by Amy Miles
Hannah’s gaze remains fixed on the window, staring up into dismal gray sky. His stomach twists with guilt, wishing that he’d thought to spring her out on a better day. “Would you mind taking me to the church?”
She doesn’t have to say which one. He already knows. Throwing the car into gear, Draven pulls out of the parking lot and uses his turn signal before pulling to a stop to look both ways. He can feel her watching him. “What?”
“I never really took you for a safe driver.”
He smirks and pulls out, heading toward Rodanthe. “I’m not. Not normally at least.”
Leaving that statement unfinished, he flips on the radio to his favorite rock station. He begins muttering the lyrics, realizes that it’s probably not the right style of music for her, and quickly changes it. The problem is, each channel doesn’t seem right. He finally gives up and rides in silence.
“I don’t mind, you know?”
He glances at her from the corner of his eye. “Mind what?”
“Your music. It had a nice beat.”
“But the lyrics were pretty rough…”
Hannah grins. “I’m not one of those Christians. I do listen to music. I watch normal TV. I go to movies.”
“Huh.” He runs his hands through his windblown hair. “It’s just…you never really talk about your faith so I wasn’t sure.”
Hannah shifts in her seat. He watches as she straightens the hem of her skirt. It falls well over her knees. “I assumed you never really wanted me to.”
“That doesn’t stop most people. They usually like to point out the things I do wrong at the same time.”
She smiles. “I’m not most people.”
He returns her smile and eases back into his seat. “You’re not, are you?”
She shakes her head and leans forward to press the radio button, selecting the station he originally had on. She sinks back and looks out the window, joining in with the song. Draven enjoys the sound of her singing as he turns off the main highway leading to Rodanthe.
Although he’s never actually been inside Faith Community Church, he has driven past it quite a lot these past few weeks. He needed to understand what she went through, the horrors she must have experienced being buried alive. Seeing it in person makes it all feel so much more real. More heartbreaking.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He turns left and onto a new street, passing homes in various states of repair. The church sits only two blocks away. He could still turn around, if she wanted him to.
“Yes. It’s time.” She takes a deep breath, and he can’t help but wonder if she is mentally preparing herself for this. When the church comes into view, he is almost disappointed to see no emotion cross her face.
He pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park. They sit in silence for several moments, Draven unsure of what to say. A small tear slips from the corner of her eye. “Are you ok?”
Hannah nods, not turning away from the sight of the church in front of her. “It’s so beautiful.”
Confused, he turns his gaze upon the white clapboard A-frame structure. It doesn’t look like anything special. Yes, the siding is new. The windows have been replaced and the roof is intact again, but it’s certainly not what he would call beautiful. More like plain, ordinary, easily overlooked.
“Would you like me to take you inside?”
Her eyes widen and he feels a strange tug in his chest when she nods enthusiastically. Without giving himself time to regret his offer, Draven exits the car and comes around to Hannah’s side. When he opens the door, he pauses.
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t bring the wheelchair with us.”
Hannah bites on her lower lip. The disappointment that makes her shoulders curl inward tears at him, and he realizes in this moment why he offered to take her inside…because he enjoys making her happy for no other reason than for the joy in seeing her smile. “I don’t have to go inside,” she whispers.
He stares at her for a moment longer and then dips, pulling her into his arms. “Like heck, you don’t! You want to go in and that’s where I’m taking you.”
She laughs as he shifts her weight, clinging to his neck. “My knight in shining armor.”
Draven grins and awkwardly kicks the door closed behind him. “More like slightly rusted and heavily tarnished, but I like the knight bit.”
He carries her past a couple of parked cars and up the steps; he pauses to rest her against the railing while he makes a blunder trying to open the door. Her laughter is contagious as he tries twice to no avail, each time narrowly missing his opportunity.
“Darn thing,” he growls as his third attempt fails again. He is tempted to set her down so he can have his hands free, but needing to carry her is enough of a reminder of her injury.
“How about you just let me open the door?”
If Draven’s hands had been free, he would have slapped his forehead in that moment. “Wow. Guess I’m not winning any ‘genius of the year’ awards, am I?”
Hannah chuckles as she reaches out and easily opens the door for them to walk through. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting that filters in through the stained glass windows. Reds, yellows, and blues cast a magical glow on the newly laid beige carpet.
In his arms, Hannah sighs and looks all around. “Would you mind setting me on the steps up there?” She points to the altar.
Draven moves down the narrow aisle, careful not to bump her legs on the pews. He places her on the bottom step and moves back, shoving his hands deep into his khakis and waiting. He has no idea what to do with himself. Should he leave? Should he kneel down beside her?
Silence fills the room as Hannah stares up at the wooden crucifix hanging behind the altar. Draven grows increasingly more disturbed. This place has an odd feel about it. He feels as if he’s being watched by eyes filled with accusations, as if the wooden statue is saying I know what you did.
That’s ridiculous, he scoffs, and yet he can’t shake his growing unease.
