Waiting for Morning

  She braced herself against the white railing and stared up at the cold, gray sky. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe there is a God anymore. Not after what happened.”

  “It’s a fallen world. People get hurt. Injustice happens.” Matt rested his back against the railing and faced Hannah. “That’s because of mankind, not God.”

  She wanted to scream at him, to push him away. How dare he tell her it wasn’t God’s fault? “He could stop it. If he’s really a great and mighty God, then he could have caused Tom to be ten seconds slower that afternoon. Or made Brian drive ten seconds faster. Something. But he didn’t keep it from happening and that’s—that’s why I stopped believing.”

  “Sometimes he has a different plan.”

  Hannah sighed and moved forward, leaning her body on the railing and gazing down at the churning sea below. “I never wanted a different plan. Only Tom and Alicia … all of us—” Her voice caught, and she sank down on a nearby bench. Tears spilled from her eyes and she wiped them dry.

  Matt knelt on one knee next to her and ran a hand soothingly over her shoulder. “It’s okay. You can cry. The Lord understands …”

  She tried to shut out the words. She had heard enough about the Lord. “Please, Matt …”

  “I know, I know. You’re not ready.”

  Matt’s voice was like an anchor in what seemed to be the greatest storm she’d ever faced. Still she disagreed with what he was saying. “I’ll never be ready. God abandoned me, and that’s not the kind of God I used to believe in.”

  “Hannah, the Lord never—”

  “No!”

  “Give me a chance. The Lord does understand. John 11:35 says—”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” She buried her face in her hands, shutting out both the sound and sight of Matt Bronzan. “Please, Matt.”

  There was silence, and when Hannah opened her eyes, Matt was standing again, leaning against the railing, studying her. “Okay. No talk about God. But don’t let yourself drift too far away. You might not be able to find your way back.”

  As though I’d want to …

  She wiped the tears off her cheeks. She’d been gone long enough. She wanted to get home, back to Jenny and the miserable existence that was their life these days.

  Matt seemed to sense her thoughts. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and straightened. Hannah pictured Tom and remembered how he had moved so similarly, with the same athletic grace.

  He reached out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you back home and see how Jenny’s doing.”

  The sound of the front door opening brought Jenny instantly awake. She glanced around the room and felt her arms. She was alive, but she couldn’t remember why. Then she saw the pills scattered on her bedspread and her heart sank.

  She had fallen asleep.

  Now her mother was home and it was too late.

  She gathered the capsules and quickly dropped them in the plastic bag. She could hear her mother’s footsteps making their way closer to her room. Leaning over her bed she tossed the bag of pills far underneath. She didn’t know what had made her fall asleep, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. There would be other opportunities.

  And when they presented themselves, she would be ready.

  Twenty-four

  He has besieged me and surrounded me with bitterness

  and hardship. He has made me dwell in darkness

  like those long dead.

  LAMENTATIONS 3:5–6

  January blended into February and then into March while Hannah kept herself too busy to worry about Jenny or the impending trial or anything but the victim-impact panels. The media ate it up, reveling in the story for all its human interest elements and ground-breaking possibilities. Before the end of March, Hannah appeared on two local television talk shows and Good Morning America. They showed pictures of Tom and Alicia and talked in reverent tones about Hannah’s strength, her determination to see that justice prevailed.

  “A day is coming,” Hannah would tell them, “when I will finally be at peace. That will be the day Brian Wesley is convicted of first-degree murder.”

  Sometimes Hannah wondered about Brian, where he was, what he was doing. Once she asked Carol about it over lunch, but the woman didn’t seem the least bit worried.

  She shook her head. “It isn’t healthy for you to worry about this.” Carol hesitated. “Remember back a few months ago … I asked you to read Lamentations? Have you done it?”

  Hannah sighed and set down her club sandwich. “No. And I don’t plan to. If I remember, Lamentations is in the Bible, and I’m not interested in reading the Bible anymore.”

