Waiting for Morning (19 page)

Hannah squirmed in her seat and reached for a tissue. Her sinuses were clear for a change, and she didn’t feel like crying. But tears came anyway, trickling down the side of her face like some kind of permanent leak. She read the next question. “Where were your loved ones going when the accident occurred.” Hannah moved the pen across the page.
Home
.

The next section was more difficult. “Describe what you would like people to remember about your loved ones.” Hannah sighed and wiped her eyes. Maybe Carol was right. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.

She looked up and saw that the morning had grown cloudy. A gloomy shadow filled the house, bringing a chill over the place where she sat at the dining room table. She picked up the steaming mug beside her and breathed in the smell of apple-cinnamon tea. Carefully she lifted it to her lips and sipped slowly, allowing the hot liquid to soothe her raspy throat.

In the past she might have been listening to David Jeremiah or some other Christian artist as she worked. But she had packed those CDs away a week ago. No point in singing about God if she didn’t believe in him.

She reached behind her and flicked on the chandelier lights above the table. Soon the days would grow shorter, and then the holidays would be upon them. The first Thanksgiving without Tom and Alicia. The first Christmas. Hannah tried not to think about it as she studied the questionnaire once more.

When the phone rang, Hannah sighed and set down her pen. Reaching across the table she picked up the cordless phone and pushed the blinking button. “Hello?” Again she was struck by how foreign her voice sounded—dead, toneless, emotionless … like someone who had lost the ability to feel.

“Mrs. Ryan? This is Mary Stelpstra, principal at West Hills Junior High.”

Hannah felt her heart sink. Something was wrong with Jenny. “Yes?”

The woman hesitated. “Mrs. Ryan, I think we need to set up a meeting to discuss Jenny.”

Not now
. “What about her?”

“Well, it isn’t something I wish to discuss over the phone. Are you available this morning? Say around eleven?”

Hannah stared at the unfinished questionnaire. Eleven gave her an hour to complete it. “Yes. I can be there.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in my office.”

Hannah hung up and sighed. When would the nightmare ever end? She returned to the form and saw that it gave her just five lines to write everything she hoped people would remember about Tom and Alicia.
Five lines?

She moved on to the next question. “What do you think about people who drink and drive.” This one was easy. Hannah picked up her pen and scribbled furiously.
Drunk drivers are selfish animals, killers with no regard for human life. They are the worst sort of people on earth
.

She reread her answer and thought of Brian Wesley, sitting nervously beside Harold Finch and hoping for a delay so his injuries could heal before he might have to face a jury.

She clenched her teeth and threw the pen across the room.
The questionnaire wasn’t making things better! Even if she
could
reach someone, save someone from drinking and driving, it would never bring back Tom and Alicia. She began to moan and it became a cry that filled the empty rooms of their home.
“Tom!
I can’t do it. I can’t do this without you!”

She laid her head down on her folded arms, and the tears came hard. She missed Tom and Alicia so badly she thought she might suffocate.

Wiping at her eyes, she glanced at the clock. 10:45. With a start she stood up, blew her nose, and grabbed her car keys. It was time to meet with Mary Stelpstra.

West Hills Junior High sat adjacent to the high school, and neither building was like other stark, stucco-covered Los Angeles schools. Instead these two structures were bright, cream-colored with blue trim, and anchored in a sea of grass. Behind the school were rolling hills and trees and a picturesque football stadium. It looked more like a private university than a public junior high school.

This was where Alicia had earned the right to be head cheerleader and captain of the drama team. Here at West Hills Junior High, Jenny had run track, showing signs of being a promising sprinter. Of course, that was before the accident. As were the times when, after school hours, the Ryans had used the school’s expansive green fields for informal Frisbee contests and softball games. It was a beautiful school—and it was filled with too many memories to count.

Hannah ignored all of it.

She strode stiffly toward the principal’s office and signed in. In less than a minute, Mary Stelpstra swept into the waiting area and ushered her into her office. She shut the door behind them. “Please, Mrs. Ryan, sit down.”

