Hanna Who Fell from the Sky

by Christopher Meades

  “But she’s just a little girl. You can’t do that.”

  “I can and I will,” Jotham said. “Three days from now, Edwin will take Emily as his bride. He will lie with her in his bed the way a man lies with his wife. And he will break her. And it will be your fault.”

  In the distance, a clap of thunder roared. Rain pummeled the ground.

  “Only a monster would do something like that,” Hanna said.

  Jotham wiped a spot of saliva from his mouth. “You’re the one forcing my hand. You are the monster,” he said. “You think you’re special, that the laws of our faith don’t apply to you because you fell from the sky. Well, I say—you were brought into this world the same as any other child. You’ve been fed lies. Where is your proof? The storm outside? A freak occurrence of lightning almost hitting Paul’s son?”

  He knew about the lightning.

  “You are no more special than any child in this family,” Jotham said. “You’re just a teenage girl, and a rebellious one at that, disrespecting your father. Your only currency is your blond hair and your pretty face. For that, Edwin was prepared to pay a hefty price. But now Emily’s youth will have to suffice.”

  Hanna stepped back. She was standing upright, her feet planted firmly beneath her, and yet she felt like she’d tumbled into the center of a whirlwind. Doubt flooded Hanna’s mind. Perhaps Jotham was right. Maybe the lightning was a freak occurrence. Maybe it had just been the storm breaking.

  Hanna’s shoulders wilted. She bowed her head. “You win, Father.”

  He arched his back and shifted his brace. Jotham tilted his chin upward. “I’m sorry?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t.”

  Hanna swallowed hard. Somewhere on the other side of the world, the girl Hanna dreamed she could be fell to her knees. The air split behind her, the sword slicing toward her neck. The brave Hanna, the courageous one, the one who’d escaped, braced herself for the end.

  “I will marry Edwin,” she said.

  28

  Hanna woke up to the morning light seeping through a crack in the bathroom window. Emily was lying on the cold tiles beside her, fast asleep; her bare back was exposed, her skin stained purple and red from the welts Jotham had inflicted, deep and swollen and connected by long abrasions. Hanna watched Emily’s chest rise and fall. The girl’s eyelashes flickered and for a moment Hanna thought Emily might be feigning sleep. Then Emily breathed out through her nose. She shifted and wrapped her arms around the pillow Hanna had placed at her side.

  Last night, Hanna had been unable to calm the girl. She found Emily cowering in the bathroom upstairs. Katherine was applying a cold compress to her wounds and singing a song from church when Hanna knelt down to whisper in Emily’s ear. She reached out to console her. Only, Emily screamed furiously. She swatted at Hanna and kicked her away. Hanna had sat outside the door, leaning against the banister, until Emily’s sobs abated, until finally the girl fell asleep in Katherine’s arms. Hanna brought in pillows and a blanket and took Katherine’s place next to her sister.

  She sat up on the tiles now. Hanna placed her hand on Emily’s upper back, the twisted portion where no damage had been inflicted, and suddenly Emily awoke. She sat up quickly, startled by the morning light. Emily skittered back against the wall, trembling, clutching her arms to her chest.

  “Emily—” Hanna said.

  “No.”

  “But, Emily—”

  “Don’t!”

  Emily slipped her dress over her head and pulled herself to her feet. She grasped for the door handle. Her left foot landed on its side and she stumbled. She grabbed hold of the sink, pulled the door open and hobbled down the hall.

  Hanna stood up groggily and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a shambles. Hanna had her nightdress on, and inside the sink the red dress lay in a sopping pile, like a soiled kitchen cloth. She lifted the drenched garment and rung it out, the faint, pink water dripping down the drain. She held the dress up to her chest one more time. Hanna pictured Daniel taking her hand, his body pressed up against hers on the dance floor. Then she rolled the dress into a tiny ball and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  Hanna made her way downstairs where the quiet was unsettling. Usually the house was teeming with chaos—children scurrying every which way, an endless commotion. Now, when the women spoke, it was in whispers, even when Jotham wasn’t in the room. Hanna had expected Charliss to ask questions. She’d expected the little ones to flock to her, as they always did. Instead, they barely said a word.

