Hanna Who Fell from the Sky

by Christopher Meades

  Hanna wanted to find Daniel and tell him everything her mother had said, to gauge his response, to see whether Daniel thought Hanna was foolish to question Kara’s story, whether she’d have to be a hopeless dreamer—perhaps even a little mad—to believe it was true. But she couldn’t see him anywhere.

  Hanna resolved to walk through the crowd, to try to meet Daniel in passing. Before she could take a step, she felt a hand press against her back, fingers caressing. Hanna shuddered. Her arms rippled with gooseflesh. Edwin was beside her, his hand playing with her dress, brazenly sliding along the strap of her undergarment. He was emitting a shrill sound like a broken whistle, his breath pushing in and out through his nose. She didn’t need to look at him to picture the wiry gray hairs swaying under his nostrils.

  It was all Hanna could do not to glare at him. This man beside her had no idea who she was. He cared even less about who she wanted to be. Edwin could never imagine the joy that erupted like cannon fire inside Hanna’s chest when Daniel kissed her. No...when she kissed him; Daniel’s lips brushing against hers, the soft touch of his hand against her cheek, that feeling deep inside, like she was glowing. Edwin might have wanted to be her husband. But he didn’t want her. He didn’t know her at all.

  “Isn’t that right?” Edwin said.

  Hanna snapped out of her inner musings. Edwin’s mouth was open, his teeth jumbled like a pile of misshapen stones. Four sets of eyes were upon her. Three parishioners, none of whom Hanna knew by name, had been listening to Edwin tell a story. Only, Hanna didn’t have the foggiest idea what he’d been saying.

  Edwin was still staring at her, waiting.

  “Yes. Of course,” she said.

  The men laughed boisterously, as though Hanna had put an exclamation point on some uproarious joke. One of them pointed to his young wife at the other end of the hall. “She’d probably say the same thing!” he said, and they broke out into a second raucous laugh. Edwin, in particular, convulsed with laughter.

  Hanna leaned into Edwin’s ear. She moved closer to him than ever before. “Is this how it’s going to be?” she said.

  Edwin stopped laughing. He dropped his hand from her back. “What do you mean?”

  Hanna looked into his dull, gray eyes. If he didn’t know, she wasn’t about to explain it to him. In the distance, Daniel’s father, Francis, and his three wives were getting ready to leave. Daniel was still nowhere to be seen.

  “Excuse me, please,” Hanna said, and stepped quickly toward the exit. Hanna reached the Rossiters just as they were gathering their things.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  Francis Rossiter already had one arm in his jacket. “Good evening.”

  An awkward silence ensued. Hanna reached out to shake the man’s hand, which, rather than rectifying matters, only served to punctuate the unease.

  “I’m Hanna,” she said.

  Francis Rossiter took her hand. “I know who you are, young lady. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  His three wives shook her hand, as well. The older woman—Daniel’s mother—grazed Hanna’s palm with her dainty fingers.

  “I saw you before with your sons,” Hanna said. She paused, hoping Francis might feel compelled to speak. Instead, he folded his arms and smiled, revealing nothing, waiting for her. “I spoke to one of them. What was his name?” she said. “Daniel, is it?”

  Francis kept smiling. This time, however, Hanna refused to fill the void in the conversation. She smiled back, with her teeth, not her eyes, like so many others had taught her to do. A second passed and then another—tiny eternities soaring through the air—until eventually, Francis conceded defeat.

  “Daniel’s using the facilities. He’ll be along in a moment.”

  Hanna glanced back toward the restrooms. It was an unconscious act, an involuntary swivel of her head, but far too eager, far too conspicuous. When she turned back to Daniel’s father, the benefactor’s tightly controlled features slackened. His lips formed a straight line. “We have to be going. My son’s meeting us outside,” he said. One of Francis’s wives, a woman half his age, turned to leave. The others edged toward the door. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding,” Francis said.

  “Thank you,” Hanna said.

  “You’re a very lucky young woman.”

  “I consider myself very lucky. Thank you.” Hanna shook his hand again and watched them walk out the doors and into the night.

