“What is it?” Belinda said.
“I was just thinking—these buttons are quite old,” Hanna said. “Is there any way we can make them tighter? As tight as possible would be best.”
* * *
Only Kara had seen Hanna in her wedding dress the first time she tried it on and that was months ago. The children came running when they heard Hanna at the top of the stairs, their eyes wide and amazed. She descended the stairs to the eager squeals of the little ones. Charliss took her arm and led Hanna into the living room, where the adults were waiting.
Paedyn approached first. She took Hanna by the arms and examined her as though she were inspecting a horse at auction, or, rather, one assigned for breeding. Paedyn felt the tiny rhinestones bejeweled across Hanna’s torso. She turned Hanna in a circle and studied the interlocking buttons across her back. It took a moment, but eventually the barren wife nodded her approval. “It’s gorgeous. Edwin will be pleased.” She looked at Kara, standing with Emily by the doorway. “What does the mother think?” she said.
Kara, who’d done nothing these past few hours except gaze at Hanna with wet eyes, forced a smile. She put her arms around Emily and held the girl close. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice all but cracking.
In a spontaneous burst of exuberance, Charliss took Hanna by the hands and twirled her around the room. The children cheered and the moment absorbed her. Hanna picked up Ahmre and Charliss spun the two of them in delirious circles. It was the first joy Hanna had felt in this house since winter’s end and she would not deny it. Hanna locked hands with the little ones. She spun them one by one, each child laughing dizzily, until Hanna herself wobbled and another pair of hands grabbed hold.
At one point, Hanna almost tripped, but she righted herself and kept moving, her bare feet sinking into the old woolly carpet. The room filled with energy. Hanna’s heart pounded. Ahmre ran into her arms again and together they danced without care. Hanna cast a quick look at Jotham, who happened to be on his fourth whiskey. He nodded his approval and the children twirled and skipped without music. Their mother Katherine stood in the center of the room and sang a boisterous church hymn to the children’s delight.
Hanna took Emily’s hand. She couldn’t lift Emily without knocking over the little ones, so she wrapped her arms around her and sang along with Katherine. They swayed together, Emily’s feet following Hanna’s for the first few steps before coming to a halt. The girl’s shoulders started to tremble. Emily buried her head in her big sister’s shoulder and sniffled.
“Don’t cry,” Hanna whispered. “There’s no reason to be upset.”
“There is, though,” Emily said. She stepped back and took in Hanna’s white dress fully. “I want this to be me.”
Hanna pressed her lips to Emily’s cheek. Still, the children danced. “It will be one day.”
“No one will want me,” Emily whispered back.
“Of course someone will.”
“But I can barely walk...”
Emily pulled away. Their eyes met and Hanna saw for the first time what her wedding was doing to her sister. Hanna had been so caught up in her own desires, in battling dragons in her head, that she hadn’t stopped to notice Emily. The girl looked brittle. Her chin quivered. Emily ached for the one thing Hanna didn’t want: to be chosen as a bride. To be like everyone else.
Before Hanna could say another word, Charliss picked Emily up from behind and spun her around in a circle. All the while, Katherine’s bright voice filled the room. Hanna danced until she felt winded. She flopped onto the couch in the corner where Jessamina was feeding her baby. The young mother glared at her. There was something different in her expression, something new that Hanna couldn’t quite place. Hanna sat up straight and met Jessamina’s gaze. She couldn’t spend another moment enduring Jessamina’s cruel looks, her abject, arbitrary hatred. Under the sound of the children’s laughter, Hanna mouthed the words, Don’t hate me.
Jessamina dropped the baby from her breast. She mouthed back, I don’t hate you. I pity you.
The blood fled Hanna’s face. “Why?”
Jessamina whispered so no one else could hear. “Because, soon you will be like me.”
A long reptilian smile spread across Jessamina’s face. She placed her hand on the back of Sayler’s neck and forced the already-satiated baby onto her breast.
