Waiting for Morning

by Karen Kingsbury

  “That’s why God brought me into the case.”

  Hannah paused. “God has nothing to do with it. He checked out months ago. August 28, I think it was.”

  Matt could almost see the bitter root strangling everything beautiful in Hannah Ryan. But there was nothing he could say. “Enough. Good night, Hannah.”

  “Night, Matt.” She hesitated. “See you tomorrow.”

  He clicked the off button on his cordless telephone and set it on the kitchen counter. Hannah Ryan. He wandered to the cupboard, pulled out a glass and filled it with ice water. What would become of her after tomorrow, when she learned that peace wasn’t something one could buy with revenge? Win or lose, tomorrow night Hannah would be as unsettled as today. Maybe more so.

  The glass was cool against his hands. He wandered into the living room and settled into a leather recliner. He pressed the drink to his face. Hot, hazy, summer days. Why had the Lord put Hannah in his life, anyway? And what would happen if they lost this case?

  He surveyed his empty house. Normally after a day in court the solitude brought him peace. Today, for some reason, it made him feel lonely and old. Television didn’t help, so Matt turned in early and pulled out his newest copy of the Bible—a clothbound, men’s edition. Matt did not keep a well-worn copy of the Bible in his house. He liked reading the Bible through, marking it up as much as possible, and then starting fresh with another copy.

  He fell asleep reading Philippians 4, somewhere between the peace that passes understanding and doing all things through Christ who gives strength. But he didn’t dream of Paul and his profound letter.

  He dreamed of Hannah Ryan.

  Hannah studied her bedroom as she hung up the telephone. It had been nearly a year, and Tom’s Bible was now packed away with his other things. Only a picture of them taken on their tenth anniversary remained on the dresser. The clutter Tom had always tossed there had long since been cleared. There were none of the keys and coins and receipts that had collected there each week while they were married.

  Tom was gone. The room was proof.

  She stood and stretched. Her bones were tired, but she wasn’t particularly interested in sleep. Besides, the last few nights she’d woken at all hours with the most frightening nightmares. Hannah shuddered. There was no point dwelling on the dreams now. She had business to take care of.

  Tiptoeing upstairs, Hannah tried to work up her courage. Anymore it was an amazing feat to get two words out of Jenny, and nights like this Hannah was almost too worn out to try. She knocked at the door.

  “What?”

  The girl didn’t sound angry. She didn’t sound anything. After tomorrow they could start working on their tattered relationship, but how long would it take? Months? Years? “Can I come in?”

  Silence.

  “Jenny? I want to talk to you.” Hannah allowed the wall to hold her up as she closed her eyes. “Open the door, Jenny.”

  Footsteps, then Hannah heard a click. Jenny opened the door a crack, but by the time Hannah looked inside, she was already back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes hollow.

  Hannah pulled up a chair and sat down, facing the girl. For a single moment she remembered their old life, when she would climb into the girls’ beds with them, snuggling and giggling and making girl-talk long after bedtime prayers. Now there was only awkwardness between them, forcing Hannah to keep her distance. She settled into the chair and tried not to think about it.

  “The trial ended today.” Hannah waited and for an instant there was a flicker of something in Jenny’s eyes. Concern? Interest? Whatever it was, Hannah knew she had caught the girl’s attention.

  When Jenny said nothing, Hannah felt her frustration begin to grow. “Did you hear me?”

  Jenny didn’t roll her eyes or sigh as she had done so often lately. Instead she leveled her gaze at Hannah. “Yes, Mother. I heard you.”

  There was no point waiting for Jenny to ask questions. She wouldn’t. Hannah set her chin. “It went well, I think. Matt did a great job presenting the case. But there’s still a chance Brian Wesley will be acquitted. We’ll know tomorrow.”

  Jenny stared at her mother blankly.

  “I thought you’d like to come. Tomorrow, I mean. I know you haven’t wanted to be there before. But it is the verdict, after all. If we win, I want you to be there.”

