“Why did you stop, Hannah?”
Five little words that either led her forward or offered her an escape. She chose to move forward, fully aware of the risks. “I taught at Ironwood High.”
He reached for her hand, his strong, sure fingers giving her strength, but the gravity in his eyes said he remembered Ironwood High, along with the rest of a grieving nation.
“We had developed a special class in conjunction with a program at Penn. It was an elective for students who met certain criteria, but I had the power to approve who should be in the class. The mission of the class required outside fieldwork and we developed a thoughtful selection process to give us a variety of kids. We were excited about this concept, because the class selection was actually part of the team research, the effect of nature and nurture on the human brain.”
“To do this with high school kids half fascinates me and half scares me to death,” Jeff told her, his gentle tone saying she could continue. “So you chose the class…”
“We had a committee,” she explained, “but I had veto power because I was the teacher who would be out and about with this group. The administration let me weed out kids whose application might look okay, but whose personality might be detrimental in less structured settings. We had tons of applications but we limited the class to twenty, a nice number to work with.”
“If you say so.” His face said there was little fun involved with teaching twenty kids anything, but he squeezed her hand. “And then…”
She hauled in a breath and let it out on a sigh. “Brad Duquette was the mastermind behind the Ironwood massacre. Steve Shelwyn and Dave Mastrodonato were his disciples, but they didn’t have the vision to put it together. Brad did. He was such a smart kid, but there was something about him. Something not right, as if he wanted help, but laughed at anyone’s efforts because he knew he could outsmart them.”
She shook her head, thinking back and still coming up short. “I saw that in him, and that’s the reason I vetoed his application, because it always felt like he was trying to trip me up and I couldn’t take that chance if I was out on my own with the kids, you know?” She met Jeff’s gaze.
He nodded in support, and Hannah gripped his hands tighter. “What if I’d accepted him? Would it have been the tipping point, the one thing that gave him hope, that lessened his anger?”
“You can’t take that on yourself, Hannah.” Jeff closed the narrow space between them and pulled her in for a hug. “Out of all those applications, you could only accept twenty. The odds were against all of the applicants, but none of the others went on a shooting spree, right?”
“I know that.” She pulled back and held his look, wishing she didn’t have to burden him, but having little choice now. “But this one did. And when they entered the school during lunchtime, my research class was split, half in the lab, half in the adjoining classroom with me. We heard loud voices, then screaming, then gunfire. Karen Krenzer, the lab instructor, liked to keep our linking door closed during labs so my voice wouldn’t distract her group. I’d left my keys on top of my desk because I was running late that morning, so I grabbed them and locked the adjoining door to the lab. A couple of boys barricaded it with a filing cabinet and a bungee cord while I locked the hall door.
“Between the bombs they rigged, the guns they used and the sheer surprise of the attack, they managed to kill three teachers, nine students and two police officers who tripped a bomb as everything was happening. Fourteen people died that day because I denied Brad Duquette’s application into my research class.”
Chapter Fourteen
Her face had grayed. The pain of retelling the story was an obvious drain.
What a thing for her to carry around, this kid’s lack of conscience, his deep-seated anger. None of that was Hannah’s fault. “You can’t shoulder that, Han. It’s not fair. Whatever messed those kids up happened long before you came on the scene.”
A tiny smile softened her face. “That’s what Jane Dinsmore told me. She’s known all along who I am, where I came from. So did your grandmother.”
It didn’t surprise Jeff that Grandma knew. She was thorough with everything she did and she chaired the council that hired Hannah, but the fact that she didn’t say anything…
That felt a little off.
“They also knew Jane was sick, that she might not beat this cancer and if she didn’t, I would be here, waiting in the wings.”
The idea that Jane and his grandmother plotted to keep Hannah here because they wanted a teacher to step into Jane’s shoes if she didn’t win the battle with cancer… Of all the pompous, power-wielding—
“It was a brilliant idea, actually.”
Hannah’s words stopped his inner tirade. “What do you mean?”
She lifted her slim shoulders in a slight shrug. “They gave me a chance to heal, to reconnect with people, with God. With life. And you.”
“Hannah, I—”
“I need to finish before you say anything else, Jeff. Please?”
Her soft and earnest plea made him relax his hands, his emotions. “Of course.”
“Ten of my students were with me. Nine were in the lab with Karen, the lab instructor. One was absent. Once we barricaded the lab door and locked the hall door, we hid behind a half wall of shelving that was built like a study nook along the last three windows. We huddled there, crouched behind the shelving, listening to what happened in the lab, step-by-step.”
Jeff didn’t need to hear the details of that carnage. He remembered the ceaseless minute-by-minute news coverage and read the reality in her gray pallor, her heavy eyes.
“And while Brad tormented and shot Karen and those lab students, he shouted we’d be next, that I’d never get the chance to keep a kid out of a class again.”
“Oh, Hannah.” Jeff pulled her into his chest, needing to hold her, not sure what to say when words weren’t enough. “Hannah. I’m so sorry.”
