Finally a Family

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.