Waiting for Morning (25 page)

Hannah fumed silently. “Forget it. Go back upstairs and sit alone in your room. I thought we could start something new, enjoy a dinner together, just the two of us. But forget it.”

“Fine.”
Jenny turned and stomped back upstairs, down the hall, and into her room.

Hannah wandered back to the kitchen table and sat down. She took a single taco from the platter and set it on her stark plate. It was cold, and tiny white flecks of hardened lard had
appeared on the fried tortillas. Hannah pushed her chair back from the table, dropped her head into her hands, and closed her eyes.

How had so much changed since last Thanksgiving?

Suddenly she was there again. She could smell the turkey, hear the televised football match between the Cowboys and the Redskins.… She could almost see Jenny and Alicia, giggling and darting about the house while Tom and a handful of church friends chuckled in the background.

Each year they had filled the house with a ragtag group of stragglers, friends who had no family in the area. She had never been the greatest cook, and last Thanksgiving was proof. In the seconds before dinner was served, the sweet potato casserole caught fire, setting off smoke alarms throughout the house.

“Just like Dad always says,” Alicia had teased. “You know it’s dinner at the Ryan house when the smoke alarms go off.”

Hannah had been frustrated, but Tom had come up behind her and circled her waist with his arms, whispering in her ear. “Don’t worry about it, honey. You can’t be good at everything.”

Hannah remembered turning around and collapsing against his chest. “Yes, but it’s Thanksgiving. I should be able to pull off a meal like this after more than a decade of experience. At least once a year.”

“But you’re good at so many other things.”

Hannah pouted. “Like what?”

Tom put a finger under her chin and lifted it gently as he gazed into her eyes. “Like loving me. Loving our children. God gave me the best woman I could ever hope for. You go ahead and burn the sweet potatoes. Burn the whole meal, for all I care. I could never love another woman like I love you, Hannah Ryan.”

She blinked, and the memory faded. The wilting tacos looked even less appetizing now. She could still feel Tom’s breath on her neck as he’d whispered those lovely things to
her. Tears slid from beneath her closed eyelids, and they fell hot on her cheeks.
Tom, I need you. I can’t do this alone
.

With the holidays there would be so many yesterdays to wade through. First Thanksgiving. Then, starting tomorrow, the whole world would be making frenzied preparations for Christmas. The entire holiday season seemed overwhelming.

How could Tom and Alicia be gone? Forever? And when would Jenny stop acting so selfish and try to move ahead, as Hannah was doing?

She stood up, took the plate of tacos, and tossed them in the trash. Tuesday would be her first victim impact panel appearance. She had gone over her notes a dozen times, and she was ready. It was time to start making a difference, time to start reaching the jurors.

Twenty-one

What can I say for you?
With what can I compare you, O Daughter of Jerusalem?
To what can I liken you, that I may comfort you?…
Your wound is as deep as the sea
.
Who can heal you?

L
AMENTATIONS
2:13

It was days later, and as victim impact panels went, it was an obvious place to start, even if Jenny wasn’t excited about the idea.

West Hills High School—where Alicia had been so involved, so popular. If any students would be receptive to a lesson on the evils of drinking and driving, it would be the kids at West Hills. And not just the older students. Hannah would be speaking to the junior high as well, since they, too, had been invited to the assembly.

Hannah slipped into a silk blouse and slim, navy, dress slacks. She had thirty minutes, so makeup would have to be done in a hurry. Leaning forward, she checked herself in the mirror and saw that the dark circles were going away. Sleep was a remarkable cure. Her body had learned to compensate for the nightmare of her waking hours by requiring long stretches of blissful sleep, replete with vivid dreams of happy yesterdays.

Studying her image more closely, Hannah saw it again. There was something different about her eyes, something hard. Before the accident people used to say she had the eyes of a child—eyes that shone with Christ’s light. She snorted softly.
Christ’s light was nothing of the sort. What people had seen back then was simply a pure, unadulterated joy that came from having her family alive and healthy.

The eyes that stared back at her now looked eighty years old, flat and lifeless. The brightness had been clouded by something Hannah couldn’t quite identify, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t will the light back.