He has only been to church a few times in his life, mostly for Christmas candlelight service or the odd Easter service. Church has by no means ever been a part of his life. Perhaps that is what drew him to Hannah in the first place—that she was so confident and so sure of her beliefs, whereas most people know how to quote scripture but many times don’t seem to really believe or even understand it.
Draven is startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Hannah crying. Her head is bowed low to the carpeted stairs, her hands clasped before her. He looks around, unsure of what to do. Does he go and comfort her? Isn’t there supposed to be someone here to do that for him?
He is just about to go to her when her whispered words root him in place, shaking him to his very core.
“Father, I thank you for allowing me to return to this church. I thank you for the blessings you have poured out on me and my family. I thank you for Draven, for his help and kindness these past few weeks. I thank you for Timothy, for the friendship he has given me when I was without a friend. I thank you for allowing me to be part of your plan, for sparing my life so that I might have a chance to share my story. Thank you for your forgiveness and for loving me when I do not deserve it. I am grateful to know that I can always rest in your embrace.”
She whispers Amen but Draven hardly hears it. His knees threaten to buckle under him as the weight of her words fall around him. The air feels thick, laden with humidity that clings to his skin. Confusion mingles with anger as he considers the girl before him, broken and abandoned by her God, and here she sits thanking Him for His blessings.
What sort of sick God would require this sort of obedience? To force someone as beautiful as Hannah to go through such darkness?
Her God didn’t spare her this pain. He didn’t protect her during the storm. He let her endure months of therapy and for what? So that she could return to Him thankful for His blessings?
And what about the woman Draven killed last Christmas
? Was that all part of God’s twisted plan too? Is that why he got drunk that night? Why he hopped in his car for a joy ride and has been trying to drown out the memories of that night ever since?
Draven feels like being sick all over the aisle.
“Are you ok?”
He blinks, shaking his head rapidly as Hannah turns to look at him. “No,” he chokes out as he stumbles backward. He can’t look at her. Can’t stomach the sight of the cross over her head.
“Don’t leave,” she whispers as he falters back a few more steps.
“I…” he clears his throat and risks a glance at her. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
He can see the sadness in her eyes but it doesn’t matter. Not right now. He can’t be here. He needs to get away.
“Is everything ok out here?”
Draven turns at the sound of a man’s voice. He takes in the casual clothes and metal brace around the man’s leg. He has a pair of crutches tucked under his arms.
“Pastor Justin. It’s been so long. I’ve been hearing all about your recovery from Jonas and Mark. They said you were getting around a bit better now.” Hannah lifts her face to the light of the stained glass windows and smiles. “You’ve done an amazing job with the rebuilding.”
The man limps forward slowly. Draven steps back, unsettled by the preacher’s presence. “Timothy’s been spearheading the renovations. I don’t know how he manages to do it, especially with a girl like you waiting to see him each day.”
A blush rises along the neckline of Hannah’s shirt and Draven turns away. With her attention diverted, he dashes down the aisle and doesn’t slow until he hits the front doors. He slams through them and then sinks down onto the front stairs, his legs far too unstable to hold him.
He rests his head in his hands as he tries to control his breathing. He tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care about Hannah’s prayer, about the Pastor’s recovery, or the feeling he got when he looked up at the cross. None of it matters. I’ve been doing just fine these past few months on my own. I don’t need them. I don’t need any of this.
But even as the familiar bitterness rises up within him, Draven realizes that there is a new void in himself that wasn’t there before. A hole that Hannah slowly chiseled open that now sits like a festering wound in his chest. I do need her, he thinks as he groans and clenches his eyes closed. I need her far more than I should.
He knew better than to get involved with Hannah Green. She was all wrong for him. Certainly the farthest thing from his type he had ever met, and yet he had been drawn to her. Then a random thought hits him, maybe it wasn’t just her that I was being drawn to?
He looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Timothy stops in his tracks, looking more than a little confused. “Draven?”
“Yeah.” He wipes his nose, trying to play off the fact that he has tears on his cheeks. He slowly rises and leans against the railing. Timothy still looks floored. Draven laughs, and it sounds gravelly but a bit more like his old self. “Don’t look so surprised. I have actually been to a church once or twice in my life.”
Hannah’s friend clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to look so startled.”
Draven waves off his apology. “Don’t worry about it. If you’d told me this morning that I’d be standing here right now I’d have told you to get a brain scan and bill it to my step-father.”
“So…” Timothy lets the silence lengthen, “why are you here again?”
“Hannah.” He jerks his chin back toward the closed doors.
“Ah.” He nods in understanding before leaning back against the opposite railing. “She has a way of making you do things you never dreamed before, huh?”
“You can say that again.”
“Like stealing her from the hospital so she could evade every doctor and nurse who is being paid to keep her safe so you can drive her here?”
And here I was starting to think I could like this guy, Draven scoffs, rolling his eyes as the tension in Timothy’s voice shines through.
