Stone Cold (2 page)

“Help me!” She heard her
self cry out hoping someone would prevent the inevitable.  No such luck.

Hannah’s
nose was now in the water. In a split second she closed her eyes tightly shut and took a huge gasp of air waiting for the sharp bite of the heart-stopping icy water to engulf her. But the bite never came. Instead, she felt a skillful, strong hand grab her right arm around her bicep.  Another hand firmly gripped her ponytail, and working together, they lifted her back onto the deck in one smooth motion. 

She
was never so grateful to be on solid footing as she was at that moment. The person responsible deserved all the credit. She thought, “Maybe I’ll give him my firstborn child someday – or does that only happen in fairytales?”

As she felt him loosen his grip, Hannah
turned around shakily to greet the one who had pulled her to safety. 

“I don’t know how to thank you enough. I,” the wo
rds became stuck in her throat. It was him. The gorgeous boy she had shared that unbelievable chemistry with only moments ago. 

She wondered, “
How did I get so lucky that it was him who came to my rescue? He must’ve had to run from where we’d been standing holding hands.” 

Suddenly she
became very aware that dirty river water was dripping from her nose. Looking away, she used her jacket sleeve to wipe clean the only evidence of her near drowning experience, hoping to simultaneously tame the embarrassed color of her cheeks.

“I’m Conall.”
The soft melodic tone of his voice landed sweetly on her ears.  Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes from closing at the sound as if in a hypnotic trance. Unfortunately, for some odd reason, her mind momentarily drifted to images of Daffy Duck taming the Tasmanian devil with music which jolted her back to reality.

“Hi, I’m Ha Hannah.”

Her voice was barely audible as she thought, “And why am I stuttering?”

  “I um, owe
you for saving me twice now.” She had so many things she wanted to say to him but somehow the words were missing. 

Their
eyes were locked together once again and neither of them could keep from smiling.

“I believe these belong to you,” he said as he handed Hannah her notebook and backpack.

Just as they were about to touch hands a burley man with gray hair and a booming voice walked up and stood between them. He gave Conall a stern scowl and began ushering he and other students toward the dock. 

Apparently Conall’s group was scheduled for a later t
rip and had to exit the ferry. She could see glimpses of him through the crowd. Looking back at her, fighting the flow of traffic, Conall was jumping up and down to get a better view. His attempts were futile and soon they were no longer visible to each other. He was gone as quickly as they’d met. 

Hannah was frustrated with her lack of action. “Oh why didn’t I ask
for his last name or a phone number even? How will I ever find him? Will I ever find him?  Better yet, does it even matter?”

Her classmates and she l
earned that about 2 million people visit Ellis Island each year from all over the world.

“
He could be from who knows where. Ugh. You’re fifteen Hannah. What’s your problem? Get a grip on yourself.” A few of her friends had started to approach her as she scolded herself out loud for caring so much about someone she knew nothing about. 

As she engaged in conversation with her friends, her
mind wouldn’t rest about Conall. Beating herself up over these thoughts and feelings was obviously not helping. She still couldn’t shake the sensation she’d had when they’d touched.  Never before had she experienced anything like this. It was as if she’d known him forever – like they were destined to be together. She didn’t want to let go – ever – and still didn’t. 

She’d
always been mentally and emotionally mature for her age. Her mother, the colorful Sara Grayson Perry, never missed the opportunity to tell whoever would listen that she was wise beyond her years. 

“Hannah has such an old soul.
It’s like she’s been here before.”

The truth wa
s Sara was right. At the ripe old age of five Hannah distinctly remembered saying to her mother, “I feel like I either lived in the forties or I should have lived in the forties because I love swing music. I feel like I was here before.”

That pretty much summed up why people thought she
was five going on forty.

Hannah
had often been reluctant to play with most girls her age. She just never seemed to be interested in anything they had to say. It wasn’t that she was opposed to being girly or doing things girls liked to do. She just didn’t like the way in which girls interacted with each other. It never seemed to be easy.

The worst was the unspoken control girls tried to ex
ert over one another. Comply and you were in. Disagree and they would secretly ostracize you from the group and get others to turn on you. They were masters at their craft, never letting anyone see their handiwork yet forever holding a grudge. 

Boys on the othe
r hand were a different story. She was comfortable being friends with them. If they were mad at her, she knew it but that’s usually as far as it went.  No other boys got involved. It was just he and her fighting it out and once it was done that was it. They were still friends. No grudges and all were forgotten. No hidden agendas. It was easy. She usually knew exactly where she stood. 

While
trying to be optimistic about her situation with Conall, she remembered some things her grandmother always said.

“If it’s meant to be it’s meant to be,” and “Honor rather than dismiss your intuition
.”

Somehow she’d
never quite understood what she’d meant by these phases until just now. For the time being, she’d have to trust in her wisdom and let nature take its course. 

The rest of the day went smoothly in com
parison to the ferry incident. Hannah was somehow able to put Conall in the back of her mind as they continued from Ellis Island to The Statue of Liberty and back to Manhattan. 

It was her
first time – visiting New York City that is.  After the show, they were allowed to walk around and explore with their parent chaperones in the distance. She could feel the energy all around her. The city seemed alive with a pulse, the people and traffic like blood flowing through its veins. Looking at the vast array of businesses, no one would ever want for anything if they lived there. Even so, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to get back home to familiar surroundings.

