Waiting for Morning (30 page)

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.

The problem was her mother didn’t love her like she used to. And Daddy was busy loving Alicia in heaven.

She leaned over her bed and reached for the shoebox. Setting it on her bedspread, she lifted the lid and examined the contents: a bag with dozens of colorful pills, a water bottle, and an envelope containing a good-bye letter.

Jenny pulled the letter out, opened it gently, and began to read.

“Dear Mom …”
She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to imagine what her mother would be feeling when she read the letter for the first time. She opened her eyes and continued.
“First let me say I’m sorry. I never planned to hurt you with this; it was just something I had to do. Ever since the accident, you’ve been too busy with your speaking things to spend time with me. Too angry to notice me, even when you’re home. It’s okay. I understand, really. You lost everything that matters to you. Daddy and you have been together a long time, and I know you miss him a lot. Alicia, too. She was your first child, and I know she’s always been a little more special
.

“Then there’s me. Ever since the accident, you and I haven’t been the same. We fight all the time and finally I decided it was time to go. I’m just in the way here anyway. Still there’s a few things I want
you to know. I enjoyed being part of this family, at least before the accident. You were always a good mom, so don’t think this is because of you. It’s not
.

“Also, you can do whatever you want with my scrapbooks and things. Give the clothes to someone who needs them. Maybe since it’ll be just you now, you can sell this house and get on with your life. If I’d stayed, I would have wanted to sell it. You can only walk around a museum of memories for so long, Mom
.