Hannah drove home that afternoon hating herself for lying to Sarah. It was wrong. But she hadn’t known what else to do. And besides, she wouldn’t have been able to get the words past her lips without dissolving into tears.
She thought again of Jenny’s accusations. What if her friend was right? She reached into her purse and pulled out the newspaper clipping. The meeting was to be held on Wednesday night in Roanoke.
A support group for victims of date rape.
With a certainty she couldn’t have explained, Hannah knew she would go.
Chapter Sixty-one
The meeting was on the second floor of a downtown office complex. Hannah and Jenny had left work at five o’clock and made their way through the enormous doors of the building just before six.
Jenny squeezed her arm as they stepped into the elevator. “It’s going to be okay. This is the right thing to do.”
Hannah tried to ignore the churning in her stomach. The meeting was set up in a room just outside the elevator. A sign hung by the door that read Friends of Victims.
A woman with gold-rimmed glasses greeted them at the door. “Hello. I’m Tracy McDowell.”
“I’m Hannah Jacobs,” Hannah said, extending her hand. “This is my friend Jenny Dudley. She’s here as my moral support.”
“Good, I’m glad,” Tracy said warmly. “Just have a seat anywhere you like. We’ll get started in a couple of minutes.” She looked at Hannah, her eyes gentle and understanding. “You may not feel this way right now, but I hope by the end of the evening, you’ll be glad you came.”
Hannah tried to smile, but her lips refused to move. The thought of sharing her experience with this group of women seemed just short of ludicrous. She didn’t know them. Why would they care what had happened to her?
Promptly at six, Tracy stepped to the center of the circle and said, “Welcome, everyone. I recognize a lot of familiar faces tonight and see a few new ones, as well. I know each of us remembers the first night we gathered up the courage to make an appearance in this room. I’d like for everyone who’s been here before to stand up now and introduce yourself to a face you don’t recognize.”
Chairs scraped against the wood floor. Hannah shook hands with a number of women who ranged in age from sixteen to sixty. Their faces were open and welcoming.
Raising her hand to quiet the room, Tracy began to speak again. “Thank you. For those of you new to this, I’d like to point out a thing or two. From the petrified looks on some of your faces, I’d guess you’re thinking exactly what I thought the first night I stood before this group two years ago.”
She smiled and let her eyes wander around the circle. “No, you don’t have to talk about yourself if you don’t want to. We hope you’ll reach the point where you can. We believe it’s a sign of healing. But if you choose not to, you never have to say a word. Just listen. That’s all we ask. I think you’ll find that some of the feelings you’ve been having are common among the women in this group. And now I’ll sit down and be quiet so that someone else can get in a word.”
Laughter rippled around the room, and some of the tension in Hannah’s shoulders dissipated.
The group was silent no more than a moment or two before a middle-aged woman spoke up. “For you new arrivals, I’m Sue. And as for the rest of you, well, as you know, I told you last week that I had a date on the weekend.”
Several of the women leaned forward and said in unison, “How did it go? Did you make it through it?”
“I did. And he was a very nice man. A little older. Quite handsome and entertaining. He took me to a nice French restaurant. I wanted to like him. And I think I do.” She hesitated, and then in a reluctant voice, “But somehow I can’t bring myself to trust him.”
Murmurs of understanding rose and swelled around the room. Hannah saw the woman’s distress and wondered if she’d gone through the same ordeal as she herself had. The constant waves of self-doubt. The anger she’d repressed until it became nothing more than a hard knot somewhere deep inside her.
Sue cleared her throat and went on, “I want to. But how do you trust a stranger when you’ve found that you can’t even trust someone you considered a friend?”
More sounds of sympathy came from the other women, making Hannah feel less like she’d been alone all these years.
And when Tracy said, “Would anyone new like to say something?” Jenny patted Hannah’s hand. Hannah hesitated a moment, then stood.
“I’m Hannah Jacobs. In a way, I feel silly being here tonight. What happened to me took place ten years ago. I guess I somehow thought I was the only one in the world who’d been—” she paused “—raped by a date.
“The reason I came here, apart from my best friend’s badgering-” she looked at Jenny and smiled “—is that I want to put it behind me. Maybe you all can help me do that.”
In the days following, Hannah came to realize the truth behind her statement. The next week she went to the meeting alone, although Jenny had assured her that she didn’t mind going with her. But she knew she had to do this on her own.
“For the first time, I feel strong enough to face what happened, Jen. If it weren’t for you, I might never have gone.”
Jenny had put her arms around her and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you, Hannah.”
Hannah began to be proud of herself. She listened each week as others relayed their stories, but she began to share her own, as well, even admitting at one point that she had pushed away someone she cared for a great deal. And at the probing of a few of the women, she admitted to them, and also to herself, that she’d never thought herself worthy of him.
At that point, she began to see hope for herself. She took a look at her life and realized that she had, indeed, blamed and punished herself over the years. Denied herself those things that she otherwise would have wanted in life—a husband, a family. She’d become a recluse, instead.
