She’d always given the same answer. “I can’t get away, Gram. I have trial dates set and a desk full of cases to address. Why don’t you come to Minneapolis? We’ll go out for dinner every night. You’ll be able to browse all the bookstores and libraries you love. It would be good for you to get away, too, you know….”
Gram had come, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing matched a visit with Abigail Stanhope at Stanhope House—or Hope House, as the locals called it. Being surrounded by family art, heirlooms and history or sitting on the back porch sipping tea with the woman who’d raised her, were opportunities Catherine had taken for granted until it was too late. The regret tasted bitter in her mouth. And it only deepened the grief that already overwhelmed her. All she could do was steel herself against the pain.
“Shall we go to Hope House, dear?” Emma Lane, her grandmother’s best friend, was waiting for them by the last few of the parked cars. “Are you ready?”
Catherine had chosen to stay with Emma the past two nights rather than spend them alone at Hope House.
“People are coming by. The church ladies are serving lunch at the house. Your aunt Ellen and uncle Max went ahead to welcome the guests.”
Catherine pressed her thumb and forefinger together over the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache that was lurking behind her eyes. “Yes…but I’d like a few minutes to myself first.”
Emma, with whom Catherine had ridden from the church, looked concerned. “Of course. I’m sure they’ll realize they need to plug in the coffeemaker….”
“You can go back to Hope House and do what needs to be done, Emma. I’ll drive her back to the house,” Tanner offered. “That will give Catherine as much time as she needs.”
Catherine shot him a grateful glance. The past few hours had been a maelstrom of emotion. Add to that the traumatic and stressful days she’d had at work preceding her grandmother’s passing and Catherine felt emotionally battered and utterly weary. Right now ten minutes alone was like hitting the mother lode.
After Emma had gone, Catherine turned to Will. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes to collect myself. I really haven’t had time to process any of this.” It was as if she’d been walking in a dream…no, a nightmare…since Emma called. She flashed back to three days earlier.
“Catherine? This is Emma Lane.” Catherine had grown up eating gingersnaps out of Emma’s fat ceramic cookie jar, a rotund brown chicken with a red comb and orange beak, and playing in the gazebo in the Lanes’ backyard.
Emma sounded as if she’d been crying. “I hate to disturb you so early in the morning, dear, but your grandmother has suffered a stroke. She called me last night to say she wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed early. I can’t say why, but I woke up at 5 a.m. with Abigail on my mind. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t shake the urge to get up and go to her place to check on her.”
Catherine felt her stomach plunge as if she were barreling downward on an out-of-control roller-coaster ride.
“It was as if God Himself prodded me to get up, so I did. I have a key to the house because we occasionally check on each other’s plants and furnaces.” Emma’s voice quavered. “I found Abigail unconscious on the floor between the bed and the bathroom.”
“No…” The wail Catherine heard was her own.
Emma paused to regain her composure. “I called 9-1-1 and went with her to the hospital. She’s gone, Catherine. She never woke up.”
Catherine stumbled again, the pain in her heart threatening to bring her to her knees.
Tanner took her arm. Catherine stiffened but didn’t withdraw as he steered her toward a nearby garden bench, one of several scattered throughout the cemetery. A small bronze plaque on the concrete base said, “Donated by the Stanhope Family, 1996. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God: trust also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with Me that you may also be where I am. John 14:1-3.”
She sank onto it gratefully. “I’m sorry I’m holding you up. It’s very kind of you to stay with me.”
“I’m happy to do it. Anything for Abigail and her family.”
As she studied him from her perch on the iron frame, he rested one hip on the arm of the bench, crossed his arms over his chest and smiled slightly. “I can see you are full of questions about me.”
She was full of questions, but she didn’t realize it was quite so visible. Gram had told her she’d found a caretaker and groundskeeper for Hope House. That had been a great relief to Catherine. Hope House was far too big a project for an elderly woman alone. But Gram hadn’t said that the hired man looked like an Adonis—tall, strong, athletic, dark-haired and staggeringly handsome. That, no doubt, she’d wanted Catherine to see for herself. Gram enjoyed surprises and he was certainly one.
A rabbit hopped in front of the bench and paused to stare at them with a curious eye. Neither of them moved until the rabbit grew bored with them and bounded off.
It was soothing to sit here beneath the canopy of trees and be with someone who demanded nothing of her.
Ironic, she thought, that even now, despite the loss of her beloved gram, she felt more like herself than she had back in Minneapolis in the vortex of complex legal issues that had been her life. Here, at least, she knew that Gram was now where she’d longed to be for years, ever since Catherine’s grandfather Charles had died. Gram looked forward to heaven the way some people look forward to monetary reward or success. Heaven, for Gram, was the priceless inheritance and ultimate success.
A finger of sadness moved through her gut as her thoughts hopscotched over the events of the past few weeks. Now she would never get the chance to tell Gram that she hadn’t lost her mind by quitting her lucrative and prestigious job at the law firm. She longed to tell her grandmother why she’d so suddenly left her job, put her home on the market and decided to come home to Pleasant to regroup and consider her options. There was the offer to teach at the law school, of course, which was practically a done deal. She had only to sign on the dotted line. Then a former client now in state government had dangled a political-appointment carrot in front of her, and a friend in Maine had called seeking her expertise. She’d been counting on Gram to affirm her next move, whatever it might be.
Abigail Stanhope had been her wisest champion and most loyal confidant since the day Catherine had arrived as an orphaned little girl on Abigail’s doorstep. The idea of life without her grandmother was impossible to comprehend.
Of course, Catherine thought bitterly, this season in her life seemed to be one of relinquishing things—job, home, and now…
“Catherine?”
She started at the sound of Will Tanner’s concerned voice and brushed a hand across her eyes to push her long blond hair away from her face. “Sorry. I drifted off, didn’t I? Shall we head back to your car?”
“Have you had enough time?” His voice was so gentle that it made her want to cry. His chiseled features were inked with concern.
“I don’t think there is enough time,” she said with a weak smile.
He
