Mending Places (34 page)

Just another second. When her attacker faced the other way, Micah would hit him from behind. His fists clenched in anticipation, and his face tightened in fury. Whoever was hurting Hanna would have no mercy from him.

At last the man knelt over Hanna’s back. Micah sprang forward and hit him with a force that knocked his body across the room. The man’s body thudded against the floor. Micah pulled his head up by the collar of his coat and slammed his head onto the floor. Once. Twice. Three times.

He got up and shoved the still body over. The man groaned.

Behind him, Hanna whimpered. He turned. The scarce light shimmered on her wet face. He came to her as she finished working the knot on the cloth and removed it from around her head.

She stepped into his arms and collapsed against him, shaking.

“Shh, it’s okay now, honey.” He held her tightly, relief washing over him like waves on the shore. “Are you all right?” She nodded against his chest. She was wet and cold, but unhurt, thank God.
Thank You, Jesus. Thank You.

Groans from behind him warned him the man was coming to. “Where’s that cloth that was around your head?” He found it on floor and asked her to hold the flashlight. She shone the light on the man’s head. His eyes remained closed. A crimson spot bloomed through the ski mask at his forehead. Micah kicked him over onto his belly and tied his hands behind his back with what felt like a thin scarf. The light wavered.

“Shine it down here.” Micah pushed the man back over, then he grabbed the top of the ski mask and yanked it off. Another moan sounded as the material slid over the wound.

“Devon!”

Hanna gasped.

Rage tore through him like a tornado. Hanna had provided the man with a job. Trusted him. Paid him. And how had he returned the favor? Micah grabbed Devon by the coat and drew back a fist.

“Don’t, Micah.” The light fell as Hanna grabbed his shoulder. “He’s already unconscious. I’ll go call the police.”

Micah dropped Devon’s weight. “I already did. They should be here soon.”

“I was so scared.” Her voice trembled.

He stood and held her, stroking her back. Her whole body quaked, and he knew it wasn’t just the cold that made her tremble. “Go back to the lodge.” He held her away. “You need to warm up. Send the police down here.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

He wondered whether she was afraid of being alone or afraid to leave him with Devon. He glanced down and noticed her bare feet. “Oh man, Hanna, your feet.” He kicked off his tennis shoes and knelt down to slip her feet inside them. They looked like clown shoes on her.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He held her to him again, overcome with gratitude for her safety. What would he have done if anything had happened to his Hanna? He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. Swallowing the knot in his throat, he set her away from him. “Go on back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He stooped down for the flashlight and handed it to her.

She took it and nodded, then walked out the door. He watched her stumble through the snow and hoped the shoes didn’t fall off.

Sounds of movement came from behind him, and he turned to see Devon stirring. His blood simmered with fury. What would Devon have
done to Hanna if he hadn’t shown up? The thoughts that tumbled through his mind sped his pulse and sent jabs of anger through his limbs. Somewhere in the distance a siren pealed.

From the window Micah watched the police cruiser pull slowly onto the road, tamping down the virgin snow. Still, the white flecks fell, swirling frantically around before settling onto the thick blanket on the ground.

He heard Hanna pad into the room and turned. She looked warmer now, dressed in fleece sweats, a multicolored quilt hugging her shoulders.

“Are they gone?” She stood before him looking alone and vulnerable, her tear-swollen eyes a tangible remnant of her ordeal.

“Yes. We’ll need go to the station and fill out a formal complaint later.” He longed to hold her. To erase the last hour and tell her he’d never let anything bad happen to her again. “Do you feel like going back to bed?”

She shook her head and pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders.

“Is your grandmother back in bed?”

Hanna nodded. Gram had been frantic when she’d awakened during all the chaos. Only Hanna’s assurances that she was fine expelled the panic from her eyes. But Micah knew Hanna wasn’t fine. She had yet to show any emotion other than the tears that had leaked silently from her eyes.

“Want me to start a fire?” he asked.

She nodded.

He stacked fresh logs in the grate and worked to light them. Hanna stood behind him as if she didn’t know what to do.

Finally, the logs flickered to life, and he took her hand, pulling her to the sofa. He sat first and gently pulled her into his lap. She let go of the blanket and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her knees drew up protectively, and she lay her face in the curve of his neck.

What was she thinking? What was she feeling? He wanted to wipe it all away.

He wanted to beat Devon until his eyes were swollen and black and blue. His jaw clenched, and his breaths grew shallow. Why hadn’t he done it while he’d had the chance? The man deserved it. Deserved worse.

Hanna sniffed, and he knew she was going to cry in earnest. The shock was wearing off. He fought to dispel his anger toward Devon. Hanna first. He would deal with his own emotions later.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, tightening his arms until their bodies were melded together. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her body broke into sobs that sounded as if they were wrenched from the deepest part of her. “Shhh.” The sobs came in waves, each one stabbing him with pain. He thanked God he’d awakened in time to prevent something worse but wished it had been him that had caught Devon in the lodge. “It’s over,” he murmured. The whole rotten farce was over. And Devon had been behind it all along.

“I—it just brought it all back … ,” she choked out, then cried again.

He wondered what she was talking about but didn’t ask. He curled his hand around her chin and turned her face toward him. Fear shadowed her eyes. He wiped away the tears on her face, but more trickled down in their place.

