Moments later, Brother Paul handed Hanna a chalice made of copper. The cup’s edges were adorned with green and red gemstones and inside was a small amount of red wine. Hanna put it to her mouth and the sour red liquid touched her tongue. She handed the chalice back to Brother Paul and then he asked Hanna to pray with him. As Hanna bowed her head, she saw Paul the Second standing toward the back of the atrium, where a tangle of vines obscured the wall. Paul the Second rubbed his abdomen. He shivered as though he had a chill. Hanna locked onto him. The prayer ended and Brother Paul spoke to the assembled mass, but Hanna didn’t listen to a word he said. She kept staring, her stomach tightening.
Finally, Paul the Second looked her way. His brother was conspicuously absent, but Hanna didn’t care. Paul’s skin had gone white and she could tell he was afraid—of the lightning on that deserted road, of the chance of it striking again, flashing down from the heavens and hitting him this time. It was in his eyes. It was in his timorous gaze. It was in his soul.
Brother Paul completed a second prayer, this one an appeal to the Creator, and the women raised their heads and applauded. Jotham approached and handed Brother Paul an envelope and then, strangely, the women began milling about, engaging Kara in conversation and asking Hanna the history of her dress. Hanna was surprised how informal they all were. True, they’d seen many brides come through the atrium doors and listened to countless prayers by Brother Paul. But this was her wedding night. This was her life that hung in the balance. A woman she’d seen at the marketplace touched Hanna’s hair and spoke in jest of paying “top dollar for a hairpiece made from such wonderful locks.” All the while, Hanna watched the clock on the wall. The real ceremony was fast approaching. In less than thirty minutes, they would pile into their vehicles and the wedding procession would begin.
Hanna stepped toward the window. Brother Paul’s home was closer to the white church than it was to the marshlands. Other homes sat off in the distance, their porch lights turned on, beacons in an ocean of blackened waves. Hanna watched her reflection in the glass and adjusted the crown of daffodils atop her head. It had been ten minutes since she’d seen her mother. She was about to turn around and find Kara when the shadows shifted outside.
Hanna’s heart skipped a beat. Then she narrowed her eyes. Hanna looked closer. Outside, a lone figure stood amongst the trees, the distant church light silhouetting the figure’s shoulders and long, gangly arms. He took a single step out of the darkness and Hanna’s cold heart ignited. Was it really him? It couldn’t be. Hanna put her hand up to the window. Her fingers pressed against the cold glass. She could have screamed. Daniel was standing in the dark outside.
She glanced over her shoulder to see whether anyone else had noticed, whether Brother Paul had seen him. If Brother Paul’s sons discovered Daniel outside their home, they would thrash him with their batons, benefactor’s son or not. They might beat him to the point of death. She shook her head and motioned for Daniel to leave.
He motioned back—come outside.
Hanna looked down at her feet. The boy standing in the dark had already left her. Two days ago, Daniel had driven The Road out of town without so much as a goodbye. She had no idea what lay in his heart at that moment, whether he’d agonized over the decision—pangs of guilt stabbing his belly—or whether Hanna had been an afterthought to him. For days now, she’d felt as though he’d forgotten their brief time together. But here he was, standing on the other side of the glass, motioning for her to come outside, imploring her with his eyes.
Hanna held up a single finger. Wait, she mouthed. Then she turned from the glass and walked toward the other side of the atrium. Hanna hadn’t made it ten paces before a woman touched her arm. It was an elderly lady, drinking wine from a tall glass.
“How are you tonight, dear?” she said.
Hanna shook the woman’s hand. “Could you please show me to the restroom?”
The woman put her frail fingers up to her ear. “Excuse me, dear?”
“I said—can you show me to the restroom?” Hanna said loudly, causing Brother Paul and Jotham to turn her way.
“Of course. Let me help you,” she said.
The elderly lady took Hanna’s arm and led her through the crowd. Together they exited the atrium and walked down a hallway. Hanna glanced back. No one had followed them. “Thank you. I’ll find my way from here,” she said. Then Hanna moved as quickly as she could without looking back. She passed a closet and a stairwell leading to the second floor before a doorway appeared. Hanna pulled on the door handle and the spring air enveloped her. She stepped out onto the grass and made her way to the side of the house.
“Hello?” she called. Hanna looked over her shoulder. She looked from side to side, thinking maybe Daniel had already left. Maybe, just maybe, she’d dreamed the whole thing.
“Hello,” Daniel said.
Hanna turned to see him leaning against the side of the house.
“This is how we first met,” he said.
Hanna glanced back at the atrium. She had precious little time. “What do you want?”
Daniel reached out and took her in his arms. He held her close. Only, Hanna shied away. She stood absolutely still, her hands at her sides.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Daniel said.
“I thought you’d already left. Your mother didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know where you were.”
Daniel looked back at the house. He put his hand on Hanna’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “My father was furious when he found out we went to the city. He yelled at me for hours after I got home. He kept telling me that I was the lucky one, that he’d chosen me instead of my brothers and that I should be grateful. He said things were going to change. That if I ever thought of leaving Clearhaven again, he’d lock me up in the house, that he’d hire someone to watch over me twenty-four hours a day.”