“He couldn’t get through the lab door. He sent Dave to the hallway to see if they could infiltrate our room through the hall entry doors, but the hall security gates came down when the emergency was sounded, and our security chief was a former county sheriff licensed to carry. He shot Dave as he approached our classroom door with a sawed-off shotgun and two homemade bombs. Ironwood is a huge school, and I found out later the reason Dennis found the shooters so quickly was because he followed the trail of bodies up the back stairs.”
Jeff hung on, praying, begging God to bless her, help her, help those families whose lives were altered in the space of a few hours.
“When Brad realized he couldn’t get through the lab doors, he started shouting the names of the captive students before he shot them. He made sure we heard them cry and plead. Beg for their lives. He had Steven list the names on the blackboard with the time of death, taunting the police for their lack of speed.”
The magnitude of the combined depravity gripped Jeff, making him wish he could do something, anything to make this better. But no one could.
Except God.
“When Brad realized he’d lost Dave, he and Steve started raining bullets on our room through the wall. They managed to hit the windows above us.” He didn’t think she could pale further but he was wrong. Her eyes went wide, the sights and sounds of that horrific afternoon painting a mental picture he could only imagine. Hannah had no choice but to replay the events. She’d lived them. “We clung to one another, crouching low in a bed of sharp, broken glass while the rain poured in, lashed by forty-miles-per-hour winds.”
“Lord, bless Hannah, help her to stay strong, to see Your words, Your truth in the goodness that lives in her. The strength, the wisdom, the amazing intelligence You’ve given her and the gift of giving she shares with others every day. Help her, Lord, take away the guilt she carries wrongly, help her see that evil cannot always be explained and that the devil’s work should be condemned, not that of the innocent.”
“Was I innocent, Jeff?” She pushed back and searched his gaze
. “What if I let him into our room? Would he have still shot Karen and those students? Would it have bought time so that help could arrive?”
“You did the right thing, the brave thing,” he insisted, amazed she’d think differently. “You saved lives that day, the lives of the kids in your classroom. You didn’t cause the other deaths, Hannah. The shooters did. Don’t take that on yourself. You reacted to a horrible situation with guts and brains. How can you think less of yourself?”
“Because he called me a coward for hiding.”
The calm way she said the words chilled Jeff. He gripped her shoulders and held her gaze, hoping, praying he was doing the right thing. “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, Hannah. You reacted to an out-of-control situation with thought and action. You saved ten children and yourself.” When she looked like she might argue, he shook his head, needing her to understand. “I will forever thank God that you had the common sense to lock and barricade that door, that the barricade held and that the bullets he sprayed through the wall didn’t hit anyone in your room.”
He gathered her back in his arms, feeling her tears wet his shirt, his neck. He didn’t know how long he cradled her like that, but when she finally sat up, he read the look of determination on her face and knew she’d made a decision.
“You’re going for it, aren’t you?” He leaned back, assessing her gaze, the set of her shoulders.
“I have to.”
“Why?” Why would she put herself through that?
“Because I won’t feel whole again until I face this fear, Jeff. It eats at me. I hide it away and think I’m better, and then it rises up at the worst times, choking me.”
“Wouldn’t therapy be easier?”
She leaned forward and laid her soft hand atop his arm. “This is therapy. My last step. I’ve come so far, but I need to go the distance, Jeff. Face the dragon.”
“I’ll buy you a dragon of your own. We can build him a pen in our backyard.”
A soft smile chased the shadows for a moment. “Our backyard?”
“Hannah, I—”
She put her hand over his mouth and shook her head. “Don’t. Please. You have to know the rest, Jeff, that I came totally unglued after the attack. I was hospitalized for a while, and then was treated by a psychiatrist and a therapist for months. I hated myself, I hated my life, I hated the shooters and I wanted to die.”
He didn’t think his heart could break any further, but it did, seeing the guilt in her face for her very normal reaction to murdering chaos. “Hannah, you crashed afterward. That’s normal.”
“Nothing I did could be construed as normal,” she argued, remembering.
“It was,” Jeff insisted. “You’re a scientist. You understand the principles of action/reaction. Your emotional reaction matched their actions, step-by-step. They attacked your students, your room, your colleague, your job and then your faith. You crashed and burned, then regrouped by coming here. Working here.” He hugged her again, feeling the softness of her hair slip beneath his cheek, his hands. “And I’m so glad you did.”
“Me, too.”
He smiled, feeling her relax in his arms. “So you’re going to apply for Jane’s job?”
“Yes.”
He had no idea if this was a good move or a really stupid one, but he knew one thing: whatever Hannah decided, he’d support her from this day forward. “Okay, then. Where do we start?”
“We?”
He nodded firmly. “I’m a big believer in facing the past. Moving on. Whatever happens, just know I’ve got your back.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, then. Let’s start with this.” Hannah stood and crossed the room, disappeared for a few seconds, then returned, carrying a box.
Jeff frowned, not understanding.
She held out the box and pointed to the script. “This is from Brian. He was my fiancé at the time of the attack. He’s now the vice president of VanDerstraat Communications and a town board member in Big Springs. He didn’t have much use for me while I was in the psych wing.”
