Hannah's Rainbow: Every Color Beautiful

Chapter Fourteen

The relentless nature of time proved otherwise as the weeks passed after Grossmutter's death. Hannah didn't need to talk about the pain, not when she could talk about the balm.

She got a B on her English paper.

One evening just before Thanksgiving, the lights in the house went out one by one around Hannah. The living room sat still and quiet, but for the ticking of the mantel clock. In the near darkness, the shrouded faces enclosed in picture frames looked on blindly and indifferently as Hannah stayed by Flossie. Moments captured forever in black and white, frozen smiles of good times gone by, these phantoms surrounded Hannah. Old Flossie's eyes were closed. The rise and fall of her chest grew more erratic into the night, but the dog never once whined. Hannah's mind churned up happy memories of Flossie running about the yard chasing squirrels, laying her head in Hannah's lap, and staring up at her with her big, brown eyes.

Around three in the morning, Flossie opened those eyes.

"Hello, darling Flossie," Hannah whispered, her voice thick. She stroked the dog's ear and kissed her.

Flossie blinked and closed her eyes a final time, life's breath stealing away into the night's shadows.

"Goodbye, girl."

Hannah wept silently and laid her head on Flossie's body. She gently rubbed Flossie's fur and kept her face buried in the coat for some time.

The family buried Flossie under one of the cherry trees in the backyard, marking it with a stone for the beloved pet. Ma planted some mums around the grave, and whenever Hannah sought time alone, she retreated into the backyard haven and spoke to Flossie.

Irma joined her one afternoon and sat quietly by her side.

"Do you think dogs go to heaven?" the girl asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

Hannah smiled sadly. "I'm sure they do." She put an arm around Irma and drew her close. "Dogs are among the best things in life, so how could it be heaven without our most loyal friends there?"

Irma smiled up at her sister. "Good."

x x x x x

The economic impact of the Stock Market crash was already apparent. The family had never lived in excess or gone overboard with gift-giving, but Christmas in 1929 proved the need to live even more modestly. Hannah played the piano especially loudly as those gathered in the living room on Christmas Day in the evening belted out "Silent Night" in German, much like Grossmutter used to do. The family raised glasses of Pa's homemade ginger ale to Grossmutter's memory and wished her a merry Christmas.

x x x x x

Shortly after the New Year, Amy pulled Hannah aside while visiting one Sunday afternoon.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"What's going on?"

"Let's go upstairs to our old room."

Hannah nodded, following. Amy held onto the railing for support and seemed weak. The few times Hannah had seen her since Christmas, Amy had acted strangely.

Once they were in the bedroom, Hannah closed the door for privacy as Amy took a seat on Hannah's bed.

"What's going on, Amy?"

Amy's face broke into a wide grin. "I wanted to tell you before the rest of the family that Jack and I are expecting."

"You're pregnant?" Hannah tried not to squeal. "This is wonderful!"

"Shh, keep your voice down." Amy chuckled. "Jack knows, of course, but it's still very early. I am happy, but I don't want to get my hopes up."