Hannahwhere
Page 36
“I suppose that’s true enough,” said Essie, sounding a little more collected. “Where are you now?”
“Home. I’d like you to come here, too, if you don’t mind. I think I know how to get Marjorie Faulkner to see things our way.”
“I’m here and you’re home?” Essie said. “Why, thank you Benedict Arnold. Don’t you think it’s a little late for Marjorie?”
“I hope not, but I need your help,” said Debbie.
After a lengthy pause, Essie blasted out a breath and said, “I’ll come, but what do I tell Doctor Farren? People are going to want to know where Hannah is.”
“Bring Brad along. We need to appeal to his compassion for Hannah’s sake. There isn’t much we can do about the rest, just hope it doesn’t spiral out of control.”
“Are you serious?” asked Essie.
“Serious as brain surgery,” Debbie assured her and ended the call.
She fell back on her bed, and mulled over the endless scenarios for the night and day ahead. It could be delight or disaster. She rolled to her side and pushed the volume slide on her radio back up. Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty implored each other to “Stop Dragging My Heart Around.”
She set her iPhone on the table near the radio but picked it back up and scrolled to the picture she had taken after she had braided Hannah’s hair, longing for Hannah’s delighted smile to light the screen. Why had she only thought to take one picture? She should have taken a dozen… a hundred. She stared at the picture for a while, sighed, shook her head, and then kissed the image on the phone.
“Why you kissing your phone?”
Debbie started and looked around. Hannah’s voice was hard to center on; it sounded like it came from everywhere.
“Hannah? Where are you?” Debbie asked, feeling an elation grow that she was afraid to release. The bathroom door swung outward, and Hannah stepped out from behind it, her eyes solemnly locked to the floor.
"How long have you been here?” Debbie asked. She rose and moved to Hannah, who just shrugged in response.
“I didn’t hear a pop,” Debbie said.
“I got here a little while ago,” Hannah said in a dejected voice. “You were talking on the phone. People don’t hear a lot when they talk on the phone.”
“What a curious observation,” Debbie said. She lifted Hannah’s chin with a shaking hand. “Let me see you.”
A sad frown etched Hannah’s face and lined her forehead. Her weepy eyes darted back and forth from Debbie’s to the floor.
“You left me there,” Hannah said, supporting the accusation with a quivering lower lip. The whole effect was heartrending yet adorable.
Debbie hugged her and said, “I knew you’d follow me.”
“I went to Hannahwhere. I looked for Anna, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.”
Debbie was expecting this. The afterlife was characterized by so many interpretations, but in most of them, life culminated with passage into another realm or dimension. Sometimes passage was delayed, as in Anna’s case, but Debbie hoped that there was a fissure or window through which Hannah and Anna could still communicate, but maybe that was too optimistic. That’s why it’s called The Big Mystery, Debbie mused. She wanted to say something comforting to Hannah, but she found herself at a loss for words. Instead, she waited.
“I don’t want to be in Hannahwhere if Anna isn’t there,” Hannah said, nearly pleading. “And I don’t want to be anywhere else except here. I want to live here.”
“I think we can make that happen,” Debbie said. “Again, I can’t promise you, but we can try. We have a lot of planning to do when Essie and Doctor Farren get here.”
“Doctor Farren’s coming here?” Hannah asked, a little glimmer lighting her eyes.
Debbie nodded.
“Did you kiss him yet?”
“That has nothing to do with our plans tonight,” Debbie evaded.
“Well, did ya?”
“Not yet,” Debbie said, but liking the idea.
“At the school, you said it’s a shot in the dark,” Hannah said, her tone serious again. “I don’t want a shot.”
