Hannahwhere

by John McIlveen

  She had made a decision. It would have been negligent of her not to, but she hadn’t expected to use it. The family Debbie had selected was the Pielechs: a husband, wife, and a seventeen-year-old daughter. They seemed an ideal, well-respected upper-middle-class family in a sturdy household. Katie, their daughter, was a consistent honor-roll student and the second foster child Debbie had ever placed. The Pielechs eventually adopted her and now felt it was time for another child.

  “I went with the Pielechs,” said Debbie. She opened the door and started down the hallway.

  “Good! You’re damned good at your job, Debbie, probably the best on the North Shore,” Marjorie called after her as she left the office. “Go to that meeting and do what is right for Hannah.”

  Debbie retrieved her files and exited the building. It was another gorgeous day. The sun and the light breeze carrying the smell of freshly cut grass seemed to mock her as she climbed into her car. She sat and pondered the depressing twist her hopes had taken.

  How will Hannah handle it? Will she be devastated, or was Marjorie right that she’d overestimated her importance? Will Hannah simply move on with the Pielechs, and ride off into the sunset, leaving Debbie behind and soon forgotten?

  What if her foster home turns out to be like the Prioulx house?

  What if there’s another Bernard Prioulx or another Stafford Dunne?

  Debbie knew she’d survive, but what of Hannah? There were no guarantees that she wouldn’t end up like Glen Gillan. The Pielechs had proved themselves ideal foster parents, but at the moment, it felt like the greatest of tragedies. She could have given Hannah a wonderful home life. They would have both needed a lot of time to heal from their pasts, but that commonality would have been something that could work for them. Debbie could have supported Hannah through her trials because she understood the terror, the fear, and the need to hide from the world and its demons.

  Debbie actually entertained the thought of disappearing with Hannah and taking her to some location where they could start a new life together—mother and daughter, but it would never work. It would cause Hannah a life of abnormality. They would still live in fear, always looking over their shoulders, living on the lam with no hope of normalcy, and that would create the exact life from which Debbie was trying to save Hannah.

  What a fool to let the lure of motherhood deceive me like this! Debbie chastised herself. Falling apart wouldn’t help Hannah, either. She had to, in the words of Mad Mother Prioulx, Suck it up, and deal with it. Debbie shifted the car into gear and left the parking lot. She had a meeting to attend.

  Chapter 32

  Hannah was stir-crazy. She moved from the window to the corridor and then back, looking for Debbie or Essie. She tried lying on the bed, reading, and watching television, but she couldn’t stop the anxiety building within her. On the television was an oldie cartoon with the ultra-polite Goofy Gophers. Her mother had said their names were Mac and Tosh (like the apple) and that Warner Brothers Merrie Melodies were made long before Hannah’s mother’s mother had been born. Hannah usually liked cartoons, but today was the day she would find out if she would live with Debbie, or with another family in another home, which she had already decided would not happen. Hannah figured she’d just disappear to somewhere else if they didn’t let her live with Debbie. Where, she wasn’t sure, but she had survived this long using her smarts, and now she was older and smarter. She had spent two years traveling between Hannahwhere and Elm Creek, jumping between Stuck’s Last Call, Foster’s Market, Elm Creek Elementary and High School, and countless homes, raiding kitchens and sleeping wherever she felt moderately safe and warm—or cool, depending on the season. Hannah hadn’t told anyone, even Debbie, this bit of information. It was her insurance policy. Elm Creek was all she knew, but most people thought she had been anywhere but there. She had managed to fool everyone except maybe Debbie. She had an inkling that Debbie knew better.

  Debbie was convinced Hannahwhere was not a physical place like Riverside, Elm Creek, or Disney World, but a conscious place in their minds. Hannah thought it sounded plausible, though most of her life she had thought differently, and according to her mother’s beliefs. It made sense that her physical body had always been somewhere in Elm Creek, and only her spirit traveled to Hannahwhere, but a part of her still felt Debbie wasn’t right. She’d have to test it someday.

  She had had some great hiding places in Elm Creek… even during the daytime. She had enjoyed exploring abandoned buildings and barns the most, but she’d sometimes pop into businesses after hours or people’s houses while they were at work or on vacation. Locked doors were never a problem, only people, alarms, and animals.