Hannah sat. Ever since the accident it seemed people were forever telling her to sit down. As if whatever news was about
to be shared was simply too difficult to hear while standing. Hannah knew she must look terrible, her eyes tear-stained, her makeup smeared … but she was tired, and she didn’t care what people thought of her. Right now she cared only for her youngest daughter. “You said there was something you wanted to discuss about Jenny?”

“First let me say on behalf of West Hills Junior High, we are so sorry about your loss, Mrs. Ryan.” The principal had the polished sound of a school administrator. She continued. “Our staff, our students, we all loved Alicia very much. We feel her absence sorely.”

Tears again. Hannah reached for a tissue and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She waited for the principal to continue.

“Lately, though, we’ve spent more time worrying about Jenny. She’s missed a lot of school, Mrs. Ryan.”

Hannah relaxed slightly.
Was that all? Jenny’s attendance?
“She hasn’t felt good. I don’t think it’s anything physical, really …”

Mrs. Stelpstra nodded. “I understand. Actually, her teachers are working with her, helping her with missed assignments. Her absences are to be expected after what she’s gone through.”

Hannah was relieved, but curious. If they were willing to work with Jenny on her absences, then why the meeting? “I guess I’m not quite following you, Mrs. Stelpstra.”

The principal sighed and pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from her desk drawer. “I didn’t ask you in because of Jenny’s absences.” She paused and unfolded the paper, glancing at it and then handing it to Hannah. “I asked you in because of this.”

“What is it?”

“Something Jenny wrote in English class yesterday. It’s quite alarming, really, Mrs. Ryan. And I wanted to be sure you knew about it.”

Hannah felt her stomach turn and noticed her heart had skidded into an unrecognizable beat. She was suddenly terrified as she reached for the paper, her hands trembling. She recognized
Jenny’s handwriting and read the title scrawled across the top of the page:
“The Best Place to Live.”

Hannah looked at Mrs. Stelpstra curiously. “Was this an assignment?”

“Yes. Jenny’s composition teacher asked the class to write an essay on any place in the world where they’d like to live.”

Hannah returned her gaze to Jenny’s paper and began to read.

“I can really only think of one place where I want to live, and it’s not here. Last summer my dad and sister died in a car accident. A bunch of people tried to save them, but they died anyway. Now it’s just me and my mom
.

“Mom’s busy most of the time with court stuff. She wants to make sure the man who hit our car will go to jail for what he did to my dad and sister. I don’t know. I don’t really care about him. My mom does, though. She doesn’t care about anything else. Not even me.”

Hannah closed her eyes.
Of course I care about you, Jenny
. She forced herself to keep reading.

“I spend a lot of time in my room now, and I think maybe I’m having anxiety attacks. I read about them once in a book. I get sweaty, and it feels like I can’t breathe, like maybe I’m going to die. Sometimes this makes me scared but most of the time it doesn’t. I sort of wish it would happen
.

“I feel like I’m in some kind of holding place. Kinda like life ended when the accident happened, and now there’s just this waiting time. I still believe in God, but my mom doesn’t. I heard her telling someone from church the other day that she stopped believing in God when Dad and Alicia died. I don’t blame her. I even thought about it. About letting go of my faith. But I can’t. I believe Dad and Alicia are in heaven, and I want more than anything in the world to be with them.”

Hannah stopped and clutched the paper tightly, closing her eyes against the tears that were coming faster now.
I’m right about there being no God, I know I am
. But she was shocked to
learn that Jenny had found out. It was something she should have shared with the girl herself.
This can’t be happening. It keeps getting worse, Tom. I can’t do this by myself
.

Mrs. Stelpstra handed her another tissue and waited patiently. Hannah wiped her eyes, steadied herself, and continued reading.

“Sometimes that’s all I think about. Dying and stuff. How I can get from here to there so we can be together again. Mom wouldn’t care. It would be easier for her if I was gone. Then she’d have more time for all her stuff with MADD, and she wouldn’t have to wonder why I don’t feel good and how come I’m not going to school. I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot. The different ways and stuff. But nothing seems easy, and I just roll around in bed at night wondering about it. I can’t sleep, that’s for sure. I miss Dad and Alicia so much. If there was an easy way to do it, I would. I would in a heartbeat
.

