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 cryingover 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,
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 cryingover 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,
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