She Waits Read Free

woman.
    Hannah was chattering away with her niece as we pulled onto another tree-lined road, which took us deeper into the woods. I was suddenly aware of an anxious feeling sweeping through me. You know that feeling of anticipation one has when starting an adventurous vacation? I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I glanced around the quiet woods. No, this anxious feeling in my gut was not the thrill of an adventure. When the sprawling estate burst into the view, I shivered quickly and found myself glancing nervously around the quiet woods. I glanced at Hannah Winfield. Why did these two women suddenly become quiet?
    Hidden back in the woods was a sprawling two-story Georgian brick with an enormous greenhouse attached on the left, and a very large garage on the right, complete with what looked like a small apartment over it.
    Radiant burnt-orange ivy covered the front of the house and I could only imagine how many rooms there were. A path led from the house to a stable back on the left about thirty yards away, and then off into the woods.
    I pulled up the circular drive and stopped at the front door. When I got out, Chance also jumped out and began running around in circles as if for dear life.
    "Don't worry, let her run, poor thing," Hannah said.
    I turned to Margaret and saw her struggling to get out of the back of the cart. I went and offered my hand without saying a word. She looked up, said nothing, and took my hand. She started to walk, but couldn't.
    Hannah screeched for Bedford again. Like nails on a blackboard, it went right through me.
    "Oy," I mumbled as my eyes crossed. I had such a headache.
    By her reaction, I could tell Miss Winfield felt the same. "Christ, it's too early in the morning for this. Aunt Hannah, please, I don't need Bedford. I can get in the house fine."
    "You say Christ far too much for my liking, young lady. Why in the world do you use that word so much?" Hannah asked.
    "I was wondering the same thing myself." I couldn't help myself as I felt the blue eyes glaring.
    "Can we just get into the house?" Margaret asked vehemently, slowly limping toward the front door.
    "Oh, all right, but once we get inside I'm calling Doc Jenkins," Hannah said.
    Once inside, I felt very much at home, but still the anxious feeling nagged. Dark oak gave the foyer a warm, cozy feeling. What you first noticed was the large staircase as you enter the foyer. To the left was what I assumed was a library, or perhaps a den, and to the right, a living room.
    So, being totally female, or more correctly, just plain nosy, I craned my neck to see into the living room, wondering what lay beyond. "Which way do we go, Miss Winfield?"
    "Let's go into the living room, to the right," she said. She sounded exhausted.
    I helped her to the couch and propped her foot up on a pillow. I didn't take her boot off because I remembered a bit of first aid: Never, ever, remove a shoe if you sprain an ankle, because it will blow up like a huge blowfish. I'd just let the doctor do that when he got there so I could blame him.
    Hannah appeared wheeling in a small teacart. "Miss Ryan--may I call you Kate?"
    "Please, we've been through far too much in one morning to be formal," I said.
    "Good, then I shall call you Kate, and you can call me Hannah, or Aunt Hannah if you prefer." She seemed so excited. I could tell she loved having people around. She looked at her niece. "Now, what about you, dear?"
    "I would prefer not to be called Aunt Hannah or Kate if you don't mind."
    I chuckled at that one. Hannah wasn't that amused, or at least she didn't show it.
    "Don't be sarcastic, you know what I mean. Do you want Kate to call you Maggie or Margaret or just plain stubborn?"
    "I opt for just plain stubborn," I said.
    "Whatever."
    "Oh, for heaven's sake." Hannah looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Call her Maggie." She went to Maggie and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear, all will work out. I'll call Doc right away."
    I sat down in an unbelievably