Well, not to worry. She knew what it would take—Brian Wesley’s conviction. Only then would the cloud lift and the sparkle return.

Jenny entered Hannah’s bedroom and stared at her mother with listless eyes. “What time are we leaving?”

Hannah started, studying her daughter for a moment. Why hadn’t she seen it before? The light was gone from Jenny’s eyes, too. It was all so unfair. She smiled sadly at Jenny. “Let’s say in about half an hour.”

Jenny exhaled slowly. “Do I have to go, Mom? Couldn’t I just hang out in the library and work on my homework?”

Hannah turned to face her daughter. “Jenny, I don’t understand you. Do you realize the importance of what’s happening today? I get a chance to tell those kids what happens when you drink and drive. I have one hour to explain how wrong that man was who killed your dad and Alicia. Film crews will be there, journalists, reporters. They’ll take notes and pictures, and then everyone in Los Angeles will know that Matt Bronzan is seeking a murder-one conviction against Brian Wesley.”

Jenny huffed. “I
know
, Mom; you’ve told me four times since yesterday. But what’s that got to do with me?”

Come on, Jenny, you’ve got to care about this. What’s happened to you?
“You should be up there beside me, that’s what. You’re a victim, too, you know. Or am I the only one who’s suffering here?”

Jenny looked at her, and Hannah was deeply troubled at how hard the girl’s gaze was. Like stone. Or ice. “No, Mom, you’re the only one who’s
flaunting
it.”

At the cold, curt words Hannah opened her mouth, but Jenny cut her off, angry words spewing like molten lava. “You want to take our private misery and lay it out for everyone to see. You cry for the cameras and tell the world how Daddy and Alicia were killed. That way if enough people know, then maybe, if we’re
really
lucky, that prosecutor will put Brian Wesley in prison for life.”

Jenny paused long enough to take a step toward Hannah. “But, Mom, have you ever asked me what
I
want? No! Because you don’t care about me. The only time you want me around is if it works into your agenda.”

Hannah swallowed hard. When had her little girl grown so contemptuous of her? “Jenny, please, we’ve been through this before.…”

“I know it and I hate it as much as you do. Why won’t you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be up there on the panel beside you. I’m not ready to have a question-answer session. I … I don’t want to tell someone what it feels like to have your sister killed in the seat beside you.” Jenny began weeping then, and Hannah thought the girl looked like she might collapse. “I don’t want to do it, Mom. I just don’t.”

Hannah drew a deep breath and tried to control her temper. She knew she should go to Jenny, hug her and tell her everything was going to be all right one day. But her daughter’s temper tantrums had become tiresome, and Hannah sat on the edge of her bed instead. A dozen questions darted through Hannah’s mind.
Why don’t you care? Why won’t you help me? Don’t you think I’m hurting, too?

Hannah released the breath she’d been holding. “Jenny, I can’t believe some of the things you say to me anymore. You think I’m only interested in using you, using your pain for publicity? Is that it? Is that what you
really
think?”

Jenny nodded and sniffed.

Hannah wasn’t sure how she kept her voice controlled, but she did. “Well, that’s a lie, young lady. Nothing could be farther
from the truth. I care about you and your future and the way this has changed our lives forever. I love you, Jennifer Ryan, but yes, I am putting my entire life into helping Matt Bronzan convict that killer of first-degree murder. And once he’s locked up, once he’s punished for what he did to us, we can start fresh, learn to live again. Because this is all we have left. Me and you.”

Jenny stared at her mother as if nothing she’d said made any sense. “You think everything’s going to be okay just because some guy goes to prison? It doesn’t work that way, Mom.”

Hannah was tired of fighting. “Finish getting dressed. I’ll take you to school. After that it’s up to you. Come to the assembly with your class or stay away. Don’t sit on the panel with me unless you want to.”

Jenny walked away without another word.

The silence continued the entire trip to school. When they pulled up, Hannah reached out and tried to take Jenny’s hand, but Jenny opened the car door and quickly stepped out.