“It brought back the whole nightmare.” She wiped her nose with a tissue she had wadded up in her fist.

He waited silently for her to continue, knowing something inside her desperately needed to come out.

“It happened when I was eighteen. I—I was on my way home from work. I knew I was low on gas, but it was late, and I thought I could make it home.” She closed her eyes.

He thought she must be talking about whatever it was that gave her nightmares.

“I ran out of gas. It was so dark. But I got out and walked—didn’t have a choice.” She stopped and wiped her nose on the soggy tissue. “I came to a bar. It was lit up. I could hear the loud music from inside. I was afraid to go in.” A blink sent another tear chasing down her cheek.

“I saw lights ahead, a gas station. So I passed the bar and kept walking.”

Somewhere within Micah, a pebble of apprehension sent ripples through him.

“It got really dark once I passed the bar. There was no one around. I was scared. And then I heard footsteps behind me. I walked faster. And then I started running.” She turned her fear-laden eyes on him. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Someone grabbed me from behind. He—he pulled me away from the road—”

Icy fingers of dread spread through him. It was too familiar to be a coincidence.

No.

It couldn’t be.

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

Her words grazed across his frozen mind.
Please, God, no! It can’t be true!

“It was so dark.”

No. It hadn’t been Hanna. She’d had short hair. Curly hair. In his drunken state, he’d seen his mother. And he’d wanted to hurt her. His heart clenched painfully, and blood pulsed at his temples.
It’s a mistake. A mistake.

“Afterward, I just wanted to die.” She buried her head in his chest, and his arms mechanically tightened.

She’d said she’d been eighteen. He tried to force his paralyzed brain to do the math. The slate of his mind went blank, and he tried again.

Eight years ago. Which would’ve made him—

Guilty.

The numbing blow choked off his breath. His heart skipped a beat, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as the realization echoed through him in waves of shock.
Oh, God. It was me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
 

Hanna stretched, her stiff muscles protesting loudly. She turned and opened her eyes. Morning light peeked through the curtains, chasing shadows from the lodge. She sat upright, confused for a moment to find herself on the sofa.

It all came back with brutal clarity. She ran a hand across her puffy eyes. She must’ve fallen asleep on Micah. She wondered where he was now. What did he think of all she’d shared with him last night? Was he horrified at her experience? Last night’s ordeal with Devon had brought back all the shame she’d felt those years ago. How dirty she’d felt. She’d lost her virginity, a long-valued treasure she’d been saving for her husband.

Was Micah disappointed? He’d been quiet while she’d talked and cried, but she’d assumed he was simply allowing her to vent. Had she been wrong?

The quilt she’d been wrapped in the night before was now spread over her like the wings of an eagle, and she took comfort in the thought that Micah had covered her before he left. As she slid off the couch and walked to the kitchen, she became aware of soreness throughout her body. No doubt, she’d been bruised in last night’s assault.

She started a pot of coffee and placed a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave, then walked to the window. Cold air seeped through the glass, adding to the winter-wonderlandfeeling the sight inspired. The earth was
enshrouded with snow, as if someone had generously sprinkled confectioner’s sugar from a God-sized sieve. Every branch was coated in white, and still the snow continued to fall. Judging by the stack of white atop the bird feeder, she figured they’d received eight or nine inches so far.

Despite the horror of the previous night, she rejoiced. The early snowfall meant skiers, and skiers meant customers. With Devon out of the way and the national ads running again, they could expect a strong fall.

The scene beyond the windowpane looked peaceful. The footprints from the night before had been covered completely. It was almost as if it hadn’t happened. Micah had said Devon admitted to nothing, but his assault would see him in jail for a while at least.

The coffee maker silenced as the last drips filtered through, and the microwave beeped. Hanna stirred the oatmeal and set muffins and fruit on the table, then went to wake Gram, knowing she hated to sleep too long. Last night’s debacle must’ve taken its toll to keep her in bed until nine.

After waking Gram she walked to Micah’s door, feeling awkward about the night before. She was being silly, she assured herself. Micah had rescued her and held her until she’d fallen asleep. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

She raised her hand and rapped quietly on the door in case he was still asleep.

She heard him clear his throat. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Her heart pounded in anticipation of seeing him.

“Oh, I-uh …”

Silence ensued. She wondered if he wasn’t dressed. “I just wanted you to know breakfast is ready.”

He paused a beat. “Go on without me; I’ll be out in a while.”

“All right.” She hesitated a moment, hoping he’d say something else or open his door. When he didn’t, she returned to the kitchen. He’d sounded strange. Not snappy or irritable. Just distant. She shook her head and berated herself for reading so much into a few words.

She and Gram ate together, and Hanna assured her once again that she was fine. While Gram loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, Hanna started a fire, then turned on the TV to check the latest forecast. Snow, snow and more snow. That, combined with the strong wind, amounted to a snow emergency. A couple of calls came in requesting reservations for the following weekend. Ski buffs, wanting to take advantage of the early snow and optimistic that several days of heavy snow would give them a good base. Hanna, on the other hand, wondered if they’d even have the roads cleared by then if they got all the snow that was forecasted.