  Dark clouds had gathered in the sky and Kara ushered the children outside to help search the outer walls of their property for woodlice before the rains resumed. Hanna opened the door to see a bucket containing a dozen writhing bugs, each struggling to climb the sides of their metallic prison.

  Then the rains commenced. A single drop fell and thousands more accompanied it to the ground. In the distance, thunder struck in waves, as though an enormous anvil was being rolled onto its side, a fresh clap igniting before any echo could repeat. The children dashed inside. They knocked over the bucket of woodlice on their way through the door and Hanna helped Kara scoop them up. Her mother didn’t say a word. She avoided eye contact and Hanna felt that if she were to hear Hanna’s voice, Kara might cry enough tears to rival the storm.

  Hanna went out onto the front porch to sit in the cold and watch the rain from under the awning. She fell back in a rickety old deck chair and wrapped herself in a blanket. Clearhaven had not seen a downpour like this in months. The winter had been dry, the snowflakes wide and languid, the white mounds they fashioned often unsuitable for packing. Now moisture hung heavy in the air. A labyrinth of puddles gathered in the driveway, the gravel and dirt giving way to tiny streams and lagoons, patches of moss and random weeds sprouting through the gravel.

  A short while later, Jotham stepped onto the deck. Hanna wasn’t sure if he noticed her under the blanket to his side. Jotham held up an umbrella and then plodded out into the rain toward his truck. Along the way, his heavy feet demolished the driveway’s canals. Tiny dams breached. Little lakes overflowed. Creek beds crumbled. Jotham’s truck pulled away and the rain persisted. It was as though the town had been thirsty for ages and had now drunk too much to compensate.

  For over an hour, Hanna watched the rains. Then the winds began to settle and the clouds drifted apart, the darkest floating northward, taking their deluge with them and leaving soft white wisps behind. The raindrops dwindled and then stopped altogether. Hanna shifted in her blanket. She pulled her feet under her legs and closed her eyes to rest, only her mind was racing, her nerves jumbled. Sleep refused to come. The bright blue sky gleamed in the distance and soon sunlight reflected off the pools the rain had left behind.

  The little ones came out to play in the front yard and Charliss sat down on the porch beside her. He looked at his big sister, but he didn’t say a word. Charliss had a pair of Jotham’s shoes in one hand and an old toothbrush in the other. He wet the toothbrush and scraped it against a bar of soap and then scrubbed the eyelets of Jotham’s shoes as though cleaning were a war to be won. Hanna wanted to say something about last night, to tell Charliss she never imagined Father would hurt Emily so badly, but Charliss’s eyes were combative and the words evaporated before they ever reached Hanna’s mouth.

  Hanna wrapped her jacket over her shoulders. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “But you haven’t asked permission,” Charliss said.

  Hanna looked back at the front door. The last thing she needed was Belinda interrogating her over where she was going and when she’d be back. Or, worse, insisting she come along as Hanna’s chaperone.

  “It will be okay.”

  “Do you need me to come with you?”

  Hanna looked at her feet, up at the bright blue sky, anywhere but in
her brother’s eyes. “No,” she said. “You’re the big brother. It will be your responsibility to look after the little ones once I’m gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “To live with Edwin.”

  Hanna stepped off the porch and marched down the driveway without looking back.

  * * *

  Daniel wasn’t sitting on the pier. Hanna could tell from a distance there was something there, perhaps his guitar, but as she made her way toward the lake, it became clear she was alone. She glanced through the pines at Daniel’s father’s house. Hanna considered knocking on his front door, only to think better of it, and then sat down on the wet wood. The lake had risen to where it touched the tips of her shoes. The purple ice had melted, and now only black water remained. Absently, Hanna picked up Daniel’s guitar and placed it on her knee. It had been left outside all this time and the wood was warped, the strings a rusty orange color. She thumbed the lowest note and listened to it reverberate across the water. Before the soft tone faded away, Hanna heard footsteps on the dock behind her. At first she hoped it was Daniel, but then a woman’s voice filled the air.

