Waiting for Morning (7 page)

Her life had been perfect … too perfect. Something had gone terribly wrong, and now Tom and Alicia were dead.

She knew she should pray, but for the first time in her life she couldn’t. Didn’t even want to. God had let this happen to Tom and Alicia. Why pray to him now? Why ask him to comfort her when he had allowed her very existence to be shattered? She looked from her husband to her child, studying them through her tears, willing them to move or speak or smile at her. When they didn’t, she bowed her head and wailed. In one violent instant her family had been destroyed—and there was nothing she could do to bring them back.

When she finally regained her composure, she straightened slowly. Drawing a fortifying breath, she looked at Dr. Cleary and saw him extend his hand. For a moment, standing there in his white coat, he looked just like Tom. Hannah took his hand and let him support her as she struggled to keep from passing out. But she stayed there between Tom and Alicia, unwilling to move from their sides.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ryan.” Dr. Cleary seemed to wait until he had her attention before continuing. “There’s something I need to tell you. Sgt. Miller was with your husband at the accident scene before he died. He wanted me to give you a message from Tom.”

Hannah felt her shoulders drop, and she reached for Tom’s hand as naturally as she had for the past twenty years. But now his touch was cool and unresponsive. She shuddered.

Dr. Cleary’s voice grew softer. “Before he died … Tom said to tell you and the girls that he loved you.”

A single sob caught in Hannah’s throat, and she looked down at her husband through a blur of tears. She struggled to
speak, and the silence hung awkwardly in the air.

“I want some time with them,” she said finally.

“Take as long as you like.”

Forever. A lifetime. A chance to celebrate our twentieth anniversary, and our thirtieth and fortieth. Time to grow old together and watch our daughters become young women. Time to see Tom walk Alicia and Jenny down the aisle, time to share grandchildren and retirement and vacations on warm, sunny beaches—

Dr. Cleary interrupted her thoughts. “I need to get back to work, but Rev. O’Haver will be outside in the hallway if you need him.”

The men left, and Hannah was finally alone. She studied Tom and sobbed softly. She hadn’t had time to say good-bye. If only she had gone on the camping trip this year. Maybe she would have seen the truck … she could have warned Tom. It was all her fault. If she’d been with them, they would have come home earlier, and this never would have happened.

Tom still looked so alive, as if he were sleeping. She still held his hand, but now she turned to Alicia. Beautiful, self-assured Alicia. Her firstborn.

She took the girl’s lifeless hand in her free one. “Mommy’s here, Alicia.” She thought of proms and graduation, college, the wedding her daughter would never have … and she began to weep once more. Alicia’s hair stuck out in matted tufts from underneath the bandages. Hannah let go of Tom’s still hand and reached over to smooth the silky locks, making her daughter more presentable. Alicia looked so lost on the stretcher, almost as if she were a small child again. Where had the time gone? Hannah remembered being at this very hospital fifteen years earlier for Alicia Marie’s birth, celebrating life and the promises it held for their tiny daughter. She was such a sweet baby, such a happy little girl.…

Alicia’s hand was cold, and Hannah ran her thumb over it, trying to warm it as she’d done when her daughter was a toddler. Alicia always had cold hands. Hannah wanted so badly to
pick her up and rock her, to take away the hurt as she’d always been able to do in the past. She sniffled loudly. “Alicia, Mommy loves you, honey.” She sobbed twice. “I’m here, baby. I’ll always be here. Wherever I am I’ll take you with me, sweetheart.”

She remembered a week earlier when Alicia had stayed up late talking to her about boys and how she’d know when she met the right one. Now there would be no boys—no future. Alicia was gone, and it grieved Hannah beyond anything she’d ever known.

She turned back to Tom. “Why didn’t you come home earlier, you big oaf? You never were on time.” She tried to laugh, but it became one more sob, and fresh tears filled her eyes. “If only you hadn’t been so late.…”

She let the thought hang in the still air, and she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she struggled to speak. “I guess … if Alicia had to go, it’s better you go with her.” She gulped loudly, and when she spoke her voice was barely a whisper. “Stay with her, Tom. She’s so afraid of being alone.”

She stooped and kissed him tenderly on the cheek, his final message echoing in her mind, breaking her heart. “I love you, too, Tom. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I always have.” She sobbed hard. “I always will.”

She carefully arranged Tom’s hands on his chest, then did the same for Alicia. But she couldn’t bear to leave. She bent over and wrapped her arms around them, holding them close and giving in again to the wrenching sobs.…

This couldn’t be happening.…

Finally, when it seemed as if days had passed, she rose and kissed Alicia on the cheek. She smoothed her hair, knowing it was the last time she’d ever do so. “Good-bye …” She turned to Tom and traced his lips with her finger. Then she kissed him tenderly and studied his face one last time.

Finally she turned and, against every instinct in her body, she left.

Rev. O’Haver waited in the hallway outside and cleared his throat as she approached. “Mrs. Ryan, may I speak with you a moment?”

Hannah stopped and waited. She was struggling to find the strength to move, even to breathe, and all she wanted was to be with Jenny. She didn’t need some stranger offering pat answers.

“Mrs. Ryan … I understand you and your family are Christians?”

A single huff escaped Hannah’s throat, and she wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Yes, we are.” She paused, trying to make sense of her feelings. “A lot of good it did us.”

The reverend hesitated. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Mrs. Ryan, but please know it’s normal to be angry at God.” He paused again. “I’d like to pray with you, if I can.”

Hannah nodded reluctantly and sat down beside the man. He took her hands in his and prayed quietly.

