by Bree Wolf
Her eyes beaming, Hannah smiled at them. “What happened?” she whispered.
Jordan shot her an angry glance. “Traitor.”
“The dog returned,” Eddie said.
Jordan stared at him. “Okay, that’s lame.”
“It’s not the end of the story,” Eddie complained. “Would you just shut up?” When Jordan sat back, eating her s’more, he continued. “But the old man only saw the dog at night. As soon as the sun came up, the dog would disappear. One night, a little before sunrise, the old man lay in wait and followed the dog as it ran off into the woods. The dog took the old man deeper and deeper into the forest. Following, the old man had trouble keeping up. When he thought he’d lost the dog, he found it sitting in a small hollow surrounded by huge trees.”
“It’s a forest, of course there are trees,” Jordan snapped, her eyes disinterested and focused on the rest of the s’more in her hand.
“What happened then?” Hannah asked, her head resting on Gabriel’s shoulder.
Eddie leaned forward, his gestures conjuring up what his words created. “The dog sat in the hollow, and right there next to it, the old man saw a little girl, standing with her back turned to him. She couldn’t have been older than five or six, and as the old man watched, more dogs appeared. They came from all directions.” Pausing, Eddie looked at them. “But then when the old man was about to rise and walk over to the girl, she turned around, and when he saw her face, he dropped back to the ground.”
Gabriel felt Hannah’s hand tighten on his arm. “This is wonderful,” she whispered so quietly that only he could hear. “Thank you.”
Eddie jumped to his feet then, his face distorted. “The little girl’s face was sunken in. There was barely any flesh on her bones. She looked dead, rotten even.” His nose crinkled up.
“Excuse me, I’m eating here,” Jordan complained.
Eddie shrugged and continued. “The old man couldn’t believe his eyes. But then when he was about to turn around and leave, the dogs suddenly dropped to the ground as though dead. He stared at them wide-eyed. But when his gaze shifted to the little girl, his mouth fell open.”
Everyone was staring at Eddie now, and seeing their curiosity on their faces, he grinned back at them.
“All of a sudden, the little girl didn’t look dead any more. Her face grew softer, and her cheeks turned rosy. She pushed a strand of her blonde hair out of her face and then just turned and walked away as though nothing had happened.” Eddie sat back down, his voice calmer as he went on. “For the next couple of days, the old man followed his dog back into the woods, and always the same thing happened. Then he followed the little girl and found that she lived in town with her family. She behaved like any other girl her age. There was nothing unusual about her. The old man didn’t know what to make of it. One day, he approached the little girl, but when her eyes turned to him, he ran away screaming.”
“Why?” Jordan asked. “It’s just a little girl.”
Liam grinned at her. “Yuh, a dead little girl.”
“Still just a little girl,” Jordan insisted.
“No one knows,” Eddie said. “From that day on, the old man stayed in his house and wouldn’t come out. He wouldn’t even let his dog inside when it came home at night. People wonder to this day what he saw when the little girl looked at him and,” he raised a finger, “they wonder which of the little girls living in town is the dead one.”
“That’s it?” Jordan asked. “There are oh so many flaws in your story. For one, how do people know what happened to the old man if no one else was there? Then, why did the dogs—”
“It’s a story, Jordan,” Jack reminded her. “Not a news report.”
“Fine, have it your way,” she said, sitting back, and crossed her arms.
Suddenly, Gabriel felt Hannah shift. He helped her sit up as her eyes kept staring into the distance. “You okay?”
She nodded. “There they are.”
“The dogs?!” Eddie squeaked, jumping up. “Where?”
Hannah smiled. “Not the dogs, silly.” She pointed to the fringe of the clearing. “There.”
From the edge of the forest tiny lights emerged. They hovered in the air, dancing up and down and from side to side. Slowly, they glided toward them, lighting the dark. Once again, Gabriel thought they looked like stars. His arm still around Hannah’s shoulders, he turned his head and looked at her face. Her eyes shone as she watched the fireflies fly toward her. There could be no question as to where they were headed. Their aim was true, and in a matter of moments, their tiny lights danced over the camp, mixing with the small, fiery sparks rising upward.