For the first time ever, she admitted the full extent of Tom Dillon’s effect on her life. Because of him, she’d changed her plans of going to an Ivy League college. Because of him, she’d chosen to close herself off from people, preferring to lose herself in the pages of book after book, living other people’s lives instead of her own. Because of him, she’d put herself inside that library every day, a place she still loved, but a self-imposed cage nonetheless. Because of him, she’d pushed away the only man she’d ever loved.
And although it still hurt to think of him, Hannah realized that she’d had nothing to offer Will a few months ago. Even though she’d changed during the time they’d been together, she still could not have offered him herself. Because she hadn’t known who that was.
Now that was all changing. For the first time, she could look in the mirror and meet her eyes. Really meet her eyes. Not merely peer at the edges of her reflection. She no longer flinched at what she saw. She looked and acted a generation younger.
She bought a new car, reluctant to part with the “green boat,” as Will had called it, but aware that it was time nonetheless. A Volkswagen convertible in a champagne beige fit the bill perfectly.
She kept up her running, and Jenny drove to Richmond with her one Saturday to buy some new clothes. The styles she chose were unlike anything in her wardrobe. Whitewashed jeans, a faded denim skirt and running shorts. Even a clingy little black dress, which Jenny said every young woman should have. Hannah felt really good about herself. About the person she had begun to rediscover.
At one point, she began wishing there was something she could do to help others who might have been through the same thing. And when Tracy suggested one evening that she go with some of the other members to meetings in nearby towns, Hannah agreed.
She shared her discoveries with Sarah. And one Sunday afternoon, when she’d worked up the courage, she told her aunt about Will.
The older woman’s smile faded. “He won’t be coming back?”
“I don’t think so. But I’ve realized that I wasn’t ready for what Will or any other ma
n had to offer me. I had to come to terms with myself first. And I’m working on that.”
Sarah stared up at her niece and said, “If only I’d done something about—”
Hannah reached out and pressed a finger to the woman’s lips. “Shh. That’s in the past, Aunt Sarah. I’ve put it behind me. It’s time you did the same.”
Sarah shook her head, her eyelids drooping.
“I’ll go now and let you sleep,” Hannah said lovingly. “See you next week, all right?”
Chapter Sixty-two
Buckets of orange and yellow leaves dropped from the trees along the Washington streets until the branches were bare and skeletal. It was almost winter again, Will’s least favorite season. But somehow the cold didn’t bother him now. He had a goal in life, one he’d never imagined attaining. And as he moved closer to reaching it, he worked with a single-minded determination he’d never applied to anything in his life. Not even football.
He had, by now, settled into a routine. He’d rented a town house in Georgetown, a few blocks from Dr. Edwards’s office. Despite Dr. Edwards’s enthusiasm about what he could do for him, Will had been skeptical during those first couple of weeks. He’d failed often enough in his life that the possibility of succeeding was almost too much to imagine.
But the days of testing he’d undergone had revealed a great deal about his abilities and how he’d gotten as far as he had without revealing his secret. His was a relatively mild case of dyslexia.
The test results had revealed his reading skills to be around fifth or sixth grade level, which just happened to coincide with the time he got involved in football. Having learned these things about himself, he now knew why it had begun to sound to him like the rest of his classmates were speed-reading. They’d progressed along at the normal rate, while he’d begun to fall behind. The dyslexia limited his ability to continue learning beyond that point, and his father’s preoccupation with his athletic ability reinforced the belief that school wasn’t as important as football.
Now as he pedaled his bike toward Dr. Edwards’s office, he wondered at his progress. The psychologist had begun teaching him a different way of looking at things. His dedication had impressed the older man, who told him so every chance he got.
“I’ve yet to work with anyone as determined as you are, Will. You’re really coming along. And that commercial you did for the Dyslexia Foundation will have a lot of influence. People need to understand that anyone can have a learning disability and that it can be overcome. You should be proud of yourself.”
Throughout the duration of his football career, Will had received more praise than most people ever would. Great play, Will! Terrific game, Will! Somehow none of that had left him with the same sense of pride as those few words from Dr. Edwards.
He’d left the office that day torn between the desire to call Hannah and tell her what the doctor had said and the realization that she was no longer in his life. He knew that, and yet she was the one person with whom he wanted to share such moments of glory.
He couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. This city constantly reminded him of her: the bagel shop, the shops in Union Station, the Willard Hotel.
He wondered if her life had changed. Was she still jogging? Still working at the library? Did she visit Sarah every Sunday? Had she and Jenny finished teaching Henry Lawson to read?
In another couple of months, Dr. Edwards had said Will would be far enough along that he could seek help from more conventional routes. Will knew that after leaving Washington, he would continue learning through night classes or whatever it took. His education would be complete this time around.
The question now was what to do with the rest of his life.
Dan had kept in constant contact, setting up the commercial he’d done a couple of months ago for the Dyslexia Foundation. And, of course, he had a good long list of others to consider, as well. For the moment, they were of little interest to Will.