  Jenny’s face twisted. “If we win? Mother, listen to yourself! No one’s going to win tomorrow.”

  “If Brian Wesley goes to prison, we will win. It’s that simple.”

  Jenny sat up in bed. “No, it’s not that simple.…” She looked like she was about to say something else, but apparently changed her mind. Shoulders slumped, she began picking at her bedspread. “Never mind.”

  Hannah leaned forward, trying to get up the courage to touch her daughter, to pull her into a hug. Anything to bridge the distance between them. “Things will be different after tomorrow.” Silence. “You have to understand, Jenny. After Daddy and Alicia were killed, I didn’t know what else to do. I had to fight. Tomorrow Brian Wesley will be taken into custody. Where he’s belonged since he did this awful thing to us.”

  Jenny looked up, and Hannah was shocked to see that her little girl had the eyes of an old woman. “You honestly think a guilty verdict will make things different? Between us?”

  “I know they will, honey. The battle’s almost over.” She hesitated. “Just this once, could you come to the trial with me? Please, Jenny.”

  Jenny shook her head quickly. “No. I won’t go. I told you that.” Her voice was panicky, and Hannah drew back.

  “Okay, forget it. I just thought … after all this time … oh, never mind.” Hannah stood up and headed for the door. Her heart felt like a dead weight within her.

  “Mom …”

  Hannah spun around. In that instant, in that one single word she heard the Jenny she’d lost, the one she hadn’t heard since they’d said good-bye in the driveway the day they left for the camping trip. The one that never made it home. Hannah searched her daughter’s eyes, but she wasn’t there. When Jenny spoke again whatever Hannah had heard was gone. The indifference was back.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, honey.”

  “It’s nothing, Mom.”

  “Jenny … it’s been so long since we’ve talked. Really talked.” Hannah hated the awkwardness between them. She paused, desperately trying to think of the right words. “I’m here. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Jenny’s eyes were blank and she didn’t nod. Instead she lay down, turned her back to her mother, and faced the wall.

  The rejection was more than Hannah could bear. “Fine. Turn away.”

  “Get out, Mother. I’m done talking.”

  If that’s the way you want it, Jenny … Hannah stared at her, and in a voice so frigid it was foreign even to her, she spat one final sentence at her daughter: “Thanks a lot, Jenny, and oh, yeah, I love you, too.” Hannah stormed out of the room, her heart pounding, her eyes dry.

  That night as Hannah fell asleep, she realized she had no one to love, no one who loved her. Somehow she had died without anyone noticing. Her corpse was still breathing, but she was dead. As she tossed and turned, battling relentless, unseen, torturous demons, she wondered how it was, someone could love God most of her life and still wind up in hell.

  Sgt. Jon Miller was having trouble falling asleep, but not because of unseen demons. Lately he’d been bothered by the accident … the one from a year ago. He had convinced himself it was the testimony. Acting as a witness for the prosecution had brought up memories he’d almost forgotten. The young teenage girls, one dead when he arrived on the scene … and the man, Dr. Tom Ryan. And especially that scene in the car when the man was trying to speak his final words.

  He couldn’t for the life of him understand why that particular memory kept making its way into his mind. He had done as the man asked, passed on his final message for his surviving family. Sgt. Miller turned in bed and saw that his wi
fe was sleeping soundly. He sighed. His eyes were open, but all he could see was Dr. Tom Ryan, trying to speak, struggling to form those final words.

  Tell Hannah and the girls he loved them. That was it, wasn’t it?

  Miller rolled over onto his other side and shut his eyes. Maybe he should get up and read his Bible. God’s promises always helped him fall asleep. He flipped so that he was flat on his back. He was about to pray when he heard the voice.

  Remember the rest.

  Miller’s eyes flew open and he sat up straight in bed. Had he imagined that or had someone actually spoken? He glanced about the room, but nothing had changed. He released the air from his lungs slowly. Sinking back into the pillows he felt his heart race. Must have been a dream. Maybe he was falling asleep after all. He closed his eyes. Lord, thank you for letting—

  Remember the rest.