  “Hannah—”

  “Please, Carol. Between you and Matt, I’m beginning to think there’s a conspiracy. ‘Poor Hannah, throwing away her faith when she needs it most.’ I don’t want to be your project, Carol. If there is a God, then he might as well take the stand right next to Brian Wesley. Because when it comes right down to it, God allowed this. He could have stopped it. So why in the world would I want to read Lamentations, or anything else God has to say?”

  Carol seemed flustered. She sipped her apple juice, as though giving herself time to gather her thoughts. “I … well, I’ve been praying about it. I feel there’s a message for you there, Hannah. Every time I ask the Lord … when I don’t know what to say to help you … Lamentations comes to mind.”

  Hannah picked up her sandwich and brought it to her mouth. “Let it stay there, Carol. I’m through with Scripture.” She took an angry bite, chomped it, and swallowed. “Now what I really want to know is what’s happening with Brian Wesley?”

  Carol glanced down at her plate and poked at the remainder of her sandwich. “I don’t know.”

  Hannah continued. “I keep thinking of that day in court when he had a Bible under his arm. If it was a Bible. I mean, it’s possible he’s going around thinking he’s some kind of Christian or something.”

  Carol looked up and spoke in a quiet voice. “Would that bother you?”

  Hannah’s face grew hot and her heartbeat quickened. “Yes, it would bother me!”

  “I think you spend too much time worrying about Brian Wesley. It isn’t healthy. Really. You have enough going on. Leave Brian to our friend Matt.”

  They changed the subject, but in the weeks that followed, when Hannah was preparing a speech or talking before TV cameras or clipping newspaper articles, she couldn’t stop wondering about Brian. The thought of him carrying a Bible repulsed her, and she wasn’t sure why. Especially in light of her conviction that God wasn’t real anyway.

  But if he was, it would be just like God to save the man who killed her family. Forget about Tom and Alicia. But Brian Wesley? He would be a man worthy of God’s time and attention. That great, merciful God.

  Hannah’s sarcasm ran deep, and she fed it regularly with bitter thoughts. Just let God try and save Brian Wesley. She hadn’t been pouring herself into the victim impact panels for nothing. God couldn’t save Brian Wesley from prison. Wesley—and God—were about to go down in flames.

  The trial was only weeks away.

  But troubling thoughts of Brian Wesley weren’t all that distracted Hannah from her mission. Jenny continued to withdraw. The principal contacted Hannah two more times—once in January and again in February—worried that Jenny was slipping through their fingers. Both times Hannah had a conference with the woman.

  “I think she needs to see a counselor, someone with experience in grief.” The principal eyed Hannah, who politely thanked the woman and left without discussing the matter further. The second time, the principal’s warnings got to her.

  When she left the school office that afternoon, she went straight to the local bookstore. Moving quickly through the aisles she located the self-help section, picked out a book on teenage depression, and thumbed to the section labeled, “Recognizing the Symptoms.”

  Hannah read them carefully. “Change in behavior … change in conversational patterns … change
in eating habits … sense of withdrawal … change in appearance … talk of suicide.” Any of these, the book said, could signal deep depression or even suicidal tendencies.

  A chill ran through Hannah, and then she chided herself. You’re overreacting. This is ridiculous. People from families like ours don’t suffer from depression. They get upset; they get over it. They become fighters; they change public opinion about drunk driving; they fight for a murder-one conviction.

  What they didn’t do was kill themselves.

  She shut the book and returned it to the shelf. When she walked out of the bookstore that day, she promised herself never to consider such an absurd thing again.

  Jenny was going through a hard time, that was all. But she would be fine. She was only putting on an act because she was angry at Hannah for being so involved in MADD. When the trial was over, Hannah would lessen her involvement, take some time so she and Jenny could rebuild what they’d lost.

  Yes, when the trial was over, life would fall back into place.