“Hardly. That was all me.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Draven pushes up off the ground. “Because we both know she’s not like that…and I am.”
Timothy stares at him for a moment, no doubt trying to size him up. When he speaks, his question catches Draven off guard. “How is she?”
“Don’t you go to visit her often?”
“I know you have a special bond with her. I can hear how much you mean to her when she talks about working with you in the therapy room.”
“Really?” Timothy nods. Draven can tell it’s not an easy thing for him to admit. “Well, in my opinion, she’s confused and quite possibly delusional.”
“What makes you say that?”
Draven snorts and looks away as the memory of her praying at the altar washes over him. “She thinks that being paralyzed is a blessing.”
Timothy says nothing.
“I don’t get it,” Draven says, turning to look at Timothy again. “She is young, beautiful, and her entire life has been taken away from her. How can she be happy about that?”
“She’s not,” he responds simply.
“Well you could sure fool me by the way she was in there praying!”
Her friend purses his lips, appearing to be considering his words. “You know as well as I do that Hannah struggles with her injury. Who wouldn’t?”
Draven shrugs in response, knowing how angry and bitter he would be if roles were reversed and he was the one who’d been injured.
“She once told my pastor something that seemed so profound at the time, but it took a while for her words to really sink in. She said, ‘it’s ok to admit that you’re afraid because that is when you realize that you can’t do it on your own.’ I didn’t want to listen to her, to admit that she was right. I’m not really too good at putting my faith before my mouth.”
Draven smirks but remains silent as Timothy continues. “The point is, things happen. We can’t control them. The only thing we can do is determine how we want to react to them as they come. Hannah is one of those people who chooses to look at the blessings in life for what they are. You look at her as broken, but she is simply grateful to be alive.”
Hearing Hannah’s friend speak like this makes Draven pause. Is that really how she looks at it? I guess that makes sense, but to go so far as to thank her God for the pain she has endured? It just doesn’t seem right!
“Things happen in our lives for a reason. I won’t pretend to understand them, cause frankly I’ve got a few of those that I’m trying to figure out myself, but Hannah has taught me something…she has taught me that it is through our pain we grow stronger.”
“But what if she can’t overcome this? What if she’s stuck in that stupid chair forever?”
Timothy looks pained as he glances toward the door. “Then I have faith that she will seize the opportunity and find some way to turn it around to benefit others.”
Draven snorts, bobbing his head. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Always the martyr.”
“No.” Timothy shakes his head emphatically. “Not a martyr. You know as well as I do that she does none of this for attention.”
Guilt needles Draven as he is forced to agree. His pent up bitterness is tainting his thoughts, leeching darkness filth into his mind.
He glances over at Timothy, surprised to see the man openly appraising him. “Have you ever stopped to consider another reason for all of this?”
Draven’s brow furrows with confusion as Timothy continues. “Many events led Hannah to this point. The invitation from her aunt and uncle to help restore their home. Her decision to come and then stay to wait out the storm. The chance encounter I had with her. Her decision to follow me to the church instead of staying behind with her aunt. Her injury and then finally meeting you.”
“What do I have to do with this?” he asks with no small amount of annoyance in his tone. He crosses his
arms over his chest, not liking one bit that he’s been included in this timeline.
A hint of a smile crosses Timothy’s lips. “If Hannah had never been hurt, she would never have met you.”
Draven surges to his feet. His nostrils flare and his hands clench at his sides. “Are you trying to say that I’m the reason Hannah is stuck in a wheelchair? How dare you! You think her God would take away her legs just so He could get in touch with me? Like I’m too thickheaded on my own so he had to find a new way of grabbing my attention? What kind of sick God do you serve?”
He shakes out his hands as the urge to hit something overcomes him. Draven paces back and forth, unable to stand still or risk doing just that.
“I’m not trying to imply that you—“
“Yeah? Well you did.” Draven turns once more and looks to the door. He’s had enough for one day. He could really use a cold beer. “Can you make sure Hannah gets back to the hospital safely?”
“Of course, but maybe driving isn’t the best idea right now.”
“I’ll be fine,” he growls. “I always am.”
He turns and runs down the path, away from the girl who has captured his thoughts, from the God who keeps messing with his life, from the past that refuses to stay buried. He runs away from everything and does what he is best at…he doesn’t look back.
EIGHTEEN
Letting Go
Letting go is something Timothy never thought he would have to do. At least not for a great many years. He had a bright future with Abby. Big dreams and a willingness to sacrifice for them. They were happy together. Not in that annoyingly blissful way that makes everyone want to gag when you are around them. Their love was sweet. No frills. No need to make a bold statement.
From the first moment he laid eyes on her in grade school, he knew she was the one. Not the one he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, but the one who would make his life miserable.
Those initial days of courting on the grade school playground began with the usual rockiness—fights over the swings, toads left in Abby’s desk at school, tugging on her ponytail just to annoy her. Those things were just expected between two enemies, and in those days, Abby was the worst enemy he could find.