Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) (19 page)

P
ATRICK’S heart ached as he walked the short distance from his

house to Ken’s, carrying a casserole dish. Over the past month or so, he and Ken had gotten closer, at least physically, and from the way Ken reacted to him, he thought Ken probably had feelings for him, which was good. That wasn’t what was bothering him. It was Hanna. Over the past few weeks, he’d watched as Hanna had gone from happy to quiet and playing to sleeping all the time. He kept remembering the fun she’d had at the makeshift Halloween party, and Patrick wanted to see her like that again, but after every treatment she seemed to get worse. Now it was late in the day, and Patrick had spent much of it in his workshop trying to keep his mind off the fact that Hanna was getting yet another treatment. Ken had told him he wasn’t sure how much more Hanna could take, but Dr. Pierson had told him that they had to run this course of treatments fully in order for them to work. Patrick just hoped there weren’t too many more of them.

When he got to the door, he knocked softly with his elbow, and Ken opened the door with as dire an expression on his face as Patrick had ever seen. There was no need to ask how Hanna was doing because he could already see her little bald head resting on a pillow on the sofa. “Thank you, Patrick, but Hanna isn’t up for food right now.”

Patrick nodded, carrying the dish through the house and into the kitchen. He set down the dish, then waited for Ken before he lifted the lid. Patrick then walked to the cupboard, got out two plates, and spooned some of the pasta onto each plate before handing one to Ken with a stern look.

“I know I need to eat,” Ken agreed, and Patrick pulled open a drawer and handed Ken a fork. “She’s so tired all the time,” Ken began as he took the first bite. “They wanted to put her in the hospital, but Hanna begged to come home. She’ll probably sleep until morning, unless she starts to get sick, and then she’ll be up all night, which won’t help her at all.” Ken set the plate on the counter and began pacing the kitchen floor. “I don’t know what to do.”

Patrick set his own plate aside as well and took Ken into his arms, holding him while he shook with what Patrick thought was fear.

“I have to keep her away from anyone who might have anything, because even a cold could be life-threatening. The doctor says she’s hopeful that this is the worst of it, and that Hanna will start getting better soon, but I just don’t see it. She gets weaker and weaker after every treatment,” Ken whispered. Patrick’s appetite was gone, and he understood why Ken couldn’t eat much. It simply didn’t seem that important.

“Daddy,” floated into the room, and Ken headed for the living room. Patrick caught his eye and pointed to himself.

“Of course,” Ken said, and Patrick walked into the living room, where Hanna was still resting. Patrick knelt down next to the sofa and gently lifted Hanna into his arms. She curled against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, and Patrick thought he was going to cry right there. Walking slowly through the house, he returned to the kitchen.

“Patrick made some dinner. Are you hungry?” Ken asked, and Hanna rolled her head against Patrick’s shoulder, holding him around the neck. Ken sighed softly, and Patrick pointed to the plate of food, giving Ken a stern look. He picked it up again and slowly began to eat while Patrick slowly walked with Hanna in his arms, trying to soothe her to sleep. He lightly rubbed Hanna’s back as he walked, checking every so often to make sure Ken was eating.

Patrick didn’t stop moving until Ke n had finished his plate. Then Patrick followed Ken upstairs and into Hanna’s room. Patrick rested her on the bed without Hanna opening her eyes, and Ken got her shoes off before putting a blanket over her. He retrieved Hanna’s favorite pink hat from her dresser and carefully put it on her head. Quietly, they left the room, and Ken didn’t say anything as they descended the stairs once again.

Back in the kitchen, Ken put Patrick’s plate in the microwave, and after it was reheated, handed it to him. Patrick sat at the table finishing his lunch while Ken wandered through the kitchen, doing things that were obviously meant to keep himself busy. “What am I going to do if she doesn’t make it?” Ken asked, staring at the wall as he leaned on the counter. Patrick saw Ken’s shoulders bob up and down and he knew he was crying. “She’s… she….” Patrick heard Ken breaking down, and he tugged him away from the counter, folding him into his arms. Ken buried his face against Patrick’s shoulder and began to sob.

Patrick had no idea what to do other than try to comfort Ken. Even if he could speak, no words were going to fix this. Just like he’d done with Hanna, Patrick stroked along Ken’s back to soothe him, letting Ken cry it out.