  She started moving toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. A throng of people stood in between her and Daniel, and Hanna walked as quickly as she could without drawing attention. There were women queued to enter the restroom, children running about, men chatting in circles. They all looked Hanna’s way. She should have known this would happen. Just minutes ago, she’d knelt down and kissed Brother Paul’s hand. It would’ve been absurd to think she could walk freely without eyes upon her. She’d only traveled a few feet before Paedyn caught her eye and waved. Hanna waved back, but she didn’t stop. She passed Emily and Charliss, the two of them feasting on strawberry wafers. Emily reached out and Hanna gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then kept moving.

  As Hanna slipped through the crowd, the parishioners’ faces blurred together. The white walls began to pulse. The voices beat like a drum, thumping, thumping. A woman bumped into Hanna’s shoulder and she saw the woman’s pastel eyelids, her chalklike skin, blemishes glistening like gemstones. She smelled the butcher’s cologne. Hanna felt his gaze upon her and still she marched straight ahead. Her legs glided on their own volition. In her mind, she was still atop the old church cathedral. Hanna was still falling from Jotham’s roof, three stories to the ground, still standing on the dirt road with Kara, still looking up from a crater with an infant’s eyes moments after descending from the white light, the villagers dumbstruck, confounded and amazed.

  Finally, Hanna reached the hallway. She stood in the restroom lineup and said hello to the woman beside her. One minute passed and then two and still Daniel didn’t appear.

  Hanna was almost ready to give up hope when he emerged from the crowd. She saw his shoulder first, then the profile of his face, and then Daniel smiled, a bright, genuine smile. He moved toward her, fidgeting as though he didn’t know how to greet her in front of all these people.

  The woman beside Hanna—one of Brother Paul’s many wives—turned her head and immediately Daniel’s smile disappeared. He stepped forward and slipped past Hanna, resting his fingers on her forearm and his thumb on her elbow.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  He was so close that Hanna could see her reflection in his eyes. Her cheeks turned red. Hanna wanted to clasp hold of his hand, to feel his fingertips grace the soft flesh of her palm. Only, people were watching. He let go of her arm and when he did, Daniel slipped a small piece of paper into her hand. Then he turned and walked back the way he came. Hanna resisted the urge to watch him leave. Hanna tucked the paper into her sleeve and waited in the restroom queue for a minute, maybe more, before turning around and heading back toward her family.

  All she wanted to do was open the paper and read what was inside. Was it another poem, perhaps? Was it a drawing? Hanna was dying to find out. Before she could find a quiet spot to unfold it, Paedyn waved to her again. Hanna saw Edwin’s wife from twenty paces away and this time, there was no way to avoid her. Paedyn had a gleeful look on her face, as though she was delighted to be at church today, delighted to see Hanna, delighted to be alive. Hanna couldn’t tell if this was all for show—a flawless performance by a seasoned actress playing the part of Edwin’s jovial wife—or if Paedyn was really excited to see her. For all Hanna knew, Paedyn’s cheerful disposition could have been a mask, her façade concealing countless secrets underneath.

  She wouldn’t have long to speculate. Paedyn hurried over, a spring in her step.

  “I’m dying to see your
dress,” Paedyn said.

  Hanna looked down at the new blue dress she was wearing, the one she’d received for her birthday. She stepped back and held out her arms.

  Paedyn laughed. She wrapped her arm around Hanna and her hair brushed against Hanna’s neck, soft like velvet. “No, dear. I mean your wedding dress.”

  “Oh. I’ll be wearing Jessamina’s wedding dress.”

  “Have you tried it on?”

  “Yes. In autumn, just before winter. It’s in a closet upstairs at home.”

  Paedyn furrowed her brow. She whispered in Hanna’s ear. “Edwin wants to know you’ll be dressed appropriately for the big day.”

