the house," Hannah said eagerly.
"Good idea. We'll pick up a Chronicle right now."
Peggy paid for their lunch, and when they arrived back at the house, Bob was there to help her unload the minivan.
"Hannah's decided to live with us for a while," she told her husband, making a point of expressing her pleasure at the girl's decision.
"I plan to pay my own way," Hannah insisted. Clutching her newspaper, she followed Bob into the garage, where he set down the thirty-pound bag of fertilizer. "First thing Monday morning, I'm going to apply for a job."
Bob nodded, but he didn't reveal nearly the enthusiasm Peggy had. She wanted to kick him for his obvious lack of interest. Peggy watched as Hannah's face fell, annoyed that her husband was so blind to how badly the girl needed their approval. Hannah was fragile and needy, and it wasn't that difficult to give her some of the attention she craved.
"I don't want to be any bother." Hannah nervously stepped back.
"You're no bother, Hannah." Bob returned to the minivan. Well, at least he'd said that much and his voice wasn't unfriendly.
"Would you like to help with dinner, Hannah?" Peggy called as she headed into the kitchen.
"Yes...of course." Hannah scurried after her. "I want to do whatever I can."
She was so eager to please and so eager to fit in. She agreed to prepare the potatoes with every sign of happiness.
While Hannah stood at the kitchen sink and peeled potatoes, working carefully and methodically, Bob walked in through the back door.
"We have a visitor," he announced.
Peggy automatically dried her hands on the kitchen towel as Pastor Dave Flemming entered the kitchen.
"Hello, Peggy," he said, smiling broadly.
Pastor Flemming and Bob had become friends over the past year or so. Max Russell's death had shaken Bob and Peggy badly, and they'd started going to church again, something they hadn't done in years. They still attended regularly. Peggy felt it had been a good decision; the services brought her a sense of peace and calm, and she was thankful for that.
"This is Hannah Russell," Bob said, gesturing toward Hannah.
"Hello, Hannah."
"Hello," she said softly, her gaze lowered.
The girl had trouble making eye contact, Peggy noticed, and hoped that with time and lots of attention she'd get over being so timid and self-conscious.
"Bob tells me you're staying here for a while."
Hannah nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Beldon have been very kind."
"I'd like to invite you to join us on Sunday for worship service. The Beldons attend. You could go with them."
Her eyes flew up. "I don't think I'd be comfortable with that."
"Any particular reason?" Pastor Flemming asked. "It's our goal to make every visitor welcome."
Hannah just shook her head. "No, thanks."
Peggy hoped she'd eventually change her mind. It would do Hannah good, the same way it had them, but she wouldn't pressure her. When and if she attended services, it would be her own decision.
Twenty
Cliff Harding walked out to the barn to take a look at his new filly, Funny Face, born just two weeks ago. Cal, his trainer, was working with the sire in the paddock.
This ranch had been Cliff's lifelong dream. He wasn't a rich man, but he'd invested wisely through the years and cashed in his Internet stocks at precisely the right time. The profits had afforded him the luxury of buying property in the Olalla area and starting his own small horse ranch.
Cliff had known Cal Washburn for a number of years. He'd first met him when the young man worked at Emerald Downs with Thoroughbreds. Cal, who seemed more comfortable around horses than people, was far and away the most gifted trainer he'd ever known. Cliff felt fortunate to have him on a profit-sharing basis. His ability to communicate with animals was uncanny; if Cliff believed in psychic phenomena, which he didn't, he'd almost think Cal could speak to horses in their own language. Unfortunately those communication skills didn't extend to people. Cal wasn't a particularly shy man, but his stutter had been a detriment in relationships, especially with women.
"S-some.. .l-l-lady ph-ph—called for you." Cal said when he saw him.
Cliff frowned.
Rather than explain, Cal reached inside his pocket for a slip of paper and passed it to him. Cliff didn't recognize the name and for half a second, he experienced a sense of disappointment. A part of him had wanted, had hoped, the call would be from Grace.
Things had ended between them several months ago, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. At one time, their relationship had held great promise. After his divorce, he'd rarely dated. He'd spent twenty years married to Susan and for the last ten, the only reason he'd stayed in the marriage had been his daughter, Lisa.
Susan had been unfaithful, not once, but more times than Cliff could count. It was a sickness with her. Cliff had left the marriage with his self-confidence in tatters, and it was years before he'd had any interest in seeking out another relationship.
When he'd met Grace, she'd immediately had a strong effect on him, one of attraction, of liking and respect. Her husband had disappeared and for financial reasons, she'd filed for divorce. He admired the way she'd dealt with the situation. Once Dan Sherman's body was found, he watched her mourn her dead husband, and he grew to love her as she slowly emerged from her grief and pain. He'd looked forward to the day he would ask her to marry him.