Letters to Hank

Chapter Eight

Hank wasn't home when Hazel entered his room. His bed was made perfectly as if he hadn't slept in it the night before. The lamp was off, his shoes were tucked safely in his closet, and Hazel's postcards sat on the nightstand, a thin layer of dust crawling over their surfaces.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Hank hadn't driven since before the war, and his crutches wouldn't allow him to travel very far. She ran through the house, tripping on James's toys, calling for her brother.

"Hank!" She searched the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement. "Hank, where are you?"

Alfred met her in the hallways before she found her brother. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Hank," she sobbed, collapsing into Alfred's arms. "He can't be by himself."

Alfred held her in a firm embrace and kissed the top of her head. "He'll be alright. He told me he was going for a walk."

Bewildered, Hazel pushed away. "He told you that?"

Alfred nodded.

"You two may live under the same roof, but I can't remember the last time you two cordially spoke to each other." Hazel barred her arms across her chest and shook her head. "Where is he, Alfred?"

He just stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I told you that he's out for a walk."

Hazel ran out of the home like a flash of lightning. She roamed the streets, her eyes searching under every tree, behind every car, around each block. She walked for hours until the moonlight began casting shadows through the trees. Defeated, she turned for home, her shoulders slumped and heavy.

"You wouldn't leave me out here, would you?" that sweet, familiar voice said from behind. Hazel whipped around to find Hank standing there, leaning on his crutches.

"Oh, Hank!" She ran to him and pulled him close to her chest. "What do you think you're doing out here all by yourself?"

"I needed some air. I wouldn't leave you, Hazel Ruth."

She loved it when he used her middle name. As children, he only called her that when he was sincere about something—an apology, a thank you, an I love you, Hazel Ruth. It was a covenant, a promise, that he meant what he said.

"Let's get you home."

Together, the pair walked slowly in the darkness, chattering about the day behind and the one ahead.

When they returned home, Alfred was waiting on the couch. "Did you find him?" he asked as if blind.

"Yes, I found him." Hazel stamped her foot like a child and stared at her husband. "Did you really think I'd just leave him out there?"

"No." He crept to his feet and kissed her. "I'm turning in for the night." Without another word, he disappeared into the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him.

"Someone's in a mood." Hazel shook her head. "Why don't you get some rest. You walked quite the distance this afternoon."

Hank nodded with a yawn. "Goodnight, Hazel." Before turning away, though, he grasped her shoulder with gentle fingers. "Thank you for caring for me."

Hazel's eyes pricked with tears. "You're my brother. It's what I do."