  The word appropriately rattled in Hanna’s brain. She knew what Paedyn was really saying: that Edwin wanted a presentable bride. It wasn’t enough that he’d made some kind of arrangement with Jotham, that the two old friends had bartered an exchange the way they’d trade a bag of potatoes for a fistful of dollar bills. Edwin also wanted her to look a certain way. He wanted Hanna to be on display when he claimed her. Paedyn ran her hand up and down Hanna’s arm. Her words still burned—We all pleasure him together. We watch. We each...participate. With him. With each other.

  Just then, Edwin approached and gave Paedyn a chaste kiss on the cheek. Edwin put his arm around Hanna and half embraced her. Instantly, Hanna regretted her earlier boldness. Edwin might have been furious with her and he’d have every right to be. Only, if he was, she couldn’t tell.

  “So, is Paedyn going to see your dress tonight?” he said.

  “I’m not sure...” Hanna said, her voice fading.

  “I’ll go ask Belinda. I’m sure it will be fine.” Paedyn turned to find Hanna’s sister-mother.

  Hanna found herself alone with Edwin. The noise from the other parishioners surrounded them and Hanna could make out every voice, every idle bit of chatter. She glanced at Edwin, who had a glass of sparkling water in his hand. The urge to apologize twisted in her rib cage. It wrapped around Hanna’s lungs until she felt like she couldn’t breathe unless she blurted it out.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Edwin shifted his glasses along the bridge of his nose. “Whatever for?”

  In the distance, Jotham had risen from his seat and was lumbering toward the children. Charliss and the boys saw him coming and quickly concealed the biscuits in their hands. Emily, however, was facing the other way, licking the frosting off a cookie. Jotham approached her from behind and Hanna watched him snatch the cookie out of her hand and point his finger at her, berating her. Emily trembled. She kept her eyes locked on the floor, unsteady on her feet, cowering in Jotham’s presence.

  A sudden fury exploded inside Hanna. She didn’t pause to think. She stepped forward to intervene, to tell Jotham to leave the girl alone, to stay away from Emily, that a real father would never put such fear into his child, when Kara took Jotham’s arm. She distracted him with words in his ear and steered him away from the terrified girl.

  Hanna clenched and unclenched her fingers, struggling to regain her calm. She returned her attention to Edwin, who hadn’t seemed to notice the scene unfolding on the other side of the room. “Edwin, I was wondering if you’ve set aside a bed for where Emily will sleep?”

  Edwin’s gaze clouded. “Do you mean for when she visits?”

  “No. I mean for when she comes to live with us.”

  Edwin scratched his head. His gaze drifted across the room to where Kara was offering Jotham a cup of tea. “I’m afraid I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “But your father hasn’t made any such arrangement with me.”

  “I look after her,” Hanna said. “She needs me.”

  “And Emily is the one—”

  “—with the twisted back.”

  “Ah yes. Is she twelve now?”

  “Not yet. Not for a few months.”

  From far away, Jotham raised his voice, his tone fierce, his anger ignited. The crowd turned to look and Brother Paul moved toward the commotion, his white figure towering above the others, his two sons following behind like obedient basset hounds.

  Edwin cupped his hand on Hanna’s shoulder. He made that familiar whistling sound through his nose. “I’ll discuss Emily’s living situation with your father.”

  Hanna remained stone-faced.

  I should hope you would.

  “Thank you, Edwin,” she said.

  A fellow parishioner called him over and Edwin stepped away, leaving Hanna alone, or as alone as she could be in a room packed with hundreds of people. Hanna made her way to an empty bench by the window. She pulled Daniel’s piece of paper out from her sleeve just as Emily and Charliss approached. She would have to read quickly.

  Hanna unfolded the paper in her lap. She scanned the blue ink, the shapes that made up the letters, the sentences Daniel had composed, and a lump formed in her throat. This time, it wasn’t from fear or frustration. Hanna’s flesh buzzed. Her thoughts raced inside her head and she felt like she might burst in anticipation. Quickly, before she could be discovered, Hanna folded the paper and tucked it back into her sleeve.

  It was, of all things, an invitation.

  21

  An hour later, upstairs in the master bedroom, Belinda cinched the wedding dress around Hanna’s waist. She stepped back, took a second look and cinched it tighter.

