by Amy Miles
Without waiting to be asked, he wheels her into her room and up to the low ledge that sits below the window. The wilt of her previous bunch of grasses makes him thankful that he took the time to stop and grab a fresh batch. Taking the vase from her, Timothy dumps the former contents out, fills the glass with fresh water, and returns to place the bouquet on the side.
Hannah rolls her chair back a few feet to admire it. “Thank you,” she whispers.
He turns to look at her and frowns. Something is wrong. She doesn’t quite seem herself today.
“I have a surprise for you, if you feel up to it.”
A spark of interest brightens her hazel eyes as she looks up at him. “A surprise?”
He laughs. “It’s not really that big of a deal. Just something small I thought you might like, but if you are too tired we can do it another day.”
She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Surprise away.”
Timothy grins as he takes control of her wheelchair and leads her out into the hall. The darkness that has hung over him this past week begins to burn away in the light of Hannah’s upbeat chatter. She smiles and waves to each of the nurses as she passes, calling each of them by name. Although Timothy has lived on the Outer Banks his entire life, he’d be hard pressed to know even five of the nurses who work here.
He admires the way Hannah greets the patients as well, motioning for him to pause on their quest so she can exchange a kind word. He watches the interactions in silence, all the while amazed at how easily she brightens each person’s day. Even grumpy ol’ Mr. Dryfus who owned the pharmacy shop on the square until his health began to decline a couple years back gives Hannah a wave as they pass. He suffered a heart attack a week ago and was admitted so doctors could keep an eye on him. The joke around town is that at nearly seventy-five years old, he’s just too belligerent to die.
“You’re a miracle worker, you know that?”
She cranes her head back to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I have never seen Mr. Dryfus smile, and I’ve known him a very long time. You waltz in here and he melts like butter.”
Hannah laughs. “I wouldn’t say that. He only started waving back yesterday.”
“A miracle, I tell you.”
She seems pleased with his remark but falls silent with confusion as he wheels her toward the stairwell. “Where are we going?”
“Off-roading.”
Turning in her chair to see if he is kidding, she sees Timothy grin down at her as he puts the locks on her chair and comes around to face her. “I’m breaking you out of this joint for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” she chuckles. “I’m thrilled, but are you sure it’s ok?”
He nods. “I came by yesterday and had a chat with Dr. Martin. He seems to think you could use a little fresh air.”
“Oh boy, could I ever! I miss the feel of the wind in my hair.”
He glances toward her loosely curled hair and wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair. No. Don’t go there. If you do, you’ll regret it!
Clearing his throat, he places his hands on either side of her armrests. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to let me carry you. Are you ok with that?”
Her lips purse for a split second before they soften into a warm smile. “I trust you.”
You shouldn’t, hovers on the edge of his lips but he doesn’t speak the words. Abby trusted him too, and that was a mistake that had cost her life. Hannah shouldn’t put her trust in him. His track record for keeping women safe is dismal.
The sting of her words needles at him as he eases his hands around her back and under her legs. He lifts her with ease despite the awkward position. She feels as light as a feather in his arms. How can a girl so small possess such great inner strength?
Until he met Hannah Green, he hadn’t realized just how lonely his life had become, or how far he’d managed to push everyone aside. Losing Abby caused him to want to shut out the world and all the pain it offered. In many ways he had done just that, but Hannah came out of nowhere, catching him unaware.
He tries not to think of how good it feels to have her in his arms or how appealing her lavender and vanilla scented shampoo is as he takes a deep breath. These thoughts are far too dangerous to linger on.
Timothy takes the stairs at a slow pace, careful not to jostle her too much for fear of hitting her legs against the wall. The casts feel scratchy against his arm, heavy and cumbersome. His heart swells with remorse for failing to keep her safe.
“Am I too heavy for you?” she asks.
He looks down to find her staring back, her face near enough that he can see the smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks. He never noticed them before. Maybe it’s because the first time they met she was covered in blood, and every time since then she’s been confined to the darkened corner of her room.
“I haul roofing tile each day for a living. You hardly compare.”
Hannah smirks and tightens her hands around his neck. “And here I always thought I needed to lose a few pounds.”
Hardly.
“Will you tell me about your work?” As he climbs the steps the final two flights to the roof, Timothy tells of the progress that is being made across the Outer Banks. People are rebuilding their homes. Communities are removing debris. Great plumes of smoke rise to the sky as items are burned. Others are trucked to recycling locations. People are coming together in the streets to help each other.
“I’ve never seen such an outpouring of love in this town,” he says as he turns and leans against the bar handle of the door leading to the roof.
“I wish I could see it,” she says wistfully.
His grip tightens as he struggles to hold back the pain that cinches his throat. She should be out there. Not stuck in here in a wheelchair, useless and abandoned.