  There had been a few narrow escapes with people showing up unexpectedly or too early, or if she overslept or traveled too long. Once, after a long spell without incident, she had become a little careless. It was about three in the morning, the wee hours when she felt safest, few things stirred and sounds seemed amplified. She had been showering in the girls’ locker room at the high school when the banks of lights flared to life. Hannah barely had enough time to turn off the water and grab a towel. She had trekked to the stockroom at Foster’s Market, where she had squatted for more than an hour, soaked, freezing, and naked but for the towel… a most miserable experience. From then on, she kept her clothes nearby when she showered. The narrow escapes mostly happened at the school. She slept on the cot in the nurse’s office, which was far preferable to a booth at Stuck’s… or the interior of a dumpster.

  After her first return to her home on North Easy Street, Hannah was never able to go back. Not until Debbie went with her. The memories of her mother’s body on the couch, and of Travis swinging the knife, were far too vivid. She had feared he would be there if she returned, despite the newspapers’ promise of a life sentence for Travis. She had read a lot about the case in the newspapers, most articles focusing on her and Anna’s whereabouts. There were speculations on whether they’d been abducted or secreted away by a concerned relative, but most ventured that Travis had killed them and hid their bodies. Much of what she read, she didn’t fully understand, but a lot of it she did and it usually sounded sad or bad.

  She had first started popping into Foster’s Market during the nighttime, usually setting off the motion alarms, but eventually learning the safe spots where she could “shop” undetected. She usually ate a sandwich and a bag of chips with a bottle of juice, topping it off with cookies or maybe Pop Tarts. She’d then go somewhere safe and remote to visit Anna. It was during one of these jaunts to Foster’s that she had seen a large picture of herself and Anna on the front page of a local newspaper. It was one of the “bigger” papers, who printed new issues every day, unlike the Beacon Observer, which stayed on the rack for days and sometimes weeks before they released a new issue.

  Each night Hannah would read any newspapers with articles about them and then return them the following night. The papers always seemed to have the same picture of her and Anna—the one of them in their matching pajamas—with bold-lettered headlines like The Amiel-Janssen twins—Where are they? It seemed to Hannah that there were no other pictures of them, although her mother had taken quite a few.

  She had found one story especially disturbing. The headline teased, Madman Travis Ulrich Cavorted with Satan…We Have Proof! Travis was on the cover wearing orange prison garb. His face was half in shadow and bright orange flames surrounded him. After reading the tabloid article, Hannah had suffered horrendous nightmares and slept with a flashlight at her side for days. She never liked reading about Travis, yet she had forced herself to read everything, no matter who was the subject of the stories. The articles had been plentiful at first, but eventually tapered off and then stopped altogether, which wasn’t a bad thing… especially concerning Travis. She figured the newspaper and magazine people had forgotten about them. If only she could forget.

  Hannah didn’t like living that way, hiding in one place or another and having to steal to eat, but she got into a
routine. She had Anna to spend the lonely hours with, but that had also been the problem. With Anna trapped in Annaplace, Hannah had not confronted anyone about it for fear they would somehow have kept them apart. Now, since they had found Anna’s body, Hannah was unsure if Anna existed any longer. She would be completely alone if she returned to that way of living, but it seemed better than living with strangers.

  The temptation to check on Anna was nearly excruciating, but she had promised Debbie she would wait so they could go together. She wished she hadn’t.

  Hannah returned to the corridor and peered down its length. Nurses crossed here and there, entering rooms and answering calls and an old man shuffled away from her, wheeling an IV rack and flashing glimpses of his pale, sagging back end to those unfortunate enough to notice. He stopped to endure an onslaught of rattling coughs and then resumed his stroll. A young girl in a bright red jumpsuit walked toward Hannah, past the coughing man, her long, snowy hair swinging back and forth with her steps. Hannah’s heart paused for a moment. There was no mistaking that hair or the way the girl walked, but as she neared, their eyes met and Hannah saw that it was not Anna, just wishful thinking. This girl had dirty blonde hair and was too tall to be Anna. The girl timidly smiled and waved as Hannah watched her pass.

