Hannah's List by Debbie Macomber Read Free Book Online Page B

would be again and I’d need to deal with instances like this on my own. I’d acted foolishly. But while I regretted cracking, I didn’t regret threatening that wife-beater.
    It was midnight before I’d calmed down enough to go to bed, but sleep didn’t come. After tangling the sheets, rolling one way and then the other, I decided to sit up and read. That didn’t help, and in an act of pure desperation, I reached for the photo of Hannah. It was one of my favorites—she was walking in an open field, carpeted with blooming wildflowers. I’d taken it on a day trip to Hurricane Ridge several years before. I kept the framed photograph by my bedside and now I set it on the pillow next to mine.
    As I suspected it would, having Hannah’s picture close soothed me and I finally fell asleep.
    I woke to the bright light of morning and lay on my back, gazing up at the ceiling as I replayed the events of the previous night. I turned my head to one side to lookfor Hannah’s photograph, planning to replace it on my nightstand. I was surprised to find it missing.
    I sat up and looked around. It took me a few minutes to discover that at some point I must have thrashed around and caused the photograph to fall to the floor.
    I leaned over to retrieve it and found the glass shattered and the frame broken.

Chapter Six
    I work out at the gym three days a week, but on Saturday mornings, I usually run. After my five-mile jog, I stepped into the shower and let the spray beat down on my back while my thoughts churned. I couldn’t get the vision of Hannah’s broken photograph out of my mind. It felt almost as if she was telling me how upset she was that I hadn’t done what she’d asked, which I realized was ridiculous. And yet…the glass had shattered. Why now, I wanted to know, after the countless times I’d placed it on the empty pillow next to mine?
    I’m not a superstitious man; I believe in science and rational behavior. But I couldn’t help wondering if Hannah was the reason I instantly recalled Winter’s phone number. Of course, the fact that I’d stared at it for ten minutes yesterday evening might have something to do with it.
    I waited until nine-thirty, then called. Winter answered on the second ring.
    “Hello.”
    “Hi, Winter. It’s Michael,” I said. Actually, I’d been hoping the call would go to voice mail and I could escape talking to her. No such luck.
    “Michael! It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you? No, don’t answer that, I know how you are.”
    “You do?”
    “You miss Hannah. Oh, Michael, I do, too.”
    So I’d been right. Hannah would be the primary focus of our conversation.
    “I can’t believe it’s been a year.”
    “Me, neither,” I muttered. In some ways, though, it felt much longer.
    “I heard you stopped by the café,” Winter continued. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I hope you’ll come again.”
    “Sure.”
    “How about now?”
    “Now?” I repeated.
    “Unless you’ve got other plans. We can have coffee, spend a few minutes catching up.”
    Perhaps it would be best to get this over with quickly. I’d fulfill my duty and then go back to missing Hannah. She wouldn’t be able to fault me once I’d made the effort. “It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get there.”
    “That’s perfect. How do you like your coffee?”
    “Black,” I told her.
    “I’ll start a fresh pot. It’ll be ready by the time you arrive. Would you like a croissant?”
    I wasn’t turning one down. “That would be wonderful.”
    “Great. I’ll see you soon.”
    “Bye.” I hung up and paused while I considered what had just taken place. All week I’d worried about what I’d say, but so far, dialogue on my part had hardly been necessary. Winter seemed pleased, even excited, to hear from me, although I hadn’t seen her in more than a year.
    All at once an idea struck me. Was it possible that Hannah had written letters to the three women on the list, as well? This hadn’t occurred to me