“Hannah.”
She waved him off. “In retrospect, he did us both a favor. I wasn’t good for anyone or anything at that point. It taught me that true love is required to stand up to the test, that those vows of sickness and health are not just pretty words. They’re a solemn pledge.”
“So what’s in here?”
She made a face and shook her head. “I don’t know. I was tempted to chuck it to the curb when it came, but I realized that was the chicken’s way out.”
“So you shoved it away…” he teased.
“I wasn’t that brave,” she shot back, a tiny smile curving her mouth. “And notice that I’m opening it with you here, ensuring proper backup.”
“Let’s do this.”
“All right.” She tugged the tape free from the sides, then pulled the strip across the box top, the distinct sound leading them to what? More sadness? More sorrow?
Jeff was pretty sure that was humanly impossible.
“Oh.”
Jeff leaned forward, his vision obscured by the box flaps, but he needn’t have bothered. Hannah withdrew a presidential award for excellence in teaching math and science, her expression soft, her fingers trailing the vellum surface.
“Pretty impressive.”
Her bittersweet smile said yes and no.
“May I see?”
She handed it over and withdrew a second one from the box. “Sure. You look at that one and I’ll look at this one.”
“You won two?”
She nodded. “My Penn projects. I was nominated three times and received the award twice.”
“Hannah, that’s amazing.”
She shrugged the praise away. “It was a wonderful honor for me and the kids. Ah…” She grimaced, pulling out a sheet of folded paper, then sent Jeff a rueful look. “Oh, good. A note.”
Jeff leaned over her shoulder, and read out loud. “Hannah, hope all is well. The school asked if I could forward these to you with their apologies. It seems they were lost for a while and the new principal is sorry they weren’t sent to you years ago. Best, Brian.”
Funny. She’d been worried about what Brian’s message might do to her, but sitting here, reading his short words, seeing his script, it meant nothing. Not a thing.
Of course, six feet of wonderful and supportive man sitting alongside her had something to do with that. She crumpled the note into a tight ball and lofted a three-pointer into the small garbage can just inside the kitchen door. “Sweet shot.”
She smiled and flicked a look Jeff’s way. “Old news.”
“Good.”
She lifted the beautiful award, stood and placed it in a position of prominence alongside Nick’s family picture. “I’ll go see Jane tomorrow.”
Jeff stood and crossed the room with the second award. He set it up alongside the family photo, flanking Nick’s accomplishments with Hannah’s. “And you know I’ll help in any way I can, right?”
His promise was worth so much more than he knew. Jeff’s faith, his work ethic and his level of commitment were so different from Brian’s. How could she have ever thought the two men similar?
“They’re beautiful, Hannah.” Jeff nodded to the awards, then drew her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, his heart. “And so are you.” He dropped his mouth to her hair, her cheek, kissing her gently. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything you need?”
“Will do.”
“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
“All right, then.” He paused before he opened the front door. “Call me. Let me know how things go, okay?”
“I will.”
He hated to leave after hearing her story. He climbed into his car to return to Wellsville, then paused, chagrined.
Hannah had dealt with more death and destruction in a few short hours than most people face in a lifetime. She’d crashed a
nd burned, then rebuilt her life step-by-step, while he stubbornly refused to move beyond high school anger at his father and half brother. That realization said he had some serious fence-mending of his own to do.
He turned the car around and headed north toward Nunda, unsure where he’d find Matt, but determined to fix things now.
Chapter Fifteen
“Jane?” Hannah tiptoed into Miss Dinsmore’s hospital room the next morning. Jane looked relieved, as if she’d been hoping Hannah would come. But then, Hannah had already figured that out. Hannah swallowed a sigh, mustered a smile and stepped in.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” She sat in the chair by the bed and grasped Jane’s hand; the dry skin was lax beneath her fingers. “I had to, but you know that, don’t you?”
Jane nodded. She paused long seconds, eyeing the wall, then dragged her gaze back to Hannah’s. “Helen and I prayed when we found out I was sick. We asked God to send someone special, someone who could appreciate our children and towns. It’s hard to get good teachers in these outlying schools, even with a nice quality of life. We’re so far off the beaten path that young people pass us by. And then your application came in for the library position.”
Hannah nodded. “I thought God might have had a hand in it,” she confessed, then gave Jane a wry smile. “Now I see that it was just two bossy women engineering things along.”
Jane met her gaze with a smile of her own and shook her head as she gripped Hannah’s hand. “Except we know He sent you on purpose. There is a time for every purpose under the heaven.”
“But three years ago I was a basket case,” Hannah said, not trying to soften the skepticism in her tone.
Jane acknowledged the time frame with a slight wince. “You needed healing time. And I had a fight on my hands. But it looks like we’ve reached the turning point. Will you be my long-term sub, Hannah? Please? I’ve got my science team preparing for the Christmas break state science games, and we’re in the thick of the first semester and you know I don’t take that lightly.”
Mended Hearts Page 14