Hanna’s mouth hung open in disbelief. The room grew heavy around her, the children’s dancing, their rhythmic swaying, suddenly at a snail’s pace. Each syllable of Katherine’s lively hymn resonated as though it were a song itself. Hanna’s thoughts slowed to a crawl.
She would have stayed in this suspended state, had the children not rushed over and offered their hands, had they not pulled her up off the couch and pleaded with Hanna to rejoin the dance. The revelry lasted ten more minutes: ten minutes in which Katherine continued singing her lively hymns, in which the children threw their bodies joyfully around the room, ten minutes in which a girl in a white wedding dress moved from one child to the next, taking their hands and holding them close, staring not at her young sister-mother but at her reflection in the window. Hanna couldn’t help but think how she looked like every other young bride in Clearhaven to don a wedding dress. How, in four days’ time, she would become exactly like everyone else.
22
The next morning, Hanna awoke to the sound of Katherine and Belinda arguing. Ahmre was lying beside Hanna in her bunk, still fast asleep, when Hanna slipped out of bed and opened the door. Katherine and Belinda were standing in the hallway, quarreling over whether the brown vest Katherine was holding could be altered to fit around Jotham’s back brace.
“Of course it can,” Katherine said.
“You take a pair of scissors to that fabric and he’ll never be able to wear it again!”
Kara emerged from her room and chimed in, all three women talking at once. The quarrel went on for another minute before Jotham barked, “Enough!” from the bottom of the stairs. Hanna stepped out of her bedroom and was nearly bowled over by Katherine, red-faced and fuming, storming down the hallway, crochet hook in hand, mumbling something to the effect that her “prowess in needlework has long been overlooked in this house.” Moments later, Belinda followed to resume their dispute.
It wasn’t just the women. The whole house had tensed up, like it was a living thing sucking on the inside of its mouth in order to avoid screaming. Hanna shut the door and slipped back into bed as Jotham paced the hallways in halting, tentative steps rather than his usual formidable stride. An hour later, Jotham—wearing his suit but no vest—was waiting on the deck outside. The children all clambered to the window, eager to see who would pick him up. They watched Jotham rub his cold hands and gaze off into the distance in anticipation. He checked his watch, looked up and then checked it again.
Soon a pickup truck pulled up to the house and Edwin’s face peered out the window. He saw Hanna, Emily and the others crowded behind the glass, and he gave a quick wave. Then Jotham stepped into the truck and they drove off down the street.
Almost immediately, the tension in the house abated. Katherine fed the little ones their breakfast and Kara assisted the older children with their boots and jackets before ushering them out the door for school. Belinda, in particular, seemed pleased. She sat down at the kitchen table and took out a folder containing cards and envelopes and proceeded to write several letters with a big smile on her face. Hanna leaned against the doorway, watching Belinda, thinking this was all very peculiar. Belinda’s smile was peculiar. Jotham wearing a suit was peculiar. Edwin showing up in their driveway for the first time in years was particularly peculiar.
“The money’s coming in,” Katherine said.
“Pardon me?”
“The arrangement your father made with Edwin. They’re going to excavate the marshlands and Jotham is going to manage the pr
oject.”
“Who’s going to excavate it?” Hanna said.
“Workers from the city. They’re going to build a whole new division in Clearhaven. And Jotham will be in charge.”
Katherine’s words took a moment to register, and still it was difficult to fully comprehend. Hanna looked out the window where just moments ago her father had been fidgeting restlessly as he waited on the deck. Hanna had long known of a business arrangement contingent on her hand in marriage. It was strange, though, to see plans coming to fruition, the details revealing themselves. Clearhaven would grow. Brother Paul’s flock would multiply. Change had manifested out of conjecture. And Hanna had been too wrapped up—in her thoughts of Daniel, in her mother’s fantastical story—to notice.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Jotham and Edwin returned to the home with Brother Paul and Francis Rossiter. The men took over the living room, their voices resonating through the floorboards. Hanna was upstairs with the toddlers and Jessamina. The adult women were in the kitchen, preparing the men’s coffee. It was a big day in the household. To the best of Hanna’s recollection, Brother Paul had never visited before. His voice was the loudest, his tone embellished with authority, and she could make out some of what he said from the room upstairs.