Friday
July 2, 2010
Chapter 35
Marjorie Faulkner was reliably punctual and usually in her office by 9:00 a.m., but Debbie wasn’t going to tempt fate. Fate had a nasty sense of humor and a keen eye for irony and susceptibility… no need offering those enticements. At precisely 10:00 a.m., Debbie led Essie Hiller, Doctor Brad Farren, and Hannah Ariel-Janssen into the DCF office, across the main lobby, and to the door of Marjorie’s private office. She gave three solid knocks. Marjorie looked up from her desk to observe the four faces. A knowing yet intrigued expression came to her once she met Debbie’s eyes.
“Good morning Debbie, Doctor Hiller, please come in,” Marjorie said, and the four of them filed into her office. Marjorie pointed across the hallway. “Would you be so kind as to grab two chairs from the next office?” she asked Doctor Farren.
Essie and Hannah sat as Doctor Farren gathered the chairs and placed them in a semi-curve around the front of Marjorie’s faux walnut desk.
“This beautiful young lady could only be Hannah Amiel. Am I right?” asked Marjorie. She extended her hand, which Hannah accepted and firmly shook. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Hannah returned a sweet smile.
Closing the door, Debbie introduced Doctor Farren, and then sat beside Hannah.
“There was a message on my phone when I came in,” Marjorie quickly said, trying to lead the conversation. “It appears we’ve had a little mix-up concerning when Hannah was to arrive at her new foster home.”
“Yes,” Debbie agreed. “Something came up.”
“I see. Our prospective foster parents were quite concerned, as am I.” She smiled reassuringly at Hannah.
“We’re requesting that you reconsider placing Hannah with me as her foster mother,” Debbie said. “Doctor Hiller, Doctor Farren, and I are positive it would be in the best interest of Hannah, and it is Hannah’s desire as well.”
Marjorie closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, they remained composed, but there was volcanic heat behind them.
“Debbie, we’ve already discussed this,” Marjorie said, and then shifted her focus to the two doctors. “I feel it is ethically wrong, and it could be distressing to Hannah if we talk about this in her presence. I’m surprised that both of you agreed to this.”
Debbie sat back in her chair and said, “Marge, you’re right.” She turned to Hannah and said, “I’m sorry, Hannah. We’re going to have to ask you to leave, okay?”
“Okay,” said Hannah. She was gone from sight in a blink.
Marjorie jumped up and backed against the wall, pulling her chair between her visitors and herself. They all watched her reaction, and Debbie was surprised by how collected she remained, considering what had just occurred.
“Where is she?” Marjorie demanded.
“Gone. Just as you suggested,” Debbie said.
“How did she do it? Is it some kind of trick? Is this a joke you’re all playing on me? Well, it’s not funny.”
“No, Marge, this is most assuredly not a joke,” Debbie said.
“Hannah has the ability to travel,” Essie explained. “Astral projection, we thought at first, but it obviously goes well beyond that.”
“How is that possible?”
“Who knows,” said Debbie. “But she does. You just saw it with your own eyes.”
“Hannah’s ability makes her quite exceptional, though not totally unique. Supposedly there are more, but I’ve only seen it twice,” Essie said. “They study it deeply at The Monroe Institute, as well as other places… mostly colleges. In countries like Peru, for example, shamans claim to have been doing it for centuries. I used to scoff at the idea.”
“The biggest danger here is for Hannah,” Doctor Farren added. “She is at risk, especially in her sensitive emotional state. Some people may want to learn her ability… maybe fanatics or opportunists. She could become a la
b specimen or maybe a hostage, yet her biggest adversaries are her age, innocence, and inexperience.”
“Hannah needs someone who understands her capabilities and someone who can teach her and support her. Someone who will not exploit her. We can’t be sure that her new foster parents wouldn’t do that,” Debbie said. “And we’re laying it all at your mercy.”
Debbie stared at Marjorie as she tried to put everything into perspective. She wasn’t doing very well.
“But there are no guarantees. How can you be sure of anyone who finds out?” Marjorie asked. “Even me, for example?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Debbie said, looking confounded.
“Must be the pressure at work is getting to her, making her imagine things,” said Essie. “I see it quite often in my trade.”
“You’re clearly fucking nuts,” Doctor Farren said.