Hannah leaned over in the seat, craning her neck to see her daughter. “Jenny, I hope I’ll—”

The car door slammed shut.

Hannah entered the auditorium and saw that the media had already arrived and set up.
Oh, good. Thank you—”

Hannah froze
. Thank who?

The question stumped her for a moment, but she shook it off. Thank good fortune, thank the media, thank no one in particular.

She made her way across the wood floor, over a maze of heavy black electrical cords lining the back of the auditorium, where two of the three major networks had cameras stationed. Reporters milled about with notepads, interviewing students who wandered past. Hannah notched the minor victory—
Carol had said there was always a chance the media wouldn’t show.

She studied the stage. Five desks for the five panel members, each sporting a microphone. Hannah felt her hands growing cold, and she thought about Carol’s warning: “Sometimes just before you take the stage, you’re nearly overcome with nerves.” Carol had several suggestions on how to combat this, but only one that Hannah thought applied to her.

Remember Tom and Alicia.

She reached up and felt the photo pin and knew she would be all right. She wore the pin anytime she went out, anymore. Jurors were everywhere.

Hannah approached the stage, greeted the others, and took her seat between one of the MADD representatives and a highway patrol officer. She glanced over her notes and then at her wristwatch. They were scheduled to begin in five minutes.

The room was filling with giggling teenagers, and Hannah found herself staring anxiously at the entryways. Would Jenny come? Training her eyes on the double doors, Hannah studied the stream of kids still pouring in and spotted her daughter’s class. Her heart raced when she spotted Jenny at last. She was the last one in the group to enter the building, and she sat a ways off from the others, alone.

Hannah stared at her, willing her to look up.
Watch me, Jenny
. But the girl kept her eyes downward.
Come on, Jenny, I need you up here. Look at me!
A chill passed over Hannah’s arms and she shuddered. Her daughter had become little more than a stranger.

The others had already spoken, and finally it was Hannah’s turn. She introduced herself, and a wave of whispers washed over the teenage crowd. Hannah caught some of what they were saying … “That lady up there is Alicia’s mom.” “Oh, my gosh, this is actually Alicia’s mom!” Hannah waited until the
whispers died down, taking the opportunity to glance again at Jenny. Her eyes were still on the floor.

Hannah cleared her throat and began. Sparing no details, she explained how Brian Wesley had plowed his car into her family’s Explorer, killing both Alicia and her father, Dr. Ryan. The students sat spellbound as Hannah described Alicia’s head injuries and Tom’s internal bleeding.

“Alicia’s sister Jenny was spared, thankfully.” Hannah hesitated and for a moment she caught Jenny’s gaze across the auditorium. She smiled, hoping Jenny would know it was just for her, but the girl seemed suddenly busy with her shoelaces. Hannah scanned the faces before her. “Even though Jenny lived, she will never, ever be the same again. All because someone made a choice to drink and drive. A choice to kill.”

Hannah segued into a list of increasing penalties and tougher prosecution where drunk driving was concerned. Jenny’s expression was indifferent as Hannah talked about Matt Bronzan and his quest to reduce the number of drunk driving accidents each year. Hannah explained that if a person chose to drink and drive despite prior convictions and alcohol awareness classes, the stakes were higher than ever before.

“The man who killed my husband and oldest daughter is being charged with first-degree murder.” She let that sink in a moment. “First-degree murder. That’s usually reserved for people with guns and knives, but now it’s been used a few times across the country to convict drunk drivers. The prosecutor believes he can win a murder-one conviction. He believes the time has come to let people know just how serious this is.”

Hannah paused then, drawing a breath. This was the hard part. “You know, Alicia should be out there today, sitting with you, joking with you.” She looked at Alicia’s cheerleader friends. “Cheering with you. She should be here. But she’s not, and it’s all because someone chose to drink and drive.”

She waited, studying the faces in the crowd, some crying, many who had been over to the house to visit Alicia and Jenny
in years past. Her eyes narrowed, and she forgot about the television cameras for the moment. “Alicia is gone. Her father is gone. Nothing we say or do here today will bring them back.”