Free Mending Places by Denise Hunter Page B

Micah startled me, that’s all.”
    After the groceries were packed up again, Micah said good night and headed toward his room. He flipped on the shower and undressed. No doubt anyone would’ve been startled to come upon someone else so suddenly, but Hanna had been terrified. The way she fought him, it was as if she’d expected him to attack her.
    He stepped under the hot water and remembered the incident a couple of weeks ago when he’d frightened her in the office. She sure did scare easily. Embarrassed easily too. He could tell she’d been embarrassed when he’d walked in on her talking about her dream. He smiled. She hadn’t even turned around to face him. He was glad. The smile slipped from his lips. He didn’t want to encourage her. Tempting though she was, he was determined to stay clear of women.
    Then why is it you keep thinking about her?
He frowned and rinsed the suds from his hair, imagining the water was washing away all thoughts of Hanna. What was it about her anyway? She was attractive enough in a very natural way, but he’d been around plenty of attractivewomen and been able to maintain his hands-off policy. It wasn’t as if she were coming on to him the way Fran had.
    God, help me to get my thought life in order. I don’t want a relation ship with Hanna or any other woman. Help me to get her out of my head.
    Micah dried off and dressed in his gray sweatpants. He had to do something, anything, to get her off his mind. His gaze fell on the Recovery Journal, still on his bed where he’d dropped it. He groaned. He had a whole week to complete the assignment, but at least that would get his mind off Hanna.
    He snatched it up, grabbed the pen off the nightstand, then leaned back against the headboard and thought about the discussion in the group tonight. They’d talked about pivotal points during their childhood. He knew what that was for him.
    He’d been in first grade. He liked his teacher, Mrs. Winters, because she had a soft voice. One day she was reading to the class when his stomach began to itch. And every time he scratched, it itched more. He couldn’t even pay attention to what Mrs. Winters was reading. Finally, she closed the book, and the class divided into groups for their reading circles. But instead of joining his group by the aquarium, he walked up to his teacher’s wooden desk.
    “What’s wrong, Micah. Did you forget to bring your book?”
    “No. My stomach itches.” He scratched. “Right here, and it won’t stop. I think a skeeter bit me.”
    Mrs. Winters stood and circled her desk, then squatted down in front of him. “Well, now, those skeeter bites can itch pretty bad. Let’s see what we have here.” She lifted his T-shirt.
    Micah watched her eyes grow wide.
    “Oh, my! That’s no mosquito bite, sweetie. I think you have chicken pox.”
    “Really?” A smile stretched his lips. Just about everyone else in his class had already had the chicken pox, and he thought he’d never get it. But he didn’t know it would itch this much.
    “You’ll need to go to the nurse’s office and show her your stomach. While you’re waiting for your mom to come get you, I’ll put together a packet of the work you’ll miss over the next week or so.”
    His smile fell from his face. He didn’t know he’d have to miss a whole week of school. He would have to stay at home all day with no one to play with.
    Mrs. Newburg, the school nurse, was walking a girl out the door when Micah entered the office. She said goodbye to her, then turned to him. “Hi, there. Not feeling well?”
    “My stomach itches. Mrs. Winters said I have chicken pox.”
    “You’re Micah, aren’t you?”
    “Uh-huh.” His bangs flopped over his forehead, caught in his eyelashes, and bounced each time he blinked.
    “I’m Mrs. Newburg.” She lifted his T-shirt. “I think you visited me a few months ago.”
    He nodded. “I had a temperature.”
    “Yes, I remember,” she said while examining him. “Well, you