  April arrived and with it a motion from the defense. Matt called and explained it to her over the telephone. Brian Wesley was still suffering back pain, still needed medical attention and wouldn’t be able to assist in his defense until July 14 at the earliest. The motion would go before the judge in a few days.

  Hannah had expected the delay, but still she cried for two hours when she heard the news. The idea of Brian running free for another three months nearly suffocated her. Carol attended the hearing with her, and they sat together, watching as Matt went to work, handling himself with his usual poise and professionalism. The judge listened to both sides and called a recess. They had their answer before the lunch break.

  “I’ve decided to grant the delay.” Judge Horowitz’s voice did nothing to hide his ill feelings toward the defense. “But I’m through playing games with you, Mr. Finch.” He scrutinized Finch from his high place in the courtroom. “It is not my idea of ‘fair and speedy’ when reasons are concocted to delay the inevitable. Your client will face trial, and he will do so July 14. Not a day after.” The judge waved his hand in dismissal. “Be gone from my courtroom.”

  Hannah left court that day convinced that the delay would help the prosecution, that it would buy time for her to continue with the victim impact panels and give Brian Wesley one less reason to appeal the case.

  Still, when she arrived home she felt drained and defeated. She sank into the old leather recliner. She would be speaking later that week to a hundred local attorneys, and yet the very idea of it left her cold. It was hard to get excited about changing laws when the process moved so interminably slowly.

  She was pondering this when Jenny walked past carrying a glass of milk, heading back upstairs. The girl was still missing a lot of school, and even when she did go, she came home and spent her afternoons upstairs. Hannah was tired of it.

  “Hello, Jenny.”

  She continued toward the stairs.

  “Aren’t you going to say hi?” Hannah heard the lack of enthusiasm in her own voice. There was no warmth, no love … nothing but emptiness.

  Jenny paused and turned, and Hannah fully expected her daughter to ignore her question.

  Instead, she gave one simple response. “Hi.” The word was monotone, spoken in obligation.

  Hannah sighed. “You missed a hearing today.”

  Jenny stared at her.

  Hannah was sick of her daughter’s silence. “ ‘Oh, really, Mom, what hearing did I miss?’ ” Hannah mimicked the response she had hoped to hear from Jenny, and this time she did not give the girl time to respond. “I’ll tell you. They delayed the trial. Not April anymore, but July. July 14.”

  Jenny shrugged. “So?”

  “So? Jenny, what’s wrong with you?” Hannah surged to her feet, her voice loud and shrill.

  “Nothing.” She turned toward the stairs.

  “Wait!” Hannah stomped her foot. “Why don’t you care about this? Don’t you see? The man who killed your father and Alicia is having his way with us!”

  Jenny took two angry steps toward Hannah. “I could ask you the same thing, Mother.” The girl was shouting now, and Hannah realized again that she preferred an angry Jenny over an indifferent one.

  Her daughter’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Why don’t you care about me? Daddy and Alicia are gone, but I’m here, right here in front of you. And all you care about is that man who killed them.”

  “That’s not true and you know it!” Tears slid down Hannah’s face as her voice rang through the house. “I do care! It’s you who doesn’t care, Jennifer Ryan. We’re both victims here. I want you beside me at these hearings.”

  “Well, I want a mother who spends her time with me instead of trying to convince a bunch of strangers all over the city why Brian Wesley is such a bad guy.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?” Hannah tried to lower her voice. “The victim impact panels are making a difference. They’re changing the way people view drunk driving. And one day they’ll be responsible for saving lives.”

  Jenny screamed at her then. “What about my life, Mother? What about saving me?” The words were no sooner out than Jenny stopped, a horrified look on her face. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, drew back several steps, then turned and ran toward the stairs.

  “That’s another thing!” Hannah followed her retreating daughter. “I’m tired of all your threats and little ploys for attention. Everyone’s tired of it. I love you, and I want things to be right between us. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

  Jenny stopped and turned back toward Hannah once more, her mouth open. “Ploy? Is that what you think?” Hannah caught her breath at the hatred in her daughter’s eyes. “You’ll see, Mother.” Jenny turned and ran up the stairs, shouting once more as she disappeared up the stairwell. “You’ll see!”