“So you just left?”
“I had to leave when I did. I didn’t have any other choice,” he said. “The moment my father went to bed, I climbed into my car and left. I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave your father’s house, but I came back for you tonight. I can’t let you marry that old man.”
“You can’t let me?” Hanna stepped back. “I don’t need saving. I’m not some kitten stuck up in a tree.”
“I didn’t say that. I’ve never thought of you that way. I know I shouldn’t have left without you. But I’m here now.” He pointed to Brother Paul’s driveway. “I have a car. If we hurry, they’ll never catch us this time. Come with me. We’ll leave right now and never return.”
Hanna looked over Daniel’s shoulder, at the outline of his vehicle at the far end of the driveway. “So you’re not afraid of me? You weren’t scared by what you saw the other night?”
“Scared by the lightning? Of course I was scared. It almost hit us. But I’m not scared of you.”
“Don’t you see?” Hanna said fiercely. “I caused the lightning storm. The sky opened and the lightning shot down because of me.”
Daniel’s features slackened. “What do you mean?”
Hanna thought back to Emily’s confused expression when Hanna hastily tried to tell her Kara’s story in Jotham’s truck. She took his hand in hers. “I’m going to tell you something and it’s going to be hard to believe. But you’re going to have to try your best, okay?” Hanna said. She paused to gather her courage. “When I was a baby, I fell from the sky.”
Daniel tilted his head to the side. “What?”
The subtle timbre of disbelief in his voice sent a tremor rushing through Hanna’s body. She racked her brain for words that would make sense, a way to explain what happened so Daniel would believe she was telling the truth. But her thoughts were a jumbled, feverish mess from the shock of seeing him again, from the betrayal she still felt over him leaving without her, from the terror swelling inside her as the
seconds until her wedding ticked away; Hanna couldn’t organize them well enough to speak.
A line formed between Daniel’s eyes. “Do you mean you fell out of a window?”
“No,” Hanna stammered before finding her voice. “I mean I wasn’t born like a regular girl. As a baby, I fell from the heavens and I landed unscathed.”
He ran his hands together. Daniel squinted as though struggling to understand.
“My mother and Jotham found me on the ground. They brought me here to Clearhaven,” Hanna said, her tone growing more desperate. “I know it’s hard to believe. I didn’t believe it at first. But I swear it’s true.”
Daniel spoke in slow, measured words. “I want to be with you. I really do. But what you’re talking about is a miracle. And there are no such things as miracles.”
“But there are miracles. You saw me that night on The Road. You saw the lightning come down to protect me.”
“Hanna, I don’t know what I saw.”
She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, sending flower petals scattering to the ground. “What do I have to do to make you believe me?” she said, frantic now, her emotion rising. “Find me a mountain and I will jump from its peak. Find the tallest building and I’ll leap off it. I’ll land unharmed and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
From outside the atrium, a woman’s voice called. “Hanna, are you out here?”
Daniel took her hand. “You have to decide right now. Are you coming with me?”
Hanna pulled her hand away. She shook her head slowly. “I can’t go with you if you don’t believe me.”
“Hanna?” the woman called again.
Hanna’s eyes welled. She couldn’t feel her legs, her arms, her hands. A storm swirled inside her: panic mixed with fear mixed with a sadness so intense she thought she might be sick. When Daniel had left without saying goodbye, it was a torment beyond all reason. Now, standing here before him for what was likely the last time, she realized that this was far worse.
Daniel held out his hand and pleaded with his eyes. “Come with me,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please, Hanna. Don’t stay here. Don’t do this...”
Hanna imagined how she looked to him now: a girl in a white wedding gown, tears in her eyes, flowers in her hair, unable and unwilling to leave. “Goodbye, Daniel.”
Her words stunned Daniel. He stepped back, a look of disbelief on his face. A desperate silence filled the air. One moment passed and then another before Daniel said, “Goodbye, Hanna.”
And then he walked away.
She turned around and moved quickly. Hanna met one of Brother Paul’s wives at the doorway around the corner. Jotham and Kara were there, as was Brother Paul.
Brother Paul followed Hanna’s eyes into the darkened woods. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I was looking at nothing.”
She stepped over the threshold and Jotham helped her inside.
“Take me to the chapel,” Hanna said.
33
Earlier that evening, as Kara braided Hanna’s hair, the sun had clung bravely to the sky, turned it purple and red and pink, melding a series of spectacular spectral hues before finally succumbing to the night. That dreamlike horizon was but a memory as Jotham walked Hanna to Brother Paul’s car. Dark shadows loomed. Hanna found it difficult to see anything farther than a few yards away. Still, she looked over Jotham’s shoulder in search of her mother. Hanna scanned the streets for a sign Daniel had been there.
Jotham blocked her view, his large frame hovering in front of her.
“This is for the best,” Jotham said. “You’ll be happy. You’ll see.”
Hanna flashed him a contemptible look. How could Jotham pretend now, in front of Brother Paul and his wives? Just moments ago, Daniel had walked into the woods and stepped into his car and driven away. Hanna would never see his soft eyes again. She would never touch him or kiss him or hear his laugh for as long as she lived. And now Jotham dared to utter hollow kindnesses as he latched her to shackles, the very shackles he’d chosen?