  His eyes flew open and he shot up once more. His eyes sought his wife, but she was snoring. He propped his pillows and leaned back, heart racing, searching the room for the source of the message. Remember the rest? The image appeared again, Dr. Tom Ryan, bleeding to death, trying to gurgle out the last part of a farewell.

  Could that be it? Was there something more to his message?

  Suddenly the image cleared, and a realization came over Sgt. Miller so strong that he could feel his nerves calming, his heart rate returning to normal.

  Dr. Ryan had said two things, not one. Tell Hannah and the girls he loved them and … and something else. Something that hadn’t seemed very important at the time.

  Now if only he could remember what.

  Thirty-one

  I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is.

  LAMENTATIONS 3:17

  They met in a thicket of trees just outside the courthouse some two hours before the verdict. Neither of them wanted to be seen together. Especially praying together.

  Heads bowed, voices soft, they lifted their direst concerns to the Lord. Finally, they thanked him for whatever he was about to do. It was getting late, and there were people moving in and out of the courthouse. They sat on opposite sides of the bench, silent.

  “Are you nervous?” She studied him. This might be their last conversation outside prison walls.

  He shrugged. “It was a quick verdict. Could mean an acquittal.” His eyes stayed down and he picked nervously at the rough skin around his fingernails.

  “You don’t look happy.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “I’m not.”

  She nodded. That was understandable. A person could be spirit-filled and still be unhappy.

  “In some ways I wanna serve time.” He drew a shaky breath. “If they let me walk … I’ll never be able to face her.”

  “You’re not in control here, Brian.”

  “I know, I know. We’ve been talking about it, me and the Lord.”

  “Just do what’s right. God will take care of the rest.”

  He looked at his watch. “I have to meet my lawyer.”

  She stood and gathered her purse. “I’ll be praying.”

  Jenny’s hands trembled as she sat at the breakfast table. It was verdict day—for Brian Wesley and for her. She stared at the soggy cornflakes in front of her, but she could see her mother, darting about the kitchen, grabbing gulps of black coffee. She was reading something, probably newspaper articles about the accident and the victim impact panels. Her life’s passion.

  “What are you doing today?” Her mother set her coffee cup in the sink and glanced at Jenny.

  Mom was obviously still mad about last night, and suddenly Jenny was sorry she’d been rude. It would have been nice to be at peace on their last morning together.

  She took another bite of cornflakes. “Nothing.”

  Her mother waited, impatient to leave. “Fine. I’ll tell you how it went when I get home. Not that you care.”

  Jenny watched her grab the car keys from the counter and head for the garage. No kiss. No good-bye. She listened as her mother drove off, and then she trudged upstairs, shoulders heavy, heart empty.

  It was time.

  After all the planning, it was finally time. She pulled the box from beneath her bed and examined the contents once more. Pills. Water. Good-bye note.

  Not that you care.… Not that you care.… Her mother’s words haunted her, but she shook them off. She did care. Not about the trial, but about Daddy and Alicia. It would only be a few hours now until they were together. If only she’d hugged her mother or said good-bye. Two lonely tears slipped from her eyes and landed on her bedspread.

  Sniffing loudly, she dried her eyes and sat up straighter. There was no time for regrets now.

  She had to get busy.

  It was almost time. Hannah felt as if she’d waited her entire life for this moment. The courtroom was filled with people spilling into the hallways, straining to get a view of what was about to happen. Hannah took in the scene as it unfolded. Brian and Finch huddled at one end of the table; Matt and his assistants at the other.

  Matt had met her downstairs earlier and assured her that if Brian was acquitted on first-degree murder charges, the state would see that he served the maximum time for drunk driving. It was the least they could do.

  “Don’t talk like that,” Hannah said. They stood against a wall, facing each other in a quiet corridor near his office. Their voices had been hushed and inches separated them.