“Okay, this is weird,” Liam said, staring at them. “I’ve never seen them do this before.”
Gabriel smiled. “They’re coming for Hannah.”
All eyes turned to him and a moment later shifted to the tiny girl with the burgundy hair, shining like a light in the dark herself.
“Do you know which one is her?” Gabriel asked as Hannah held out her hand to the miniscule lights buzzing around her.
Her eyes drifted from one tiny dot to another, then a smile spread over her face. “There,” she said, pointing to a firefly hovering in the air just above her head. While the others drifted all over the campsite, flying here and there, this one never moved far away.
“How do you know?” Eddie asked, brows drawn into a frown. “How can you be sure?”
Again, Hannah’s breathing grew more labored, and she lay back down, her head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I just know. I know it’s her. I knew she’d come for me.”
***
An owl hooted somewhere in the dark, but it was Cat’s quiet yelp that reached Gabriel’s mind. He didn’t remember when they’d fallen asleep, but the fire had already burned down to a small pile of glowing red ashes. Looking up, he found the sky full of stars shining down at them. Only some of the stars where not fixed to the dark blanket covering the world. They moved freely, but never too far from the girl lying by his side.
Crouched low, Cat softly poked her nose to Hannah’s arm, and another quiet yelp rose into the night.
Gabriel felt his heart race as he propped himself up on his elbow, wide eyes shifting from Cat to Hannah. Brushing a strand of hair from her face, he felt her soft breath on his skin. Slowly, her chest rose and fell. Again and again. But with each breath she took, the intervals grew bigger. And then, her chest didn’t rise anymore, and she lay still.
A quiet whine came from Cat as she huddled closer, resting her head on Hannah’s shoulder.
Gabriel lifted his hand and stroked her head. “It’s all right,” he whispered as the dog looked at him with big eyes full of sadness.
When he looked up, the night seemed darker than only moments before. The stars still shone, but less brightly. Hovering in the air above his head, the family of fireflies appeared suddenly restless. Their light seemed to pulsate, and they looked more like dancers than ever before. It was almost as though they were dancing with joy.
Tears streamed down Gabriel’s face as he looked at them. “Take good care of her,” he whispered when their little lights drifted higher into the sky carried away on a soft summer breeze.
Chapter 23 – Gone But Not Lost
Silence hung over the little cemetery as their small procession gathered around a newly dug hole in the ground. The fresh scent of cut grass hung in the air, and a soft breeze, warm and comforting, carried a blue jay from the branch of an old ash tree higher and higher into the sky. The world glistened in bright green, bursting with life.
Only at the western corner of the cemetery, life had come to an end.
A moss-covered headstone stood under the old ash tree, its inscription simple, yet elegant. Here lies Suzanne Hamilton Porter, Beloved Daughter, Wife and Mother, it read.
Alone, it had faced the elements for almost a decade.
Now, by its side, there stood another stone of the same kind, only smaller with no moss growing on it, yet. Gabriel’s ey
es moved over the words written there, Hannah Porter, Beloved Daughter, Granddaughter and Friend.
Mr. Hamilton and Hannah’s dad stood beside the little grave, eyes cast down, their faces streaked with tears and a sadness that almost brought them to their knees. In a semi-circle in front of the small pile of earth, others had gathered that had known and loved the young girl whose life had ended before it had really begun. With his grandparents by his side, Gabriel stood among his friends and their parents, saying his final goodbyes.
“Thank you for coming,” Mr. Hamilton addressed them, his voice choked with tears. “Nothing I say could possibly do her justice.” His eyes shifted to the small headstone by his feet, and a tear dropped down onto the earth. “She was one of a kind.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face, and Gabriel felt reminded of Hannah’s bright smile. “I know as her grandfather I am biased, but she really was.”
