Chương 14
“Does that mean I’m bad?”
“No.”
“Can I see her once and get it?”
Jenna sat on the floor.
“You could ask to see her. But I don’t want you trading time with yourself for a bike.”
Hannah looked toward the window.
“What if I only stay ten minutes?”
“Do you want to see her?”
“I want the bike.”
Jenna nodded.
They bought Hannah a used bicycle from a family across town. It was green, not blue, and one grip was torn. Andrew replaced the grip and added a basket.
Hannah loved it for three days, then asked whether Brenda’s bike was better.
“Probably more expensive,” Andrew said.
“That’s not better,” Jenna replied.
“Sometimes it is,” Hannah said.
Andrew laughed.
On Christmas Eve, Brenda came to the house.
This time she remained in her car across the street.
Jenna noticed the vehicle while closing the curtains. The engine was off. Brenda sat behind the wheel in a red coat, looking toward the house.
Andrew called the non-emergency police number.
Before an officer arrived, Brenda left.
The next morning, Hannah found tire tracks in the thin snow.
“Was someone here?”
Jenna told her the truth.
Hannah looked at the tracks, then at the green bicycle in the garage.
“Did she bring presents?”
“I don’t know.”
“She could have left them.”
“She knew she was not supposed to come.”
Hannah kicked at the snow with her boot.
“Everybody keeps saying what she’s not supposed to do.”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone tell her what she can do?”
The question stayed with Jenna.
That evening, after gifts and dinner and a long phone call with Jenna’s mother, she sat with Andrew at the dining table.
“Hannah asked what Brenda can do.”
Andrew’s face closed slightly. “Apologize.”
“We should be specific.”
“We have been.”
“We said no contact. We didn’t give a path.”
“Do we owe her one?”
“No. But Hannah may need to know we didn’t make the door invisible.”
Andrew looked toward the Christmas tree. One strand of lights had gone dark near the bottom.
“What path?” he asked.
Jenna had been considering it all day.
“A letter to us, not Hannah. Full acknowledgment. No excuses. Agreement to meet with a family therapist. No direct contact until the therapist says it won’t put pressure on Hannah. Supervised contact after that only if Hannah wants it.”
Andrew rubbed his chin.
“She’ll say no.”
“Probably.”
“Then what changes?”
“We’ll know the door has a handle.”
They sent the conditions by certified mail in January.
Brenda responded with a typed letter.
I regret that Hannah became frightened and injured. I regret that my actions have been interpreted as intentional harm. I regret that my family has allowed outsiders to define a private mistake. I will not submit to counseling designed to extract a false confession.
Andrew read it aloud once.
Jenna folded it and placed it in the file with the county report.
“That’s our answer,” she said.
He nodded.
Hannah asked whether Brenda had agreed.
“No,” Andrew said.
“Did she say why?”
“She does not believe she did what we say she did.”
“But Grandpa saw.”
“Yes.”
“And the chair lady saw.”
“Yes.”
“And I saw.”
Andrew’s face tightened. “Yes.”
Hannah considered that.
“Maybe she doesn’t like the story.”
“No,” Jenna said. “I don’t think she does.”
The next spring, nearly nine months after the parade, Hannah joined a community walking club through school. The first route was one mile around a park. She asked Jenna to come but instructed her not to walk directly beside her.
“You can be behind me,” Hannah said.
“How far behind?”
“Not weird far.”
Jenna agreed.
Andrew waited near the finish line with water bottles. Dennis came too, after Hannah invited him.
The children began in uneven clusters. Some ran. Others stopped to pick dandelions. Hannah walked with a girl named Mina and kept glancing back during the first quarter mile.
Each time, Jenna raised one hand.
At the halfway point, Hannah stopped to retie her shoe. The group moved ahead.
Jenna’s body reacted before her mind did. Her chest tightened. She wanted to hurry Hannah, to close the space, to prevent the moment from becoming another memory.
Hannah looked up.
“Don’t say it.”
Jenna held still.
Hannah tied the shoe carefully, stood, and began walking again. The gap remained. She did not run.
At the finish line, Andrew cheered too loudly. Hannah covered her ears and laughed.
Dennis handed her water.
“You were last,” he said.
Jenna stared at him.
Hannah took the bottle. “I know.”
Dennis’s face changed as he heard himself.
“I meant—”
“It’s okay,” Hannah said. “Somebody is.”
She opened the water and drank.
Later, Dennis apologized to Jenna in the parking lot.
“I was trying to tease.”
“I know.”
“I sounded like her.”
“A little.”
He looked toward Hannah, who was showing Andrew the participation ribbon.
“Does it ever stop?”
“What?”
“Hearing the things you did wrong after you finally learn to listen.”
Jenna thought about her own years of smiling through Brenda’s smaller exclusions.
“No,” she said. “But it gets less surprising.”
In June, Sabrina contacted them again.
Her message was brief.
Carter wants Andrew at his baseball championship. Mom will not be there. I will not discuss anything else.
Andrew showed Jenna.
“Do you believe her?” he asked.
“That Brenda won’t be there?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He called Sabrina.
She answered with a tired hello.
“Will Mom be at the game?”
“No.”
“Did you ask her not to come?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Carter asked.”
Andrew sat down.
On the other end, a door closed.
Sabrina continued. “He said he wanted one day that wasn’t about everybody’s feud.”
“It isn’t a feud.”
“I know what you call it.”
“What do you call it now?”
There was a long pause.
“I call it exhausting.”
“That isn’t the same as wrong.”
“No.”
Andrew waited.
Sabrina’s voice lowered. “Mom came to Brooklyn’s school after I told her not to.”
Jenna looked at him.
May you like
“What happened?” Andrew asked.
“She wanted to surprise her. Brooklyn had a music program. Mom sat in the back.”