  “Hannah, you have to be realistic. What if they come back with not guilty?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll kill him myself.”

  “Hannah …”

  “I’m serious.”

  He had sighed and pulled her into a quick hug. “Let’s go. It’s time.”

  That was an hour ago.

  Carol Cummins leaned over and whispered to her. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s Matt Bronzan.”

  Hannah nodded. “He’s worried.”

  Carol studied Matt for a moment. “You’d never know it.”

  A hush fell over the courtroom as Judge Horowitz entered and took his seat. The moment of the verdict had arrived.

  The judge glanced around. “I see that there are a great number of people interested in the outcome of this trial. I warn you, matters will be conducted in a quiet manner. I will not allow my courtroom to become a media circus.” He banged his gavel. “Court is in session. Will the bailiff please bring in the jury.”

  The bailiff moved toward a door on the side of the courtroom, disappeared for a moment, then returned with the jurors in single file procession behind him. The jurors took their seats.

  The pills were calling her, beckoning her to a better place where she and Alicia and Daddy could spend eternity together. She opened the water and picked up three orange capsules. Please, God, let this work. She slipped the pills into her mouth and took a swig of water. For a moment Jenny thought she was going to gag, but then she took another swig and felt the pills go down.

  There were dozens of pills on her bedspread. She picked up three more capsules, and this time they went down easier. She reached down and found three more. Swallow. Three red. Swallow. It was easier than she’d thought. Before she knew it, the pile was gone. She had done it.

  Now all she had to do was wait.

  Matt watched the jury file in and take their places.

  The judge looked at them. “Has the jury reached a decision?” Matt glanced at Hannah and saw that her eyes were closed, her hands clenched tightly. His heart constricted. Father, I’d do anything to give Hannah the peace she so desperately seeks. Help her, please.

  The jury foreman stood up. “Yes, your honor.”

  “Very well. Please hand the verdict to the bailiff.”

  The foreman did as he was told, and the bailiff carried it to Judge Horowitz. He read it silently, his expression unchanging. He leaned over and handed it back to the court clerk. The judge looked about the courtroom. “The clerk will now read the verdict.”

  A petite brunette in her late fifties stoo
d, her mouth near the microphone. She unfolded the verdict and cleared her throat.

  A strange feeling was working its way through Jenny’s body. She felt her heart beat erratically. Her hands shook … then her arms … finally every part of her was trembling violently.

  Was this it? Was this death?

  The room started spinning and all the edges blurred together.

  “I have come that they may have life … I have come that they may have life … I have come …”

  Scripture filled her mind—bringing doubt with it.

  Suicide was murder. Wasn’t that one of the Ten Commandments? “Thou shalt not kill … I have come that they may have life …”

  Jesus didn’t want her to take her life. Daddy, either.

  She needed to get to the bathroom. Someone online had told her if she took the pills then changed her mind, her only hope was to vomit. Get up! But her legs would not obey. She stuck her finger down her throat and gagged, but nothing came up.

  Jenny beat her stomach with her fists, willing her body to reject the pills, but they sat like a ball of poison in her belly. It was getting harder to breathe. She had tricked herself into thinking this was the answer when it was really no answer at all.

  It was a lie straight from the devil. And now it was too late.

  The court clerk was reading and Hannah hung on every word.

  “We, the jury, find the defendant, Brian Wesley, guilty of the crime of drunk driving.” She paused and prepared to read the second verdict. “We, the jury, find the defendant, Brian Wesley, guilty of the crime of first degree-murder against Tom Ryan and Alicia Ryan.”

  Tears flooded Hannah’s eyes, and her hands flew to her face, providing the only privacy in a room where suddenly all attention was focused on her.

  They’d done it! They’d won the verdict. Brian Wesley would spend the rest of his life in prison. Matt had been brilliant. The evidence had been glaringly obvious. That’s why the verdict had come so quickly.