They stood together for quite awhile, until Ken’s tears subsided and he moved away. “I know I’m being a baby,” Ken said as he wiped his eyes. “I shouldn’t be blubbering like an idiot.” Ken turned away, but Patrick caught his arm to stop him. “I know. I need to be strong for Hanna and help her make the most of whatever time we have together.”

Patrick wanted to tell Ken that was easier said than done, but he simply nodded and tugged Ken back into his arms. He’d been learning that if he wanted others to know what he was feeling, he needed to demonstrate his feelings rather than saying them, and right now, he desperately needed to comfort Ken, because he was being comforted as well.

“The worst part is that Hanna knows she isn’t doing well,” Ken explained in a whisper. “She asked me this morning how long it was until Christmas, and she asked if Santa Claus ever came early.” Patrick heard Ken swallow hard. A soft knock sounded at the front door. Ken moved away from him, and Patrick signaled that he’d answer the door to give Ken a chance to compose himself.

Patri ck opened the door and saw Julianne standing on Ken’s porch with Todd in her arms. “Since you weren’t home, I thought I’d try here,” Julianne said, and Patrick motioned her inside, putting his finger in front of his lips. “Is Hanna asleep?” she asked, and Patrick nodded.

“How is she?” Julianne asked over Patrick’s shoulder, and he turned as Ken approached them.

 

“Very tired and scared,” Ken answered.

“Patrick told me yesterday that she was having another treatment,” Julianne told Ken, and he nodded. “We don’t mean to disturb you, but Todd’s preschool class made pictures for Hanna, and I wanted to give them to you.” Julianne set Todd down and pulled a sheaf of large drawing paper out of her bag, handing it to Ken. “Todd told his class for show and tell that he had a friend who was very sick, and they made these for her.” Todd looked proud of himself, and rightfully so, in Patrick’s opinion. He lifted Todd into his arms and gave him a huge hug.

As Patrick held him, Todd reached over to where Ken stood and began looking through the papers. “That one’s mine,” Todd said, and Ken held up the picture. “It’s the Haboween party,” Todd explained, his eyes huge, and Patrick hugged him again.

“Thank you,” Ken said to Todd, looking a bit stunned. “All of you.”

 

“Is there anything you need?” Julianne asked, and Patrick looked to Ken, who shook his head.

 

“Prayer?” Ken questioned softly.

 

“You already have that,” Julianne explained. “Are you eating? Do you need help around the house or in the yard?”

Ken shook his head. “Patrick has been helping in the yard, and much to Hanna’s delight, he’s been helping with a lot of the cooking. I’ve been known to burn water.”

Patrick saw a confusing expression on Ken’s face that he couldn’t read, but it looked like he might have figured something out. He glanced at Julianne to see if she’d seen it too, but she didn’t react and continued talking. “Don’t be shy about asking for anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Ken answered, looking shaken and lost.

“I need to get this one home for his nap,” Julianne said as she took Todd from Patrick’s arms. “Tell Hanna her friends are thinking of her.” Julianne walked toward the door. Patrick hurried to open it for her, and she waved good-bye as she descended the stairs. Patrick closed the door and turned around. Ken stood in the same spot, looking at the drawings in his hand, smiling as he saw pictures of crude horses and cars. Some of the drawings were mostly scribbles of color, while others were pictures where figures and shapes were definitely recognizable.

“I’ll put these on the coffee table for Hanna,” Ken said as he set down the drawings. Patrick wandered into the kitchen, putting away the food and making sure everything had been cleaned up. When he was done, Patrick found Ken in his studio, staring out the window into the backyard. “I’ve tried to paint for weeks, and nothing comes.”

That was perfectly understandable to Patrick. He hadn’t spent time in his shop in weeks. Patrick had finished his latest projects and hadn’t started anything more.

Ken looked away and then rummaged in a set of paintings leaning against the wall, turning them around. Hanna’s face greeted him from canvas after canvas. Some of them smiling, wearing her favorite pink hat. Others with her looking tired and drawn, and one painting where she was asleep, her head bald, looking small and helpless as she rested on a huge bed. “This is all I see now,” Ken explained, pointing to the last portrait. “I try to see her the way she was, but I can’t.”

Patrick looked around for something to write on a nd found a pencil and a notepad from an art supplier. “
You need some rest too
.”