  “Hanna, is it?”

  Hanna turned to see Daniel’s mother approaching behind her. Hanna climbed to her feet, and, in her haste, she almost dropped Daniel’s guitar into the water. “Yes,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came... I came to see Daniel.”

  Eileen Rossiter glanced back toward the house, at the sunlight reflecting off the windows. Hanna set the guitar down and her heel met the end point of the dock, dangerously close to slipping in.

  “Did Daniel say anything to you?” Eileen Rossiter said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Eileen Rossiter took a step forward so she was just an arm’s length away. Hanna saw the long-healed pox scars on her cheeks, the slight tremble to the woman’s hand.

  “I know about last night,” she said.

  Hanna braced herself for Daniel’s mother to unleash a furious verbal assault, worse than Makala’s abuse at the police station. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, before the woman could get her words out. And she was sorry. Hanna was sorry for Emily suffering in her place. She was sorry for disappointing Kara by not running away. She was sorry for Daniel getting struck across the jaw. Hanna was sorry for interfering with this woman’s son, for thinking she could lead a secret life in a place like this. Hanna’s boot slipped. She almost lost her footing.

  “You don’t have to explain,” Daniel’s mother said. “Just tell me where my son is.”

  “You mean you don’t know?” Hanna asked, tilting her head at the woman. Then it became clear. Hanna saw it in the star-shaped markings around Eileen Rossiter’s eyes, in the pale, woeful look on her face. Daniel had left Clearhaven. He’d left and he was never coming back. “Is he really gone?”

  Daniel’s mother nodded weakly. It seemed all she could do to hold back her tears. “All my sons are gone.”

  “Did Daniel leave a phone number, some way to reach him?” Hanna asked. But before the words left her mouth, she realized the futility of her question. If Eileen Rossiter knew how to contact Daniel, she surely wouldn’t tell Hanna. “I’m so sorry. I have to go,” Hanna said and stepped past the woman. She walked to the end of the pier as quickly as she could.

  “Wait,” Eileen Rossiter said before Hanna reached the tree line. “If you hear from him, if he contacts you, will you please...” Her voice cracked and faded, and Hanna couldn’t help but think of the Grierson woman and the terrible thing that happened to her, how fragile existence was for the women of Clearhaven, what Eileen Rossiter’s life would be like without her boys.

  “I’ll tell him you love him.”

  Then she turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Hanna’s feet sank into the mud on the way home. Her legs grew heavy and the longer she walked, the more she felt like someone had died. That’s how it would be—like Daniel had died, like someone had placed his body in a wooden box and lowered it into the ground. She couldn’t believe he’d left without telling her. Hanna knew the lightning had frightened him. It frightened her, as well. She knew the difficulties their relationship presented, how she wasn’t in a position to promise him anything. But to leave without a parting word? It was cruel and Hanna was alone. There would be no grieving, no casket to throw herself upon, no ceremony or goodbyes. She would simply never see him again.

  Hanna knew it was unreasonable to feel this way. She’d known Daniel for mere days—a small fraction of her life. If she confided to her mother how much Daniel meant to her, Kara would use logic to turn Hanna’s feelings aside. She’d say Daniel just happened to come along at a stressful, uncertain period in Hanna’s life, that she couldn’t love him after such a short time, that Hanna was scared and in love with the idea of being in love.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth. Hanna knew how she felt, like every part of her body ached, like a bell had clanged inside her chest and now the ringing would never stop for as long as she walked this Earth.

  She paused in the middle of the muddy road. Hanna closed her eyes and tried to feel her other self, the courageous girl, the huntress on the other side of the world, and for the first time couldn’t conjure up a single image to soothe her aching heart.

  The only thing worse than being asleep on the inside is being awake and alone.

