The Gifts of Hannah Best

Part Ten

Hannah walked to her parent's home for the second time that week, finding it funny that it took murder for her to see them more often. She'd never described their relationship as strained, but she was never very close with them either; most days it felt like they simply didn't want to see her. It had never bothered her until recent events made it feel like something out of the ordinary. If her parents didn't want to see her because they didn't need to then that was fine with her, not everyone needed the constantly stay in touch. But if they no longer wanted to see her because they thought of her as a murderer, then she had a problem with that. She would make them see her, whether they wanted to or not.

Unable to find them at their home, Hannah headed to church. She hadn't been there for quite some time, and she knew there would be some murmurs over her appearance. All it took was murder to get her back to church, too, it seemed.

But as she made it to the old steeple, its point driving into the sky with fierce determination, she found it nearly empty. Hannah looked at the bare parking lot and clean steps and was confused that nobody was there. With the discovery of Dane's body she thought everyone would be here praying for his soul. And yet...the only person she could find was Father Tompkins.

"Hello, Father," Hannah said, her voice echoing through the pews. Nobody could even whisper in the church without everyone hearing it. Hannah had loved that as a child—hearing everyone's secrets. They all knew they were broadcasted around the large church, but they spoke anyway. It entertained her to no end.

"Hello, Hannah," Father Tompkins replied. He was the silver fox of Garnet's Lake. Tall and traditional, he looked quite a bit like Dane. Hannah tilted her head at him with a gentle smile, noting that he tried to give her one back. He turned to her from the pew beside her. "What brings you here?"

"I'm looking for my parents," she answered. "But I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Bart—Bartholomew."

Father Tompkins inhaled deeply and nodded, his hands clasped together in front of him. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black button-up shirt, the white collar showing through beneath his Adam's apple. "Thank you."

Silence rang throughout the church. Hannah began to sweat lightly in the heat, the dark red hues of her surroundings making it feel even hotter than it was. Father Tompkins didn't say anything else; he wasn't giving any of his sage advice to her like she thought he would, nor was he talking about her parents or what she'd done. It was comforting, in a way, but she thought that might have just been the church. She'd always liked coming to church, even if she thought it was all silly stories.

"Would you like to sit down?" Father Tompkins asked. "Or have you come to confess?"

Hannah looked to the two boxes she'd never sat in before. They were small and stifling, and Hannah still couldn't understand how confessing to the things she'd done would let her into Heaven. She'd never done anything, in her mind, which needed confessing. It felt like apologizing, and Hannah didn't have anything to apologize for.

To answer, Hannah sat beside Father Tompkins. She could smell his aftershave, musky and dark, and knew he had only shaved out of habit. He wore that collar out of habit, came to church out of habit. Her mother had always said people survived after tragedy because of their faith, in God and in themselves, but Hannah knew better. They survived because that's what the human race had to do—it was ingrained in them to keep going, and to keep doing what they always did. People didn't change because of tragedy, they were simply revealed.

"Where is everyone?" Hannah finally asked, breaking the silence. It bothered her that they weren't in church.

"There's a vigil being held at the hotel." Father Tompkins shifted against the hard wood.