Hanna arched her neck to the side. Her lower back cracked and a noise like popcorn sounded underneath the taut buttons that lay in wait for Edwin’s fumbling fingers. She locked eyes with Jotham.
“I know,” she said.
Jotham’s forehead crinkled. “What?”
“I know you were going to give me to Edwin years ago when I was still a child. You and Edwin were estranged not because he betrayed you but because you couldn’t work out a deal for the girl with the golden hair.” Hanna searched his face. She scanned his suddenly flustered expression. “You’re not my father. You never were my father, were you?”
Jotham quickly grew anxious. He glanced over his shoulder at Brother Paul, into the distance where Paul’s wives were gathered. Jotham tried to steer Hanna aside, away from eavesdropping ears. But she stood her ground. Hanna refused to move a single step for this man.
Above, the stars glittered in the sky. All around, the night surged restlessly, ravenously.
Hanna locked her eyes on Jotham one last time. “Don’t ever speak to me again,” she said.
Before he could respond, Brother Paul took Hanna’s hand and helped her and her flowing dress into the back seat. Hanna was startled to see Paul the Second already sitting in the seat beside her. Hanna assumed he would be traveling ahead in the lead car with his brother. If someone had told her a week ago that she would be trapped in the back seat of a car with Paul the Second, in the dark, with his father driving, Hanna would have been paralyzed with fear. But the look of apprehension in his eyes eased Hanna’s nerves. He was clearly anxious for this to be over, to be away from the girl who knew the truth about his roaming hands, the girl who’d summoned white fury from the sky.
Brother Paul climbed into the front seat. He fired up the engine and, without ceremony, they pulled away.
The procession took less than fifteen minutes, in which Hanna listened to Brother Paul humming to himself in the front seat. Brother Paul drove cautiously and Hanna watched his hands shift along the steering wheel. For the first time, she noticed a slight thinning of the hair at the back of his head, the difficulty he had turning his neck to the left.
He was human after all.
The glow of the white church came first. Next, the parishioners holding candles. Half the town was gathered outside the tower cathedral. The wedding procession slowed as they reached the crowd and Hanna felt the eyes of the townspeople on her. Their candles glimmered, some distant and hazy, others burning so close Hanna could see thick droplets of accruing wax. Hanna recognized the faces holding them: her neighbors, the bullnecked butcher, girls younger than Emily.
Brother Paul’s car broke off from the pack. He steered around back of the cathedral, toward the room where Hanna would pray with Edwin before the ceremony. Brother Paul turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. He opened Hanna’s door and Paul the Second ushered her quickly past the crowd and in through the back. To her surprise, the room was aglow with flickering light, an entire row of candelabras leading to a small circle containing two cups, one for Edwin, the other for Hanna. Paul the Second took one last look and then shut the door. Suddenly Hanna was alone.
Amidst the smell of wax and burnt paper, Hanna brought her tongue to her lips and found them dry. Her hands felt like they belonged to someone else. She breathed in deep and the air entered her lungs like she’d never taken a breath before. Had Hanna really been walking and talking and breathing all this time? Had this been her life? Of course it had. This was not a dream. There would be no sudden awakening, no guardian angel swooping in to save her at the last moment.
The door opened at the top of the stairs and Edwin appeared, wearing a black robe that dissolved into the spectral light. All Hanna could see was his face and glasses, the light
surrounding him. She forced a smile and knelt down in the circle of flickering light. Edwin paused to look at her. Then he descended the stairwell, little stripes of gold revealing themselves on his robes as he drew closer. The stairs creaked with his steps and Hanna could hear the dim murmur from the crowd outside.
As Edwin approached, Hanna wasn’t fully afraid. Not yet. Edwin would never take her here, before the ceremony. She still had time. Hanna closed her eyes as Edwin walked around the candles and stood over top of her. She pictured him kissing her flush on the lips, the smell of his flesh up close, the stale taste of his saliva. Hanna held her breath. She relaxed her shoulders as best she could. Then Edwin placed his hand on the back of her neck. Slowly, almost tenderly, his fingers slid around the front.
His fingers gripped more firmly, closing around her throat. Suddenly, viciously, he yanked her off the ground by her neck.
The air escaped from Hanna’s lungs. Edwin held Hanna aloft, her legs dangling above the candles’ flames. Instinctively, she kicked at him, but her feet found nothing except soft, yielding air. Hanna couldn’t believe his strength. Her breath slipped away, her chest heaving in desperate gasps. She struggled frantically to pull at Edwin’s outstretched hand, only she could barely raise her arms. Hanna’s vision clouded. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she lost the strength to gasp for air. Outside, the skies rumbled. Hanna clenched her teeth. She reached for the nearby window, hoping, praying for the heavens to open again. This time, however, no breach appeared in the sky. No lightning stormed the ground.
In one savage throw, Edwin tossed Hanna to the floor. Her lungs filled with air and Hanna coughed violently. She struggled to stand up but fell back down, toppling the candelabras.
Hanna Who Fell from the Sky Page 27
