Say That Again (21 page)

“Well, yes, that’s why I suggested she see you.”

By now, Hannah was adding color to the circles. She couldn’t make her fingers work as fast as her brain, but she tried. She needed more colors than the sixteen that were in the box. And the crayons were fat nubs. There was no sharpener. It was hard to make the colors go where she wanted them to.

“Has she said anything else to cause concern?” Dr. Liming said more quietly. As if Hannah, fifteen feet away, couldn’t hear.

Bored with her patterns, Hannah started on something else. This one would be special. Different from the others.

“Concern?”

“Obvious untruths, Mrs. McHugh. Things that would cause you to be concerned for her safety or your family’s.”

“It’s not like ... Look, she’s not a danger to anyone. I just think her imagination is vivid, that’s all. I think she
thinks
she hears them talk to her. That she imagines it.”

“And you consider that ‘normal’?”

“I’d be worried if she
didn’t
have an imagination. You know, I get that Hannah is different, Dr. Liming. But you have no idea how far she’s come in the past few years. The fact that she’s even been talking to her teacher, or you, is monumental. It’s going to take time for her to learn to fit in. There are going to be bumps along the way, I get that. But having you suggest that she’s some borderline paranoid schizophrenic with violent tendencies isn’t going to float. You need to go back and study your textbooks. She’s a highly intelligent five-year-old with Asperger’s syndrome. That doesn’t make her a freak who you need to slap labels on so you can shove her aside.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that. Far from it. I just thought we should discuss this in more detail, so we can make the right choices.”

“Choices? What do you mean? Hunter and I spoke to both the principal and the teacher before the school year started. We all agreed that the resource classroom was the best place for her. Mrs. Ziegler told me not two days ago that she’s doing just fine — except for the gerbil incident. But come on, she’s five. Five-year-olds have a different way of reasoning, right?”

After pushing her tablet away, Dr. Liming said, “I think you and Dr. McHugh should discuss whether public school is the right place for Hannah right now. You might want to consider a private tutor. I’d suggest a special school, but the nearest ones that deal with her specific needs are in Lexington. In time, when her social skills have improved and her ... her imagination is more under control, maybe she could re-enter the local school system.”

This was going well, Hannah decided. Telling Dr. Liming everything
was
finally working just like she’d figured. Maybe tomorrow she could stay home after all?

She colored a few more circles, then stood up to eye the picture from a little farther away. Not perfect, but she was pleased with it for her first try.

“No,” Jenn said. “You are not getting rid of her that easily. She hasn’t hurt anyone, she doesn’t disrupt class, she follows rules, and she gets her work done. Hannah will stay in school.”

What?
Hannah flipped around.
No!

She glared at them through the crack. This couldn’t be happening. What had gone wrong?

Dr. Liming craned her neck sideways as she spied Hannah. She got up from her giant chair and opened the door to look past Hannah. “What is that on the table, Hannah?”

A picture, she thought, like all the rest. Was this woman really that stupid, or just playing dumb to make her feel better because they’d been talking about her?

Jenn retrieved Hannah’s latest artwork from the little table. She looked at it for a long time before placing it on Dr. Liming’s desk. “It’s a bird.”

Not just ‘a’ bird, Hannah thought. A penguin. A little blue penguin. Couldn’t they tell? Maybe she hadn’t drawn it as well as she’d thought.

Flipping her reading glasses down, Dr. Liming brought the paper close to her face to study the detail. “This is ... amazing. It’s not just a crayon drawing. She’s done it with dots. Like the pixilation in a photo.”

“Hannah, this is beautiful.” Jenn smiled at her daughter before turning to Dr. Liming. “So, do you still think she doesn’t belong here?”

“Mrs. McHugh, it appears I was, quite honestly, mistaken. I’d say Hannah is gifted in ways we don’t yet know. In fact, I retract my earlier suggestion. She should stay in Mrs. Ziegler’s class. I’d like to continue to meet with her, however.” Sitting back down, she swiped a finger across the screen of her tablet and began typing away. “Maybe we could allow her to sit in on Miss Wellington’s art class?”

Hannah pressed her palms to the seams of her jeans. The last thing she wanted to do was come here and ‘talk’ to Dr. Liming again. She wanted to rip the picture from her desk and tear it up.