She was
so ready to climb into her warm bed and fall asleep thinking about the day’s events. She smiled when she remembered her early morning intuition that something crazy was going to happen that day and maybe not such a good thing. Something crazy did happen but she thought as disastrous as it’d started out to be, it had turned out better than she could’ve imagined. She’d met Conall. Ah sigh…

The bus ride home was even m
ore subdued than this morning. It was dusk; the sky was purple with just a hint of sunlight as the sun slipped below the horizon. She could see the exhausted faces trying hard to stay awake but the fading light coupled with the motion of the bus cradled the best of them. 

Looking out the bus window as they
left the city, she could see her reflection. Her hair was a mess. She suddenly remembered the feeling of Conall’s hand around her ponytail and the tug as he’d pulled her away from the water. 

She
reached up to remove the ribbon she’d placed in her hair that morning but it wasn’t there.

Several t
houghts went through her mind.

“Is
it on the floor? Did I ask someone to hold it for me? It must’ve come loose and slipped out of my hair sometime during the day.”

She
frantically looked around for it on her seat, the floor, in the aisle. 

Without thinking, she
stood up and blurted out, “Did anyone find a hair ribbon?” 

The blank stares of those who
’d heard her desperate plea confirmed what she already knew. The ribbon with her name on it, the one her grandparents had given her, was gone forever. Her heart sank as she thought about the significance of that ribbon in her life. 

Hannah’s
grandfather Grayson had bought it for her the day she was born. She was his first grandchild and they had a special bond that was different from the ones he had with the other grandchildren who came along after her. It wasn’t that he loved her any more than the others.  It was just on a different level. They understood each other – they knew what the other was thinking without a word being said. She shared his humor and love of reading.  They were both avid history buffs and craved knowledge for knowledge sake. She knew in her heart that she always wanted to meet and marry a man just like him.  

Before he
r grandfather passed, each grandchild received something he treasured that he knew they loved too. He gave her sister Morgan his coin collection – a passion they’d both shared ever since she began watching him peruse the coins before she could even talk. To her cousin and his only grandson, Riley Scott, he gave his Marine Corp ring and the sword he’d used during the Korean War. Riley’s sister Sophie was given his record album collection. Cassandra Clay, the youngest grandchild, received his massive Hess Truck collection given to him over the years by her very own mother. 

Her grandfather
had given Hannah a beautiful tapestry he’d bought in Japan while in the service. She’d always admired its beauty and the history behind it. It now hung in her room, a reminder of days gone by. And then there was the ribbon.  

Her
grandmother told her that her grandfather had intended on giving it to her on her tenth birthday. She’d guessed he’d figured her hair would be long enough to wear a ribbon in it by then. It was pale pink with her first name repeatedly embossed across its full length in a darker shade of pink. Her grandmother said he’d told her of a dream he’d had shortly before Hannah was born.

Sh
e recalled his words, “I dreamt Sara’s baby is a girl and she loves pink. She looks like an angel, a princess, with a pink ribbon in her hair, so dainty with a name to fit. Her name is Hannah.”

Her grandfather
bought that ribbon to commemorate the dream so that Hannah would always know what she’d meant to him. No one was allowed to tell her this story but him on the day of his choosing. 

Two months before her
tenth birthday, her grandfather passed quietly in the night. He never had the chance to give her the ribbon and to tell her the story behind it.  Instead, her grandmother honored his wish and gave Hannah the ribbon as she told the story. It turned out he’d also told her mother about the dream and that’s how her name came to be. It was and will always be the best birthday gift she’d ever received.  Now it was gone forever – like him.

That night lying in bed, af
ter asking her grandfather to forgive her for losing the ribbon, all she could see when she tried to sleep were Conall’s soft green eyes staring back at her. She could still feel the touch of his hand as he’d helped her stand.  She wondered if he was thinking about her too and if he’d seen the images of their future together as she had when they’d touched.

Remem
bering the sound of his voice, she started drifting off to sleep. Her mind played back the images of the day and that’s when it came to her. 

Hannah remembered
Conall was wearing a royal blue jacket with an emblem that read CPEHS 555. She knew what that meant. A transfer student at her school had a jacket with a similar emblem and she’d come from a public school in Manhattan.

At the very least she knew he must live in
New York City. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities as she shouted out loud.

“This has
to be his school! “Yes! Yes! Yes!  I can find him now!”

She was so loud in fact that her mom came running to her
door.

“Hannah, are you okay?
I thought I heard you yelling.” 

“I’m fine mom. Better than fine actually. Sorry for scaring you.
Talk to you in the morning. Gnite.”

“Goodnight.” 

Not until she could hear her mother’s footsteps fading down the hallway did Hannah dare to think another thought or even take another breath. 

She
was wide-awake now with this new revelation swirling around in her head. The Internet would surely be able to give her the address and phone number for his school. She could call or write a letter asking them to give a message to a tall boy with brown hair with blonde highlights and green eyes named Conall.

She thought, “
Fat chance of that working – or, I could ask mom to drive me there so I can wait for him outside of the school. Yeah, like she’d ever agree to do that ha!”  

As much as she
wanted to figure out the master plan, sleep took the upper hand and no more thoughts crossed her conscious mind until the next morning.