“Because of all the places I would like to live, the only one I can think of right now is heaven.”

Hannah set the paper down on the principal’s desk as if it were contaminated. “I … I don’t know what to say. It’s like a nightmare that never ends.”

The principal nodded. “I understand.”

“It keeps getting worse, you know?”

Mrs. Stelpstra’s voice was filled with kindness. “We see this kind of thing when one of our students has suffered a severe trauma.” She paused. “Have you noticed anything unusual about Jenny’s behavior? Anything that would lead you to believe she might … actually consider acting on this?”

Hannah blinked. Surely Mrs. Stelpstra didn’t mean … “You mean killing herself?” Hannah couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.

“That is what Jenny seems to be alluding to, Mrs. Ryan, don’t you think?”

Hannah glanced back at the paper lying on the desk before her. “Yes. I guess so. But Jenny would never really do such a thing, Mrs. Stelpstra. I know my daughter.”

“You must remember, Mrs. Ryan, things are completely different now than they were before the accident. Obviously Jenny never would have considered suicide before. She was a very happy, very carefree girl, secure in herself and her place in your family. Now … well, it seems she feels somewhat forgotten.”

Hannah’s defenses reared. “Wait a minute! I haven’t done anything to make Jenny feel this way. We’re both suffering … and doing the best we can to get through this … this.…”

“I’m not trying to accuse—”

“Then don’t!” Hannah drew a slow breath and tried to regain control. “Jenny’s right. I’ve been busy with MADD. I don’t want Tom’s and Alicia’s deaths to be for nothing.”

“And Jenny?”

“I spend as much time with her as possible. When she wants to be alone, I let her.”

Mrs. Stelpstra paused and retrieved Jenny’s paper once more. She glanced over it again in silence. “Some of the letters are smeared … I think maybe she was crying when she wrote it.”

Hannah sighed. “We’ve both been doing a lot of crying. That doesn’t mean she’s suicidal.”

The principal hesitated. “I’m worried about her, Mrs. Ryan.”

“I’m worried about her, too, about
both
of us.” Hannah leaned forward. Why didn’t this woman understand what she was going through? “I’m worried about us finding a way through this pain so we can have a relationship again. I’m worried about whether the drunk driver who did this to us will be locked up or whether he’ll walk free.” She paused and leveled her gaze at the woman across from her. “But I am
not
worried about Jenny killing herself.”

“This paper—”

“That paper is Jenny’s way of trying to get attention.” Hannah was angry and no longer trying to hide it. “She would never, ever, not in a million years think of killing herself. She knows better than that.”

Mrs. Stelpstra set the paper down and leaned back in her
chair. She considered Hannah thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose you know her better than we do.”

“Of course I do.” Hannah stood, and almost as an afterthought she grabbed Jenny’s paper from the desk and folded it, placing it roughly inside her purse. She turned her attention again toward the principal. “Thank you for looking out for my daughter, Mrs. Stelpstra. I even thank you for taking the time to call me in today and share your concerns. But please, don’t contact social services or start worrying about needing a suicide counselor.” Hannah searched for the right words. “We’ve suffered the worst ordeal of our lives, and it’s nowhere near over. I think we can expect Jenny to be a little upset.”

Mrs. Stelpstra nodded and seemed resigned to let the issue go. “I didn’t mean to make things worse, Mrs. Ryan. I just thought you should know.”

Hannah reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “Thank you. Let me know if you have any other reason for concern. But for now I think this needs to be between me and Jenny. I’ll talk with her, but again, don’t worry about her paper. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Hannah walked from the office, keeping an iron control on the trembling that wanted to overtake her. As she made her way back to the car she faltered. Jenny? Suicidal? Could there possibly be merit to Mary Stelpstra’s warning? What if Jenny really didn’t want to live? What if she had actually thought about taking her own life?

Impossible
. She shook her head firmly and forced herself to keep walking.
Ridiculous
. She knew Jenny too well. They had been through a lot these past months, but Jenny was too stable to consider suicide.