But something else had been tugging at the back of his mind. For some reason, every time he thought about what he would do with the rest of his life, his father’s often-used “worthwhile” came to mind.
Worthwhile. Will had his own definition of the word. And it didn’t encompass touting underwear or light beer for the next five years.
Instead, he kept thinking about the kids he’d met through Dr. Edwards. He felt at home in those surroundings. He knew what those kids saw when they looked at the page of a book. He knew the frustration of feeling every bit as smart as the rest of the kids in class, but unable to prove it when the time came.
What would it be like to work with kids like that on a daily basis? Did he have something to offer them?
He thought about Tarkington’s Cove and wondered if it was still in bankruptcy.
The idea hit him then with a clarity that made him realize it had been fermenting in the back of his mind for some time. Tarkington’s Cove would be a perfect place for a school. A school for athletes with learning problems.
The old clubhouse could serve as the actual school. He could add on to it. And the condominiums could be converted to dorm rooms. It could function as a school for nine months of the year, an athletic summer camp the other three. Maybe he’d even work on building a football team.
He smiled to himself. A car honked as he cut across the intersection in front of it. Grinning like a kid, he raised a friendly hand at the vehicle and pedaled on. Maybe this was insane. Maybe he was crazy. And Hannah. What would Hannah say? The thought that this move would put them in the same town again gave the idea an appeal he couldn’t deny. And for the first time since the night of the Super Bowl that had ended his career, Will knew what he wanted to do with his life.
Chapter Sixty-three
Spring had pulled out its paintbrush and begun to replenish the world with color. Tulips peeped up, the days grew warmer. In a lot of ways, Hannah felt as though she’d begun to bloom, as well.
Through her support group, she’d learned a great deal about herself. For that one night of the week, with that group of women, she belonged. They understood. They never judged. They simply listened. And by pouring out her thoughts and anxieties to them, Hannah began to realize life had more possibilities than she’d ever allowed herself to consider.
But she realized one afternoon that she’d been so absorbed in herself that she hadn’t noticed Jenny’s increasing unhappiness. A crash reverberated from the back office followed by the sound of Jenny sobbing.
Hannah jumped up from the desk and ran to her friend, finding her on the floor beside a pile of scattered books. She knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Jenny, are you all right?”
The woman continued to cry, her reply delivered between sniffles. “Y-yes. I-I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. What is it?”
“Oh, Hannah. It’s…it’s Henry. I—I love him. The dad-burned old fool.”
“But Jenny, that’s wonderful,” Hannah said with a smile. The past months had brought great success with Henry. He’d begun to read things he said he’d never imagined reading and had even signed up for a couple of night courses at a local community college. Hannah suspected Jenny had been tutoring him on the side.
Jenny sniffed again and said, “No, it’s not. He’s got it in his head that I’m somehow ‘above’ him. That since he didn’t get a formal education, he’s not right for me.”
Hannah grabbed a tissue from a nearby desk and handed it to her. “Don’t give up on him, Jen. You two do seem right for one another.”
Jenny wiped her nose and said, “I don’t intend to give up, but—”
“I’ll talk to him.” The words were out before Hannah even thought about them. Suddenly nothing seemed more important than making sure these two wonderful people had a chance together.
“I’m not sure it would do any good, Hannah.”
“We’ll never know until I try, though, will we?”
The following afternoon Hannah went to see Henry Lawson during her
lunch hour. She found him eating a sandwich by himself in the back room of the old brick building used by the town workers.
He glanced up from the book on his lap, obviously surprised to see her. “Why, Hannah. What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Henry. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Why, sure. Have a seat,” he said, pulling up a chair for her.
She sat down. “It’s about Jenny.”
Henry looked alarmed. “Is something—”
“No, no,” she reassured him. “It’s just that…she’s been a little unhappy lately. Henry, she loves you.”
He glanced away, his voice thick with despair when he said, “I love her too, but—”
“It’d be a shame to let that go to waste.”
Henry looked down at his hands. “She could do an awful lot better than me.”
“She’s been looking for you all her life, Henry.”
He shook his head. “There are too many differences between us.”
“What? The fact that she was fortunate enough to get a formal education? And because you didn’t, she wouldn’t love you?”
The silence made his answer obvious. She realized then that she and Henry Lawson had a great deal in common. She’d pushed Will away because she’d been convinced that she would end up losing him, anyway. And she had. She didn’t want the same for Henry and Jenny.
She stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “If you love her, that’s all that matters. Together, the two of you can handle the rest.”
And as Hannah drove back to the library that afternoon, it occurred to her that maybe it was time she took her own advice.
That night, Hannah was scheduled to speak to a group of women at a nearby college about date rape. A year ago, she couldn’t have imagined finding the courage to take such a step. But being a part of Friends of Victims had shown her that, as a victim of the crime, she had a responsibility to others. To make the public aware that women were often too ashamed to report it and that they often felt responsible for what had happened.
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