Waiting for Morning (28 page)

The hearts of the people cry out to the Lord
.
O wall of the Daughter of Zion, let your tears flow like a river
day and night; give yourself no relief, your eyes no rest
.

L
AMENTATIONS
2:18

In the end, they skipped the tree and presents and agreed to go out to dinner on Christmas Eve. Hannah thought that even that was a stretch since neither she nor Jenny wanted to be reminded that the rest of the world was celebrating Christmas. The “Silent Night”s and “O Come, All Ye Faithful”s were not a reminder to fall and worship at baby Jesus’ manger—they were a reminder of his broken promises.

Jenny might still believe, but Hannah knew better.

December 25 would be merely another day to prepare for the trial, another chance to work on victim impact panel information and clip newspaper articles dealing with drunk driving.

The restaurant was packed, and their Christmas Eve dinner was filled with long periods of silence and uncomfortable conversation. Hannah set her napkin down and leaned her forearms on the table.

“Jenny, what do I have to do?”

Jenny stared at her, her eyes listless and empty. “What?”

“To make things right again. Between us.”

Jenny doodled a circular design in the Alfredo sauce on her dinner plate and said nothing.

Hannah hung her head for a moment. What would it take to reach the girl? She looked up again. “See? You don’t talk to me … you won’t even look at me.”

“There’s nothing to say, Mother.”

Jenny sounded so tired that it pierced Hannah’s heart. But she pushed the feeling away. If Jenny was tired, it was her own fault. Hannah had tried everything she knew to help her daughter! “That’s great, Jenny. We’ve lost everything that matters to us; our lives have changed forever, and you tell me there’s nothing to say? Well, here are some suggestions. Tell me how you’re doing, how you’re feeling … ask me how we’re going to make it. How about that, huh?” Hannah knew she didn’t sound sympathetic, but she didn’t care. She’d had it with Jenny’s self-pity. “Maybe then we’d find something to talk about.”

Jenny leveled her gaze at Hannah. “I think it’s a little late to be asking.”

Late for what?
Jenny wasn’t making sense. “Meaning …?”

Jenny stared at her plate and resumed doodling. “Meaning maybe you should have asked me those questions when … when … oh, never mind.”

A cord of concern rang on the keyboard of Hannah’s mind. Jenny was no longer angry, and that was a relief. But now she wasn’t speaking or making eye contact, either. She wasn’t anything—except completely detached.

Hannah closed her eyes briefly.
All I want is my family back … the way it used to be! Is that so terrible?
When she spoke once more, it was with the weight of more burdens than she thought she could carry. “I love you, Jenny. I’m sorry if I’ve been busy.”

Jenny shrugged. “It’s okay.”

The conversation stalled again as the waitress cleared their plates. The silence as Hannah paid the check and they walked to the car was oppressive.

Back at home, Jenny immediately excused herself and disappeared to her room. Hannah watched her go and felt like an utter failure. Jenny was free-falling away from her, and Hannah was helpless to do anything about it.
Don’t look too deeply at this. It’ll all be okay after the trial
. She wandered through the quiet house and sighed, studying the framed photographs.
They had smiled so easily back then. She couldn’t remember Jenny smiling even once since they’d lost Tom and Alicia. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on. No holidays. No smiles. No communication.

Tomorrow there would be a garden of golden memories to be walked through, but Hannah didn’t want to go there now, not yet. She didn’t want to stroll through yesterday and savor the fragrance of all they had once been. She would rather work on her drunk driving speeches. She didn’t want to think about any of it, and she certainly didn’t want to think about Jenny, alone in her room, besieged with her own thoughts of Christmases past, probably crying herself to sleep.

The truth was suddenly unbearable.

Hannah turned off the downstairs lights and padded slowly up to bed. The world was a heavy place, especially when it rested squarely on your own shoulders.