Hannah thanked him when he finished. She hadn’t paid attention to the prayer, but it was over and she wanted to be polite. She allowed herself to be hugged, and then she stood without saying another word and headed for Jenny’s room. Hannah didn’t want to be angry with God, but she didn’t want to talk to him, either. There were more pressing things to think about. She had to contact family members, make plans for a funeral, and tend to Jenny.…

Jenny was all she had left now, a small fragment of a family that only hours earlier had been perfect … complete.

But though Hannah knew she should be thinking about her surviving daughter and the consolation she would need in the days to come, that wasn’t what consumed her as she walked down the hall. Rather she found herself focusing on the other driver … the one who ran the red light and killed her family. And as she thought of him, one emotion reigned supreme.

Hatred.

Six

After affliction … she finds no resting place
.
All who pursue her have overtaken her in the midst of her distress
.

L
AMENTATIONS
1:3

There was solace in keeping busy.

In her new role as victim, widow, and grieving mother, Hannah learned to keep her grief at bay by burying herself in busyness. And there was a mountain of details to handle.

First she made dozens of phone calls in which she told key people about the accident and asked them to contact others. She notified the girls’ schools, Tom’s partner, and the insurance company. And she organized the funeral.

There was precious little time to weep, to even think about her loss. And that was fine with Hannah. As long as she was busy, she could avoid thinking about a lifetime without Tom and Alicia.

Now Hannah sat in an oversized vinyl chair next to Jenny’s hospital bed and glanced at the clock. Eleven in the morning. Nearly twenty-four hours after the collision. In that time Jenny had only awakened once or twice for a few minutes. They’d moved her to the critical care unit, and at the moment she was sleeping again.

Dr. Cleary had been right—Jenny was no longer in danger. Her blood tests and CAT scan were almost normal, but she was sleepy, coming out of the semiconscious haze caused by the injury. The doctor expected her to wake up soon, and then Hannah would need to tell her the truth.

She studied her notes and tugged absently at a lock of hair.
She had notified Tom’s parents, his sister in Ohio … her parents in Washington state. She had no siblings, so there were few people to contact. She had called her pastor, Joel Conner, and he had started a prayer chain at New Hope Christian Church in Agoura Hills, where they had been members for as long as she could remember. Several of the women from her Bible study had come by last night to pray with her and offer assistance. Two had brought meals for Hannah to take home.

Hannah refused them all. She’d considered those women friends once, but that was before the collision … back when she had something in common with them. Now she was in a category all by herself, someone to be pitied. The idea of them sitting around talking about her tragedy in quiet voices made her skin crawl. She neither wanted—nor needed—their charity.

But they wouldn’t go away. So rather than appear ungrateful, Hannah allowed one of the women to make plans for a brief reception after the funeral, which was scheduled for Wednesday.

Hannah glanced at Jenny’s sleeping form—and was struck suddenly by the thought that it was the first day of school. Hannah’s church friends would all be at breakfast—an annual tradition on this day—talking about how quickly children grow up, the merits of their various teachers, and how much time they would all have now that the fall routine was back in place.

Hannah’s heart grew heavy and tears filled her eyes. She had cried more since the collision than all the other times in her life combined. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes … but images drifted across her mind of her friends’ children greeting classmates, working out the kinks in their schedules, and making plans for weekend get-togethers.

She had called the principal of West Hills High and told him about the accident. He would have told the others, so by now Alicia’s friends and fellow cheerleaders would probably be convening in the lunch area, consoling each other and crying
over the loss of their friend. Certainly many of them would be at the funeral.

But in time they would get over her absence—life would get in the way, and they would be drawn to the thrill of Friday night football games and weekend dances. They would talk about Alicia on occasion, but she would eventually fade into the recesses of their memories.

Hannah sighed and fiddled with her pencil. She felt as if she had aged ten years overnight—she knew she looked haggard. Her clothing was rumpled from sleeping in the chair by Jenny’s bed, and her hair was pulled back into an unruly ponytail. Only her crimson, manicured fingernails gave any indication of her former appearance. She had checked the bathroom mirror earlier that morning, and the person staring back at her with empty red eyes and cheeks ravaged by tears did not look even remotely familiar.

Focus. Concentrate on the matters at hand
. That was all that kept her from falling into a bottomless pit of despair—something she could not do because she knew if she ever gave in, there would be no return.

She studied her notes again and pressed her lips together. It was time to contact Sgt. Miller. She wanted to know exactly what happened. The other driver had run a red light. She knew that much. But had he been drinking? Was he on drugs? Hannah had a horrible suspicion that there was something more to the accident story, but until she knew for sure, she tried not to think about it. The hatred she already felt toward the other driver was frightening enough without dwelling on it.

Suddenly Jenny stirred and rolled slowly from one side to the other. Hannah moved next to the bed and took her daughter’s hand. A torrent of anxiety and dread consumed her, and she willed herself to stay calm. How would she tell this child, this precious daughter, that her father and sister were dead? She had no idea.

God …
she started, but then cut the prayer short. No, she
would not ask. She didn’t want to think about God until she had time to examine her feelings. Besides, she didn’t know what power her prayers would have. They hadn’t kept her family safe.

Jenny moaned and turned toward Hannah. Her eyes opened and she squinted against the sunshine streaming through the hospital window.

“Mom?”

Hannah figured her daughter could make out her face, but Jenny didn’t sound sure of herself.

She leaned over the girl’s prone body, hugged her, then pulled away slightly and caressed Jenny’s forehead with a single finger. There was nothing she could do about the heavy sadness in her voice. “Hi, sweetheart, how do you feel?”