  A desire to flee ignited in Hanna’s chest. She started moving faster. Hanna sprinted through the mud, Eileen Rossiter’s mournful expression burning in her thoughts. Hanna repeated Jessamina’s derisive words, how the young mother pitied her, how Hanna was destined to become her. She thought of Edwin, how two nights from now he would pin her down. Who else would be in the room when he took her for the first time? Would Fiona be there? Would Paedyn? Would they whisper sweet kindnesses in her ear? Or would they hold her to the bed, squealing and cackling, robbing Hanna of all she had left?

  Hanna lifted her knees. The mud splattered all over her dress and she didn’t care. Hanna could no longer live in this town. She couldn’t marry Edwin, no matter what she’d promised Jotham. Hanna pumped her arms. The cool air swept against her face. She ran all the way to Jotham’s doorstep. She’d already decided.

  She would leave Clearhaven tonight. And she would bring Emily with her.

  29

  Hanna waited until the family fell asleep. It was past midnight and her brothers and sisters had long drifted off into their rhythmic slumber. Three of them were snoring. Charliss had kicked off his blanket and his long legs dangled off the edge of his mattress. Hanna sat up in bed. She ran her hand through Ahmre’s hair. For a moment, she thought about picking the girl up in her arms. Then she looked over at Emily. Hanna steadied her trembling hands. She could only take one.

  She slipped out of her nightdress. Hanna threw her old yellow dress over her shoulders and reached under her mattress. A quick panic raced through her mind when she couldn’t find the money. Then her fingers felt the paper’s edge. She pulled it out and tucked the envelope containing the rest of her mother’s money against the waistband of her undergarment. Hanna stole quietly over to Emily’s bed. She ran her hand along the girl’s arm.

  “Angel,” she whispered. “It’s time to go.”

  Emily stirred briefly and then fell back asleep. Hanna didn’t risk waking her again. With all the strength she could muster, Hanna lifted Emily, blanket and all, up off the bed. She carried the child into the hallway and down the stairs, each step creaking as though at any moment it might give way. Hanna left the half-asleep girl in a chair by the front door and retrieved Belinda’s keys from the ceramic dish on the kitchen counter. Before she left the kitchen, Hanna unplugged the telephone receiver and hid its cord under a stack of papers to delay Jotham from calling Brother Paul once he realized they were gone. She hurried b
ack into the foyer, where she picked Emily up again and carried her to Jotham’s truck.

  It was pitch-black outside, the moonlight obscured by clouds. Hanna waited until her eyes adjusted to the night and then she set Emily’s feet in the mud and unlocked the passenger’s side door. Emily stretched and almost slipped. Hanna caught her just before she fell and placed Emily in the passenger’s seat.

  “Where are we going?” Emily mumbled.

  “Shh,” Hanna said. She shut the door as quietly as she could and hurried around to the driver’s side. Hanna unlocked her door only to find the key wouldn’t come out of the lock. She pulled fiercely. Hanna had seen Belinda struggle with the driver’s side door before, had even covered her mouth to keep her laughter at bay as Belinda pulled a stone from the truck bed and hammered the key sideways until it loosened. Hanna looked over her shoulder for that stone now. She pulled on the key again, but it wouldn’t move.

  A gentle tapping came from the window where Emily had her face against the glass.

  “Pull it down and then to the left.”

  Hanna looked her sister in the eye. She glanced back at Jotham’s front door. The lights were still off. The family was still asleep. Hanna pulled down as hard as she could and pushed the key to the left.

  “Softer,” Emily said.

  Hanna tried again, gently this time. The key slipped right out as though it hadn’t gotten stuck at all. Emily moved over to the passenger’s seat and Hanna opened the door and stepped inside. She placed the key in the ignition and then hesitated. Jotham’s truck was older than Hanna and it rumbled like a wood chipper. The moment she turned the key and the truck’s engine roared, the family would wake up. Jotham would realize something was wrong. The trick with the telephone would buy them time. But would it be enough?

  Hanna had only driven three times in her life, but she understood the mechanics of what her feet were supposed to do. The difficulty would come from shifting the truck out of first gear. After that, she would have to drive as fast as she could if they were going to make it out of town without getting caught.