  Disappointment darkened Hannah’s mood and she returned to her room. The Disney Channel was airing Good Luck Charlie. Hannah wasn’t very fond of it, but the background noise usually helped her feel less lonely… it wasn’t doing its job today. It sounded tinny, and the cold dishonesty of the laugh track added a chill to the air.

  The room had no clock and the television had no time display, but Hannah felt like time had slowed to a crawl. There was some kind of meeting at 5:00 p.m., but she hadn’t heard a thing. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was not just nervousness… it was dread. It was not knowing that was getting to her; not knowing if Anna’s spirit was okay, not knowing the outcome of the meeting, not knowing where she would live tomorrow, or with whom. She felt like she was at the end of a dark, abandoned hallway full of locked doors with no way out… except Hannahwhere.

  What could possibly happen if she went?

  Nothing bad had ever happened there. Sure, she had dreamed about Travis, but Essie said that was just her acknowledging her fears. Hannahwhere was and always had been a safe harbor, but the thought of disobeying Debbie ignited fears within her.

  Will Debbie still love me if I disobey, or will she think I’m bad and not want to live with me?

  Dinner came shortly after five, but Hannah left it untouched even after a fair amount of coaxing by the nurse named Jaime. Jaime was a nice nurse, very pretty with long, wavy black hair, but Hannah thought she smiled too much and that her voice was too sweet, like maple frosted cotton candy. Could anyone be that friendly?

  Hannah changed the channel to The Cartoon Network but paid no attention to it. When six o’clock rolled around, she was scared and irritable. A series of worst-case scenarios had played through her mind, from the reviewers—whom she pictured as an evil empire—not granting Debbie the right to parent Hannah, to Debbie abandoning her altogether.

  Unable to sit still any longer, Hannah locked herself in the bathroom and sat on a folded towel in the shower stall. Despite her fears and guilty feelings, she traveled to Hannahwhere in search of Anna.

  Chapter 33

  The trip to Hannah’s room was solemn and torturous, and Debbie was having a hard time keeping her emotions at bay. Essie squeezed Debbie’s hand sympathetically, but Debbie barely noticed. Doctor Farren walked behind her and slightly to her right. He had noticed Debbie’s torment in the meeting and asked if she was all right, which she dismissed with a nod.

  Debbie was livid. She had given six years of unwavering dedication to the office and to Marjorie. She had the most successful placement rate in the office and the highest positive feedback from the families involved, and Marjorie had the audacity to say she was wrong for the job?

  She had to read the fucking reports to get an idea of what was going on with Hannah’s case, Debbie thought. Yet she deemed herself knowledgeable enough to decide who was or who was not best for Hannah… in spite of Essie and Doctor Farren’s recommendations!

  It was all politics, Debbie figured. Because of the high-profile status of this case, they felt they had to flex their muscles for their public. As if life wasn’t hard enough for Hannah, they dragged her out of a comfort zone and threw her out into the unknown. The thoughtless fucking apes! She felt like raking her nails down Marjorie’s sun-parched face.

  “You’re hurting my hand,” Essie whispered.

  Debbie apologized, released her grip, and paused a moment to settle her anger.

  “Take a breath and let it go,” Essie softly suggested, rubbing circulation back into her hand.

  Debbie knew Essie was right. Operating in a rage would only make things worse for everyone involved, be it justified or not. The practical part of her understood that Marjorie’s decision was one of sound reasoning. If Debbie were watching another caseworker handling Hannah’s case, unaware of all the bizarre details, she’d most likely have agreed with Marjorie. But that didn’t make it any easier.

  Doctor Farren pressed the elevator call button, and the door immediately opened. The five of them stepped in and rode in silence, like hangmen destined for the gallows. The doors opened facing the nurse’s station, where a few nurses stood huddled, speaking among themselves in hushed tones. At the desk, a doctor and the charge nurse murmured to each other. All conversing stopped when they noticed Debbie, Essie, and Doctor Farren. Debbie found it all a bit ominous.

  “How’s Hannah?” Debbie asked.