Francis Rossiter had the quietest voice. But when he spoke, the others listened. When Hanna first saw him step out of Brother Paul’s long white car and up onto the deck, she could hardly watch. The other day when Daniel visited, Hanna was too startled by his appearance in her window to be embarrassed by where she lived. Afterward, she’d been grateful he only saw the house from the outside. Now, in the light of day, with these influential men drinking coffee in the living room, Hanna cringed at the thought of Francis going home and reporting the house’s state of disrepair to Daniel. Jotham’s place was a shack in the woods compared to Edwin’s luxurious home. It was an outhouse compared to the palatial estate Daniel’s family had just moved into. Hanna pictured the men sitting on the sofa’s frayed fabric, looking out the living room window held together by masking tape and a little bit of hope, drinking coffee from chipped, mismatched cups. It was easy to ignore the family’s poverty when it was just Hanna and her siblings. It was impossible to ignore when their house was put on full display.
“They probably think the roof’s going to collapse over their heads,” Jessamina said.
Hanna watched her out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure what—if anything—Jessamina knew about her and Charliss’s attempt to fix the leaks in the roof. She only knew that Jessamina had become oddly chatty since the men arrived. It was as though, in all the excitement, she’d momentarily forgotten to hate Hanna.
“I’ll be right back,” Hanna said and slipped out of the room. She stole quietly down the hallway and sat at the top of the stairs just as Edwin and Jotham split from the group and entered the front alcove. Hanna kept her head low, her curiosity outweighing her fear of getting caught.
“What do you think?” Edwin said.
Jotham peered down the hallway toward the living room, forcing Hanna to hide behind the wall at the top of the stairs. “I think you’d better keep your part of the agreement,” Jotham said. “That’s what I think.”
“There’s no reason to be like that, old friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Jotham said crossly.
“All this resentment. It’s been years, and if you remember, it was you who broke your word the last time.”
“Broke my word?”
“About the girl with the golden hair,” Edwin said.
Jotham paused and Hanna found she was holding her breath. She exhaled as quietly as she could. “We don’t call her that anymore. We call her Hanna.”
“She was supposed to be mine,” Edwin said. “You were supposed to hand her over years ago.”
Jotham spat his words. “If you remember, it was you who changed the terms at the last minute.”
“It’s always about the past with you, isn’t it?”
The room fell quiet. Hanna’s heart beat heavy in her chest as she waited for Jotham to speak again.
“So now Hanna is going to be your wife instead of your daughter,” Jotham said. “You should be pleased, not bitter. Just imagine the babies she’ll deliver.”
Edwin’s tone turned reflective. “Golden children. That’s worth the price.”
“Just remember what the price is. Not just the dollars. The position. The standing you promised me.”
Edwin’s voice softened further. “Of course, old friend. Of course.” He turned to face Jotham. Edwin’s profile came into view and Hanna dug her fingernails into the wall, terrified of being discovered. “Now,” Edwin said, “tell me—are you sure we can trust Francis?”
Jotham didn’t say a word. Hanna could only imagine the look he gave Edwin—a nod of the head, an evasive shrug—because moments later, the subject changed.
“Now, about Emily,” Edwin said.
“What about her?”
“Hanna mentioned something about her coming to live with me?”
Upstairs, the bedroom door creaked open and Jessamina poked her head out. Edwin and Jotham fell silent in the alcove and Hanna motioned for Jessamina to close the door. Only, Jessamina edged closer. She mouthed silently, What’s going on?
Jotham poked his head into the hallway. He yelled up the stairwell and Jessamina disappeared, the door slamming behind her.
“You know, that Emily has a pretty enough face, I suppose,” Edwin said.