  It was strange spending time with this woman. Hanna had lived her whole life in the same house with Belinda and yet she felt like she knew absolutely nothing about her. She recalled when she was just four years old watching Belinda’s mohair stockings rush past her, too busy to help Hanna dress her only doll in its sweater, her hair pulled so tight in a ponytail, her forehead appeared stretched to the point of discomfort. Belinda was always undertaking several chores at once, rarely speaking unless spoken to, never with a moment to spare. She and Hanna had been alone together many times, but only for fleeting moments: the passing of one another in the hallway, those brief seconds when they were the last two to fasten their boots and put on their jackets before leaving the house. They had done housework together and, before Charliss was old enough to help, Hanna had split firewood with Belinda in the backyard, the two of them always too focused on their task for idle chatter.

  Kara made a point of hugging Hanna every day. Her sister-mother Katherine was also prone to outbursts of affection, surprising Hanna with wet kisses on the cheek when she least expected it. But Hanna couldn’t remember Belinda ever laying a tender hand on her.

  Now they were alone together and, for the first time since she could remember, Hanna felt a kindness from Belinda. When Paedyn arrived with the family after church, she attempted to usher Hanna upstairs to try on her wedding dress right away. Belinda had stepped in and assured Paedyn that Hanna needed to rest and take off her boots before she did anything else. She’d actually advocated on Hanna’s behalf. Perhaps something else was going on. Perhaps Belinda and Paedyn weren’t fond of one another. Maybe they’d had some sort of contentious interaction in the past that Hanna knew nothing about. More likely, Belinda was letting Paedyn know that Hanna was still a child under her care. Hanna still lived in her house.

  Hanna watched Belinda in the mirror, fastening the buttons at the back of the dress. “Will we ever see each other again?” she said.

  Belinda looked at Hanna like she didn’t understand the question.

  “I mean, after I leave this house. Will I ever see you?”

  Belinda spoke with a sewing needle between her lips. “Of course. At church and the marketplace.”

  “But the families won’t visit.”

  Belinda took the pin out of her mouth. “Jotham and Edwin have a complicated relationship.”

  “Like ours?” Hanna asked.

  Belinda hesitated. She pressed her hands on Hanna’s hips where the dress was still a little loose and met Hanna’s gaze.
“You’ve been a good daughter,” she said. “You assist Emily without complaint and you listen to your mother. You will make a good wife.”

  Hanna didn’t know what to say. Those were the kindest words Belinda had ever spoken.

  Belinda inserted a pin near Hanna’s hip. It broke through the dress and grazed her skin, forcing Hanna to stand upright in front of the mirror. For days now, ever since her engagement became official, Hanna had avoided her reflection. Aside from those first few minutes when she got ready in the morning, she would hurry past the mirrors in the house, afraid of seeing her image staring back at her. It was one thing for Hanna to rationalize her engagement to Edwin, to justify why she had submitted to Brother Paul’s will—everyone else had submitted, how could she not? It was another thing altogether to face herself and wonder what she could have done differently, how her life would have changed if she’d had the courage to trek off into the woods and never look back, whether there really was a brave version of herself inside Hanna, waiting to break free.

  Her reflection stared back at her now. Hanna saw her hourglass figure, the dress clinging to her hips, her shoulders framed by lace, smooth and subtle, intricate in arrangement only along the neckline. Hanna was a woman now—a young woman but a woman all the same. Long gone were her days of imagining the moon followed her in the sky. Long gone were the days when she could pretend.

  Belinda pressed her thumbs against Hanna’s shoulder blades. “Now, how does this feel?”

  Hanna ran her fingers along the sparkling blossoms and understated embroidery. Marriage ceremonies in Clearhaven were held at night and Hanna’s dress would surely shimmer in the candlelight. She turned her head. Along her back, fifteen buttons were locked in place, then a drooping bow, then another five more buttons before the dress cascaded to the floor. She thought of Edwin and his tortoiseshell glasses, his stubby fingers. Hanna imagined the difficulty he would have unfastening all these buttons on their wedding night. A slight chuckle slipped from her lips.