a hanover falls
novel
Deborah Raney
Eighteen months after the tragic Grove
Street Fire took the life of her husband and four other heroic firefighters,
Susan Marlowe thinks she's finally beginning to heal. But then she
discovers that David carried a secret to his grave-a secret that changes
everything she thought about their marriage. For the sake of
their sons, can Susan forgive the unforgivable?
Deborah
Raney's After All is a poignant story of betrayal, forgiveness, and
love. If you've ever felt betrayed by someone
you cared about, Raney has created a story that offers hope for your
heart. After All portrays the freedom found through
forgiveness, and the joy found in the courage to love again.
–– Ginny L. Yttrup,
author of Words and Lost And Found
Susan stacked
clean mugs in the cupboard above the snack counter in the shelter's commons area
and dumped the dregs of this morning's coffee into the sink. The aroma, stale as
it was, revived her a little.
It was after
eight o'clock. Almost dark, and the first-shift volunteers still hadn't shown
up. She blew out a sigh. She always sent out e-mail reminders to the shelter
volunteers at the beginning of each week, but made it a point never to call
anyone who didn't show. They didn't owe her anything, and it was their own time
they were sacrificing. That was just one downside to running a homeless shelter
that depended almost solely on volunteer staff.
"You're still
here?" Charlie Branson rolled his wheelchair out of the men's sleeping quarters
and gave her a look intended to make her feel guilty.
"We're
shorthanded tonight."
Charlie was
technically a resident of the shelter, a disabled Vietnam vet who'd been
relocated to a shelter in Springfield after the original Grove Street shelter
burned down. But once it was up and running at this new location, Susan had
persuaded Charlie to return to the Falls, and offered him room and board in
exchange for some light housekeeping duties and an unofficial title of assistant
manager. He took the title very seriously, and the other clients respected his
authority.
The shelter
operated as overnight only, which served to keep the population to a manageable
level. What David had called the "chronically homeless" usually migrated on to
Springfield where there were full-time shelters. Here in the Falls, local
churches took turns serving a light dinner each evening, and provided breakfast
fixings for anyone who got out of bed in time. But the shelter was vacated at
eight sharp every morning and they locked the facility during the day until
Susan or Charlie opened the doors again at five p.m.
Charlie worked
at the library downtown shelving books and doing odd jobs, but he was always
back in time to open the shelter, and Susan had given him permission to be in
the building during daytime hours.
Susan helped
Charlie set out leftovers for breakfast and for those who'd be packing lunches
tomorrow. Fortunately, they were under capacity this week, with eleven men and a
family of five. Two of the guys who worked the night shift hadn't checked in
yet, and the rest of the men were either in bed already or in the dayroom
watching TV.
Charlie took the
dishrag from her and finished wiping off the serving bar. "I've got everything
under control here. You go home."
"I will in a few
minutes. But I think I'll go catch up on some paperwork first." She could
probably trust Charlie to keep things under control until the night shift showed
up, but sure as she did that, something would go wrong. She unplugged the
coffeemaker and checked the stove one more time, making sure everything was off.
The fire––a year and-a-half ago now––had made everyone extra
cautious.
She settled in
at her desk, but a minute later Charlie wheeled into the office holding up a
bottle of red liquid––cheap wine, by the looks of the label.
"What on
earth…?"
Charlie wore a
triumphant smirk. "Found this behind the refrigerator."
"You're
kidding?"
"Well, it sure
ain't mine." He looked offended.
"I know that.
But you're sure it's not just––"
Before she could
finish her sentence, Charlie had the lid off the bottle. He waved it under her
nose.
"Whew… Okay,
okay… It's the real deal." Great. Now she had to deal with it. This was the part
of the job she hated.
"You know whose
it is, of course."
She eyed him. "I
have my suspicions."
He harrumphed.
"You'd almost think that jerk wanted to get caught."
"Charlie––"
"Sorry." He
waved a hand. "I'm just sayin'."
"I'll handle
it." She took in a deep breath and blew it out.
Thankfully,
Charlie wheeled out of the office and headed for the dayroom––no doubt to a spot
where he could still listen in on the altercation that was sure to
ensue.
She slid her
chair back and went to find Earl Eland. If he failed the Breathalyzer test, it
was three strikes. She couldn't afford to look the other way, but if Charlie
hadn't been watching to see how she handled this, she would have quietly
discarded the bottle and pretended she never saw it.
She didn't think
Earl would give her any trouble if she asked him to leave––especially if he was
drunk. But on the off chance he refused, she did not want to have to call the
police. The Courier would love nothing more than a juicy story about
trouble at the shelter.
Earl was in the
dayroom, glued to a sitcom with the other residents. Being careful not to make
eye contact with Charlie, Susan cleared her throat. "Earl? Could you come here
for a minute?"
He pointed at
himself and gave her a questioning look, as if he hadn't heard her.
She nodded and
motioned for him to follow her. He eased out of the shabby recliner and shuffled
to the office.
She closed the
door and looked him in the eye. He didn't look drunk, but then she wasn't sure
she'd ever seen him completely sober. She walked around her desk, picked up the
wine bottle, and held it up.
His face gave
away nothing.
She unlocked a
desk drawer and retrieved a Breathalyzer kit. "I'm sorry, Earl, but I need to
have you take this."
He looked away.
"Rather not."
"Earl, you're
putting me in a tough spot here. You know the rules."
"I know… I
know."
"Is this
yours?"
He looked
directly into her eyes. "I can truthfully tell you that it's not." His impish
half-grin gave him away.
She almost
laughed. He was probably telling the truth––because he'd stolen the bottle. Or
"borrowed" it from one of the lowlifes he hung out with. She replaced the
Breathalyzer kit in the desk, closed the drawer, and locked it. She'd probably
be sorry, but if he failed that test, she'd be forced to kick him out. She
simply didn't have it in her tonight to deal with the fallout.
"Okay, Earl,
here's the deal." She looked at him hard, hating how often this job made her
sound condescending and snobbish. "I'm going to trust that you're technically
telling me the truth. This bottle is going into a random Dumpster in an
unidentified town on an undisclosed date"––that earned her another grin––"and
you are going to recognize that you've been given a chance you probably didn't
deserve, and you're going to appreciate it and not blow it because unlike God, I
do not have an unlimited amount of grace to offer. Is that
understood?"
"Understood." He
grinned big enough to reveal the gaps where important teeth were
missing.
"And I'll be
mentioning this incident to your social worker and you'll have to work something
out with her. Okay?"
He nodded,
looking only slightly penitent. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay, if that's okay
with you, Blondie."
"I think that's
a very good idea." Before I punch your lights out. She'd let him get away
with calling her "Blondie" before, so she couldn't very well say anything about
it now. Though it hadn't sounded so disrespectful before.
Earl reached for
the door just as the night shift volunteers came through.
Susan glanced at
her watch. "You guys are early."
"And you're
still here," Garrett Edmonds said. "When do you ever sleep?"
"The early shift
didn't show."
"Susan! You
should have called," Bryn said. "We would have come earlier."
"I know, but
that's not what you signed up for."
Garrett and his
wife, Bryn, were newlyweds who often volunteered for the overnight shift. Bryn
had served many hours of community service for claiming responsibility for the
fire that killed David, along with Bryn's first husband, Adam, and three others,
including Garrett's first wife, who was also a firefighter. It had been a
careless accident––Bryn had left a candle burning in the upstairs
office.
But Susan had
never blamed Bryn. That act of negligence had changed so many lives, but it
could have happened to anyone. If anything, Susan blamed herself for not having
had stricter rules in place.
"Well, we're
here now." Bryn put her purse in a drawer of the file cabinet and shrugged out
of her jacket. "So would you please go home and get some sleep?"
Susan gave her a
grateful smile.
"Everything calm
here tonight?" Garrett asked.
From Howard/Simon &
Schuster
© 2012 Deborah
Raney
Do not reproduce without
permission.
Available in bookstores
everywhere, or order online at CBD.com, amazon.com or other bookstores
online.