This had all gone terribly, horribly wrong.

––––––––

—o00o—

––––––––

A
ll that night and the next morning, Hannah dreaded going back to school. Maura no longer escorted her to her classroom, so she took as long as possible to walk there. In less than half a minute, the bell would ring. She planned to linger outside the door until the last possible second, but something caught her attention.

Standing in the nearly empty hallway was Mrs. Ziegler, shaking a finger as she spoke sternly to Patrick Mann. “I saw you this time, Patrick. You cannot treat animals that way. If you had a tail, I’d swing you from it right about now. Go on to Mr. Sloan’s office. March!”

Patrick Mann sneered at Hannah as he stomped by.

Turning to watch him go, Hannah shifted the straps of her backpack and felt Faustine slide to the left.

“Let’s go inside, Hannah.” Mrs. Ziegler held an arm toward the door to the room. “Class is about to start.”

Hannah stepped inside the classroom. The bell clanged just above her left shoulder, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her heart. Eight pairs of eyes turned to gawk at her.

If Patrick Mann had finally gotten in trouble and Mrs. Ziegler believed her now, why didn’t she feel any better about being here?

––––––––

F
lexing his fingers on the handle of the knife, Hunter drew the blade toward him. The fibers of meat separated and little curls of steam rose up from the pot roast. “What did she say?”

Maura held her plate out as Hunter piled a second helping on it. Across from her, Hannah speared her carrots with her fork one by one, alternating left and right, as she took them from the row she had created between her meat and potatoes. She’d also molded her mashed potatoes into a mountain range, of sorts. Hannah was always the last one done at dinner because she had to arrange her food into works of art. Lately, her creations were becoming more elaborate.

“Turns out that little boy, Patrick Mann, was teasing the class mouse after all.” Jenn filled Echo’s water bowl at the sink and then sat down. “Mrs. Ziegler caught him doing it.”

“So, our little Hannah here was right about Franklin, then?” Leaning back in his chair, Hunter patted his stomach. He was stuffed full. A little well of pride bubbled up inside him. Hannah had done the right thing, even if her solution had been a little extreme. Then again, what did they expect from a five-year-old?

“Appears so.” A smile broadened Jenn’s cheeks as she reached over and patted Hannah’s wrist. Flinching at her touch, Hannah went on stabbing her carrots. “Honey, I don’t know how you knew, but the important thing is those animals are safe because of you. Next time, you make sure and tell us everything, okay?”

Hannah’s lips tightened. “But I did.”

“I know — and we should have believed you.”

“Even the part about Franklin talking to me?”

The smile faded from Jenn’s eyes. Her hand fell away from Hannah’s wrist. “Well ...”

Hunter shot her a warning glare.

“Sure,” Jenn said. Her conviction was lacking, but Hunter was pretty sure Hannah hadn’t picked up on it.

Until Hannah smacked her fork flat on the table and tucked her chin to her chest.

“No, you don’t believe me. No one does.” And then she shoved her chair back and stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Her bedroom door banged shut.

Echo scrambled up from his place beside Hannah’s now empty chair. He ambled to the bottom of the stairs to gaze after her. After a few seconds, he came back to sit beside Jenn, sniffing the air as he tried to detect if she had any scraps for him.

Jenn shooed the dog away and gave Hunter a ‘what the hell?’ look. “Can’t I say anything right?”

“Her feelings were hurt,” Hunter said. “You know how she hangs onto things. Give her five minutes to brood about it, then take her plate upstairs and apologize to her.”

“Apologize? For what? Sometimes I think it doesn’t matter what I say.” After moving the empty serving bowls and pots to the sink, Jenn took the dishwashing soap from the cabinet underneath. “Besides, if tomorrow she tells us little green men landed in the backyard and offered her a ride through a wormhole to another galaxy, are we supposed to believe her then? Seriously, I don’t know where this is coming from, but I don’t want her thinking she can go on about talking animals in front of anyone and everyone.”

“It’s a phase, Jenn. Hannah’s had a rough year. Dr. Pruitt said the effects of the trauma could manifest in a number of ways.”

Groaning, Maura clamped a hand to the side of her head. “Here we go again,” she muttered. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.”