As they step out onto the roof, Hannah turns her face up to the sun and closes her eyes. He pauses, watching in amazement at the peaceful smile that tugs at her lips. “You’re happy?”
Her eyes crack open again. “Blissfully. Thank you so much for bringing me here. This is the best surprise I’ve ever been given.”
“I wouldn’t say that until you’ve seen the rest of the surprise.”
Hannah laughs and as he carries her around the corner of the building, her breath catches at the sight of the ocean spread before them. Waves tumble against the sandy shore in the distance. Winds tear at her hair, tossing the auburn strands into her face, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. Glancing down at her, he realizes that tears have spilled over from her eyes.
“I know how much you like the sea.”
She nods and when she turns to look up at him, he can feel warmth pooling in his stomach. I made her happy. Really, genuinely happy.
Timothy smiles. “You’re missing the best part.”
She rolls her head away and laughs when she sees an enormous picnic set up for them, with unlit tiki torches duct taped to the walls, and two hideous plastic flamingoes with broken legs teetering beside a partially collapsed beach umbrella. A big purple floppy sun hat and wide rimmed sunglasses await her on a fluorescent orange plastic chair. “Wow, you shouldn’t have.”
A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. “It’s the least I could do.”
Timothy is careful as he gently settles her into a folded plastic lawn chair that seems to dwarf her small frame. She plops the hat onto her head and dons the sunglasses before grinning up at him. “How do I look?”
“Stunning.” And she really does. Timothy realizes with a start that he doesn’t feel guilt over this observation. Abby is the only girl he ever truly loved. The only girl he ever kissed. His friends have been telling him that it’s time to start living again, but what does he know about being around other women? He should be a blundering fool, but somehow Hannah makes him feel at ease.
Her cheeks flush as she turns her attention to the cooler n
earby. “I hope you didn’t slave in the kitchen too long.”
“On the contrary, I made you my famous double decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” He reaches inside the cool box and lifts out a four-layer sandwich that has Hannah doubled over in laughter. It’s a bit lopsided and definitely melted, but it is good to hear her laugh a real, belly-busting chuckle that leaves her in tears. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
He rummages around and holds up two apple juice cartons with plastic straws attached. “You sure do know how to show a girl a great time,” she grins and eagerly accepts her drink.
Somehow, he knew she would appreciate his attempt at humor. Although Timothy is hardly what he would consider a good cook, he can find his way around a kitchen easily enough, but this…this felt right.
She takes a long sip from her juice box and then leans her head back with a great sigh. “This is paradise.”
“I doubt anyone has ever said that about this hospital.”
She grins and opens her eyes once more. “Well that’s just because they didn’t have you planning the surprise.”
Her words touch him and he is forced to set about cutting the sandwich squares instead of staring back into those bottomless eyes of hers.
“I had another no-go this morning,” she says. “I really thought I was ready, but nothing happened.”
Timothy nods and places her square of sandwich on a paper plate and passes it to her before settling back into his own plastic chair. It’s far too low to the ground for him to be able to comfortably unfold his long legs, but he doesn’t complain. He does not intend to ruin this moment for Hannah.
“It’s only been a few weeks. These things take time.”
He knows that he sounds like every other robotic message of encouragement that Hannah’s been given since her accident, but he honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He’s worried that Hannah may get her hopes up, that her prayers for healing will go unanswered, that yet again God will prove to be in the business of doing things His own way in spite of the pain it can cause people.
Timothy knows all too well what that sort of pain feels like.
“I know,” she whispers. When he looks up he finds her picking at her food.
“Would you prefer something else?”
She glances over at him and shakes her head. “No, this really is wonderful…I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”
Setting aside his plate, Timothy hops his chair closer to hers and takes her plate. “Hey, it’s ok. I know things have been really hard for you. I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling right now.”
Her gaze is guarded as she stares back at him. He can almost see her choosing her words carefully. “Have you ever had a moment in your life when you doubted God’s intentions?”
He snorts. “More than one.”
Hannah doesn’t look away. “I never have. At least not until now. I mean, yeah I wondered why my parents have to be so controlling, why I’m not strong enough to stand up for what I want in life, always thinking that by doing so I would be dishonoring my parents. But this is the first time I’ve ever stopped to wonder if God knows what He’s doing. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just trying to look too hard into it. Maybe the answer is simple and right in front of me the whole time, and I’m too blind to see it.”
Timothy scratches the back of his head, growing uncomfortable. “Hannah…” he begins but is forced to clear his throat. “I won’t pretend to know why bad things happen, especially to good people like you. If you look at the world around us, you can easily see that life isn’t perfect. Far from it. People get sick. People die young. People do evil things. None of that makes any sense to me, but I have to believe that there’s a reason for it all.”
“Do you?” she questions.
He hesitates, knowing that his own bitterness has seeped into his words. He can feel his tears drawing near, feel the stinging in the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of her, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Wiping at his eyes, he turns away.