  “I imagine she’s fine,” said the charge nurse.

  Debbie looked at her doubtfully. “You imagine?”

  “Yeah. It appears she’s locked herself in the bathroom again, but she’s not answering us.”

  As petty as the situation sounded, Debbie felt herself slipping closer to the edge. Working at maintaining control, Debbie headed for Hannah’s room, Essie and the nurse following closely behind her.

  “What happened?” Essie asked. “Did someone or something upset her?”

  “Not that we know of,” said the nurse. “Dana was doing her rounds and she noticed Hannah wasn’t in her bed and that the bathroom door was closed. She knocked and called for Hannah, but there was no answer.”

  “How do you know she’s inside?” Doctor Farren asked.

  “The door locks from inside,” Debbie said, not able to hide her frustration.

  She knocked soundly on the bathroom door and called Hannah’s name, but there was no response. She had a good idea as to why, but she had hoped Hannah would wait for her. Had she somehow discovered what had gone on in Marjorie’s office? “Fuck!” Debbie muttered under her breath and apologized. “Sorry. There must be a key?”

  “It’s not a key,” said the nurse. “It’s a…”

  “Could you get it, please?” asked Essie.

  “We keep it in a toolbox drawer at the nurses’ station, but it’s not there. We called maintenance,” said the nurse.

  “Call them back and tell them it’s an emergency,” demanded Doctor Farren.

  “We did.”

  “Call them again and convince them it’s an emergency,” Doctor Farren instructed.

  Flustered, but looking relieved to have an out, the nurse returned to the nurses’ station. Debbie rapped on the door again as a petite brunette nurse with tired but pretty eyes entered the room and approached them.

  “Hannah is my charge today,” the woman said, and everybody watched her expectantly.

  “What’s your name, hon?” Essie asked.

  “Dana Tessier,” she said nervously. She turned to Debbie and asked, “You’re Debbie, right?”

  Debbie nodded.

  “Well, I’m not sure how pertinent this is, but Hannah has asked for you repeatedly throughout my shift, which started at 3 p.m. She seemed to get more and more upset each tim
e,” Dana Tessier explained. “When I checked on her to see if she had eaten her dinner, she was sitting on the chair, acting kind of antsy. I was afraid she was about to go into one of her zone-out thingies. I nearly forgot she did that, it had been so long since she’s had one.”

  Debbie’s heart clenched, feeling whatever anxiety Hannah was experiencing was her fault. She looked around for something she could use to pry the door open. The flowers and the gifts from all the well-wishers were still all about the room, but their vibrancy seemed to have faded.

  The magic is gone.

  The thought popped into Debbie’s mind unexpectedly. She could feel the emptiness within her arms and legs… in her eyes. The magic that was Hannah had left. She knocked on the door again.

  “Hannah… honey… please open the door,” she pleaded.

  “Where in the hell are the maintenance people?” asked Dr. Farren.

  “I’ll check on them,” Dana Tessier said and left the room.

  Debbie sat on the chair that she and Hannah had shared for hours on end and slumped under the weight of the guilt that saddled her shoulders.

  “They’ll have her out in a few minutes,” Essie said and rested a comforting hand on Debbie’s shoulder.

  Debbie’s eyes were fiercely red and miserable. Her professionalism had crumbled, but she couldn’t bring herself to care what others were thinking. “She’s not in there. I can’t feel her. I feel a change in the atmosphere, like the gravity in the room is reversing.”

  Essie looked at her, understanding. There was no reproach in her eyes. She sat down on the arm of Debbie’s chair. A sudden hiss like an air leak filled the room, followed by a pop, like the sound of a vacuum-sealed jar being opened.

  “What is that?” asked Doctor Farren. He moved closer to the bathroom door. “It sounded like of a flock of pigeons taking flight.”

  Debbie looked at Essie and said nothing, but she jumped up and rushed to the bathroom door beside Doctor Farren. She started pounding on it with the flat of her palm and calling Hannah’s name. The lock disengaged with a sturdy clack and the door swung outward. There was a collective breath of relief as Hannah was revealed, standing just inside the room with a radiant smile plastered across her face. Debbie grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace.