Say That Again (23 page)

I’m here,
Echo said as he licked the tears from her cheek.
I’ll always be here for you.

“I know,” Hannah whispered.

Leaning out from the headrest of his seat to hear better, Hunter said, “What’s that, sweet pea?”

Hannah pressed her forehead to the window, her face away from the school building. “Nothing.”

She closed her eyes, hoping he’d think she was going to sleep, but it was hard to keep from sniffling. She couldn’t shut the tears off, no matter how hard she tried.

“I’m not mad at you, Hannah. Mr. Pankiewicz isn’t mad, either. You couldn’t help it. We know that.” He took a tissue from his glove compartment and dried the tears from her face, then gave her an extra one so she could blow her nose. “We just need to figure out what triggers it and find ways for you to learn to cope with it, because we don’t want it to keep happening to you, okay?”

Hannah nodded, even though what he said didn’t make much sense to her.

“Can I stay home until then?”

Hunter laughed. “I don’t think so, sweet pea. Mrs. Ziegler will be back tomorrow, anyway. I’m sure she’ll let you stay in the room during lunch and recess, like usual. You’ll be fine.”

Fine? Hannah wasn’t so sure about that. Even thinking about school made her queasy.

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—o00o—

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T
he next morning, Hannah woke up early. Not out of excitement, but dread.

Puffs of warm air brushed against her arm. A tongue, long and wet, slid over her wrist.

“I love you, too, Echo,” she said in her quietest voice. And she did. More than anything.

Echo hopped up on the bed and squeezed himself next to her. Her mommy had said he wasn’t allowed on the furniture, so he never got on her bed. But this time Hannah didn’t make him get off. She wrapped an arm around him and buried her face against the dark fur of his ruff.

They lay like that for an hour, drifting in and out of sleep, until Jenn’s footsteps sounded softly in the hallway. Hannah gave Echo a nudge and he jumped off the bed.

Jenn cracked open the door. “Rise and shine, monkeys.”

When neither of them stirred, she came into the room. Echo was curled up on the rug, one eye open, and Hannah was trying to lie as still as possible. Then Jenn shook her gently. When Hannah slid farther under her covers, her mother peeled them away and told her in no uncertain terms to get dressed and come down for breakfast.

The ride to school was both too short and too long. Maura skipped getting on the bus to ride with them, but didn’t complain about it.

That day was worse than the one before. Maura walked her to class early and all the way to her desk before leaving. Hannah lay her head down on the cool surface. Her heart raced. She couldn’t make her lungs expand. She was dizzy.

With every kid who entered the room, the noise grew louder and louder, banging in her ears. She covered her head with both arms and squeezed tight. And now her stomach felt funny.

Mrs. Ziegler tapped her on the back. “Hannah, are you all ri—”

Abruptly, Hannah leaned to the right, away from Mrs. Ziegler, and threw up her breakfast.

Patrick Mann, sitting three rows away, stuck his tongue out and made a gagging sound. “Oh, gross!”

Mrs. Ziegler covered her mouth with her hands and mumbled between her fingers, “I’ll have the nurse call your mother.”

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—o00o—

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H
er mother didn’t say a word all the way home. Just sat up front, her hands tight on the steering wheel, spine rigid, never once looking back at Hannah.

When they got home, Hannah went straight to bed. She wasn’t sick, or tired. But she didn’t think her mother wanted to talk to her right then. All this time she’d wanted to not have to go to school and just stay at home with her mommy like she’d always done, but now that she was home, it wasn’t the same anymore.

Echo tried his hardest to comfort her and get her to play, twice dropping his squeaky giraffe in her lap, but Hannah ignored him. Eventually, he drifted away. She was barely aware of the click of his toenails fading away in the upstairs hallway and then the soft padding of his feet as he went down the stairs.

For a time, Hannah tried to draw, but a heavy feeling in her tummy distracted her. None of her toys interested her. She looked out the window for an animal to watch, but the only birds she saw were tiny dots in the distance. She had already read all her books several times. Perhaps there were some in Maura’s room she could read? As she tiptoed through the hallway, she heard the snick of the back kitchen door and her father’s footsteps.

“I’m
so
glad you’re finally home,” Jenn said.

“Lucky you, Tommy canceled on me. The newborn kid he was so worried about finally got up on her feet and was bucking like crazy. All’s well at the Appleton goatery.” His keys clinked as he tossed them on the counter. “So what’s up? You look pretty frazzled.”

“Sit down. Let me make you a pot of coffee. I’m about to unload.”

“Oh, boy. Hannah?”

“Who else?”

A few feet beyond the landing, out of sight, Hannah sank to the floor, brought her knees to her chest, and pulled her T-shirt down over them. She knew she shouldn’t be listening, but this was about her.

She
had caused this problem. She just didn’t know how to fix it.

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I
wanted so badly to make Hannah feel better. I did my best to make her notice me — nuzzling her hand, tilting my head, turning in circles as I wagged my hind end, offering my favorite, most beloved and sacred toy, the squeaky giraffe — yet she wanted nothing to do with me. The look in her eyes was distant, pained, troubled. My own heart ached for her, even though I didn’t fully understand what had caused her hurt.

So many times, it was like she could read my thoughts, but today it was as if she weren’t even in the room right there in front of me.

Unable to help her, I drifted from the room and down the stairs, finally claiming my spot beneath the kitchen table.

“You look like you could use a hug.” Hunter held his arms wide for Jenn.

She collapsed against his chest, like a knot of frustration unraveling at his touch. Then, eyes shut, she squeezed him tight.

Eventually, he was able to pry her away and sit at the kitchen table. As Jenn poured him a cup of coffee, it all came out about Hannah’s day and how Jenn had to leave work to pick her up from school.

“And the nurse said she was fine?” Hunter’s spoon pinged against the inside of his cup as he stirred.

“Fine as in not sick. No fever, no stomachache. But the moment the nurse began to walk Hannah back to class, she started to dry heave.”

“Ah, I see.” He lowered his voice. “Sounds psychosomatic. Did she say anything before she left for school this morning?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Meaning she didn’t
volunteer
anything — or you didn’t ask?”

“I was afraid if I did, it would make her even more anxious than she already was.”

“Okay, I see your point. Maybe she’s afraid of having another panic attack?”

“Maybe.” The dryer buzzed. Jenn rose and went into the laundry room next to the kitchen, her shoes clopping over the tiles. She popped the dryer door open and began unloading it. “Did you talk to Mr. Sloan or Dr. Liming about Echo going to school with her?”

I lifted my head from my paws. She banged the dryer door shut and came back into the kitchen, a laundry basket at her hip.

“I did,” Hunter replied. “Turns out, it’s more complicated than I originally thought. It could be done, but the training would take months. And at the end of it all, if he didn’t pass the certification, he couldn’t go.”

Lowering the basket to the floor, she sat across from him. “We don’t have months.”

“I know.”

“You have to understand, Hunter, this isn’t just about Hannah.” She began folding, then setting each item on top of the table. “It affects our whole family. Me more so than you. All these years I resisted going back to work because I thought I needed to be here for her. And it did work. For her, at least.”

Hunter grabbed a crumpled T-shirt from the basket to help her and snapped the wrinkles from it before flipping the sleeves back and creasing it down the middle. “Jenn, she wouldn’t be where she is now without you. She’s light years ahead of other kids her age.”

“Academically, maybe. But socially? Hunter, she can’t cope with being in school. Not yet, anyway. Dr. Liming mentioned a new school for the gifted opening next year in Danville. The Finley Academy, I think. The bank has a branch there. I could transfer. It’s just ... I don’t know ...” She tossed a facecloth back at the basket, as if even that task required too much concentration, but it missed and landed on the floor.

I crept forward, picked it up in my mouth, and sat in front of her. She took a hold of it and I tugged back. All this talk was boring me. They both needed to lighten up. Play a little. Rolling her eyes at me, Jenn spat the word ‘Out’ and yanked it from my teeth so hard I was afraid she’d dislodged a canine. One flick of my tongue told me all my teeth were still there.

Jenn marched to the washing machine, threw the washcloth inside, and returned to the kitchen, pausing at the sink, her attention drawn by a few dirty dishes that had been there since yesterday. “I don’t know if it’s the kids, the teacher, or just being away from home.” She ran the faucet and dumped a glob of dish detergent into the sink before setting the dishes inside it. “Anyway, it’s freaking her out. Two months ago, I’d have just said, ‘Fine, let her stay home’. But it’s not that easy. I’ve gone back to work and ...” Her shoulders bunched up.

“Go on, Jenn,” Hunter urged calmly. “No sense keeping it bottled up.”

The heel of her hand pounded downward on the faucet handle. She flipped around. Curling her fingers into fists, she tucked them under her armpits and cast her eyes to the ceiling. “Damn it, I feel guilty for saying this, but” — she met Hunter’s eyes, a mixture of resolve and regret warring behind her own eyes — “I
like
it. I like being with people my own age and making friends and being appreciated by customers. Today I helped this young couple secure a loan for their first home. It made me feel really good to be able to help them. Besides, I used to go stir crazy sitting out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to talk to except a five-year-old. If I go back to homeschooling Hannah, then I’m stuck doing it for who knows how long. I know this sounds insane coming from me, especially since I’m the one who was against sending her in the first place, but —”

There was a long pause, during which Jenn’s lip drooped. She sniffed several times, took a tissue from her pocket, and blew her nose. Hunter rose and went to her. Gently, he took her hands in his and murmured in her ear.

She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with the promise of relief. “You will?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s a lot to ask.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. He whisked it away with his thumb, then brushed his lips to her brow before leaning his forehead against hers. “Honey, they adore Hannah. You know that. I’m sure they’d love to help out.”

“But I don’t want to take advantage of them just because they live next door.”

His hands slid from the tops of her shoulders down her arms, until he held both her hands in his. “Asking family for help when you need it is not taking advantage of them. That’s what they’re —”

She broke away from him and sat down again, facing away from him. “But Brad’s retirement was a big deal. He’s been counting down the days for the last six months. I don’t know. It’s too much to ask.” Looking down at her lap, she lowered her head and shook it. “Don’t.”

Reclaiming his own seat, Hunter sat back, the chair frame creaking as he pressed his weight into it for support. “Got any other options?”

“Short of me disrupting my career again? No.” Jenn plucked another washcloth from the basket and wrung it as she let out a long sigh. “Okay. Go ahead. Ask. At least it’ll give us time to figure things out.”

“Look, we knew we were in for some trials at this stage. We just didn’t know what. We’ll get it all figured out eventually. In the right environment, Hannah will thrive. We can look into the Finley Academy some more. Maybe that’s a better option.”

She laid the washcloth on her knee and smoothed it. “You’re right. You
always
are. I kind of hate that about you.” Her frown quivered, then twitched upward into a grin. “I love it, too. I can’t imagine navigating this crazy life without you. You’re good at what you do, great with the girls, and a godsend to me when I can’t think straight.”

Hunter scooted his chair around the table and touched the pad of his thumb to her cheek, collecting another tear. Then he kissed her there, until she turned her mouth to meet his.

This was where I got uncomfortable. I forgot to mention this because, frankly, I don’t like to talk about it, but within a month of joining the McHugh family Hunter took me ‘on a ride’ to his veterinary practice and, well ... He poked me with a needle, which I assumed was just another vaccination. After drifting off happily to sleep, I woke up pretty stiff ‘down there’. Yeah, snip-snip.

Pity, I was just coming to an age where I felt the need to sow my oats, although I hadn’t yet had the chance to do so. A couple of weeks earlier, I had desperately wanted to, though, when I caught a whiff of that pretty German Shepherd at the softball park. Apparently, her owner was clueless as to the desirability of her dog’s condition. The lady was more than happy to let me say ‘hello, how ya doin’?’, but when I proceeded to hug her bitch (and yes, that’s what we call the fast girl dogs), who was a little on the tall side for me, I struggled to express my urges. But hey, I was determined, and I may have gone a little nuts. Hunter yanked me off and mumbled something about getting me ‘fixed’ soon. Fixed? Was I broken? Now I knew what he meant.

Anyway, I was neutered now, but I still understood what was going on right in front of me. Although they were discreet about it, Jenn and Hunter were two
very
affectionate humans. They mated frequently in their bedroom, which would have made me wonder why they didn’t have more offspring, except I figured Hunter was probably ‘fixed’, too.