Jotham chortled. “The girl can hardly walk.”
“Some men wouldn’t care.”
“Emily will live here,” Jotham said.
“What about Hanna? Won’t she be upset?”
A long pause followed—with whispers likely exchanged—and then Jotham and Edwin shared a laugh, a short, blustery snicker that was far too juvenile for their years. They stepped into the hallway and walked back into the living room to join Brother Paul and Francis.
Hanna stole quickly back to the children’s bedroom, shocked by the men’s exchange. She hadn’t known that Jotham planned to give her away when she was a child. To Edwin, no less. Hanna’s first thought was that Kara would never have allowed it. But perhaps she hadn’t known. Perhaps no one—save Jotham and Edwin—knew the details of their failed agreement.
Hanna turned the doorknob to the children’s bedroom as quietly as possible, her mind reeling. She was the reason Edwin and Jotham’s relationship went sour. Hanna thought back to Jotham’s late-night drunken monologue. Jotham’s words were slurred, at times barely above a whisper, but Hanna still heard them. She still remembered them: the world is at the feet of he who holds the gold. Was that what Edwin meant when he called Hanna his girl with the golden hair?
Hanna struggled to process what Edwin and Jotham had said, not just about herself but about Emily. Jotham’s voice was firm when he told Edwin that Emily would still reside in his house. It was resolute. Hanna couldn’t tell whether Jotham was protecting Emily or if he was merely guarding his property, refusing to let Edwin take another piece of his family away without paying full value for his crippled child. The intentions of grown men—their true ambitions, desires, the subtext behind their words—still bewildered Hanna. She had little time to dwell on them. Hanna shut the door behind her and joined her siblings.
* * *
The goodbyes took almost as long as the meeting itself. The four men stood on the driveway outside while Hanna and the others watched from the window upstairs. The older children had come home from school only to be quickly ushered upstairs by Belinda, who wasn’t keen on suffering a moment’s disobedience. They entered the bedroom a curious and energetic lot, taking turns hopping on the bunk beds and asking what was going on outside. The children crowded beside Hanna at a window too small for all their faces, and watched the
men, her sisters volleying questions into the air.
What are they talking about?
Why are they pointing into the woods?
How much money do you think that Rossiter man has?
After exchanging handshakes and a few parting remarks, Edwin climbed into his truck. Brother Paul and Francis stepped into Brother Paul’s shiny white car and the vehicles churned gravel on their way off the property.
When Jotham came back inside, he was grinning like a moose who’d found a maple tree and had been licking its sugary sap for hours. Belinda approached him first. She and Jotham shared a look and then he nodded and Belinda couldn’t contain herself any longer. She ran to him and Jotham took her in his arms. He lifted her as far off the ground as he could and they shared an embrace, the relief clear on their faces. Katherine ran to him next. Jotham kissed her flush on the lips and then he lumbered past the women toward the liquor cabinet. He fumbled with his key until the latch clicked open and Jotham poured five glasses of whiskey. At first Hanna thought he was going to drink them all in succession. Then Jotham handed a glass to Belinda. He handed one to Katherine and one to Kara, who surprised Hanna by taking it. Jessamina set her baby down and pushed past the little ones in the front hall. She took her glass and the four wives held them in the air, waiting for Jotham to take the first sip.
“Hanna?” he said.
“Yes, Father?”
“Come here.”
She stepped delicately down the stairs, all eyes upon her. Hanna approached Jotham, fully aware that his mood could change at any moment. He surprised her by setting down his drink and wrapping his arms around her. His neck stubble scratched her forehead and the strap from his back brace pressed into her chest, the musty smell of his suit sailing straight up her nose. Jotham squeezed her tight and then poured a sixth glass of whiskey.
“Our entire family owes you a debt of gratitude,” he said, handing Hanna the whiskey. “This is because of you. Don’t ever forget that.” Jotham lifted his glass. “To a future full of prosperity.”
Hanna Who Fell from the Sky Page 19