Marjorie gawked disbelievingly at the people in her office. “I can’t believe you’re trying to blackmail me,” she said.
“Not blackmail, Marge. We want you to see things as they really are and we want to do what is best for Hannah so she can live a better life,” said Debbie.
Essie sat forward entreatingly and said, “Consider what she’s been through in her nine years. People have lived to a hundred with a fraction of the trauma she’s already experienced.”
“But how do you know you are what’s best for Hannah?” Marjorie asked.
“Because,” Debbie said. “Been there, done that.” Debbie’s seat was instantly vacant.
“Oh come off it!” Marjorie barked. “This has got to be a joke!” She looked around as if trying to find the hidden cameras or the guffawing friend or workmate. “Are both of you going to disappear now?”
“Sorry,” said Doctor Farren. “Just them.”
“This is not a joke, Marge,” said Essie. “For Hannah it’s quite serious. It’s crucial for her quality of life.”
With a huge fluttering pop, Hannah and Debbie reappeared just to the left of Marjorie’s desk, both carrying an armful of flowers in an impressive array of colors. An exquisite and mesmerizing aroma engulfed the office. They moved forward in unison and laid the flowers on Marjorie’s desk.
Marjorie slowly moved forward, awed and intrigued by the odd pile of flowers they had spilled onto her desk. She picked one up, held the petals to her nose, and stared silently at the multiplicity of colors.
“What kind of flowers are these?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything like them or smelled anything so compelling.”
“I haven’t the slightest,” Essie admitted. She lifted one to her nose and inhaled.
“But they smell like… paradise,” said Doctor Farren.
Debbie pointed to the flowers and said to Hannah, “You knew about this all along… that Hannahwhere is physical?”
Hannah shrugged and grinned. “I wasn’t positive until last night.”
“But, where?” Debbie asked.
Hannah shrugged emphatically and shook her head. Debbie’s world tilted a little more. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time. She rubbed Hannah’s head and then hugged her to her side. Marjorie Faulkner slowly lowered herself into her seat, looking rapt.
“So, Marge,” Debbie said. “It’s evident I’m the most suitable caretaker for Hannah, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t want to live with anyone else,” said Hannah.
Marjorie Faulkner gently lifted another flower and nodded.
Sunday
July 4, 2010
Chapter 36
Debbie was not surprised to see Hannah standing beside her bed. It was only her second day in her new surroundings, and if anyone had earned the right to be a little uneasy in the wee hours of the night, it was Hannah. Debbie squinted at the blurred orange numerals on her alarm clock and patted the bed beside her. Hannah, bedraggled in her floral two-piece pajama set, hopped onto the bed and settled in near Debbie. It was 2:34 a.m. and Seal was singing of the honors of being “Kissed by a Rose”.
“Hi, pumpkin. You have a bad dream?” Debbie asked.
“No,” said Hannah.
“Scared?”
“No.”
She studied Hannah, who in turn studied the ceiling, visibly lost in contemplation. Just her presence was a joy and it was all Debbie could do to not grab her and squeeze her. The reality of her was something she hoped would never grow old.
“Good,” said Debbie.
The previous two days had gone by in a frenzied flash. Friday she had registered Hannah in school, chose a dentist and a pediatrician—Dr. Farren being the obvious choice—and filled out what seemed like reams of paperwork. Essie and Doctor Farren—who insisted they call him Brad—cleared out the spare room, moving a lot of it into the basement, and even more into the garage to await Monday morning’s curbside pick-up. A small mountain of undesignated items waited in a stack in the living room for second evaluation.
Hannah slept on the couch Thursday night, which hadn’t bothered her in the least. Much better than the dumpster, she had assured Debbie.
Essie donated a dresser and a small desk that had once belonged to her daughter and then her granddaughter. Both were in great condition. She was pleased to see them out of her attic and in use again.
