The Numbered

Chapter Nineteen

Beyond exhausted, sleep had refused to come and temporarily liberate her from her grief. Hannah had spent the last hour, staring at a small, faded photograph of herself as a baby. Wrapped in a soft towel and cradled in the arms of her parents, the photograph portrayed an image of a warm and unconditional love. She tried to picture this image whenever she closed her eyes, but instead, she saw only Shane lying on the ground.

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door. She ignored it.

The knock came again, only little harder this time.

Her mind suddenly jumped to memories of last night.

"I won't allow this!" her mother sobbed, after Hannah told her parents everything that had happened. "How dare they think they can take our daughter away after seventeen years."

"Lynne, please calm down," her father had said trying to comfort her.

"Calm down! How can I be calm? They took everything from us and now they are going to do it again. Daniel, there must be something we can do?"

Hannah, furious at her mother for only thinking of herself, shouted at her and reminded her that Hannah was only going to be moving to a new house and it was Shane's parents who had really lost a child that day. Her mother flinched and gave the cry of a wounded animal as she fled back into the house to her bed, leaving Hannah alone with her father.

"That was a cruel thing to say to your mother." Her father couldn't bring himself to even look her in the eyes. "I... I don't think I know you anymore!" he whispered, as too left her outside alone.

Her bedroom door opened and her father came and sat down on the end of her bed.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he said, quietly reaching over to take hold of her hand and gently squeezing it.

"I'm sorry I shouted at Mum," she replied, hoarsely.

"It's okay, honey, she knows you didn't mean it." Her father sighed and pinched at his temples. He seemed to have aged a decade or two over the last few hours.

"Is this it, Dad, do I not have a choice in the matter?" she asked quietly, fervently hoping he would have an answer, a solution to her problems, like he'd always done.

"Shh, not here" he whispered. Hannah immediately understood what he meant and after putting on her dressing gown, she followed him out of the room, down the stairs and back out to the yard where they sat on an old bench. Her father had made the bench years ago from scrap pieces of timber he'd salvaged. He had spent hours sanding it, smoothing it, treating the wood. For the final decorative touch, he engraved their initials L, D and H, inside a small heart shape. It was still a beautiful piece of furniture even though it had seen many brutal winters.

"Hannah, I need to tell you something that not even your Mother knows, but you must promise me that you won't say a word to anyone?" he said, looking directly at her.

Anxiety fluttered in her stomach again.

"There is nothing we can do about Shane, tomorrow, the meeting or your moving back to them..." Hannah still had hold of the photograph. She had never felt more defeated and the mere mention of Shane's name was like a blunt knife puncturing her heart.

".. for now," he said and took a deep breath. Hannah heard something in his voice that made her pulse increase a little.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't been doing over time at work, these last few months, Hannah."

Her father had barely been home for more than a couple of hours a day for weeks now. He usually left the house before she woke and was often asleep before he came home.