“I lost someone not too long ago. Someone that meant the world to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. The sincerity of her words encourages him to drop his hand away from his face. He doesn’t shy away from her curious gaze, but instead allows her to see his pain.
“I’m probably the last person who should be having this conversation with you,” he offers a weak smile. “I haven’t exactly been on God’s cheering squad for a while.”
“But you never walked completely away, did you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No. I couldn’t do that. Not completely.”
She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Why not?”
He blows out a haggard breath and plunges his hands into his hair. How did this happy surprise suddenly turn into this outpouring of his past?
“Because I need to hold onto the hope that there is a purpose for my wife’s death.”
She nods and reaches out her hand, gently squeezing his arm. “I feel the same way.”
He lifts his head and realizes that although their pain is not the same, they have found yet another reason to bond together. Understanding. Grief over what could have been. Doubt over what the future may hold.
“I’m sorry that you understand me,” he mutters.
“I’m not.”
He blinks, shocked by her words. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you think we go through trials like this?”
Timothy hesitates. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”
“Well, I have. Pain is pain, no matter what form it takes, but some pain is only truly understood when you have been there. When you have felt the loss that pierces you so deeply it hurts to take you next breath, to get out of bed, or to put one foot in front of the next. You aren’t alone in that pain, Timothy. Others have felt it too.”
“So you’re saying that we should join a support group to deal with it?”
“No,” she laughs, “but it might not be a bad idea someday. I’m saying that the pain we experience not only makes us stronger, but also more compassionate to those who will someday lose a wife, a daughter, a mother to a tragedy. We’ve both been there.”
Timothy sinks back in his chair, pulling out of her touch. His skin still feels warm where her hand was, but he struggles to think beyond the pain that is rising up within. As he watched Abby’s coffin laid in the ground he swore never to allow himself to be crushed by his grief again. To shove it down so deep that he could forget about it for a time, but what if that’s not what he was meant to do? What if he was meant for something more?
He shakes his head and rises to his feet, feeling shaken to his core. “I’m afraid I’ve kept you longer than I should have. We should get back.”
Hannah’s face pinches with regret but she nods in agreement. She says nothing as he lifts her out of her folding chair and descends to her floor. It is almost a relief when he is able to place her in her wheelchair and lead her back to her room.
“I’ll take it from here,” she says as they draw closer to her room. She places her hands on the wheels and he’s forced to stop or risk pinching her fingers in the spokes.
He steps back, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. Every part of him wants to tuck tail and run, to go straight home, close the blinds and sleep the rest of the day away. It’s what he does best…shoves life aside.
“Thank you for the picnic. It was very thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome.” There is a definite hitch in his voice now. He can feel his control starting to slip again. He offers her an awkward wave and turns to leave.
“Timothy?”
He knows that he shouldn’t turn back. Shouldn’t find out what last comment she wants to say to him. But he finds himself turning at the sound of her voice.
“Don’t give up on God. I know He hasn’t given up on you.”
With that, she turns and wheels herself into her room, closin
g the door behind her. Timothy leans back against the wall, his stomach twisting into knots.
If only I could have faith like her.
FIFTEEN
Change of Plans
Draven whistles as he runs a comb through his wet hair, mussing up the sides before giving himself a nod in the mirror. He sprays a few squirts of cologne and hurries down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Where are you going so early?” Kevin questions from a barstool tucked under the center island. He rustles the paper, folding it in half to stare at his stepson.
Grabbing a banana out of a glass fruit bowl on the counter and a throw-away mug of coffee that Martha holds out to him, Draven spins toward the door. “I’m heading to work.”
“Hang on a second.” The newspaper is tossed in the trash and the breakfast plate is shoved aside as Kevin rises to his feet. “I smell a rat.”
“Might want to get that checked out,” Draven calls before the screen door slams behind him.
He smirks as he hears his step-father’s hurried footsteps following after him. “I said hang on.”
Draven slows his pace. “Volunteering at the hospital was your idea, remember? I’m just trying to do my job.”
Kevin grabs his satchel from the side and snatches his car keys from the air as Martha tosses them. The screen door screeches as it opens and closes. “In the car, now!”
Why does he have to make it so easy for me? Draven hides his smirk as he balances his banana on top of his coffee and opens the passenger side door of Kevin’s sleek black Mercedes. The top is up, so at least he won’t have to worry about messing up his hair. Although Draven might admit to being excited at the prospect of seeing Hannah again, he certainly has no intention of walking to the hospital again.
His step-father grunts as he chucks his satchel in the trunk and then sinks into his seat. He turns to give Draven a hard look before turning the key. The engine emits a deep throaty roar. “We both know you don’t have a generous bone in your body. So what’s up? You met a girl, didn’t you?”
Draven works to keep his face void of emotion. “I’m insulted that you would think so little of me, Father.”