That night, somewhere between lying awake and falling asleep, Hannah moved her leg and in the process slid her foot under a section of the covers that was weighted down with a heavy book she’d tossed there earlier. Still, for an instant the weight wasn’t a book at all. It was Tom, his leg, comfortably stretched across the sheets just inches from her own. Hannah stirred, and the weight remained. She enjoyed the feeling of Tom’s leg on hers, heavy and warm. Suddenly a realization pulled at her. If his leg was here, that meant—

“Tom?” She sat straight up in bed and breathlessly peered through the darkness. Then slowly, as she had at least ten times before, she realized who she was and where she was and what her life had become.

She was a woman alone who had lost everything.

And tomorrow was Christmas.

Since his father died four years earlier, Matt Bronzan usually spent holidays with his mother. She lived two hours north and
he enjoyed the drive. But that year his sister had flown their mother to Phoenix so she could be with her grandchildren for Christmas.

Matt didn’t mind being alone. He lived in a four-bedroom ranch home in an elite subdivision in Woodland Hills and had come to appreciate the house’s solitude when he needed a break from court. In the week leading up to Christmas, his housekeeper had set up a twenty-four-inch decorated tree on an end table and purchased a four-pack of cinnamon buns at the mall.

When Christmas morning dawned, Matt heated the buns and brewed a pot of Starbucks Holiday-blend coffee. He sat down at his glass-topped dining room table, savoring the rich aroma as he ate. When he was finished he did something he did every morning. He opened his burgundy leather Bible and began reading.

He was in Romans 12 that morning and he savored the words, searching for every morsel of truth therein:
“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.… Practice hospitality.…”
The words jumped off the page and landed squarely on Matt’s conscience.

“Be devoted to one another … brotherly love … practice hospitality.”

Images of Hannah Ryan came to mind, and suddenly he saw her not as a woman to be pitied for losing her husband and daughter but a woman to be pitied for turning her back on the Lord. He’d done everything he could to help her with the trial, but what had he done to help her in her faith struggle? According to Carol Cummins, Hannah had refused all contact with her church friends, and she had few, if any, relatives in the area. He pictured Hannah and her daughter sitting at home alone.… He remembered how difficult Christmas had been for him after Victoria’s and Shawn’s deaths. He bowed his head then, overcome with gratitude that God had drawn him out of his own doubt and depression so many years ago.
Give me wisdom, Father. Use me …

Drawing a deep breath, he reached for the telephone.

Hannah answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hannah … it’s Matt Bronzan.”

She hesitated, and Matt wondered if he was making a mistake. “Hi, Matt. Don’t tell me you’re working on Christmas day?”

Matt chuckled. “No. I’m hard on myself, but even workaholics take off December 25.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He thought a moment. “You don’t sound too good.”

She waited too long to answer. She’d been crying. He’d be willing to bet on it. He drew a steadying breath and jumped in with both feet. “Listen, why don’t I swing by and get you and Jenny? The three of us can drive out to Santa Monica and walk along the pier.”

“You mean … right now?”

“Right now. It’s a beautiful day. We can talk about whatever you want. And we’ll buy Jenny some cotton candy or something.”

Hannah hesitated again. “Why, Matt?”

“Because … I’ve been there, remember? And I wish someone had kidnapped me for the first three or four holidays after my friends died. Believe me, anything will be better than staying alone in an empty house filled with memories.”

He wanted to tell her that God had used Scripture to impress the idea on him, but he knew better. Hannah Ryan didn’t need a list of Bible verses. She needed brotherly love and hospitality.…

“Okay.” Hannah didn’t sound sure. “I guess. Be here in an hour.”

She gave him directions and the conversation ended. Matt slipped a sweatshirt over his head and felt a sudden prompting to pray for Jenny. The whole time he was getting ready, constant prayers were in his mind, prayers for the sweet girl who had refused to attend any hearings, the girl who Hannah said
had become more withdrawn with each passing week. Something was about to happen to Jenny, Matt could feel it, and he prayed for her as if his life depended on it.

Hannah was sitting in a living room chair studying a tree in the front yard when Jenny walked by.

“Honey, we’re going to the beach with Mr. Bronzan.” Hannah realized she didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Jenny stopped in her tracks and stared at her mother. “Mr. Bronzan?”

Hannah met her gaze. “Yes. The prosecutor, remember?”