Both Hunter and Jenn looked at their oldest daughter, as if suddenly aware of her presence.

Maura slid her plate back and flattened her palms on the table. “Does anybody care that
I
had three kills in my volleyball game today? Coach Rawlings says I made the difference between losing that match and winning. He also says maybe if I go to camp this summer and get better at my overhand serve and learn to block, I could get a scholarship for college. But I’d really have to train hard and hire a strength trainer and do everything I could to get my name out there, like play in select traveling leagues and stuff.” She lifted her chin and looked from one parent to the other. “So ... can I?”

“Can you what?” Jenn asked, the irritation in her voice as pointed as the prickly thorns on a cocklebur. Flipping the faucet lever up, she squirted a long stream of dishwashing liquid into the sink.

“Go to camp? This summer in Indianapolis. Of course, someone would have to drive me up there. But it would get me out of your hair for a week. Then you could focus on Hannah the whole time.”

“Of course you can go,” Hunter said. “But not because we want to get rid of you.”

A light scoff escaped her. “If you say so.”

“Maura,” — Jenn flipped around to glare at her, suds clinging to her hands — “that’s enough!”

“Sorry,” Maura shot back snidely. “But it
would
be convenient for you.”

Jenn tensed visibly. Bubbles dripped in foamy clumps from her fisted hands onto the floor.

As soon as they resolved Hannah’s issues at school, Hunter would be sure to set aside some time just for his oldest daughter. In the meantime, Jenn had to understand that Maura’s jealousy wasn’t unfounded. “Jenn, she has every right to feel —”

“Don’t. You. Start.” Jenn jabbed a finger at Hunter three times. “Quit being the peacemaker, for once.”

“What?” Where was this coming from? Maura was being an obnoxious tween and while he didn’t expect Jenn to tolerate it, why was she coming after him now? He made an effort to keep a lid on his emotions. Right now he just didn’t want it to turn into a shouting match that Hannah was likely to overhear. “I’m just saying that here we have a daughter who is doing her best to
be
her best. You have to take that into account and —”

“I take it Maura didn’t tell you she got detention today for talking back to her teacher?”

Maura slumped, her body threatening to slide under the table, her indignation replaced by a smoldering air of betrayal. She’d obviously confessed to her mom earlier, but Hunter was sure she hadn’t told him because even though Jenn was the one to act stern, she never did much to reprimand the kids beyond a burst of shaming. Hunter was the one who would have levied Maura with a week’s worth of grounding — and she knew it. Still, she wouldn’t misbehave without reason.

Hunter’s glance slid to Maura. Then he turned his gaze back on Jenn. “While I don’t condone misbehavior of any sort, if she’s acting out, it’s probably because —”

A knock, so soft that it almost went unheard, sounded at the front door. Hunter and Jenn looked toward the door, but Maura kept her head down. Tension hung thick in the air. Finally, Echo trotted to the front door to peer through the sidelight. He gave a soft ‘woof’, then ran back to Hunter as if to escort him to their guest.

“That’s odd,” Jenn said, her fuse temporarily snuffed. “He barks at everyone except your parents. And since when do they stand out there and wait for an invitation?”

Rising, Hunter rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Let’s find out, shall we, Echo?”

He had no idea who it could be. They rarely had visitors this far out in the country. Recently, Jenn had told him that having a dog had made her feel safer in their house. Echo may not have been very intimidating as a guard dog, but he was as good a watchdog as any. Except now.

Echo’s bobtail wagged in a tiny, almost imperceptible circle. He pranced on his white sock feet beside Hunter all the way to the door, always two steps ahead as if to tell him to hurry up.

A vaguely familiar face, distorted by the intersecting lines of the decorative oval window of the front door, stared back at Hunter. Apparently, Heck Menendez had made a favorable impression on Echo. Hunter opened the door.

“Dr. McHugh.” Heck had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his bulky winter coat. He was a full five feet back from the door.

“Hello ... Heck.” A frigid wind bit at Hunter’s nose and he had the sudden urge to pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He swept an arm toward the living room. “It’s freezing out there. Come on in.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Heck glanced toward his house, his body turned sideways as if to make for a quick exit. “It’s probably your suppertime.”