When Debbie called to report the good news to Brandon, he insisted she find a “good” bed with mattress and box spring, and send him the bill. She did buy Hannah a nice full-size bed set, which was delivered on Saturday. (She wasn’t sure she’d take Brandon up on the offer, but it was tempting.) Between the generosity of many good people, and Lowe’s, Kohl’s, The Salvation Army, and a good chunk of Debbie’s savings, Hannah had a decent wardrobe and a very respectable bedroom to call her own.
One of the best moments of Saturday evening was watching Hannah finish off two huge helpings of macaroni and cheese, accentuating her bites with small hums and murmurs of pleasure. Debbie used whole grain macaroni, Cabot’s Seriously Sharp cheddar, and a light dose of jalapeño pepper. Sorry, Mr. Kraft, no processed foods here. Hannah’s exuberance upon finding out that Debbie’s recipe was nearly identical to Elizabeth Amiel’s was hilarious and contagious, and sent an intense jolt of contentment through Debbie.
Hannah was thrilled that she got to choose her own bedding at Kohl’s. Saturday night they set up her new bedroom. She marveled at the sheer size of her new bed compared to the hospital bed and even the twin bed she had back in Elm Creek.
“It’s weird that I don’t have a twin bed anymore, either,” Hannah had said to Debbie. After a moment of contemplation, she added, “Am I still a twin now that Anna’s not alive?”
“You’ll always be Anna’s twin no matter where she is,” Debbie replied. “I believe Anna’s still alive, just not in the same way that we are.”
“Like the thinking her? Her spirit?”
“Exactly. She proved it to us in Hannahwhere and Annaplace.”
“What about my mom and dad?”
“I’d bet they’re with her,” Debbie said.
“You know what else is weird?”
“What, sweetie?”
“When I think of Anna, I feel like half of me is gone, but I feel like I’m two times heavier. It’s like, the more happy you have, the less you weigh. Does that make sense?” asked Hannah, her words also heavy with sleep.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Debbie told her. “Do you know that another word for happiness is levity, and that means lightness?”
“I do now,” Hannah said and then slowly dozed off.
Sunday morning they planned to touch up the bedroom, and then Debbie would give Hannah a tour of Riverside and share some of the city’s history… at least what she knew of it. She would then bring Hannah to Hampton Beach. They would walk in the sand, swim, eat fried dough, and watch the Independence Day fireworks. Hannah had never been on a beach, seen the ocean, or eaten fried dough. Debbie loved the thought of introducing Hannah to new experiences, and the anticipation was intoxicating.
If their first days together were any indication of things to come, then it would be blissful, but Debbie didn’t carry an illusion that things would be perfect. Hannah would start seeing Essie every Wednesday, tapering off as Essie and Doctor Farren (or Brad) deemed fit. Hannah had had a hard go of it, and there would certainly be times when memories and profound sadness would stagger her. Debbie had seen her teary-eyed and sullen at various moments, but she needed to mourn. It was an essential part of healing.
On Friday, Debbie put a call in to the Kearney Police Department to ask if they’d stored Elizabeth’s, Hannah’s, and Anna’s possessions. It was a distressing thought that the only photographs Hannah might ever have of her mother and sister would be from newspapers and magazines.
“Do you think I’ll make any friends here?” Hannah asked, bringing Debbie back to the present. She wasn’t asleep after all.
“Of course!” said Debbie, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “You are the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. Who wouldn’t want to be your friend?”
Hannah shrugged. “Anna and I didn’t have many friends in Elm Creek. Actually, we really didn’t have any except each other.”
“Elm Creek has only nine hundred people in the whole town,” Debbie said. “Riverside has more than sixty thousand. That’s more than sixty times as many people. I think you’ll have plenty of friends, and good ones, too.”
“Doesn’t that mean there are sixty times as many bad people? Like Travis?”
Damn! Debbie thought. I’ll need to stay on my toes with this girl. Trying to reassure herself as much as Hannah, Debbie said, “No. Travis was one of a kind, and he’s where he belongs now… for the rest of his life.”