“I can’t sleep. What if something happens to her while I’m not there?” Ken asked, almost shouting.

“
Maybe you aren’t meant to see Hanna like she was. Maybe you need to see her as she is and paint that
,” Patrick wrote and then tore the page off the pad, handing it to Ken before writing some more. “
We know what happy children look like. Maybe we all need to see pictures of Hanna sick so we can understand what that little girl is going through and how hard she’s fighting
.” Patrick handed the page to Ken. “
But you can’t do that if you don’t sleep too
.”

“Are you saying there’s some plan for Hanna’s illness?” Ken asked, looking almost furious.

Patrick shook his head. “
Only that maybe something good can come of it if you can show how hard Hanna is fighting. Maybe others can take heart and find courage from it. Because Hanna is one of the bravest people I have ever met in my life
.” Patrick felt tears well up as he handed Ken the page. He knew he was probably reaching, but that had been how he’d felt about his music. It wasn’t always happy, but helping each other through the hurt and pain of life was what people were supposed to do. He’d done it through his songs, and Ken could do it through his art. Watching as Ken read what he’d written, he saw the anger dissipate from Ken’s face.

“She is courageous,” Ken agreed, and Patrick walked toward the door before stopping to write one more note.

“
Get some rest. You’ll be able to think much clearer if you aren’t so tired
.” Patrick handed Ken the note before clapping him lightly on the shoulder, holding Ken’s gaze until he agreed; then he opened the studio door.

“I’ll lie down if you lie down with me,” Ken said, and Patrick nodded, extending his arm and letting Ken lead him up to his room.

Patrick kicked off his shoes before lying down on the bed. He waited for Ken to join him and then held him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep. Patrick listened to Ken breathe and watched him sleep for a while before dozing off himself. He didn’t sleep long, and spent the rest of the time holding Ken, which was something he’d never get tired of.

P
ATRICK shut off the band saw in his workshop. He’d spent many hours cutting wooden pieces, and he’d spend days putting all the pieces together. Checking the clock, he saw he still had an hour, so he fired up the sander and got to work smoothing the edges of all the pieces. Lately, working in his shop was the only thing that seemed to calm him. He was on a mission, and after weeks without working, it felt good to be doing something.

An hour later, Patrick set the last piece aside and turned off the sander. The room became quiet, and Patrick pulled the plugs out of his ears before he did a quick cleanup, turned out the lights, and headed into the house.

In his bathroom, Patrick stripped out of his clothes and took a quick shower before dressing again and heading out for his visit to the hospital. The familiar drive went quickly, and Patrick parked and walked inside, navigating the now familiar hallways to Hanna’s room. She’d been there a week, and when Patrick walked in, he saw Hanna watching television and Ken asleep in the chair next to her bed. Patrick hadn’t seen much of his lover (that was how he thought of Ken now, even though he really wasn’t sure exactly what they were) outside of the hospital lately, and he knew Ken hadn’t been sleeping. When Hanna saw him, she smiled, and Patrick quieted her so they wouldn’t wake up Ken, then bent over the bed to hug her.

“I’m feeling better,” Hanna told him. They’d sort of gotten into a routine. At first Ken had asked all the normal questions for him, but now Hanna just supplied the answers. “Dr. Angie says I’m done with treatments.” Hanna yawned, and Patrick nodded and hugged her again. Then he let her settle on the bed and sat down in the other chair, watching the Disney Channel with her until Ken stretched and opened his eyes.

“Have you been here long?” Ken asked in a whisper, and Patrick lifted his hand, waving it back and forth in their signal for not too long ago. Looking toward the bed, he saw that Hanna had fallen asleep, and Ken yawned and stretched as he stood up, and Patrick followed him out of the room. “She’s had her last round of treatments. The doctor says there isn’t anything more they can do for her right now. She believes Hanna’s at the turning point, and she’ll either recover now or….” Ken’s voice trailed off, and Patrick didn’t need him to continue with his thought. He knew exactly what Ken was saying, and he felt the fear and anxiety settle in his stomach. “All we can do now is wait,” Ken added in a cracked voice.

Patrick had taken to putting a small pad and pen in his shirt pocket, and he pulled them out. “
When do they expect Hanna to be able to come home
?”