Hannah’s father put a hand on his father-in-law’s shoulder.
Mr. Hamilton took a deep breath, brushing the tears from his face, and tried to continue, but his voice failed him. He looked like a frail twig that would break at any moment. Turning to his son-in-law, he sank into his arms, and the two men held each other as though for dear life.
Again, Gabriel heard Hannah’s voice in his mind, Sometimes we’re the ones who have to go ahead.
Gathering all the courage he could find, Gabriel walked up to his friend’s grave and turned to the small procession. “Hannah was my hero,” he said, fingers playing with the small silver pendant on the wristband they had found only two weeks ago. A treasure they had found because of Hannah. “She was kind and funny and smart…and so brave. And she gave me something I didn’t know I needed. A kick in the butt.” Shy smiles and little laughs met his words. “She laughed at me, pushed and prodded, and called my bluff.” Gabriel felt his heart grow a little lighter. “And then she cut my hair.” He brushed a hand over his Mohawk and smiled as he saw the sadness retreat from Mr. Hamilton’s face. “And she was right. That stubborn girl was always right.” He grinned at his friends. “But don’t tell her I said that,” he asked, and they laughed.
“She was our friend,” Gabriel continued. “And this summer, it wasn’t only the best of her life. It was the best of mine, too. I’ve never had that much fun. I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget her. I know she was afraid of that, but she didn’t need to be. Whoever met Hannah–if only just once–won’t ever forget her. She changed my life.” For a moment, he hesitated, and a frown settled on his face. Then he shook his head. “No, that’s not true. She made me change it. She said what I needed to hear. She was honest. Sometimes brutally honest. But she was right to be.”
“I’ll miss you, and I’ll remember you,” he said, eyes looking into the distance. Across town, behind the Hamilton house lay the woods where the fireflies danced at night. “I promise.”
***
After the funeral, a small reception was held at the Hamilton house, and for the first time, Gabriel entered Hannah’s home through the front door. It was the strangest feeling. In a way, he still felt the need to be really quiet and hide behind a piece of furniture so that Hannah’s grandfather wouldn’t know he was there. Walking upstairs, he took a deep breath before he opened the door to her room. A part of him still expected to find her sitting at her easel or lying on the bed with a wet cloth on her forehead or a book in her hands. But instead, he found Mr. Hamilton standing by the window looking out. For a second, Gabriel hesitated. Then he took a step inside.
“Gabriel,” Mr. Hamilton said, turning around. “Thank you for what you said at the funeral today.” He tried to smile, but the effort it took him was written on his face. “And for everything else.”
Gabriel looked away. “I don’t know about that. I keep thinking I shouldn’t have.”
“You shouldn’t have what?”
He shrugged. “Helped her leave her room. Taken her from the hospital.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Hamilton walked over and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Don’t. The doctors made it clear that there was no hope. What you did didn’t change anything. She wouldn’t have lived longer if you hadn’t.”
“Hannah said so, too,” Gabriel whispered. “But I just don’t know.”
Mr. Hamilton smiled at him. “You said it yourself, she was always right.” Gabriel nodded. “Here, I want to show you something.” Mr. Hamilton walked over to Hannah’s easel. Moving it to the side, he picked up a painting leaning against the wall behind it. The painting showed the clearing outside her window. “You have seen this before, haven’t you? Well, Hannah painted many of these. They all look the same. But a couple of weeks ago, something changed.” He put the painting back down and flipped through the others leaning against the wall. “Here, what do you see?”
“It’s the Dive,” Gabriel said, letting his eyes glide over it. “I’ve never seen this before. It’s amazing.”
Mr. Hamilton nodded. “There are more.”
There were. Hannah had painted the Dive from different angles, Eddie falling from the sky. Mr. Garner’s field with Cat digging out the small lunchbox they had found. One showed the library, another the Sharpe’s home. But in all of them, Gabriel and the others had found a place.
“You gave her something to paint,” Mr. Hamilton said, his eyes welling up again.