  Hannah shouted louder than before. “Stop threatening me, Jenny! I do love you, but you’ll never know it acting like that.”

  “Shut up, Mother!” Hannah heard a door slam shut.

  “Shut up, Mother …” The words hit Hannah like a slap in the face, and she reeled backwards, sinking once more into the recliner. A picture filled her mind of their family walking into church one sunny, Sunday morning. She and Tom had held hands while Alicia and Jenny, maybe twelve and nine years old, skipped along in front of them.

  She closed her eyes and savored the memory. As she did, she could almost hear their voices.

  “Love you, Daddy. Love you, Mommy.” The girls waved as they reached the door of their Sunday school classroom.

  Tom crouched down and met them at their level. “Okay, one last time. What’s your memory verse?”

  “ ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Matthew 5:6.’ ” The girls rattled off in sweet, singsong voices.

  Hannah held the image, studying them a while longer, remembering them.… she was surprised how quickly the girls’ memory verse came to mind after all these years.

  Maybe that was the problem. Maybe teaching the girls those Bible verses had been a bad thing. Now that God had proven himself to be a fraud—or at least not the good God everyone thought him to be—maybe the Scripture verses were actually harmful.

  Hannah thought about the fight she and Jenny had just had. “Shut up, Mother. Shut up, Mother.” She couldn’t get Jenny’s words out of her mind. Finally she stood up and grabbed her car keys. She needed to make a visit, needed to be close to someone who loved her.

  Jenny heard her mother drive away and sighed in frustration. She glanced about her room. She was angrier than she’d let on about the trial being delayed. She’d had it all worked out and now this meant waiting.

  Unnecessary waiting.

  Her mother thought getting a first-degree murder verdict was the most important thing in life. Well, Jenny would show her. She had the pills ready, the note written.

  The day of the verdict, that was the day she had chosen.


  While her mother was waiting for the big decision, she would finally join Daddy and Alicia. Later that day, when the trial was over and the last cameraman had gone home, her mother would truly be free. She would be finished with everything that held her back—the trial, the victim impact panels … and Jenny. After the verdict, her mother would never need to worry about how to make things right between them.

  She’d been so close. Now she would have to wait until after July 14. Verdict day would probably come a few weeks after that.

  She flopped on her bed and lay on her stomach, her arms wrapped around the pillow. Maybe she should just do it now and get it over with. She could still hear the voice, whispering to her, telling her to go ahead and be done with it.

  She rolled onto her side, restless, agitated. She didn’t want to attend the trial. She’d told her mother at least a hundred times, but still she pushed. She never listens to me. No wonder we fight so much. What does she expect?

  In the fog of confusion that filled her mind, Jenny wished she and her mother could be at peace with one another before the big day. Suicide was forever. There would be no turning back, no time for regrets.

  For a moment she was assailed with doubts. Maybe there was another way. If only things were like they used to be between her and her mother. Jenny felt tears sting at her eyes again.

  Alicia had always been their parents’ favorite, but before the accident Jenny had at least felt loved, appreciated. She would give anything to have that feeling again. If she felt her mother truly loved her—instead of just saying she did—then Jenny would attend the trial and maybe even throw away the pills.

  Yes, if she could be sure of her mother’s love, she might be able to live her life out and then join Daddy and Alicia whenever the time came.

  “I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.…”

  The Scripture filled Jenny’s mind and she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. That had been happening a lot lately. The strange voice would whisper to her, telling her to take the pills … and then she’d hear another voice, one that was clearer, filled with love, speaking Scripture she’d memorized years ago. But the Bible verses made her nervous.… They were always about life and living … and that made her wonder. Maybe God didn’t believe in suicide, maybe he didn’t want her to take her life, after all.