“I know who he is. Why are we going to the beach with him? Today? On Christmas?”

Hannah shrugged. “He asked.”

“Oh, I get it. That way we can spend the day plotting how to ruin Brian Wesley’s life. Is that it?”

For the first time in days Jenny sounded angry, and Hannah almost enjoyed it. Anything was better than the indifference that had come over her lately.

“He said we can walk along the pier and talk.”

“About what?” Jenny put a hand on her hip.

“I don’t know. Maybe about how lousy it is that drunk drivers get to celebrate Christmas and the ones they kill never will again.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Like he would know.”

Hannah turned to face Jenny. “I will not have you talking that way about Mr. Bronzan. He’s the one who can take away the pain we’re in. He’s on our side. And yes—” she swallowed—“he would know. He had a close friend killed by a drunk driver many years ago. It’s not something you forget.”

Jenny considered that for a moment, and hope sparked in Hannah’s heart. Then her daughter shrugged. “I’m not going.”

Hannah wanted to cry, but she felt as though there were no tears left. She sighed and reached her arms out to Jenny. “Come here, Jenny. Please.”

Jenny took one step backward. “No. I don’t want a hug, Mom. Just leave me alone. I’ll be fine.”

Hannah struggled to her feet as if every movement was an effort. She closed the gap that separated her from Jenny and reached for her shoulders. “Come with me, Jenny. It’ll do us both good.”

Jenny pulled away. “No! I won’t. I’ll be fine …” She turned and headed for the stairs.

“Jenny, please … you’re making this so much worse.”

Jenny stopped on the fourth stair and spun back around. “Mom, there’s nothing
I
could do that would make this worse than it already is.”

“You are not an adult, and if I tell you to come, you’ll come.” Hannah followed her daughter toward the stairs.

“I’m not going, Mother. I don’t want to be with Mr. Bronzan. I want to be with Daddy and Alicia. If I can’t do that, I want to stay home. I wish I never had to leave this house again!” She turned and ran the rest of the way up the stairs.

Hannah realized she would have to call Matt. She had no right spending Christmas Day with him while her daughter lay alone on her bed. She reached for the telephone and stopped. Maybe Jenny needed to be alone. Maybe that would give her time to sort out her feelings. Besides, she and Matt needed to talk about the trial.

She leaned into the stairwell and spoke loud enough for Jenny to hear. “Since you’re not willing to go, you can stay home. Don’t leave the house, though, is that understood?”

Silence.

“Jenny?”

“Yes, I understand.” The cool indifference was back.

“Jenny, try and use this time to think about your attitude. You’ve changed so much since the accident.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“We both lost when that man killed Daddy and Alicia. Maybe you could think about that and stop taking it out on me.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Hannah sighed. She was rambling, and Jenny wasn’t listening to a word. She heard a car pull up, and Hannah glanced out the living room window to see Matt climb out and make his way up the front walk. “Jenny, Mr. Bronzan is here. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Enjoy your
date
, Mother.”

The word was like a sharp slap, and Hannah froze. How could Jenny say such a horrible thing? Hannah felt tears sting at her eyes.
She pushes and pushes …
She shook her head.
Maybe we’ll never get beyond this …

“Enjoy your date.”
Jenny’s words echoed in Hannah’s mind, accusing her, pulling her down. Oh, why had she ever agreed to go with Matt in the first place?

He was a business acquaintance, a friend. Nothing more. There couldn’t be more because she was still in love with Tom.

She would always be in love with Tom.

As her mother slammed the door shut, Jenny skittered across her bedroom floor and gazed out the window. How
dare
that man take her mother to the beach on Christmas Day. Her dad had only been dead four months. Jenny watched the way he opened the door for her mother and slid into the seat beside her. The high and mighty Matt Bronzan could tell her mother whatever he wanted. Jenny could see the writing on the wall.

She slumped back across the room and locked her bedroom door. Maybe Mr. Bronzan was a blessing in disguise. Maybe he would move into her mother’s life and make it whole again. But where did that leave her? Jenny thought about the answer and realized it was a simple one. If her mother was preoccupied with Mr. Bronzan, then maybe the time had come.