“My grandmother told me that you knew about us,” Gabriel said. “About her leaving her room.”
Mr. Hamilton nodded. “From one day to another, she was different. She smiled. A real smile. I hadn’t seen her like that in so long, too long.” A tear ran down his cheek. “She didn’t tell me anything, but I know that she can be very protective. She has always taken everything on herself. On her own little shoulders.” He put the painting back down and stood at the window looking out. “You, all of you, took her out into the world. You gave her a reason to smile.”
Gabriel came to stand beside him. “She did the same for me.”
“That night at the hospital when I saw you with your bikes enter the parking lot,” Mr. Hamilton went on, eyes still fixed on something in the distance, “I knew that whatever you were up to, it would make her smile.”
Gabriel stared at him. “You saw us?”
Looking down at him, Mr. Hamilton nodded.
“That’s why you left,” Gabriel whispered, remembering that Mr. Hamilton and his son-in-law had suddenly walked down the corridor, giving them a chance to sneak into Hannah’s room.
Mr. Hamilton nodded. “It was hard to let her go. But I knew it was what she wanted. You gave her something that we couldn’t. You lifted the burden off her shoulders. When she was with all of you, she could be a kid again. That was all I ever wanted for her.”
***
Listening to the sounds of the house, Gabriel lay awake. His grandparents had gone to bed over an hour ago, but he wanted to be sure they were asleep. He waited until he almost felt driven from his bed. Since he hadn’t bothered to change out of his clothes, he only grabbed his backpack and his keys and soundlessly snuck down the hall to the front door. The clock in the kitchen chimed loudly, its sounds echoing through the house.
After walking his bike a few steps down the sidewalk, Gabriel climbed on and rode down the street, heading for the western part of town. The residential neighborhoods of Kenton Woods he came through lay almost deserted at this hour. He felt the wind in his face and brush over the balder parts of his head. It always reminded him of Hannah.
As Gabriel reached the small cemetery, he left his bike by the gate and took the flashlight from his backpack. The gate swung open with an almost noiseless squeak, and he followed the small beam of light down the path until he reached the two graves lying silently side by side.
Sitting down in the wild growing grass, Gabriel opened his backpack and took out two candles. He placed one on each of the two headstones and turned off his flashlight as their little flames came to life.
For a while, he just sat there, listening to the night and
breathing in the fresh air. He felt peaceful, memories of their little campsite adventure surfacing as he stared into the tiny flames.
A few stars were out, but other than that complete darkness engulfed him. Sometimes, the tiny flames of the candles looked like the two eyes of a monster that hid in the night staring him down. He looked around and saw nothing else.
Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. Gabriel didn’t know how long he sat there until he finally saw them. A smile spread over his face. “I knew you’d come,” he spoke into the night.
From the woods beyond the border of the cemetery, a swarm of tiny lights emerged, coming his way. They buzzed around him, hovering in the air and casting their warm glow across the solemn sight of the motionless headstones. Two of the fireflies stood apart from the rest. One big and one small. They stayed close to one another, and Gabriel turned to them. “I see you’ve found each other.”
I told you she’d come for me, he heard Hannah’s voice in his mind.
“I know, I know,” he said, lifting his hands in defeat. “You’re always right. I got that.”
A faint giggling reached his ear.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he continued. “My parents called today and asked why I hadn’t come home yet.” He laughed. “Not that they’d ever asked me to. Maybe they forgot.” He shook his head, absent-mindedly pulling a blade of grass from the ground. “I asked them if they’d figured out what their problem was, and again, they pretended not to know what I was talking about. For some reason, they just can’t see it. And I realized that I can’t…no, I won’t put up with that any longer.”
The small firefly buzzed eagerly up and down.
“I want to be happy,” Gabriel said, eyes focused on the tiny light in front of him. “And so I asked my grandparents if I could stay. You were right; I needed to make a choice.” He took a deep breath. “I did, and I can’t tell you how good that feels. I feel free.”
Told ya.